Kemp seemed to realise Lindsay was studying him and said with forced cheerfulness, ‘But you shouldn’t complain.’ He wagged his glass. ‘I’ll not be surprised if you get a decoration for saving the ammunition ship and sinking the U-boat. Promotion too, I wouldn’t wonder. Now that you’ve overcome your, er, past problems, I see no reason why you should not be given something better.’
‘There are several of my people I’d like to recommend for Kemp frowned. ‘Well, we must wait and see. Nothing definite, you understand. Everything’s in turmoil here, and it sounds as if the whole naval structure is being changed. Merlin’s captain is being promoted and is to be given one of these new escort groups. Killer-groups, they’re being called. Nice young chap. Should do well.’. He stared vaguely at Lindsay’s glass. ‘But for your early setback I daresay you’d have been on the list for something of the sort, too.’
Lindsay replied calmly, ‘I lost my ship, sir. I was blown up in another. May have suffered the same fate.’ His voice hardened ‘May were less fortunate.’
Kemp,seemed to have missed the point. He nodded gravely. ‘I know, Lindsay. We who face death and live to fight again rarely realise how narrow the margin can be.’
Lindsay fixed his eyes on the portrait opposite his chair. His immediate anger at Kemp’s words was already giving way to a new realisation. Not merely that Kemp was drunk but that he needed to be so. We who face death. Kemp had not been to sea in wartime before this last convoy. Had it really been the vital need of ships and men. for Singapore which had made him drive them without letup? Or was it his own fear, his new understanding that he had been left behind by war, of a role he only vaguely recognised?
Another house-boy appeared in the doorway. ‘Dinner served, sir.’ He grinned from ear to ear.
Kemp lurched to his feet. ‘Impudent lot. Still, they have their uses. Mean well, I suppose.’
He paused beside the table and added abruptly, ‘When we meet the FOIC tomorrow, I’d be obliged if you’d not mention your ideas about commerce raiders and so forth. He’s quite enough on his plate at the moment. He’ll not thank you for wasting his time.’
‘Even if it means saving ships and men, sir?’
Kemp seemed to have difficulty in holding him in focus. ‘That last freighter sank by accident, Lindsay!’ He was shouting. ‘And that’s all there is to it!’
Lindsay stood stockstill. He had not even been thinking about that unfortunate ship, except for the fact Kemp had left her unaided. But now it was out in the open and there was no avoiding the truth. Kemp actually believed what he had been telling him, yet was equally prepared to ignore it for his own survival. He needed things to stay as they were, like stopping the clock, just long enough for him to achieve some better appointment elsewhere.
As he followed Kemp’s thickset figure across a marble floor to the dining room his mind was already working on this frightening possibility.
The Terrible news about Singapore. could be all it needed to make the Germans take full advantage of their ally’s victory. For the next few months naval resources would be stretched far beyond safety limits as troops and supplies were re-deployed to meet the new dangers. The Japs might invade India and march on into the rich oil-fields of the Middle East. They could have it planned for months, even years with the Germans, so that an eventual link-up between their forces was made a brutal fact. One vast pair of steel pincers biting through Russia and the Middle East, to carve the world in halves.
Inside the tea-planter’s cool house it all seemed so clear and starkly obvious he was almost unnerved. It must be just as plain to those in real authority. Unless…. He looked at Kemp’s,plump shoulders. In past wars it had always taken several years to rid. authority of men like him. It was said that in the old battlefields of Flanders the ploughs were still churning up countless remains of the men thrown away by generals who had believed cavalry superior, to machine-guns and barbed wire. And admirals who had scoffed at the trivial consequences of submarine warfare.
He was surprised to find he was not the only guest for dinner. A bearded surgeon-commander from the admiral’s staff, the commodore’s aide who had wilted before Fraser’s verbal barrage and an elderly major of artillery were already standing around a well-laid table. Midshipman Kemp was also present, standing apart from the others, and there was a dried-up little woman acting as hostess, introduced as the surgeoncommander’s wife.
In spite of the fans it was very hot, and the ample helpings of varied curries did little to help matters. Beyond the shuttered windows Lindsay could see the last rays of bronze sunlight, the palms very black against the sky.
There was a lot to drink. Too much. Lindsay was astonished at the way the commodore could put it away. Wine came and went with the soft-footed servants, while his voice grew louder and more slurred.
Beside Lindsay the midshipman ate his meal in silence,his eyes rarely leaving the table until his father suddenly said, ‘By God, Julian, don’t pick at your food! Try and eat like a man, if nothing else!’
Lindsay recalled the boy’s face-after the action. Tightlipped but strangely determined. Stannard had told him how the midshipman had worked with his plotting team. How he had been sick several times but had somehow managed to keep going. And all that time.he had probably been picturing his father speeding to safety with the heavy escort. Leaving him alone, as he had always done. -
Lindsay leaned back in his chair. He felt light-headed but no longer cared.
‘Actually, sir, he did very well on this last trip.’ He knew the boy was staring, at him, that the surgeon’s wife had paused in her apparently insatiable appetite with a fork poised in the air.
The aide said swiftly, ‘Good show. I remember when I was at Dartmouth I…’
The commodore said flatly, ‘Hold your noise!’ To Lindsay he added, ‘You don’t know my son or you might think otherwise.’
He signalled for more wine, unaware of the sudden tension around the table.
‘My son does not like the Service. He would rather sit on his, backside listening to highbrow music than do anything useful. When I think of my father and what he taught me, I want to weep.’
The army major dabbed his chin with a napkin. ‘Spare the rod, eh?’ He laughed, the sound strangely, hollow in the quiet room.
‘I think he’s old enough to know his own mind.’ Lindsay could feel the anger returning. ‘When the war’s over he’ll be able to make his choice.’
‘Is that what you think?’ The commodore leaned forward, his eyes red-rimmed in the overhead lights. ‘Well, I’m telling you, Commander Lindsay, that I will decide what he will or will not do! No son of mine is going to bring disgrace on my family, do you hear?’
‘Perfectly, sir.’ He gripped his glass tightly to prevent his hand from shaking. ‘But at present he is under my command, and I will assess his qualities accordingly.’
The commodore shifted in his chair and then snapped, ‘We will take our port in the next room.’
Lindsay stood up. ‘If you will excuse me, sir. I would like to be excused.’
The surgeon’s wife said hastily, ‘You must be worn out, Commander. If half of what they’re saying about you is true, then I think you should get some rest.’
The commodore only succeeded in rising to his feet with the aid of a servant’s arm.
‘You are excused.’ He faced Lindsay and added thickly, ‘And as far as I’m concerned you can….’
He turned and walked unsteadily to the door without finishing it.
Lindsay left the room and waited for a house-boy to fetch his cap. He heard footsteps and saw the young midshipman staring at him.
‘I’m sorry, sir. I’d not have had this happen for anything.’