Submariner (2008) (28 page)

You couldn’t. The scoreboard in the wardroom entrance told its tale of
other
men’s atrociously bad luck, a glance at it stirring a couple of years of memories – names, faces, assorted recollections
including some of one’s own successes – but
other
men’s memorials, last patrols.

Jimmy Ruck’s, for instance. Ruled off now, with a U-boat silhouette darkly pencilled in that last rectangle. And again, Shrimp
this morning – this was probably what had given rise to the somewhat gloomy (or realistic) thinking – Shrimp not bothering
to mention that at least part of the reason for sending one home after a fair stretch of intensive action was that if you
were kept at it too long there was a danger of becoming stale, careless or over-confident.

Or just the law of averages asserting itself. You didn’t have to be stale to hit a mine. You might even say it had been Jimmy’s
turn
to.

‘Actually did
make
it!’ Abigail, waving from a flat-topped rock and still wet, not having been out of the water long. Slight but very shapely
figure in a flimsy blue costume he’d seen before – pale blue, going strikingly with her eyes and dark, gleamingly wet hair.
The white-capped head thirty yards out could only be Greta’s; he waved to her and she waved back. He’d changed from shorts
and shirt in the Gravies’ downstairs cloakroom – having come on foot from Lazaretto with Red Sea rig for the evening parcelled
in a towel.

‘Isn’t this superb?’ Panorama of sea and rock, the coastline extending south to Sliema, northwest to Spinola, sky lightly
patched with thin white cloud, white buildings or just hints of them along the shoreline. Turning back to her: ‘Abbie, you
look absolutely fabulous!’

‘Not so bad yourself, Commander.’

‘Sickly white, in fact. Hideous, beside your lovely tan.’

‘But that’s nice – the contrast.’

‘In
your
case, heck of a lot more than
nice
–’

‘Although you
should
get into the sun while you can, Mike. How long’ll you be with us this time? Or did I ask you that the other day – when I
finished gassing on about my own boring problems? Oh, my dear –
frightful
about Jimmy Ruck.’

‘Yes. More than frightful. Answering your question, though – I can’t be absolutely sure, but – few days, a week?’

‘Then away again for what – fortnight, month?’

‘Never that long, in this outfit. Ten days is about average.’

Greta was on her way in, performing her fast, almost splash-less crawl. Long-limbed, dark-haired, but fair-skinned, with blue
eyes very much like Abigail’s. He waved to her again, told Abigail, ‘I need to cool off. Coming?’ Giving her a hand up, he
kissed her cheek and she turned her head, brushed his lips. He
had
to go in then.

He asked her during supper how she’d managed to have an afternoon off when she’d only recently returned to work, and her answer
had been that she’d put in a long morning and been at her desk yesterday until about eleven p.m.

‘Crikey. That’s close enough to midnight oil!’

‘I make my own hours, mostly, according to what’s going on.’

‘And something was, yesterday?’

‘Wasn’t half. We work very much in collusion with your Naval Cipher Office, you know. Or perhaps you didn’t. But I’d be at
my desk all night seven days a week if necessary. Much better than clocking in from nine to five and sometimes damn-all to
do except make coffee … At sea you sleep a lot, I’m told.’

‘As much as possible.’

‘And do you read much?’

‘When one’s slept enough, and things are quiet, yes.’

‘Read what? Novels?’

‘Mostly. Books one’s been lent.’

‘Well, I’ve the beginnings of a small library in my flat. Come and help yourself if you’d like to – before your next disappearance?’

‘Abbie, I’d very
much
like to!’

‘I’m not using it – the flat – at the moment. I’d come here, as I mentioned, by the extreme kindness of the Gravies, and some
friends who’re having their hovel done up asked could they borrow it. I’d have moved back by now but the plumbing in theirs
is still only a hole in the rock, apparently, another couple of days, they wanted. Mind you, that was yesterday, so just
possibly
this weekend … What are you doing between now and Monday?’

‘Tomorrow I’m taking my third and fourth hands on a hike across the island – pursuit of fresh air and exercise, which none
of us get enough of.’

‘Third and fourth hands being your junior officers.’

‘Yes. Sub-lieutenants. Respectively torpedo officer and navigator.’

‘And you have a second-in-command by name of McLeod.’

‘D’you know him?’

