Belgium was generally agreed to be in a mess. There was no agreement about anything else, as far as Simon knew.
“Do we actually know where the armies are, Dacres?”
“No, but neither do they! The main attention is on the Schlieffen Plan, the columns closing in on Paris. If the Hun take Paris, then the war is over, it will be instant armistice and negotiations. Should they be stopped, then the sideshows become significant. For the while, it seems as if there are only second-rate German troops tidying-up in Belgium, and they are spread all over the show. Some have reached the coast and others are stuck well inland. The Belgians are holding in some locations, running like hell in others. The BEF has some of its battalions in western Belgium, all of them apparently falling back rather rapidly. The Navy has the staff of a Brigade somewhere in or close to Antwerp making ready for more troops who are expected to join them. Apparently, there is a regiment of armoured cars – of all things – playing silly buggers with the Uhlans as well. The industrial areas of Flanders are in a complete shambles with troops from France, Belgium and Britain uncertain of each other’s location and fighting the Hun where they find him. You are likely to have fun either pulling our people out or dropping more in – quite possibly both, simultaneously. Was I you, Sturton, I would be boning up on the coastal charts from Dunkirk to the Dutch border – you’re likely to be playing games around the mud banks for the coming month or two.”
Sheldrake remained in Harwich long enough to drop Dacres and his baggage at quayside. Simon then had the pleasure of taking her back to Dunkirk at twenty-five knots.
Captain Smallwood explained the hurry.
“We want to get to the oiling berth in daylight, Sturton, then we take the section along the coast to hunt in the darkness and scout the coast at dawn. The latest word is that the Hun is using slow convoys from the north to drop men and materiel south of Ostend with the intent of cutting off Antwerp.”
“Slow convoys, sir?”
“Their Army wanted fast cruisers for the job, possibly escorting Baltic ferries pulled off their runs to bring the soldiers down from Kiel and Emden. The ferries are as fast as most cruisers. However, Kaiser Bill will not permit his pretty cruisers to venture into hostile waters and so the ferries are not allowed out either. They might be needed in the Baltic, as well. The Russians certainly advanced far into East Prussia; there is word coming through of a massive battle in the last couple of weeks with indications that the Russians have been well thrashed. First reports were that the Tsar’s great army was marching on Berlin under the ever-victorious General Samsonov; I heard just now that Samsonov has shot himself – which generals don’t normally do when they’re winning. Either way, the German Navy must be busy along the Baltic coast, probably using all of their destroyers and light cruisers to shepherd a battle fleet. The result is, the Admiralty believes, that the Army is forced to use coasters and armed trawlers, coal-fired, of course, and slow. They can come down and offload in the dark hours, but they are still off the coast when dawn comes.”
“At which point we shall show our hostile faces, sir.”
“Exactly. We shall celebrate the onset of autumn by bashing a number of Huns most enthusiastically. If at all possible, we shall take the little ships by boarding and run them back to Harwich at our heels. There is much to be said for a gaggle of prizes – they provide pretty pictures for the newspapers.”
“We are likely to be close to Dutch waters, are we not, sir?”
“Of a certainty. Tight navigation will be essential. The Dutch are neutral, as you know, but they are also undecided on whose side they might be. Neutrality does not necessarily mean absolute even-handedness, you see, Sturton. Holland is a trading nation and will wish its vessels to be safe in the waters of the North Sea and the Atlantic, which suggests they might well bow towards us – but not if we arrogantly infringe their rights as neutrals. We must not venture inside their waters, even if the Germans do. We must in fact make a show of halting at the three mile limit, shaking our heads at the naughty Huns.”
“The Dutch navy is small, is it not, sir?”
“Coast defence, purely. They have been thinking about battleships but haven’t got any – the same for modern cruisers. They do have destroyers, torpedo boats and submarines sufficient to be an irritation. Best to avoid any action that will offend them, particularly as they have a moderately effective army with a deal of colonial experience. The Admiralty will not love us if we create an incident with the Dutch.”
Another worry for a first lieutenant – he must always make sure that the ship’s position is known to the cable when close to the coast and now he must know precisely where the frontier lays. Fortunately, the Dutch would not have removed their buoys and lightships, being at peace.
Simon had a quiet word with Sublieutenant Parrett, driving home the absolute need for precise navigation when close to Holland. If the Sub made a mistake, it could not be his fault entirely, being so junior, and neither could the captain be wholly to blame; that left the first lieutenant neatly in the middle.
They took on their oil, swearing at the filth inevitably left on their decks. There were always drips and splashes as the hoses were disconnected and it was never possible to put down enough sacking and sand in the right places, which led to an hour at least of cleaning afterwards.
It was nothing compared to the mess left by coal but oil was particularly sticky and irritating. The men far preferred oil – coal was shifted in one hundred and forty pound sacks which was good enough argument in itself – but it stank and tainted food for the rest of the day.
“Count your blessings, Mr Sturton. At least the officers do not have to set an example when oiling.”
That was true, Simon accepted. In coal burners the officers always turned to with the men, running faster and showing that anything the hands could do they could do better. The labour was killing, occasionally literally for older men with unsuspected heart conditions.
“In all aspects ready to proceed, sir.”
“Very formal, Mr Sturton. Correct, too. Better by far to be too formal than ever to be slack. I will take her out on this occasion. Yeoman, signal the half flotilla to follow father.”
The Yeoman made the correct signal, ‘flotilla to follow in line astern’. He did not approve of officers’ humour.
“Acknowledged, sir.”
“Taking us four miles out, Mr Sturton. Gives a better chance of seeing lights along the coast and avoids small boats out crabbing and shrimping on the banks.”
That was sensible, Simon thought, noting the existence of inshore fishermen for future reference. If he might have a coastal launch or gunboat of his own one day, he must know such things.
“Checking the guns, sir.”
He left the little bridge and walked the few paces forward to the four inch, spoke to the gunlayer and then down to the twelve pounders and to the after four inch. On his way back he stopped by the tubes and the Commissioned Gunner, Mr Harker.
“Too small for torpedoes, we must expect, Mr Harker.”
“Almost certainly, sir. You never know, though – they might let a cruiser out, sir.”
“Always possible. We can but hope. A pair of mouldies will do a lot of good in the right place then.”
“Provided they run straight, yes, sir.”
“True enough, Mr Harker!”
Simon returned to the bridge. He was off watch and could have sat back in the wardroom but it was desirable for a First Lieutenant to know what was going on at all times, and if there was the least chance of action he should be at the captain’s side.