Pride and the Anguish Read Online Free

scabbard tapped the deck. “I will not have the native seamen throwing their gash over the side! Deal with it at once!”
    Hammond saluted and stuttered, “Yes, sir! I told the chief bosun’s mate to check the awnings earlier…”
    Corbett’s mouth opened and closed in crisp, precise movements. “
You
are the officer-of-the-day, not the chief bosun’s mate! So try not to cover your neglect in excuses!” He watched the wretched Hammond hurry away and then remarked calmly, “Come with me, Trewin.”
    Trewin followed the other man along the deck and up the ladder to the bridge. From behind he could see that Corbett’s hairwas grey beneath his cap but his figure and movements were as fresh as young Hammond’s.
    Corbett walked swiftly through the deserted chartroom and threw open the door of his day cabin. Without speaking he unclipped his medals and laid them on a desk and then removed his sword. Then he pressed a small bell and stared unwinking at the other door.
    A small Chinese man appeared as if by magic, and Trewin had the crazy idea that he spent his whole life lurking behind that door just waiting for such a summons.
    Corbett removed his cap and handed it to the steward. He said, “Coffee.” Nothing else.
    Trewin stared at the back of Corbett’s neat head, feeling suddenly untidy and awkward in spite of his shower and fresh shirt. Then with a start he realised that Corbett’s pale eyes were watching him from a bulkhead mirror.
    The captain said, “Well, if you are to be my first lieutenant, Trewin, you must certainly start by clamping down on slackness.” Then he turned, his tanned features relaxed and composed. “I have just been with the admiral. I can’t watch things here
all
the time.”
    Coffee was brought and poured in complete silence, then as the messman departed Corbett sat behind the desk and opened a folder of signals. He said, “I’ll just get up to date. You sit and enjoy the coffee.”
    Trewin sat. For a moment longer he watched Corbett’s inclined head as he leafed slowly through the pile of signals, then he turned his attention to the cabin, as if to glean some other impressions of this extraordinary man.
    It was a very spacious cabin indeed. High up on the superstructure it somehow managed to stay cool and shaded, and both furniture and fittings were in perfect order. There was a bookcase near Trewin’s chair full of expensive, leather-bound books. Most of them seemed to be concerned with the lives of famous admirals, Rodney, Nelson and many more, and therewere several outdated ones on astral navigation.
    On the desk he could see a framed photograph of an unsmiling woman with fair hair and another of a small boy holding a rubber duck. The woman looked much younger than Corbett, Trewin decided. Without his cap Corbett seemed less jaunty, and he put his age at about forty-five. Yet he was only a commander? That was odd. Especially when at home every regular officer was being promoted at a fantastic speed as more and more half-trained reservists poured into the Navy to man the growing ranks of ships and to fill the gaps left by an equally growing casualty list.
    Corbett closed the folder with a snap. “Damn fools!” He picked up his coffee and added offhandedly, “You’ll find things a bit different out here, Trewin.” His eyes fastened on Trewin’s shoulder-straps. “You’ll have to work twice as hard to catch up. This is a crack squadron. I intend it should stay so.”
    He seemed to dismiss the subject and leaned back in his chair. Then he said, “I understand you were a journalist before you joined up?”
    Trewin thought of the dingy East End newspaper office with its staff of five reporters. “That’s right, sir.” What else could he say? It had been just one more milestone on his search for himself.
    â€œYet you were born in Dorset?”