‘I know a Wren by name of Eleanor who sees him when she can – when
he
’s not on the blooming briny. She’s great fun, actually.’

‘I’ve met her. Pretty. And Jamie McLeod’s a good man … But I was saying – on Saturday there’s something – oh, Shrimp wants
me to help him entertain some transients – military visitors of some kind.’

‘
All
of Saturday?’

‘Not sure. I’ll find out. Might you be available, if I got off the hook?’

‘As of now I would.’ She frowned. ‘I mean yes, of
course
I would. Think you might swing it?’

‘I’ll try.’

The embarkation of torpedoes had been put off to Saturday forenoon, and Mike with this other obligation to Shrimp had told
McLeod he could see to it – drive the boat up to Msida, embark five Mark VIIIs instead of seven, and bring her back. McLeod
had looked pleased about it – especially coming on top of Shrimp’s recommending him for the first Perisher course after their
return to the UK.

Abigail enquired, ‘What’ll we do, if you can, I mean? Come here and swim?’

‘Well – if the Gravies wouldn’t mind. But they might like to have the place to themselves for a change. Anyway –’

‘Let me know.’

‘You bet I will. Oh, Lord …’

‘Who’s that?’

‘Captain of HM Submarine
Unsung
. Name of Charles Melhuish. He was coming in from patrol this evening, Shrimp said he might bring him. New boy, this was his
first patrol, but I knew him slightly before he took the command course.’

‘Is he nice?’

‘Oh, we’re all
nice
, Abbie … Must say hello to him anyway. Want to come along?’

Shrimp was introducing Melhuish to the Gravies:Melhuish beaming, telling them what a nice house they had and how kind they
were to let him into it, et cetera. Mike was accosted on his way across the room by Guy Mottram, who’d been playing Liar dice
with Gravy and some others including Jack Brodie. Game temporarily suspended, Mottram bellowing at Mike, ‘You kidnapping her,
or vice versa?’

‘Not sure, Guy. Could be a bit of both.’

‘See what happens when you promote a man before his time …’

‘Mike,
hello
!’

Melhuish with his hand out. ‘Have to congratulate you, I hear.’ A smirk at the epaulettes. ‘Congratulations,
sir
.’

‘Same to you, Charles – for knocking down my cruiser.’

‘Yes, I’m told I owe that to you. If I’d known it was yours, might have let the bloody thing go by.’ A laugh, and a look around
inviting applause … ‘Ann sends her love, by the way. Three letters from her, and in all three of them she sent it. Can you
beat that?’

‘Not easily. But you’d better give her mine. Abbie – Charles Melhuish. Abigail French, Charles.’

‘Lovely name, as well!’

She shook his hand. ‘You’ve just arrived back, Mike says. How long before you’re off again?’

Greta laughed. ‘
What
a welcome for the poor man!’

‘Fortunately, I’m not all that much concerned about it.’ Shake of the narrow head. He still had the slightly supercilious
look that Mike remembered. Adding now, ‘Well, that’s not
entirely
truthful, it’s been hinted I might be off again in only a few days, for some reason.’

‘So Mike’s not the only one they push out again as soon as he shows his face. I used to think it was
his
darned fault, Charles, that he volunteered for it or something.’

‘No such thing. But hang on –’ he patted her arm – ‘Quick word with the man who does the pushing out …’

Shrimp, sipping black coffee, offered him a cigarette. ‘Enjoying yourself, Michael?’

‘Very much, sir. We were swimming and sunning ourselves, earlier. Life of Reilly – thanks to Gravy and Greta, who’s –’

‘Marvellous, isn’t she. Admiral Submarines told me to treat my COs like Derby winners, but these two do it all for me.’ A
glance at Melhuish, who was still drooling over Abigail. ‘He won’t steal her from you, will he?’

‘You know, sir, I rather doubt it.’ He shrugged. ‘Not that I can claim ownership exactly. Would
like
to, but –’

‘Really is a looker, isn’t she?’

‘Bright, too.’

‘Does she know your days here are numbered?’

‘Not yet. Well, only just getting acquainted, really. I’ll have to tell her, obviously.’

‘Right. Cards on the table. One thing, for you, though – I invited you to assist in the reception of Major Ormrod and the
other one, day after tomorrow – but it’s occurred to me that as a Derby winner you might have better things to do, on what
might be your last weekend?’

