HMS Marlborough Will Enter Harbour (1947) Read Online Free

man left to the ship.
    He would have liked to muster the remaining hands, to see how many the explosion had caught and how many he had left to work with; but that would disrupt things too much, at a time when there must be no halting in the desperate race to save the ship, or, at least, as many of the remaining lives as possible. But as he sat back in his chair, waiting for what he was now almost sure must happen, the Captain reviewed his officers one by one, swiftly tabulating their work at this moment, speculating whether they could be better employed. Number One was gone, of course. Guns in charge aft. Haines in the wireless office (time he was back, incidentally). Chief working the damage control party – that was technically his responsibility anyway, and there was a first-class Chief ERA in charge of the engine room. The Mid here on the bridge. The doctor with his hands full in the sick bay. Merrett – the Captain frowned suddenly. Where the devil was Merrett? He’d forgotten all about him – and indeed it was easy to overlook the shy, newly joined sub who had startled the wardroom on his first night by remarking: ‘My father went to prison as a conscientious objector during the last war, so he’s rather ashamed of me in this one,’ but had then relapsed into the negative, colourless attitude which seemed natural to him. Where had he got to now?
    The Captain repeated the query aloud to the midshipman.
    ‘I haven’t seen him at all, sir,’ the latter answered. ‘He was in the wardroom when I came on watch. Shall I call them up?’
    ‘Yes, do.’
    After a moment at one of the voice-pipes, the midshipman came through with the answer: ‘He was there a moment ago, sir. They think he’s on the upper deck somewhere.’
    ‘Send one of the bosun’s mates to–’ The Captain paused. No, that might not be a good move. ‘See if you can find him, Mid, and ask him to come up here.’
    When the midshipman had left the bridge the Captain frowned again. Why in God’s name had Merrett been in the wardroom a moment ago? What was he doing there at a time like this? Any sort of alarm or crisis meant that officers went to their action stations automatically: Merrett should have gone first to ‘A’ gun, where he was in charge, and then, as that was out of action, up to the bridge for orders. Now all that was known of him was that he had been in the wardroom, right aft. The Captain hoped there was a good explanation, not the attack of nerves or the breakdown of self-control he had been guessing at when he sent the midshipman to find Merrett. He could understand such a thing happening – the boy was barely twenty, and this was his first ship – but they just could not afford it now.
    His guess had been right: so much became obvious as soon as Merrett was standing in front of him. Even in the darkness, with the exact expression on his face blurred and shadowed, he seemed to manifest an almost exalted state of terror. The movements of foot and hand, the twitching shoulders, the slight, uncontrolled chattering of the teeth, the shine of sweat on the forehead – all were here a distillation of fear which would, in full daylight, have been horrible to look at. So that was it … For a moment the Captain hesitated, trying to balance their present crucial danger, and his own controlled reaction to it, against the almost unknown feelings of a boy, a landsman-turned-sailor, confronted with the same ordeal; but then the overriding necessity of everyone on board doing his utmost, swept away any readiness to make allowances for failure in this respect. The details, the pros and cons, the fine-drawn questions could wait; nothing but one hundred per cent effectiveness would suffice now, and that was what he must re-establish.
    ‘Where have you been?’ he asked curtly.
    Merrett swallowed, looked across the shattered fo’c’sle to the wild sea, and drew no comfort or reassurance from it. He said, in a dry, strained voice: ‘I’m