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

their wake, possibly not needing to fire their twelve inch guns.

“A massacre, sir. The torpedo boats can’t besufficient escort for a landing.”

Neither chose to speculate further.

“Crew to the Maxim and the Lewisestonight, Number One.”

“Full alert, sir.”

“I think so. Mr Rees!”

The Commissioned Gunner appeared almostimmediately, a trick of his, it seemed.

“Some reason to expect small torpedo crafttonight, we are told, Mr Rees.”

“As well to mount the Hotchkisses, sir.They outrange the Lewises, not that that matters too much in the night. Can’tsee to aim straight in the darkness. Handy to have extra firepower if anythingcomes close.”

“Very good. Rifles and revolvers to thedeck, I think.”

“Issue revolvers, sir? Selected hands tocarry them at their hip. Rifles to stands at the normal locations by the tubes,sir?”

The voice said that was not a question.

“As you think best, Mr Rees.”

The monitors sailed with a pair of oldsloops in attendance, their function being to tow the big ships back if it becamenecessary, as was too frequently the case.

“Bloody monitors, Mr Canning! Built in a hurrywith no thought given to their eventual displacement. The engines they installedwere far too small.”

“The First Lord had a brainwave, they say,sir, and overcame all opposition to get his pets into service without wastingtime on designing them.”

“Bloody Churchill!”

Canning very wisely made no comment.

An hour and the destroyers left harbour onthe line for Harwich, turning northeast up the coast only when out of sight ofland. Fifteen minutes later a lookout called a seaplane.

“Hands to action stations. Mr Rees!Aeroplane!”

Rees yelled and two of his gunners’ partyran up from below with the Hotchkisses, hidden in the movement of hands totubes and guns, hopefully unnoticed by the observer in the seaplane. They setup their guns and waited out of sight behind the bandstand that carried theMaxim.

“Mr Higgins! You and four men with riflesto show yourselves on the forecastle.”

The seaplane made its slow way towards them,the observer visible, hanging out of his cockpit with binoculars to his eyes.

There was a large, black Maltese Crossclearly visible on the fuselage.

“Can’t be making fifty knots, sir. Whatwould you say? A thousand feet? A little less?”

“Damned if I know, Mr Canning! How do youestimate height? Mr Rees, fire at will.”

Rees raised a hand to acknowledge thecommand as the plane turned to come in from off the port bow, taking a closelook at the flotilla, losing height to get a better view.

“Distant two cables and at a thousand feetand dropping, Mr Canning.”

“Roughly, sir. We ought to have some sortof aerial rangefinder, sir. Shouldn’t be impossible to bodge something to takea triangle.”

Rees stood and shouted to Higgins to openfire with his rifles, presumably to draw attention away from the midships areawhere his guns were located. A few seconds and the Hotchkisses fired in burstsof about twenty rounds, tracer giving an aim. The first shots were astern andbelow the seaplane; after that they hit into the fuselage around the cockpit.They saw the pilot fall to the side.

“It’s going down, sir! Rees has got it!”

“So he has. Close the wreckage when it splashesand launch a boat, Number One. If it floats, salvage it – we can take it hometo be examined.”

The aeroplane did not float, going intothe sea nose first, dragged under by its heavy engine. The pilot and observerwent down with it.

“No reports going home with that one, NumberOne.”

“Yeoman, make to the half-flotilla, ‘setadditional lookouts to watch for aeroplanes’.”

Simon wondered if their gunners hadunofficial extras as well.

He went below for a few minutes to make thefirst notes for his report. ‘Enemy seaplane destroyed by machine gun fire. Nosurvivors. Single engine. Observation machine. No evidence of bombs.’ Short andsimple. He added a precise time and position. No need to mention that Lancelothad used unofficial weaponry to make the kill – what Their Lordships did notknow about would cause them no anguish.

Returning to the bridge he called for kye;there was a chilly breeze whipping across the North Sea and the watchkeeperswould benefit from something hot.

“How are we stocked for additionalchocolate and cocoa, Mr Canning?”

“Not much more than official issue, sir. Ihave been able to accumulate a little in the normal way, putting requisitionsinto the Stores at Harwich and here in Dunkerque at the same time. They are gettingwise to that, sir. The two sets of storekeepers are starting to talk to each other.”

“Pity! Don’t try it again. Too big a risk.I’ll think of something else.”

Simon knew that Canning had only a smallprivate income, insufficient for him to purchase stocks himself. He, on the otherhand, had a huge income in Naval terms, could easily afford to do so. It wouldbe wise to find a way to cover his expenditure – the hands should not know thathe was spending his own money on their comforts. Even more so for the wardroom –his officers might be humiliated. It should not be too difficult – gifts ofvarious sorts turned up frequently from the various organisations andcommittees that had formed in almost every town in the country to providecomforts for the troops and sailors. He had heard even of ships being adoptedby women’s groups in towns along the coast and a regular trickle of cigarettesand sweets and such turning up.

He made a mental note to talk to his uncleto make the arrangements with a wholesaler in London. A City of Londoncharitable committee could act as cover for a lorryload, a ton and more of the bestsplit between the four destroyers.

“Toffees, Mr Canning! Not just chocolate.”

“Yes, sir. Exactly.”

Captains were never wrong on their ownbridge.

“Time to our turning point?”

“Two hours and twenty-three minutes, sir,to reach a position one mile off Dutch waters. Monitors should commencebombardment in two hours and fifteen minutes from now, sir.”

The plan assumed that anything in theGerman-held harbours would be on one hour’s notice for steam.

“What if they have smaller petrol enginedlaunches and boats, Canning?”

“Could be a problem, sir. To my limitedunderstanding, it is a matter of winding up a starter and then kicking in aclutch, sir. Five minutes at most, not having boilers to bring up totemperature. I think any such would be out of their harbours well before wecame along,