Lindsay forced a smile. ‘Forget it. My fault entirely.’
‘You don’t understand, sir.’ Kemp’s face was tight with concern. ‘I know him. He’ll try and get his own back on you.’ He dropped his eyes. ‘He’s not like you, sir. If he were, I’d never have needed to be told to enter the Navy.’
The boy’s sincerity, his shame and humiliation, made him appear even more defenceless than usual.
Lindsay said quietly, ‘That was a nice compliment. One which I happen to value very much.’
He took his cap and walked quickly into the garden.
Behind him the boy stood staring at the open door long after Lindsay had disappeared in the shadows.
A slow, lurching taxi carried Lindsay back to the base, his head lolling to the jerky motion, his throat parched in spite of the wine.
By the time he had found the jetty a moon had appeared, and in the pale.light he could see the Benbecula resting against the piles, the dazzle paint strangely vivid and garish. A sentry paced back and forth on the gangway, and in the glow of a blue police light he saw the quartermaster drooping over his desk, probably engrossed in a book or some old letter from home.
It was very still, and after lighting his pipe Lindsay walked the full length of his ship, from her towering straight stem to her outmoded poop where the ill-used twelve-pounder pointed at the moon like a rigid finger. Then with a sigh he walked up the steep brow, nodding to the startled quartermaster and then walking forward towards his quarters.
As he passed a door he heard the crash of breaking glass. It was Stannard’s cabin, but as he made to reach for the clip he heard Dancy say, ‘I’d leave him, sir.’
Dancy had been leaning against the rail, his body merging with the deep shadows.
He added quietly, ‘There was a message sent aboard just after you left, sir. Pilot’s brother is aboard one of the hospital ships.’
Lindsay watched him. ‘He got away then?’
Dancy did not seem to hear. ‘He went across right away. He’s been in there drinking ever since.’ Dancy rested his elbows on the rail and added, ‘He saw him all right. But he’d got no arms!’ His shoulders shook uncontrollably. ‘And he can’t see either, sir!’
Lindsay stared past him towards the distant buildings, so white in the moon’s glare.
‘You’ve been here all the time?’
Dancy nodded. ‘Just in case, sir.’
Lindsay touched his arm. ‘I’ll not be turning in yet. Come and have a drink in my cabin when he’s asleep.’ He waited. ‘If you feel like it.’
Dancy straightened his back. ‘Thank you, sir.’ Lindsay walked on towards the bridge ladder. In just one evening he had learned a lot about his officers. And himself.
16
A miracle
For three more days no fresh instructions were sent to Benbecula or any intimation of what her next duty might be. Lindsay had still not had the expected interview with the admiral or even his chief of staff, but at first this omission had not troubled him. Indeed, when he thought about it at all, he was almost relieved. The local naval staff had enough work on hand as it was, and he was being kept more than busy with his ship’s repairs.
But it was concerning Benbecula’s repairs and general replenishment which at — last gave him a hint that something was happening outside his own knowledge. Small items for the most part, which added together grew into a definite pattern.
Lieutenant Hunter had called on him to complain of his inability to secure any six-inch shells to replace those fired, although he had been told that plenty were available.
When Lindsay had asked, ‘Have you spoken to Guns about this?’ Hunter had sounded guarded.
‘Well, sir, he has been a bit preoccupied lately. Anyway, I can deal with it once I’ve got the authority.’
Maxwell had been acting even more strangely, that was certain. He had stayed ashore every night, although nobody had seen him or knew where he went.
Goss too h been perturbed by the apparent lack of,attention w ch was being paid to his list of repairs by the dockyard staff. That was normal enough on its own. Goss saw every dockyard worker as a potential thief, layabout and someone bent on spoiling his ship’s appearance and efficiency. But it was true that some of the work had been skimped rather than properly rectified.
Lieutenant Barker had much the same tale. Stores were difficult to obtain, and apart from the basic rations of food and clothing, very little seemed available for the Benbecula.
Added together; Lindsay felt it was more than mere coincidence.
The ship’s company on the other hand accepted the situation with obvious delight. Trips ashore, strange sights of, native women and rickshaws, elephants and snake charmrs, all helped to make each day an event.
Stannard had been ashore very little. In fact, apart from occasional duties he hardly seemed to leave his cabin.
Lindsay had seen him alone after the night of the commodore’s dinner party and had asked. if he could do anything.
Stannard had replied, ‘They’ve sent Jason to a hospital, sir. He’s being sent up to another one at Karachi tomorrow. After that, they say it’ll take time.’ He had looked at Lindsay with sudden anguish. ‘Just tell me how I’m to write to the old man, sir. Can you imagine what it will do to him?’
After that brief interview Lindsay had seen little of him. Even Dancy seemed unable to reach him or help ease his despair.
Perhaps when they got back to sea things might change. Lying alongside a jetty in the blazing heat was no help to anyone tortured with such thoughts as Stannard.
On the morning of the fourth day the summons to naval H.Q. was received, and with Jupp hovering around him like an anxious hen Lindsay changed into a white uniform which he had not worn since the outbreak of war.
Jupp remarked, ‘A bit loose around the middle, if I may make so bold, sir. You should’ve let me get it fixed sooner.’
He handed Lindsay his dress sword, adding, ‘Not been feedin’ yourself enough, sir. Too much worry is bad for you.’
Lindsay looked at himself in the bulkhead mirror. Even in-war the formalities had to be observed. To show there was no crack in the foundations.
He grinned. ‘I shall eat better when I know what’s going to happen.’
He waited, half expecting Jupp to supply a rumour or at least some reason for the sudden call to H.Q. But Jupp seemed concerned only with his appearance, the impression Benbecula’s captain would make when he got there.
At the gangway Goss had to shout above the rasping rattle of a rivet-gun.
‘You won’t forget about my paint, sir? We’re getting very low, and I’m not happy about the port anchor cable.’
Lindsay smiled briefly. The side party stood in a neat line, the bosun’s mates wetting their calls on their lips ready to pipe him over the side.
Lieutenant Paget, who was O.O.D., stood very erect, his eyes fixed on Lindsay with something like terror, as if he expected the brow to collapse or one of the side party to run amok in his presence.
He said, ‘I’ll do what I can. I’ve a few questions of my own, too.’
Then with one hand to the oak-leaved peak of his cap and the unfamiliar feel of his sword in the other, he hurried down the brow where a car was shimmering in heathaze to carry him to the presence of the mighty.
But he was met by a harassed flag-lieutenant who hurried to explain that the admiral would not, after all, be able to see him. The F.O.I.C. had been whisked away to some important conference. It was one of those things. Unavoidable.
Lindsay spent a further twenty. minutes in a small room before the lieutenant reappeared to usher him into an adjoining office. The Chief of Staff came round a big desk and shook his hand.
‘Sorry about this mix-up, Lindsay. Bad times. But I have no doubt you’ve seen enough of admirals anyway.’ He smiled. ‘As I have.’