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

“It does, Waller. Well done. You are trulyone of us now. Keep learning – there is a lot more to pick up. A good start,young man! Mr Canning will rewrite the watch list to include you with earlyeffect.”

They moved up to the bridge, readying forthe day’s business.

“Yeoman, signal half-flotilla to be readyto sail at the top of the tide, in conformity to written orders. You will takeus out, Mr Canning. Mr Rees!”

The Commissioned Gunner trotted up to thebridge, carrying something wrapped in canvas.

“A quick rundown on the new Lewises, Mr Rees.”

“Pair of twins, sir, with the new pans. I hadhoped for something heavier but anything I could lay my hands on was belt fed.That demands a crew of at least two and would not fit in on the bridge. TheLewises are very similar to the original model, takes two minutes to learn thedifference. Higgins has picked it up.”

“Must be simple then, Mr Rees. What areyou carrying? That looks like a rifle butt.”

“A Hotchkiss machine gun, sir. Frenchoriginally, going into production in England at the moment, firing three-o-threerounds. Managed to get hold of a couple through an acquaintance, sir. Longer effectiverange than the Lewis which might make them come in handy. Higher muzzlevelocity. I was thinking of setting their little tripod up on a sort of a polemounting, hooking them on when wanted, for use against aeroplanes. Could putthem up on the Maxim bandstand, sir.”

“Go ahead, Mr Rees. Useful to have someway of irritating those things in the sky. Much in favour, in fact.”

They tied up at the wharf at Dunkerque,much to their pleasure. Anchored or at a buoy in the outer harbour meant it wasdifficult to get ashore; moored alongside, all hands could be released for acouple of hours at a time.

“There’s a chocolate seller in the marketagain, sir. Not the same old biddy as ‘twas, sir. Good stuff though.”

“I’ll see what she’s got, Packer. Always pleasantto have a bar of chocolate to chew on in the middle of the night.”

“I got biscuits for the cabin, sir.”

Half a dozen chocolate biscuits on a platewere always welcome when officers came visiting.

As always, Simon spent more than he had intendedat the stall, came back telling himself he would get fat. He was of a stockybuild naturally, would need little excess to become pudgy. There was almost nochance to exercise aboard ship and it was always tempting to nibble on somethingduring the long nights.

He heard the pipes sound as a seniorofficer was welcomed aboard, was surprised he had not been warned in advance.

The duty seaman at the brow called quietlyto him.

“Captain Campbell-Barnes, sir.”

Captain of Lucifer, junior ship in thehalf-flotilla.

“’Afternoon, sir. Thought I should speakto you rather than send a signal. Quicker. One of my subs tripped over on deckan hour back. Running, for some reason, and caught his heel in a ringbolt. Hospitalsays he has broken both bones in the lower leg. On the sick list for monthswith that.”

“Right, he must be replaced, sooner ratherthan later. Come with me to Senior Naval Officer, Dunkerque, see what, ifanything, he has available.”

There were three monitors and four predreadnoughtbattleships in harbour, part of the bombardment squadron. With their far largerwardrooms it was commonly possible to pull an officer off them to fill a gap. Adestroyer had so small a complement that a missing man would affect efficiency;on the big ships, which spent far more hours in port than at sea, one sub wouldhardly be noticed.

SNO Dunkerque was happy to assist, knowingthat Simon was favoured by Commodore Tyrwhitt and had a record of success thatreflected favour on Dunkerque as well.

“What do you want? A sublieutenant with ayear or two in or a midshipman ready to make his step?”

Simon raised an eyebrow toCampbell-Barnes, left the decision to him.

“A bright young mid would be ideal, sir.Happy to pick up his commission and not had the chance to get into habits of idlenesson a big ship like too many subs from the battlewagons.”

“Should be no difficulty, let me see… Ihave a list somewhere of mids due to make sub, sent in from the BombardmentSquadron. My responsibility these days, don’t send such trivial matters to theAdmiralty for a decision in time of war. What have we got? Seven, no less, let’stake a look at their names.”

Campbell-Barnes instantly dismissed a plebianSmith and an appalling Higginthwaite, ended up undecided between a Cavendishand a Watney-Egglinton.

“Damned difficult decision, sir! Cavendishmust be related to the Dukes of Devonshire, in the nature of things, while theother must have a daughter of the brewing family and a second or third son ofthe Earl of Cumberland as parents. No money in the Cumberland family, thesedays, sir, but a deal of political influence – related to everybody in theParty!”

Even Simon knew that the Watney family hadpots of money, controlled half a dozen MPs and possessed a place in Society. TheDevonshires were said to own half of Britain and to supply never fewer than athird of every Cabinet of either party. He knew nothing of the Cumberlands.

“A quandary, old chap! No telling what isbest for the wardroom. You might enquire which was the better seaman?”

That course had not occurred toCampbell-Barnes.

“I say, sir, what an excellent idea!” Heturned to SNO. “Do you know, sir?”

“The boy Watney-whatever is Dartmouth, hasbeen three years a midshipman and only now put up for his commission. Young Cavendishis a wartime entry.”

That seemed decisive. Cavendish might bebenefitting from influence pushing him forward early; the other lad was adullard, one with every advantage and still likely almost the last of his yearto be declared ready for his promotion.

“Cavendish it is, sir, if you please.”

“He will be on your deck within the hour,Campbell-Barnes.”

The young captain saluted and left,leaving Simon to shake his head in the company of the Senior Naval Officer.

“Aristocratic purity maintained, it mightseem, Sturton.”

“He runs a tight ship, sir. Most junior ofmy three captains. A long way from least efficient – and the other pair arewell better than average. That being the case, I put up with his nonsense, sir.”

“So you must, Sturton. Turning to business,I have