Goss opened his big hands and closed them again. ‘I always wanted the Becky. Ever since I can remember.’ His fingers clenched into tight fists. ‘But not like this!’
‘She’ll be safe as a depot ship. No more convoys. No being left alone with nothing but a few First World War guns to hit back.’
Goss said quietly, ‘A ship dies when, she’s inactive. I’ve seen a few good ones go like that during the depression.’ He seemed to be struggling with his words.. ‘A ship should be at sea. She needs it. It’s her life. Her purpose for being.’ He turned slightly so that Lindsay saw the emotion on his heavy features. ‘Like an old man who takes to his chair. He starts to die from then on. He can’t help it.’
Lindsay tore his eyes away from Goss-‘s despair. ‘I’ll leave it to you to tell the others. You can use this list. Stannard’s to go on an advanced navigation course. He’ll probably be appointed to a new destroyer. de Chair and his marines are to be sent to Eastney Barracks for re-allocation, and Maxwell’s to get his half stripe. He’ll be going to Whale Island for an instructor’s course.’
He wondered how he could keep his voice so level when his whole being was screaming like a tortured instrument. Calm, even matter-of-fact. It had to be that way. The only way.
He recalled the time his mother had made her decision to leave for Canada. For good. He had wandered round the old house, watching the familiar things which he had always taken for granted, going under the auctioneer’s impartial hammer. Things he had known all his young life. Things he had loved.
It was like that right now. Familiar faces being parted and sent to the winds.
‘Young Dancy is going on a navigation course, too. His work with Stannard will stand him in good stead. The other young subs are being transferred to escort vessels when they return from home leave. Hunter is to be gunnery officer in one of the Western Approaches ships.’
Goss asked abruptly, ‘What about Fraser?’
‘The chief is transferring to a fleet repair ship.’
‘I see.’ Goss walked a few paces and stopped, as if uncertain where to go. ‘Isn’t anyone staying from the old company?’,
‘Dyke will take over the engine room, although being a depot ship his duties will be pretty limited.’ He added, ‘I thought you disliked Fraser?’
Goss said vaguely, ‘Dyke can’t do the job. It takes a proper chief engineer. She’s old. She must have proper care.’ He added with sudden fierceness, ‘No, I’ve never liked him much. But he’s a good chief. The best inthe company, and no matter what he’s told you, he bloody well cares about this ship right enough!’
‘I know that, too.’ Lindsay stared at the papers on his desk. They were blurred, like those on the Chief of Staff’s desk. ‘You’re keeping Barker. He’s getting a half stripe like Maxwell.’
Goss walked to the desk and stood looking down at Lindsay for several seconds.
p‘And you’re on the beach, sir. I know a lot of people’ll only see your extra stripe and envy you, most likely. But I know different. I’m not a clever man an’ never was. I sweated blood to get where I am, and saw many a useless bastard get romoted over my head because I’m slow by nature. I’m slow, and I take my time. I’ve never been able to afford mistakes. There’s not been a captain in the company I’ve not envied, nor one whose job I’ve told myself,I couldn’t do better given the chance.’ He rested his hands on the desk. ‘But I’ve not envied you, because I couldn’t have done what you’ve had to do. No matter what I’ve kidded myself on that score, I know that, and nobody can tell me otherwise.’
Lindsay did not look up. ‘Thank you.’ He heard Goss moving restlessly to an open scuttle.
Goss added slowly, ‘Christ, she can feel it already. Poor old girl, she can feel it.’
Lindsay lurched to his feet. ‘For God’s sake, Number One, we have to carry out orders. Nothing else can matter. Ships don’t feel. They’re steel and wood, pipes and machinery, and only as good as the men who control them.’ Even as he said it he saw the other man shaking his head.
‘It’s no use talking to me like that, sir. You don’t believe it either. She feels it all right.’ He swung towards the scuttle, his eyes staring into the harsh sunlight as he shouted, ‘Those toffy-nosed bastards who sit in their offices will never understand, not if they live a million bloody years! I don’t know much but by the living Jesus 1 know ships! And above all I know this one.’ When he spoke again he was very calm. ‘Sorry about that. I should be used to kicks at my time of life.’
Somewhere a tannoy bellowed, ‘Hands to dinner. Leave to port watch from 1400 to 2300. Chief and petty officers 0830 in the morning. Ordinary Seaman Jones muster at the quartermaster’s lobby for mail.’
Goss moved to the door. ‘Can you see her tied up to some stinking pier, full of gash ratings and layabouts, sir? With nothing to do, no use any more?’ He waited, staring at Lindsay’s lowered head. ‘No, and no more can’t I.’
As the door closed behind him Jupp entered the cabin and asked, ‘Will you be wantin’ your lunch now, sir?’
Lindsay shook his head. Goss had known. Must have known. One more minute and he would have broken down.
‘Fetch some whisky, please.’
Jupp picked up the dress sword from a chair where Lindsay had thrown it and replied, ‘If you’ll pardon the liberty, sir, it’s not fair.’
‘Just the whisky.’
Jupp hurried away. For once in his long life he could think of nothing to say or do which would help him understand what was happening.
In his pantry a young steward said, ‘What’s up, Chiefy? The end of the world comin’?’
Jupp looked at him and saw the steward pale under his fierce stare. ‘For once in your miserable life, I reckon you’re right.’ He picked up a clean glass and held it automatically to the light before putting it on his silver tray.
The steward stammered, ‘I was only jokin’, Chiefy!’
Jupp placed the decanter carefully on the tray and thought of Lindsay in the next cabin staring down at his desk.
Aloud he said, ‘You don’t joke, son, when someone’s dyin’.’
But the steward had already gone.
Lindsay could not remember how he had reached this particular restaurant. He seemed to have been walking for hours, his feet taking him down narrow streets and away from the main crush of people and tooting vehicles. It appeared to be quite a small building. The upper part was an hotel under the same ownership and bore a sign depicting a bejewelled elephant and the words ‘English and French dishes. Only the best.’
It was evening and the sun already hidden beyond a towering white temple on the opposite side of a dusty square. He guessed the hotel. would probably look very shabby in harsh sunlight.
But it was quiet and seemed almost deserted. No uniforms or familiar faces like those he had seen at the Naval Club where he had paused for a drink. He had recognised several people there. From the past. From other ships and forgotten places. They had meant well but always he seemed to see the questions in their eyes. Curiosity, sympathy? It was hard to tell. He had finished his drink and started walking again. He realised now that he was very tired, his shirt clinging to his back like a damp towel.
A board creaked beneath his feet as he thrust through some bead curtains and dropped into a chair at one of the small cane tables. There were fortunately only two other occupants and neither gave him more than a cursory glance. Their conversation seemed to consist entirely of the latest rubber prices. The cost of local labour. The general inefficiency of transport. He guessed they were both planters, so familiar to each other that neither appeared to listen to what the other was saying.