“Bloody hell!”
The destroyer sank seconds later and was followed by the trawler suddenly capsizing and disappearing under the surface. Boats from Robin were seen to be combing the sea where she had gone down.
“They must have had men still aboard her, Number One. Below decks, in the captain’s cabin trying to recover more charts and papers, I will bet.”
“Robin signalling now, sir.”
“Lost midshipman and four seamen, sir.”
“Silly little bugger! Trying to make up for the cock-up with the wardroom blackout!”
Simon nodded sombrely – it seemed likely that the boy had taken too big a risk and had killed himself, which was bad luck. Four seamen had died at his side and under his command; that was inexcusable.
“Bloody young fool!”
“Agreed, Number One. He would never have made the grade. Same age as you, within a year, I believe.”
“But still a boy, sir.”
“Exactly so, Mr Sturton. I doubt you were ever just a boy, were you?”
“I don’t know, sir. I was never part of a family, not that I remember, so I had no chance to be a protected little boy.”
Captain Smallwood was interested and sympathetic – that aspect of being an orphan was obvious now it was mentioned, but it had never occurred to him.
“What did you do on leaves from Dartmouth?”
“Remained at the College, sir. There were a few of us, mainly sons of the Empire, who had no place to go to. You know how it is, sir – parents in Australia or darkest Africa, that sort of thing. There was one lad, Mayhew, whose father was a district officer on the Papuan coast and mother long dead; he hadn’t seen his father since he was six, and he had no grandparents in England, so he was almost as much an orphan as I was. It wasn’t too bad, in fact, sir. We went sailing much of the time and were taken hiking on the moors and things like that. I learned a lot about the small boats and working along a coast. Christmas was not such fun – all very lonely with less to do except study at our books. It could have been worse, sir; I ended up with some of the highest marks in the tests.”
“A true silver lining! We must return to Dunkirk. Flotilla in line abreast, extra lookouts and rifles to the bows. Try to locate this damned minefield and hope it is not full of floaters. We need to discover what its boundaries are.”
Robin gave them the positions taken from the captured German chart and then it was a matter of crawling at two knots, watching for the ten or twenty per cent of the mines poorly laid and floating away on the surface.
They reached Dunkirk and made their report and saw the four minesweeping trawlers sent off to trail cables with cutters across the location of the field.
“A small field, probably no more than fifty mines, Number One. They might get most of them. Should pick up any that are loose.”
They noted the field on their charts, another hazard to be avoided.
“What will be done with the coaster, sir?”
“Send her in and they will likely put a volunteer crew aboard and sail her to German waters off the Kiel Canal and drop mines there, most likely. Possibly send her into the Baltic with a pair of underwater torpedo tubes in her bows. She’s obviously a German boat and could well not be noticed. Might catch a battleship out on gunnery practice. Might even not be spotted and get away afterwards. Worth a try. Sort of command they will give to an officer who’s blotted his copybook – come back successful and all is forgiven and forgotten. Don’t come back – no loss!”
It seemed strange to Simon.
“If her captain is no good, sir, he won’t be likely to make a job of it.”
“He might be a very good sea officer but slapdash on shore. You get the occasional man who is careless with money – spends cash he hasn’t got and has creditors lined up outside his admiral’s doors. More commonly, you have a man who is discovered in bed with another officer’s wife – which is not to be recommended, especially if the wife is Mrs Captain or Admiral. Rarely, the gentleman in question is suspected – but not proven – to be a bugger. As it is a known fact that all queers are cowards, put him in danger’s way and see what he does – if he shows brave, then he must have been falsely smeared by those who simply did not like him.”
Simon knew nothing of the sexually unorthodox, other than from the giggles and whispers of the boys at Dartmouth. He accepted his Captain’s assertion.
“I suppose one hears of such things, sir – but I have never come across one myself.”
“Nor me, not for sure. You pick up the tales and the rumours, but it’s rare indeed to hear of a court-martial. Mostly a civilian habit, I suspect, Sturton – artists and actors and writers and such, they get up to all sorts of tricks. This Oscar Wilde chappie – before my time but he and his crowd were into everything peculiar. Not our business and none of it in our flotilla – not the sort of thing you would come across in the boats!”
Simon agreed – destroyers were all about fresh air and clean living. Not the place for perversity to develop.
Sublieutenant Parrett listened and nodded and said not a word.
“Bad weather coming down from the north, Number One. Orders are for the destroyers to return to Harwich to go into the yard for a few days for boiler clean and running repairs. Sail at soonest.”
The signal went to the section and they left harbour inside the hour.
“Twenty knots, sir? Leaves a measure in hand if need arises and gets us to Harwich in daylight.”
“Make it twenty-five, Number One. Gives a bit of experience in holding a line at speed. Keep an eye on the other three for station-keeping.”
They skirted the minefields and shoals and made a fast passage to Harwich, extra lookouts scanning the sea for mines and, hopefully, for periscopes. Rumour insisted that there were German submarines at sea although none had definitely been sighted close to the Channel.
They reached Harwich in front of a rising gale, made the dockyard and tied up perhaps an hour before truly heavy weather came in.
The harbour was full of small ships.
“Destroyers are all in, sir. Only two of the Live Baits are at anchor. Leaves three out on station.”
“Cressy, Aboukir and Hogue out. I trust Mr Dacres is enjoying himself. Good sea boats – could ride out a hurricane in those ships with nothing to worry about. The only thing they are good for.”
Sheldrake was shut down and placed into the hands of the dockyard, which was actually working at night in response to the demands of war.
The storm blew out overnight, short-lived, as was sometimes the case with equinoctial gales.
Commodore Tyrwhitt took the newer destroyers to sea in the morning, off to join the three old cruisers on the Broad Fourteens patrol.
“Hands to local leave, Number One. Seventy-two hour passes. Best we should stay in case the dockyard wants decisions from us. Might as well remain at our ease here in the depot ship – get fresh bread and a decent cup of tea in the wardroom at least.”
The five officers from Sheldrake breakfasted together, taking a leisurely meal and discussing whether it was worthwhile to take the train to London to see a show. Simon noticed an increasing bustle on deck and saw activity over at the Commodore’s offices.
“Bit of a flap on, sir?”
“So there is… High Seas Fleet come out to sea, perhaps? Take a look, shall we?”
They drank their tea and wandered out on deck, spotted a Paymaster Lieutenant trotting towards them.
“Unusual, gentlemen! The sedentary personified and managing a run! Must be something out of the ordinary. What’s up, Lieutenant?”
“Wireless message in from Cressy, sir. Says the squadron has hit a minefield. Aboukir is sinking, Hogue going to the rescue.”