Douglas Reeman - In Danger's Hour

The vice-admiral turned aside so that nobody else should hear. ‘I want you to meet him because the people at home need to be told about your war for a change. Just be natural.’ He added sharply, ‘I didn’t know be was coming too!’

Ransome saw Commander Bliss enter with the man he knew was Wakely. He heard the admiral mutter, ‘I thought he was at that damned meeting!’

The girl replied indifferently, ‘Must have finished earlier, sir.’ She watched him, gauging his mood.

Ransome watched Bliss being greeted by the admiral. What was it? Something from the past? He had assumed that Bliss was his choice; now he was not so sure.

Ransome took Wakely’s hand and shook it. It was surprisingly soft and limp.

Wakely looked a lot like his pictures. Tall, heavily rather than powerfully built, with wispy fair hair and a round, plump face.

‘I am really looking forward to this, Commander Ransome!’

Bliss asked, ‘Have I missed something, sir?’

The vice-admiral shrugged. ‘Mr Wakely has agreed to keep us company while he gathers material for his next series of broadcasts.’ He lowered his voice although it was quite unnecessary as the noise, which had faded at Bliss’s entry, had mounted again. ‘ Operation Husky.’

Wakely gave a childlike smile, ‘All the way to Europe’s soft underbelly, as Winston calls it!’

Bliss nodded approvingly. ‘You honour us, Mr Wakely. I’ve often listened to your broadcasts.’

Wakely sipped what looked like an orangeade and blinked modestly. ‘Then the honour is all mine, believe me.’

Bliss nodded again, this time to Ransome. ‘Everyone here?’

‘All the commanding officers anyway, sir.’

The vice-admiral dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief, i’d like to speak with them now.’

Bliss was saying, ‘We’ll do all we can to make you comfortable in Bedworth -

Ransome held up his hands and the conversation began to die away once more. It was unfortunate because the vice-admiral’s voice was made to sound unnecessarily loud.

‘Richard Wakely is sailing with Rob Roy as it happens. It’s all about minesweeping, and bloody time too if you ask me!’

Ransome saw Lieutenant Commander Gregory, Ranger’s C.O., chain-smoking as usual, nudge his companion, Stranach of the Firebrand.

Hargrave had placed himself beside the Wren officer again. They made a handsome pair, Ransome thought. Did he think so too? Or was he pondering on his father’s morals, his mother and sisters in England?

Vice-Admiral Hargrave announced, ‘You will be sailing very soon now to play an important part in a moment of history. Sicily is a stepping-stone and the pace will be hot and demanding. Our success will mean the opening of the Second Front, with all that that implies, and the end result, with God’s help—’

Ransome saw the Wren officer’s perfect mouth quiver very slightly in what could have been a smile.

Vice-Admiral Hargrave concluded, ‘—will be the eventual defeat of our enemies!’

They all applauded and the vice-admiral said softly to the girl, ‘Pretty good, eh, Ross?’ She nodded and clapped her hands with the others.

Ransome felt suddenly grateful as the admiral glanced at his watch. It was bad enough to have Bliss here with his face like thunder without the others sensing a rift between their superiors as Gregory had obviously done.

The vice-admiral seized a few hands. ‘Malta, then. We shall all meet again before too long.’ He smiled at Richard Wakely. ‘I have some more people waiting to hang on your every word!’

Wakely shook Ransome’s hand, his eyes distant. ‘I’m getting the feel of it already.’ He nodded firmly. ‘I’m never wrong.’

Ransome accompanied them to the brow and wondered why the vice-admiral had chosen to board Rob Roy via Ranger. Perhaps he never threw away the chance to see and be seen.

The Wren officer turned to face him.

‘It’s been a pleasure, Commander.’

Ransome felt her gaze like an inspection. Outwardly cool and composed. But the admiral’s use of her first name told a different story.

He returned to the wardroom and found Bliss in deep conversation with several of the commanding officers.

To Hargrave he said, ‘It went well enough, I thought.’

Hargrave plucked at his shirt. ‘All these people. Every mother’s son seems to know about the invasion.’

Ransome thought about the peacetime Budget, when it was always touted as a total secret until the actual announcement in the House of Commons. And yet as his father had pointed out many times, there were hundreds who must have known the ‘secret’. The secretaries, the financial advisers, and all the printers who produced the final budget papers. Like Second Officer Pearce and her staff, these officers and God alone knew how many others in Whitehall. There was no such thing as a true secret.

Bliss made his excuses and left. He seemed calm enough but his eyes were angry, like the moment he had been curtly put right about Wakely.

His boat was waiting on the outboard side and Bliss paused to say, if you have any problems, tell me, right?’

Ransome nodded. Before telling the vice-admiral, he might just as well have said.

Bliss added, ‘So your Number One is the admiral’s son?’

‘Yes, sir.’ It was a sounding remark. Bliss knew just about everything. Perhaps he and the vice-admiral were too much alike.

There was a commotion in the wardroom and Bliss said shortly, i’m off. Before the high jinks begin. Best to get it out of their systems now, eh?’ It sounded vaguely like a threat.

Ransome paused by the wardroom where Petty Officer Kellett was hovering outside the curtained entrance.

He said anxiously, ‘I’d like to offer you one of my special cocktails, sir.’

Ransome took the hint. ‘Trouble?’

Kellett shrugged. ‘Storm in a teacup, sir.’

Beyond the curtain, Lieutenant Philip Sherwood clung to the back of a chair and stared glassily at the mass of figures which filled the place. He had missed Bliss by seconds, having boarded Ranger’s deck from a passing launch.

He looked tousled and crumpled and there was a wine stain on his shirt, like dried blood.

‘Well, well, well! A celebration or a wake, which must it be?’

Hargrave made to step forward but Campbell touched his arm. ‘Leave it, Number One. He’s never been like this before.’

Sherwood beckoned to a messman and took a glass from the tray without even looking at it.

i am sorry 1 missed the party, I was elsewhere—’ He swallowed the drink and swayed against the chair for support.

Someone called, ‘For Christ’s sake take it easy, or you’ll spill a drop!’ Another said, ‘Don’t anyone light a cigarette near him or you’ll blow up the ship!’

Sherwood ignored the laughter and stared around with haunted desperation.

He said in a surprisingly clear voice, ‘If we are mark’d to die, we are enov’ to do our country loss: and if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honour—’

He almost fell and then pivoted round as Ransome entered the wardroom.

Sherwood made a mock bow. ‘Oops. I – I am so sorry, dear Captain, but I am slightly pissed—’

Surgeon Lieutenant Cusack stepped forward and caught Sherwood as he fell.

To the others he said, i think his party’s over.’

Ransome looked around their faces, so different and yet suddenly bonded together, sobered by Sherwood’s rambling quotation, which he had delivered like a prophesy.

As captain he was just another guest here in Rob Roy’s wardroom. It was not the time or the place to make a stand on Sherwood’s behaviour. He had not seen him like it before, and tomorrow he would have to put it all behind him. Otherwise…