Dunbar said, “God A’mighty!” Peering through the rain that hissed into the sea, rattled on the bridge and the oilskins of the gun’s crew, they all saw Marshall Marmont still turning in a tight circle, running down on the launches, one of which was having trouble with her own engines, barely moving as the others scattered. Smith held his breath then blew it out as the monitor lumbered by the launch, close enough for her bow-wave to heel the little craft on her side before passing on.
He looked around and saw the tug butting towards them. “Make to Marshall Marmont: ‘Stand by for tow from tug.’”
The signalman’s lamp started clacking, flashing its message through the murk and the monitor acknowledged.
Lively Lady was on a course to collide with Sparrow but Dunbar ordered, “Starboard ten!..Meet her!..Steady!” And Sparrow came around so she was broadside to the monitor and coming up on her starboard quarter with the tug forging up to pass between them.
Smith said, “Slow ahead both, Mr Dunbar. I want to have a word with the tug.” The engine-room telegraphs clanged and Sparrow’s speed dropped away as the tug chugged up along her port side.
Smith picked up the bridge megaphone and stepped to the rail but Victoria Baines showed at the door of the tug’s wheelhouse, in yellow oilskins and a sou’wester dragged down over her ears. She bawled, “Don’t you rub up against me, young man!”
Smith muttered, “God forbid!” He saw Sanders lift a hand to hide a grin. Another salvo from the Tirpitz battery roared in and burst, tearing through Marshall Marmonts signal yard and sending yard, blocks and rigging cascading to the deck. The signal was gone and what rigging was left hung tangled. Smith called across to the tug, “Quick as you can!”
And Victoria Baines bellowed irascibly. “Don’t we know it! Business as bloody usual!”
“I’m glad to have you along, madam.” Smith lifted a hand in polite salute.
The woman ignored the gesture. “Don’t get in my way, damn your eyes!”
Smith winced and watched the tug pulling ahead of Sparrow as both of them came up with Marshall Marmont, her engines now stopped. He saw a crowd of men right in the bow, frenzied activity as they prepared the tow. And she’d lowered a boat that was pulling towards the bow. Garrick was going to use the boat to pass the tow, not wasting time with a heaving line. It could be done in this sea that was no sea at all. There was a lop, but no more than that. Garrick knew his business. For the rest, the rain poured down.
Smith allowed himself to be bundled belatedly into the oilskin by Buckley but broke away with the wind flapping it around him as another salvo came down inshore of Marshall Marmont. He peered anxiously through the rain then sighed with relief again as he saw the launches had not been touched. He lifted his gaze, looking for the shore, and though the smoke screen had dispersed he could make out nothing through the rain. The German observer would be equally blind but he would not waste ammunition. He must have seen the monitor’s erratic manoeuvring and the tug hastening up before the weather closed in and made a shrewd deduction. They’d be laddering up and down on the last bearing, firing blind, but if they kept at it they could find the monitor or the tug or both where they lay still, passing the tow.
He said, “Steer north-east! Mr. Sanders! Make ready to drop one of the life-rafts over the side and get some waste and paraffin from the engine-room. I want the raft packed with waste and all well-soaked in paraffin.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Sanders gave him a baffled look but dashed away.
Dunbar looked questioningly at Smith but got no explanation. Smith was shifting restlessly about the bridge, his gaze going from monitor to tug to the launches that were hauling out to seaward.
Sparrow came around and headed north-east, leaving the monitor and the tug astern as another salvo burst still farther inshore but still on that same bearing that lay across the monitor and now they would lift the range again, feeling towards her.
Sanders bawled up from the iron deck. “Raft’s ready, sir!”
Smith snapped, “Stop her, Mr Dunbar.”
“Stop both!”
The way came off Sparrow and she rocked gently to the sea as the raft was lowered over the side, held briefly until Sanders, at Smith’s shouted instructions, lit a handful of paraffin-soaked waste and dropped it on to the raft.
Sanders yelped, “Shove off!” The raft was thrust away, smouldered and smoked then burst into flame with a roar as Sparrow pulled away.
Smith wondered if it would work, thought it had a chance as he peered through his glasses at the monitor and the tug seen dimly through the murk and saw the salvoes come down, one short, then tense minutes later one just over, so close that the men on both ships must have been beaten by the spray, shaken by the blast.
Sparrow was heading back to them now, coming up with the monitor. He glanced astern and saw the flaming orange beacon that was the raft.
They waited for it. Then it came, the too-familiar, gut-tensing roar and shriek and they saw the salvo fall to seaward, a quartermile to seaward and astern; and it had been fired at the blazing raft.
Dunbar snorted, “Fooled ’em!” He grinned appreciatively.
Smith was just glad. And if the ruse had been successful it would not succeed for long. The raft would burn out and anyway the squall was passing and soon would no longer hide them. Set the launches to making smoke again? But the tug was easing away, making her own smoke as she slowly took up the slack of the tow. For an instant she checked with the tow barely curved. Smith held his breath. But Garrick would have that hawser made fast to a shackle of the monitor’s anchor cable to give weight to the tow, more elasticity and thus more strength. Lively Lady nudged ahead and drew Marshall Marmont after her.
Smith thought it was none too soon, though Mrs. Baines had proved she knew her job, and more. He sent the launches off to find their own way home. Sparrow steamed around and around the monitor and tug, keeping again her watch for submarines and making smoke that was needed now to cover the creeping ships as the squall swept on and left the same grey sea and sky with a rare glimpse of a watery sun. The shore batteries shifted target from the burnt-out raft and fired steadily. They got close to the monitor and once, by mistake, dangerously close to Sparrow, the salvo bracketting her and setting her tossing, deafening all aboard, hurling spray that again stank of explosive across her decks. She steamed through it and as Smith’s ears ceased ringing he heard one of the crew of the twelve-pounder singing dolefully, “Oh, I do like to be beside the sea-side! I do like to be beside the sea…”
Smith’s little command limped away and gradually the range opened until the shore batteries ceased firing. For a few minutes there was peace as Sparrow swung around ahead of the tug and monitor and turned to pass down to seaward of them. Then came the look-out’s yell, “Aircraft bearin’ green two-oh!”
They were flying high, heading out from the Belgian coast, specks against the grey sky and now seen then lost as cloud hid them. But then they were coming down in a dive that was shallow at first as they turned towards the ships, then steepened. Smith watched them through his glasses until he could see the crosses on the wings and then lost those crosses as the machines swept down on the sea.