Quiller had seen Lancelot over several months.
“She’s the Jonah – go out on patrol in company with Lancelot and you’ll see nothing and be hit by an unexpected storm. Add to that, if she’s out on her own then she’ll lose crew members over the side or have men fall into open hatches overnight or simply trip and break a leg to a rogue wave. On the rare occasions she has been in action, she has hit nothing and been caught by random fire and lost men. Walk along the dock and pass her mooring and a seagull will crap on you – honestly!”
Simon shrugged – bad luck happened but there sounded as well to be a little of slackness. Perhaps that was why she was getting a new captain. Pity the First remained; he would make his mind up about him, dump him if necessary.
“What’s her coxswain like?”
“Old for the boats. Best of seamen, started under sail, of course, been everywhere, done everything. By way of being an intimidating sort of fellow, so they say.”
Nothing to say there, until he had met the man. If the captain had been even a fraction on the weak side then the coxswain might have been allowed too much power, might have changed from a figure of authority to being an overbearing bully.
He could not ask about the first lieutenant, not in the mess on the depot ship that they all shared.
“Taking some of your own men across, they tell me, Sturton.”
“Gunner, sub and my new mid. Mr Rees is one of the best and the youngster, Waller, comes from a yachting family in Hamble.”
He said nothing of Higgins, the absence of comment noted by his dinner companion, another half-striper from a flotilla of the new M Class boats, larger and immeasurably superior for having a closed-in bridge with glass to protect the officers from cold and sea.
“You’ll see her in the morning. The half-section has been on the coastal shipping run, north as far as Boston. We get sent out on that infrequently, showing our noses to the Merchant Navy, letting them know we exist and care about them! Always the chance of a cruiser raid along the East Anglian coast, so the Admiralty says. Don’t make sense to me – most of the coasters running down to London are tiny – sailing craft of forty or fifty tons, steamers not a great deal bigger. A lot of them, I will accept, but sending a cruiser out after them risks a major ship for little enough gain. However, ours is not to reason why…”
Difficult sailing along a shallow coast with all of the navigation and hazard buoys taken up. Necessarily inshore because that was where the small ships were. A night passage along that coastline would be fraught. It would be interesting in the morning to see how Lancelot had fared.
“Do you know what you will be doing, Sturton?”
“Working up the half-section for a few days then patrolling in the North Sea – nothing out of the ordinary.”
There was no need to mention the possible bombardment – that might smack of favouritism, even the faintest implication to be avoided.
Simon took an early breakfast, glancing out of the wardroom and across the harbour, watching for Lancelot to come in out of the morning mists.
Four L Class entered, neatly in line astern, took up their moorings. There was a working party on one, tidying up ropes in the bows, as if she had been towed. More men dropped a boat and then took a hose aboard and paddled to the stern, started a hasty clean-up. The captain was coming ashore in the other boat.
“’Morning, Sturton. Washing down the mud thrown up by the screws at the stern and clearing up after a tow. Found a mudbank by the looks of it. Lancelot, of course.”
“Let us hope the screws and rudder are still good, Quiller. Soft mud, from the way it’s washing off. Should be good.”
“Hopefully. Eat up, Sturton, you might well be taking over earlier than you thought for. Tyrwhitt might not be in a good mood at this time of day.”
Simon was on his second cup of coffee when a messenger came to his table, asked him to attend the Commodore in his cabin.
“Good morning, Sturton. Get your bags together, man! Take over Lancelot with immediate effect. Just been on the telephone to the Admiralty. I sacked Captain Hayes five minutes ago. Grounded in the Wash overnight, came off with a rope and this morning’s tide. Captain blamed the First and the Coxswain equally, not his fault at all! I am dumping all three. Waiting for their postings now. I will have new men aboard within the day. The Coxswain will be a new man in the job. Chief Petty Officer out of one of the old King Edwards at Chatham, knew him years back. Good man and he will be delighted to get back to the boats. Small ships all of his life! Your new First has a good record on paper up to his last ship. I don’t know him. No reason to suppose he is other than a good officer – but!”
Simon took his cue.
“But what, sir?”
“His previous captain – Dover Patrol, one of the light cruisers, Birmingham – got rid of him, claimed he was insubordinate. Court found for him and he has been sent to me for employment, no stain on his character. All yours, Sturton.”
“Thank you, sir. I trust he will not be another Gibson.”
“So do I, man! We put up a black there. Damned good thing you got us out from underneath! He has been shifted out of Dartmoor, by the way – don’t look so surprised, not released. Sent to Broadmoor, to the criminal lunatic asylum. They say he’s gone right round the bend, raving mad! From all I hear, you have to be crazy as a loon for the screws at Dartmoor to notice anything out of the ordinary.”
“Good thing he was gone from Sheldrake before he went mad, sir.”
“Very.” Tyrwhitt was not prepared to examine that set of possibilities. “Off you go. Get aboard Lancelot and do something with her. A week in Harwich and then I’ll send the four of you out on shake down and then it’s to business.”
Simon ran to his cabin on the depot ship, mind racing. All new officers, apart from the sub, and a week to take the ship in hand.
‘Could be busy.’
“Packer, we are to board Lancelot at soonest. Pass the word to Mr Rees and the other two that they are to get across before me. Mr Rees acting as senior. Coxswain is coming up on the train from Chatham and the First from Dover, both due here today.”
Packer could pass the word unofficially; much more convenient than Simon making a formal announcement. The three would speak to the officers they knew on the depot ship and pick up the buzz, the latest rumours.
Simon waited an hour, out of courtesy, to give the previous captain’s steward time to clear his cabin, then took a boat out from the depot ship. He sat in the stern sheets, an arm resting on the gunwale to display the two and a half stripes, warning the sentry of a senior officer, likely to be the new captain, if he was awake.
Two cables distant and he saw men scurrying, a side party forming. He had not caught them unawares, which made for a better start.
Rees welcomed him formally, the pipes squealing in the background. Higgins, Waller and an unknown sub were stood properly behind him, a rank of ratings to the other side. They had done well in the absence of Coxswain and First, the pair who would normally arrange such things.
“Thank you, Mr Rees. I know the officers, of course, with just the single exception.”
“Sublieutenant McCracken, sir.”
The accents of Ulster were harsh in the young man’s voice.
Very young, made his commission well before he was twenty, suggesting an efficient man – or another Higgins.
“You have your watchkeeping certificate, Mr McCracken?”
“I have, sir.”
“Good. You will be a useful member of the wardroom. What is your seniority?”
“Three months, sir.”
“That places you senior to Mr Higgins. I will expect you both to assist Mr Waller who is new to the Navy but has considerable yachting experience.”