Pride and the Anguish Read Online Free Page A

Corbett put his head on one side. “So why did you go to work in London?”
    Trewin stared at him. “I felt like it, sir.”
    â€œQuite so.” Corbett pursed his lips. “You may wonder why I attach so much importance to the backgrounds of my officers, eh? Well, as I said, this is a crack squadron. And now that we can expect a slow stream of reserve officers it is necessary to investigate certain matters.” He gave what might have been a smile. “Before this war you could gauge an officer by his attainment and rank. Nothing more was necessary.” He shrugged. “Now we cannot be so sure.” He ignored Trewin’s growing anger and continued coolly, “And you are married.”
    â€œShe’s dead, sir!” Trewin felt the throb of pain as he said the words. “In an air raid.” He looked away from the pale eyes. “It’s not as quiet as this in London!”
    Corbett shuffled some papers. “And it is our duty to see that it remains quiet, as you put it.” He added, “I am sorry about your wife.” Had Trewin been watching he would have seen Corbett’s eyes stray to the framed photograph with something like sadness.
    Then he said in a crisper tone, “But still, you were in the R.N.V.R. before the war began, and you have had some experience of combat, it seems. So if you work hard at your duties I see no reason why you should not make a success of your appointment.”
    Trewin watched him dully. Then he replied quietly, “There are sixty men aboard this ship, sir. And there are three hundred miles of coastline to patrol. I think I can manage that well enough.”
    Corbett eyed him for several seconds as if making up his mind about something. “I never take things on trust, Trewin. Time will tell me what I want to know about every man aboard this ship, do you understand?”
    Trewin stood up. “Is that all, sir?”
    Corbett seemed to ponder. “For the present. We sail tomorrow morning at 0700. By then I hope you will have made yourself familiar with my standing orders and with the heads of departments. Tomorrow you will take the ship to sea.” He smiled slightly. “Just to get the feel of things.” He waited until Trewin had reached the door. “One thing, Trewin. When I come aboard in the afternoon I do not want the gangway smelling of whisky. We have a crew which half consists of
native
seamen. Just remember that in future!” He stared down at his desk. “You may go now.”
    Trewin did not remember reaching his cabin, but found himself standing in front of that same mirror his eyes blazing with anger. He said aloud, “The pompous, bloody bastard!” Thendeliberately he opened his drawer and took out the bottle.

2 | Toy Fleet
    L IEUTENANT R ALPH T REWIN climbed on to the open bridge and glanced upwards at the masthead pendant. It hung quite limp, and although it was still early morning he guessed it was going to be another scorching day. He crossed the bridge and stared over the screen at the ship’s broad forecastle. A faint cloud of vapour hung above the capstan, and he could see the anchor party moving busily around the cable and young Hammond right in the bows beside the jackstaff. It was all the usual excitement of getting a ship under way, he thought. It never left you, no matter what ship it happened to be. He swallowed hard, feeling the taste of coffee and the remains of a hasty breakfast.
    There had been only one other officer at the wardroom table. Mr. Archibald Tweedie, the warrant gunner. He was a thickset, even squat little man with a brick-red complexion which had defied all the efforts of the sun to produce a tan. To Trewin he seemed typical. A hardcore gunner who had worked his way up through every rank on the lower deck to finally attain the thin gold stripe of his trade. Trewin knew from early experience that such men usually resented the quick commissions of the