“It is still the end of an era, sir. A century of victory brought to an end. It gives one to wonder, sir…”
“What about, Number One?”
“What will happen when the big smash comes? When the Grand Fleet meets the High Seas Fleet? Will we win? Is it the certainty people think?”
Captain Smallwood shook his head.
“It has to be, Sturton. We dare not consider anything else. Keep that thought for your nightmares – do not speak it aloud, not if you wish to remain in a serving ship. If that was heard in public they would crucify you, for speaking what should be unthinkable. The emperor’s clothes would be nowhere in it! Say those words where a senior officer can hear and you will be first lieutenant on a gunboat on the Timbuctoo station, there to stay until you trip over your long grey beard.”
“I thought Timbuctoo was in the desert, sir.”
“Exactly!”
Christopher Adams was woken from sleep at three o’clock in the morning, in his cabin at wharfside in Portsmouth Harbour, sailing for the Med on the morning tide.
“Up and out, Adams, you are posted! Run man!”
His cabin was invaded by two wardroom stewards who began ruthlessly packing his bags, demanding his pyjamas instantly. He managed to wash his face before scrambling into uniform and being led to the side.
“You have twenty minutes, Mr Adams, joining destroyer Havelock for Plymouth where you will report aboard Inflexible battlecruiser.”
“Aye aye, sir!”
Instinct took over, that was the captain’s voice in the middle of the night – not a happy man, by the sound of it.
“Jacky Fisher is sending two battlecruisers to the Falkland Islands. Invincible and Inflexible, which is just out of the yard and is short of her full complement. She has put into Plymouth to complete repairs and make up her numbers, which include you as you are en route to your original posting. Good luck, Mr Adams. I envy you. You have Admiral Sturdee aboard and are tasked to find and sink the Tsingtao Squadron, without fail. Full speed to the South Atlantic, Mr Adams, working-up your ship and with a battle sure to come. Get into the boat now. Godspeed!”
Christopher saluted and ran down the accommodation ladder, the picture of the keen young officer, he hoped. A pity it was the middle of the night and there was no audience to applaud. The destroyer left Portsmouth working up to full speed and leaving a highly unlawful wake behind in the harbour and heading west with no time to lose.
Inflexible’s side was a charivari of boats and barges bringing stores and men and all demanding instant attention. Christopher turned to the midshipman in command of the harbour picket boat which had collected him from Havelock, ordered him to plough through the mob.
“Get me to the ladder and send a hand up after me with my dunnage.”
The midshipman obeyed, having no choice, forcing his bows ruthlessly between a pair of smaller boats.
Christopher jumped onto the ladder and ran up, saluting the quarterdeck and making a beeline to the most senior officer he could see, a middle-aged commander and likely to be the premier of the ship.
“Adams, sir, joining. What do you want me to do, sir?”
“Send your bags to the wardroom and take charge of the party bringing in the Gunner’s stores. Over there!”
The Commander pointed and Christopher saluted and ran.
An hour and he had the stores ticked off on a list and in the hands of the Chief Gunner’s Mate, a man who knew his guns but was not best suited to improvisation in a ship new to him and in a hurry. He returned to the Commander, noticing then that the ship was at sea and working up to top speed.
“Dealt with, sir.”
“Good. Check the boats now. All should be properly secured on their davits but I have had no report to that effect. The gunroom sublieutenant should have organised that with the midshipmen, but I have seen nothing of him yet.”
“If I spot him, I’ll order him to report, sir.”
“Good man!”
Christopher made a display of running, found a petty officer with a party of four actually doing the job, methodically working from one to the next.
“Well done, PO. Who put you to this job?”
“Nobody, sir, but we wasn’t ordered to nothing else and it needed doing.”
“Even better. What’s your name, PO?”
“Trotter, sir.”
“I won’t forget you. Have you seen the gunroom sub or any of the mids?”
“No, sir.”
“Then well done for your initiative, Trotter. I shall report to the Commander. How many boats left to check?”
“Just two, sir.”
“Good. Finish them and take a smoke break and then report to your watch officer, Trotter.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Christopher found the Commander, still at the centre of affairs on the upper deck.
“Found a PO Trotter who had almost completed the job. Had a quick look on my way back to you and the boats I saw were all properly secured, sir. He had no orders and nothing else to do, saw the job needed attention.”
“Well done, Adams. Trotter, you say? I don’t know all of my POs yet, but I shall remember him. No sign of sublieutenant or mids, I imagine.”
“Trotter had seen none, sir.”
“The sub was dumped on us at Chatham. I know why now. You are sent as a senior watchkeeper, assistant to the Navigating Officer. You are a specialist navigator, are you?”
“Yes, sir. I was on my way to join a special squadron in the Med, sir. More likely to be busy here, sir.”
“That’s the right attitude, Adams! Nonstop to Port Stanley and then to locate and destroy the Tsingtao Squadron. Don’t come back without doing the job! Admiral Sturdee has been pulled out of the Admiralty and entrusted with the task. No failure can possibly be tolerated – we are to destroy the whole squadron. The ship must be brought to top line before we reach the Falklands. We have a disparate bunch of officers pulled together at random and I shall rely on my more senior men to make us into a team. I don’t know you, obviously, but if you carry on the way you have started then I shall be very pleased. Take yourself to the wardroom now; there should be a late breakfast available. Eat, then make your number with the First Lieutenant and the Navigating Officer. Get some food in you first.”
Christopher saluted, best and crispest style such as an admiral might expect, and went in search of the wardroom, not dissatisfied with his few hours of hard labour. First impressions were what counted, and that meant piling into the work, doing more than was reasonably expected and, above all, never moaning.
He sat to table and attacked a plate of bacon and eggs, the room in near silence as was expected at breakfast. He glanced around him, identifying as many of the officers as was possible from their badges. He noted especially those who ate quickly and paced urgently out of the wardroom, back to work. Those who found a comfortable armchair were also worthy of his notice as people to avoid. He drank his tea and walked out to the wardroom flat, glanced across to a steward.
“Is the First Lieutenant in his office, do you know?”
“Yes, sir.”
The steward pointed.
It was a big ship and there were many offices located in the stern area.
Christopher knocked on the open door.
“Lieutenant Adams, sir. Reporting to join, sir.”
“Good. Come in. The Commander said you had come aboard in the minutes before we sailed. Said you went straight to work. Well done! It’s what we need. I’ll introduce you to the captain when he’s free – which might well not be today! For the while, you are to be number two to the Navigating Officer. We have enough bodies that I do not need to put you on the watch roster – which means you are never off call, twenty-four hours a day.”