HMS Marlborough Will Enter Harbour (1947) Read Online Free Page A

sorry, sir. I didn’t know what to do, exactly.’
    ‘Then you should come and ask me. Do you expect me to come and tell you?’ It was rough: it was, in Merrett’s present state, brutally so but it was clearly dictated by the situation they were in. ‘Where were you when we were hit?’
    ‘I’d just gone up to “A” gun, sir.’
    ‘Must have shaken you up a bit.’ So much allowance, and no more, did the Captain make for what he could only guess at now – youth, uncertainty, self-distrust, perhaps an inherited horror of violence. ‘But I don’t want to have to send for individual officers at a time like this. You understand?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’ It was a whisper, almost a sigh. He’d been drinking whisky, too, the Captain thought. Well, that didn’t matter as long as it had the right result; and this, and the tonic effect of giving him a definite job to do, could be put to the test now.
    ‘Very well … There’s something I want you to do,’ he went on, changing his tone in such a way as to indicate clearly that a fresh start could now be made. ‘Go down to the boat-deck and see how they’re getting on with the boats. They’re to be swung out ready for lowering, and all the rafts cleared away as well. You’d better check up on the boats’ crews, too: remember we’ve only got this one watch of seamen to play with so far as we know. You’ll want a coxswain, a stoker, and a bowman told off for the motorboat, and a coxswain and a bowman for the whaler. Got that?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    It seemed that he had: already he was making some attempt to take a grip on his body, and his voice was more under control. Watching him turn and make for the bridge ladder, the Captain felt ready to bet that he would make a good job of it. The few minutes had not been wasted.
    But they had been no more than an odd, irrelevant delay in the main flow of the current; and now, in quick succession, as if to re-establish the ordained pace of disaster, three more stages came and were passed. Bridger appeared with the black holdall, and with something else which he handed to the Captain almost furtively. ‘Better have this, sir,’ he said, as the Captain’s hand closed over it. It was his safety light, which he had forgotten to clip to his lifejacket – one of the small watertight bulb-and-battery sets which were meant to be plugged in and switched on when in the water. The Captain took it with a grunt and fastened it on, his eyes turning instinctively to the black expanse of water washing and swirling round them. Yes, better have the light ready ...
    Then Haines came up the ladder from below, starting to speak almost before he was on the bridge: ‘I’m afraid they were right about the W/T set, sir,’ he began. ‘It’s finished. And the main switchboard has blown, too. Even if we got the dynamo back on the board–’
    ‘All right, Pilot,’ said the Captain suddenly. And then, to the figure he had discerned at the top of the ladder, the third messenger of evil, he said, ‘Yes, Chief?’
    The engineer officer did not speak until he was standing close by the Captain, but there was no hesitation about his opening words. ‘I don’t think it’s any good, sir.’ He spoke with a clipped intensity, which did not disguise any exhaustion of spirit. ‘That bulkhead – it might go any minute, and she’ll probably break in two when it happens. That means a lot more men caught, sir.’
    ‘You’ve shored up completely?’
    ‘Yes, sir. But the space is too big, and the bulkhead was warped too much before we got the shores to it. It’s working badly already. I can’t see it holding more than another hour, if that.’
    ‘It’s the last one worth shoring,’ said the Captain, almost to himself.
    ‘Yes, sir.’ Chief hesitated. ‘I’ve still seven or eight hands down in the engine room, I’d like to get them out in good time. Is that all right, sir?’
    Chief was looking at him. They were all looking at him – Haines, the