‘Well – since you mention it, sir –’

‘I can take care of them, all right. Incidentally, Melhuish has been told he has a Special Op ahead of him, and I’ve recalled
Swordfish
. ETA Monday p.m. And Monday forenoon, let’s say ten-thirty, conference with the pongos, my office in Lascaris. We don’t need
Melhuish at this one. All right?’

‘Aye aye, sir. About Saturday, though –’

‘Don’t worry, I need to be on the base –’ a nod towards Mottram – ‘for
Unbowed
sailing – no, that’s tomorrow – but three others returning from patrol. Pongos can watch it all if they like, and in the
intervals I’ll – you know, mug it over with them … Here and now, you and I’d better mingle – uh?’

Abigail had moved on, left Melhuish talking to Greta and was herself chatting with Mottram and Brodie. She’d thrown him a
questioning glance as if wondering whether he was rejoining her – which he wasn’t, the thought having occurred that they might
have been making their interest in each other a bit obvious, so he just winked at her instead – Melhuish rejoining him at
that moment, telling him, ‘I got bashed up by an armed trawler, Mike. Vicinity of Taormina, this was. Quite a nasty few minutes,
actually. Mind you, the Wop was in a considerably worse state than I was by that time –’

‘What damage to your boat?’

‘Port hydroplane guard, and the casing port side for’ard of the bridge. The walkway around that side too. Gunshield took some
of it. Heck of a noise while it was happening, and made a mess of us, but –’

‘Sounds like you were under helm while he was hitting you. Turning away?’

‘Well, yes. I’d got into rather close range. Good thing I
did
turn away. He was on fire, I might add, we’d hit his bridge a few times then shifted target to the waterline – he actually
was done for, just this one gun still at it, something like a Bofors –’

‘Gun actions are better not fought bow-on, Charles. Sooner or later you have to turn away, then you’re exposing your beam
to him. Whereas if you’d engaged him over your quarter –’

‘You have only a twelve-pounder?’

In other words, what do
you
know about gun actions … Mike nodded: ‘Yes, like all the older boats. Wretched thing, 1914–18 vintage, no proper sights …
Still use it though, on occasion. Ann keeping well, is she?’

‘Well – yes. Lonely, of course. Wouldn’t be so bad if she had friends among her Mechanised Transport Corps colleagues, but
she doesn’t. She’s not easy to please, you know.’

‘Couldn’t she switch to something else? Or stick with MTC but ask for a transfer to Edinburgh – where she’d have lots of friends,
not to mention her parents?’

‘
Could
, perhaps. Not that proximity to the parents would exactly thrill her. Otherwise – well, now I’m
here
, really no reason not to get out of London. I might suggest it. But listen, Mike – Shrimp has me down for a Special Op, landing
commandos somewhere. In just a matter of days, apparently – less than a week anyway. That and apparently not knowing exactly
where – seems a bit special, doesn’t it?’

‘Security around that kind of thing’s extremely tight. Has to
be. If you were a commando paddling in to an enemy beach and not knowing whether machine-gunners were watching you come, you’d
hope they hadn’t been tipped-off to expect you – huh?’

‘But why
Unsung
– when we’ve only been back five minutes?’

‘Well, you’re back, haven’t put in all that much sea-time as yet, and he might think it’ll be good experience for you. We’ve
all done quite a bit of it, one time and another.’

‘He’s setting up an exercise for us in launching and recovering folboats. Which as I told him I
have
done more than once – not as a CO, admittedly, but –’

‘Things change, don’t they. Folboats for instance used to be embarked unassembled – timber frame, and the fabric in a sort
of parcel. Now we bring them on board intact and carry them in torpedo reload racks. Then usually now don’t actually launch
them but float them off the casing with the occupants already
in situ
.’

‘Well. Given reasonably calm weather.’

‘That you do need. Charles – quite a few characters here you haven’t met. Guy Mottram there for instance –
Unbowed
, sails for patrol tomorrow. Come and meet him – very old chum of mine.’

‘Looks a bit like Robert Morley.’

‘Doesn’t he, just …’

Abigail asked him, ‘What was the wink for?’

He demonstrated it again – smooth lowering of an eyelid without any contortion of facial muscles. She tried to do it herself,
and couldn’t; asked him whether he could do it with the other eye as well.

He tried, and couldn’t. ‘Funny – never realised.’

‘What was it all about, anyway?’