The lookouts were doubled - and could see little in the dark of the moon and not much even when it was at full. The searchlight flashed a dozen times each watch, checking possible sightings. Once, they had seen a mine and had exploded it with rifle fire, although that was to announce their presence to any ship within ten miles.
Apart from that one moment of excitement, they had seen nothing other than the flicker of artillery not many miles inland.
“What’s happening in France and Belgium, sir?”
“A damned good question, Sturton. Something.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“My pleasure. I am always happy to enlighten the ignorance of my junior officers.”
“There seems to have been activity at Ostend, sir.”
“Small parties from a Naval Brigade and the Army going in to evaluate the roads and railways in case they must assist at Antwerp, which is encircled by forts which are said to be impregnable, invulnerable and any other superlative you can think of. That means that Napoleon could certainly not have taken them. He, of course, did not have Krupp guns firing forty centimetre explosive shells. It is likely that the generals cannot count beyond five and therefore do not appreciate just how great such shells are.”
“Five, sir?”
Captain Smallwood held up his left hand and solemnly pointed with his right, ticking off the fingers.
“One… two… three… four… five. They have to stop there for not having another hand to count with. As all generals are fat and aged, they cannot reach down to their toes, which they have not seen in many years. Five is their limit.”
“Of course, sir. I suppose their staff officers could bend down and count their toes, sir – or would they be too busy kissing them?”
“Precisely, Sturton. Despite the best endeavours of our newspapers to obfuscate the truth, it is clear the Germans are advancing – although that, of course, is not to say that the valiant British are retreating. Far from it! Our gallant heroes are fighting tooth and nail and clawing their way forwards in the opposite direction to the German frontier.”
“I am sure that makes simple good sense to the Mail and Telegraph, sir. The Times of course, does not have a front page and therefore need not have banner headlines proclaiming falsehoods for the benefit of the literate.”
“Well perceived, Sturton. I am amazed by the depth of understanding you display – don’t do so in front of the Commodore!”
“No, sir. I know better than that, sir!”
“Excellent! I foresee a great future for you, young man. Provided you can clearly demonstrate fundamental stupidity in the presence of your elders, you will undoubtedly be promoted far beyond your merits. The example of Beatty is one to bear in mind – cock your cap rakishly; smile for the cameras; draw your cutlass and charge everything in sight; salute your admirals’ wives and kowtow to Royalty - and you will become one of our youngest admirals!”
Simon winced – they were within the hearing of at least six ratings, any or all of whom might talk in the wet canteen. Captain Smallwood’s words would be known to the whole of the Harwich base within the week.
“Fear not, Sturton. Neither Tyrwhitt nor Keyes has any great love for the gentleman – they are Jellicoe’s men, through and through.”
“So it might seem, am I, sir.”
“You are one of my officers, therefore you are what I am, Sturton.”
They returned to base after another blank sweep. It seemed that the Germans found the run down the North Sea all the way from the Kiel Canal to be too great for their small ships and they were not prepared to risk their heavy units in the hope of getting into the troopships in the Channel.
Simon sat down with Dacres in their little wardroom after getting a few hours of sleep.
“Why, sir? If the German High Seas Fleet had chosen to sail, they might have managed to push a flotilla of battlecruisers into the Channel. They would have taken losses, but they might have destroyed a division of the BEF at sea and shelled the dumps of ammunition and stores around Calais. Surely that would have been worth losing a few battleships on its own. As well, it would force the Admiralty to distribute the Grand Fleet all along the East Coast to prevent it happening again.”
“They could have crippled the BEF – interrupted the flow of men for weeks, Sturton. It is not impossible that the war could have been brought to an end. I can only think that the Kaiser wanted to keep his fleet in being. He had rather have a threat sat in Kiel than squadrons taking losses in the North Sea. It strikes me as unwise – but if our leaders were wise men, they would not have gone to war and then we would not have our Mentions, with all the good they will do for our careers. Three weeks of war and we have done very well by doing very little, when it comes down to it. The whisper is that Admiral Keyes has something big in line for us, by the way. We are to go off hunting the Hun – he is Fritz no more, it would seem. All captains are off to a meeting this afternoon, to stand in awe and delight as our masters unveil their thoughts to them.”
“Why the ‘Hun’?”
“The newspapers seem to think that ‘Fritz’ is too charming a name for our enemy. Before your time, of course, back in the Boxer days at the turn of the century, the Kaiser made a fool of himself, sending his forces off with orders to behave like Huns and wipe out every Chink in China. The press seem to think they should be Huns again – you have seen the stories of what is happening to the Belgian population? Bayoneted babies and raped nuns to be found on every street corner, according to the newspapers – wouldn’t have thought there were that many nuns in Belgium, but no doubt our masters know better than us.”
“Interesting how they get their reporters there to discover what’s going on, sir. Does the German army extend special visitors’ passes to them?”
“Probably. I expect there has been some atrocious behaviour – it’s war and the soldiers have been let off their leashes – but I don’t see it being as bad as the papers make out. Glad I ain’t a Belgian, though.”
The destroyers took their turns at the oiling wharf and then replenished stores and replaced used practice rounds from their magazines.
“Everything up to top, Sturton?”
“Yes, sir. Ammunition for all guns and extra pans for the Lewises, all filled and in the racks, sir. Three-o-threes all checked over and clips filled, sir. Had a sharp put on the cutlasses, and on the bayonets we haven’t got, sir.”
“Very good. Be sure that the cutlasses are to hand and that the boarding party all have their unlawful bayonets, Sturton. Were those letters for you in the mail?”
As an orphan, Simon normally received no post.
Simon flushed – he had received a letter from each of Dacres’ sisters, enquiring kindly of his life aboard his little ship and wondering if he was likely to see leave again that autumn. There had been a missive from his trustees as well, informing him in measured and grave terms that due to their unremitting care for his interests his capital sum had grown and that his income was as a result somewhat increased. He might expect to see two hundred and fifty pounds placed to his account in the September quarter.
“Yes, sir. My trustees are doing well for me out of the war, or so it would seem.”
Captain Smallwood was only a little pleased to hear that. His own family was agricultural, possessing substantial acreages in East Anglia; they were enjoying a good harvest but were finding that their costs had risen – wages especially – and that profits, strangely, were falling. Add to that, taxes were not insignificant.
Dacres overheard and said that his own father was enjoying a fine start to the war – he had apparently sold some stocks short – and presumably bought others long – and as a result had made a pretty addition to the family fortunes.