The Death of Hope Andrew Wareham (book club reads TXT) 📖

might be the plumes ofwater rising as its torpedoes struck their hull. All of the advantage lay withthe hidden boat in the absence of any means of detecting them underwater.

The north of Scotland was far less stormythan normal and they made the anchorage at Scapa in good condition, enteringthrough the Hoxa gate and saluting more than twenty ships senior to them beforetaking up an anchorage next to Duke of Edinburgh, of the same class as them.

“Connaught not here, sir?”

“In the yard, I believe, Adams, for theguns. Our turn when she comes out. Chance for leave then, as well.”

That led to a problem needing a deal ofthought. Leave, three or four weeks away from the ship. Would he be welcome in London?There was no alternative to a letter home to his father. He sat to write,discarding half a dozen attempts before settling on a short and simple piece ofinformation.

‘Lord Adams,

Dear sir,

I am now Navigating Officer of BlackPrince, armoured cruiser, attached to the Grand Fleet at Scapa Flow. I haveattained the rank of lieutenant commander, substantive. Promotion and postingand a Mention followed on a successful action in the Red Sea.

There is an expectation of leave while BlackPrince is in the yard for an alteration to her guns. May I know if I will bewelcome in your house?

Your son,

Christopher Adams.’

He thought it likely that his father wouldbe fully informed about his circumstances, had to write on the assumption hewould know nothing. It was not easy. He dropped the letter in the tray to go tothe censors and then to the post. The Commander would read the officers’ lettershimself, not leaving that task to the Seaman Writers in his office, for fear oftheir mouths. Even so, he did not like exposing his private business to the worldin such a fashion.

Four days later, effectively return ofpost bearing in mind how isolated Scapa was, he received a reply. It was difficultto open the letter. He did so, annoyed to observe his own hands trembling.

A brief opening confirming that his fatherwas aware of his career in the Mediterranean and had been made proud by it.Then to the meat of the letter.

‘You are welcome indeed to the familyhome, Christopher. Your eldest brother and I will be pleased to greet youagain, particularly in the light of the way in which you have overcome yourtroubles. Your brother Arthur is in residence as well, currently, having beenwounded in Flanders and requiring some months of recuperation; it is possiblethat he may never again be fit for active service, having been shot to the stomachand then exposed to poisonous gas which has harmed his lungs.’

“I say, Commander, what utter bastards theGermans are! My brother, a couple of years my elder, home from Flanders and effectivelycrippled by the inhalation of poison gas!”

That was very bad, the Commander agreed.

“Huns indeed, Adams!”

It was no way for gentlemen to fight a war,not white men! It had been argued that poison gases might be used against thewogs and fuzzy-wuzzies, savages who were strangers to the rules of war, but itwas no way for the civilised to behave.

The news spread around the wardroom, wasgreeted with the utmost contempt. Such behaviour was simply wrong. It was a crime.

“Should try the Kaiser when the war is wonand hang him! No way to treat a gentleman, you might say, but using poison gasis no way for a gentleman to behave!”

There was a restrained agreement with Crewe.Hanging a monarch was outside of the normal way of doing things, they admitted,yet his conduct had been criminal, a disgrace to the human race.

“Off to Queensferry, eight bells in the MorningWatch, Adams. Eight weeks, at least, in the dockyard. Leave for all thoseentitled, which includes you. As you are Navigator, with little to do in theyard, you may take four weeks. Give you the chance to show your face in Townagain. Been away so long you will have been forgotten, I expect.”

“Third son and naval, little reason torecall me, Commander. No prize for an eligible daughter and years before I canthink of getting married. Don’t know what I shall be doing after the war, inany case – no naval career for me.”

The Commander was aware – had to be in hisposition in the ship – of Christopher’s disgrace and rehabilitation.

“Bound to be something in the City, Adams,bearing in mind your family.”

“Possibly, Commander. Might be I wouldlook overseas for a living. I expect the family will have interests in the States,even in Australia, where I could be useful – and not so stuffy as the Stock Exchange!”

The senior officers were sat in their owncircle, in comfortable armchairs, slightly removed from the lieutenants andsubs who made a noisier set, laughing and joking at the prospect of leave. Thewardroom had slowly eased itself away from wartime austerity, the firstenthusiasm waning and padded furniture reappearing. They no longer expected to descendinto wild battle at any minute.

“Be glad to take the train south,Commander. A few weeks away from this bleak corner of the Earth will be morethan welcome.”

“Less than ideal as an anchorage, Adams –I cannot call it a harbour! In these days of wireless, I do not know why we arenot dispersed along the coast in ports from Aberdeen south to Hull. It would beeasy to set a rendezvous in the North Sea or off Norway and the ships and crewscould be far better looked after.”

The Victorian minds of the Admiraltydemanded that the Grand Fleet must be held together, each ship within sight ofthe Admiral’s signalling mast. Command must be exercised by flag signals – thatwas the proper way of organising one’s ships.

It was very sad, all agreed. On the otherhand, it was a magnificent sight – the lines of battleships, two dozens ofdreadnoughts at any one time, and cruisers and the flotillas of destroyers, allat anchor and just waiting to leap out into the ocean to defeat Britannia’sfoes.

“A great pity that the High Seas Fleetwill not come out, gentlemen. They are spoiling a damned good war!”

It was all the fault of the Germans andtheir appalling, lame-brained Kaiser, that was