The Death of Hope Andrew Wareham (book club reads TXT) 📖
- Author: Andrew Wareham
Book online «The Death of Hope Andrew Wareham (book club reads TXT) 📖». Author Andrew Wareham
“What’s your feeling of the ship, MrStrachan?”
A formally expressed question, requiring acareful answer.
“In no way out of the ordinary, sir.Harbour routine, obviously, with the bulk of the hands off-duty and one watchashore on liberty from mid-afternoon to twenty-three hundred hours. Thoseaboard are almost all in the messdecks, within reason quiet, a little ofsinging and whistling, many I saw with a mug of tea, which means boiling waterto hand in the galley, everything as normal. I don’t know what happened, sir,but it was all kept shtum.”
“Strange. Not to worry. It will all comeout sooner or later.”
Strachan shrugged – it might be that theywould never know exactly what had occurred. They might well have to rely on thegrapevine which often overstated when it did not actually invent.
“What is the plan for the morning, sir?”
“Lieutenants in order of seniority to thecabin, you to announce each - gives you a chance to put name to face. Call thePaymaster to me now, please.”
Lieutenant Biggleswade appeared, in hisbest reporting uniform, having expected to be called to the Lord and Masterbefore any of the other officers. He was in charge of ship and flotilla administration,knew where to find every piece of paper and what to do in any eventuality involvingstores or men. Despite his title, he did a lot more than simply see to the men’spay. Simon had been told that the Paymaster was a direct descendant of the Nelsonicpurser, the function brought into the uniformed Navy rather than left as an anomalouscross of service and civilian role. Like most in his branch, he had been shiftedacross for being unable to meet the demands of a deck officer – some had weakchests, a large number were colour blind or needed spectacles.
“Welcome aboard, sir.”
“Thank you, Biggleswade. Officers’ personalreports, are they all up to date? Any out of the ordinary?”
The paymasters knew everything about theirfellow-officers. They normally kept their mouths firmly closed, except in confidenceto their captains.
“Nothing untoward, sir. Most were postedhere, to a new ship, as a reward for showing more efficient than most. The soleanomaly, as one might say, is a young gentleman by the name of…”
“Let me guess,” Simon interrupted. “Higgins?”
“You have been forewarned, sir?”
“He came to me as a midshipman onSheldrake, followed me to Lancelot as a sub and I thought I had finally got ridof him after he was decorated and promoted for an act of pure, unadulteratedidiocy. Brave, mind you, but remarkably stupid. We came upon a cluster of newsmall craft not so far from Zeebrugge, were able to shoot them up and onealmost collided with us. Higgins, will you believe, jumped aboard her andsquashed two of her crew underfoot and shot most of the rest – no more than halfa dozen all told.”
“Remarkable stuff, sir!”
“Unthinking! He has remarkable little tothink with! Anyway, he is mine and we are lumbered with him.”
“He seems a pleasant young man, sir.”
“Well bred – very good manners. It may behis breeding that is the problem, the reason why he has been cosseted in the service.”
Biggleswade showed blank. Simon saw noreason to enlighten him.
“The remainder are all competent, youwould say?”
“More than, sir. They have produced anefficient ship.”
Simon noticed the words the Paymaster hadchosen. Normally, it was the captain who made a ship what it was.
“What of the gunroom?”
“Two subs, either capable of stepping up,sir, as soon as there is a vacancy. Both have their certificates. The two midsare both wartime intake and have a lot of learning to do. Both have messedabout in boats as boys and are capable of coxing their cutters. Neither is anotherNelson.”
“Few of us are, Paymaster. What of the flotilla?Seven captains, one of them a lieutenant commander, I presume.”
“Griffin, sir. Funnily enough, he isprobably the least competent of the lot. He was working with minesweepers; dueto a cousin on Beatty’s staff, he was able to swing a destroyer when he was made.Because of seniority, he had to have the half-flotilla, of course. The little Ihave seen of him, suggests you may well need to ease him out, sir. That will bedifficult, because he is one of Beatty’s people and you are not. Servicepolitics, sir.”
Simon had not been aware that he was knownto be one of Jellicoe’s people. He had never met Jellicoe, knew of him only asone of Fisher’s products and the most senior of seagoing admirals.
“Yes, sir. You are one of CommodoreTyrwhitt’s followers, sir, and he is a strong supporter of Jellicoe. Actually,sir, to be precise, he dislikes Beatty far more than he approves of Jellicoe. Likeany senior officer, he has to belong to one party or the other. No room forneutrality in today’s Navy, sir!”
An advantage of the widespread nature ofthe factions was that neither admiral could do much to disadvantage the opposition– there were simply too many bodies involved to be able to post out the other’speople.
“So, wait until he makes a visible fauxpas and then send him on his way… Let us hope he sinks no ships, kills no men thewhile.”
“More like to sink a few buoys trying topick up a mooring, sir. Not a good idea to put him alongside if it can beavoided, sir. He insists on conning the ship, won’t hand over to the coxswainbut is used to an eight knot sweeper.”
“That could be funny. I must think ofwitty signals to send. The other six captains?”
“Destroyermen, sir. Small ships throughand through, several of them with service dating back to the introduction ofthe oily wads. Joined as mids and able never to leave the boats.”
“Good. A signal in the morning, ‘gin pennantflying at sixteen hundred hours’. Square it with Mr Strachan.”
Hosting the captains and their firstlieutenants would mean use of the wardroom, requiring the permission of the President.
“Will do, sir.”
Simon’s dinner appeared, bringing themeeting to an end.
“A pork chop and fresh vegetables, Packer.Well done at this time of year.”
“Didn’t ask no questions of the cook, sir.”
The Navigator arrived first in the morning.
“Knyvett, sir.”
He was dressed in doeskins, the mostexpensive of uniform cloths, displayed gold cufflinks and collar studs and waswearing a large and shiny wristwatch. Simon suspected
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