Douglas Reeman - In Danger's Hour

If the captain could push his papers through it would mean leaving all this, and he knew that nothing would ever be quite the same again. As Rob Roy picked her way between the blinking buoys until she was met by a fussy harbour launch, there were others in her company who did not share Boyes’s feelings.

Leading Seaman Gipsy Guttridge had been able to keep his wife out of his mind while the ship had been in the Med. Now he was back, and as he waited with the quarterdeck party amongst the well-used coils of mooring-wires, springs and rope fenders, he wondered what he would do when he faced her again. A laughing, bright-eyed girl with dimples. A friend had written to him once to tell him she was having it off with a pongo from the local army camp. He had confronted her with it but it had ended in passion in bed. And there had been another letter waiting for him at Gib, from the same ‘friend’.

the Buffer brushed past and rasped, ‘Jump about, old son, you look shagged out!’

guttridge glared after him. It never seemed to bother the Buffer. If half of it was fact, he’d screw anything. He gripped the guardrail and turned his face into the freezing snowflakes.

When I catch whoever it is, I’ll do for them both!

Alone at the wardroom table Sub-Lieutenant Fallows chewed half-heartedly on some corned-beef hash. He stared at the tablecloth, still soiled from the previous meal, then poured himself another mug of black coffee.

He could not remember needing a drink more. He swallowed hard; he could almost hear it being tipped into a shining, clean glass. What should he do? He glanced up as the messman padded through the wardroom. It was madness to feel guilt, or was it fear? But it was not Parsons; he would be on the forecastle for entering harbour.

I must have been out of mind to give him money. Fallows pulled out a tin of duty-free cigarettes and gestured to the mess-man to clear the table.

Parsons had explained that he would soon be leaving the ship, to go on an advanced gunnery course at Whale Island and pick up his leading rate. They would never see each other again.

Fallows wiped the sweat from his forehead although the wardroom was almost cold.

He should have seen it. Stood firm and stamped on the little bastard when he had first brought up about Tinker.

Fallows glanced at the single, wavy stripe on his seagoing reefer. He had not liked Davenport because he imagined he came from a better background than himself, but he understood how he had felt about getting on in the navy. Take the chance while it lasted. When he became a lieutenant he would feel more secure, and then – He stubbed out the cigarette and lit another without noticing. Parsons had asked for a loan at first, then another to tide over his domestic problems until he had completed the gunnery course.

He thought suddenly of his father in Glasgow, a belligerent, sneering drunk who had barely worked for years and had made all their lives hell.

‘You’ll never get anywhere with those stuck-up bastards! I know you too well, you’ll fall in yer own shit before you get what you want!’

Nobody knew or cared what it had cost him to get where he was, or what that piece of tarnished gold lace represented to him. And despite all his care to cover up his humble background he had allowed a crawling rat like Parsons to sneak under his defences.

The last time they had been alone Parsons had explained in a hurt, wheedling voice, ‘I feel as much to blame as you, sir. I should ’ave spoken out – an’ wot if someone asked me about it sometime, wot then, eh?’

Who could he have turned to? Now of course it was all stark and clear. He should have gone to the commanding officer there and then. It might have damaged his chances of promotion, but it was better than admitting he had bribed a rating to conceal the truth, for that was exactly how it would look in the cold eyes of a court martial.

Fallows lived on his meagre pay and had no other funds. He had got into debt several times with his mess bills, and had borrowed at first to square the accounts.

With Parsons constantly pressing him – he shuddered; the word was blackmail— he. had been forced to do some deals with a friend he had met in Alexandria. They had been at King Alfred together, but his friend had failed to become an executive officer. He had ended up as a paymaster-lieutenant in the naval stores there.

Dockyard paint which until then had meant nothing to Fallows It was merely slapped on by the ship’s company or men…..In punishment whenever there was a spare moment.

butt in Alexandria any kind of naval stores were big business. Fallows had been required to do was sign for something which in fact was never delivered to the ship.

He had told himself a hundred times that Parsons was too implicated to cause any more trouble for him. He was a vindictive and unpopular man in the ship, but there were always those who would believe his story.

Surgeon Lieutenant Cusack entered the wardroom and slumped down in one of the battered chairs.

You can smell the land!’ He watched Fallows curiously as he remained pensive and silent. ‘There were times when I thought I’d never see green grass again.’

I allows stood up and looked at him without understanding. ‘I must go.’

Cusack leaned back and stared at the deckhead, picturing the work above as wires scraped on steel, and seaboots thudded past the sealed skylight.

It had been an experience, and he knew he did not want to go hack to hospital until it was over. He thought of the men he had come to know, their hopes, and perhaps above all their secrets. Cusack smiled grimly. He had a brother who was a priest in Cialway; perhaps he would be more use here than a doctor.

Above them all Ransome stood high on the bridge step and stared down at the activity on deck. Merely shadows and shouts of command, but he knew Rob Roy blindfold if need be.

Water thrashed in the darkness and he saw one of Devonport’s ancient paddle-wheeled tugs standing by, her bridge and forecastle white with driven snow.

‘Stop port!’ He heard Sherwood repeating the order, the instant response from the engine-room. ‘Slow astern port!’

He watched, dashing the snow from his eyes as he gauged the slow swing of the stern towards the stone wall.

‘Sternrope’s made fast, sir!’ That was Morgan.

‘Headrope’s being hauled over now, sir!’

‘Stop port, slow astern starboard!’ He pictured the hands hauling the rebellious wires and securing them to their bollards.

The deck rocked, and he heard the call for more fenders as they came reluctantly alongside. ‘Stop together!’

He heard Hargrave’s voice from the forecastle as he supervise! the mooring. ‘Out springs and breasts!’

Through the snow Ransome saw the blink of a signal lamp, A greeting, fresh orders; he was too tired to care.

‘All secure fore and aft, sir!’ Sherwood was looking up at him through the snow, his cap white against the wet steel.

‘Ring off main engines, if you please.’

The deck shuddered and fell still as a low shadow passed slowly abeam, while the wary tug thrashed round with the ease of a London taxi. It was Ranger following their example.

Mackay called, ‘Unusual signal, sir.’ He controlled a chuckle. ‘From the Wrens at the Signal Tower. Welcome home.’’

Ransome stepped down. ‘Tell them thanks, from all of us.’

But he was thinking of Eve. It was as if she had spoken those words just to him.

Commander Peregrine Bliss, DSO, Royal Navy, tossed his oak-leaved cap carelessly on to a locker and sat down in Ransome’s other chair.

‘All quiet, Ian? He looked bright-eyed and fresh, his powerful hands resting in his lap as if unused to inactivity.