Submariner (2008) Read Online Free Page A

chap, but lucky for you and for
Unbowed
, then. You’re off at cock crow, eh?’
    ‘We are that.’ Smiling again: ‘Good seeing you, sir!’
    ‘Very good to see
you
, Dennison. We’ll meet again before long.’ Returning the CPO’s salute, then rejoining Mike. ‘Small world, ours. Look here, you
     haven’t asked what’s lined up for you next, but how long d’you need?’
    ‘Store ship, fuel and water, torpedoes – make good a few minor defects –’
    ‘No dockyard assistance?’
    ‘No sir, we’re –’
    ‘Twenty-four hours then?’
    ‘Might I have thirty-six?’
    ‘All right. Sail first thing day after tomorrow. How’d Palermo suit you?’
    To which the answer might have been ‘as well as anywhere else’; but Shrimp would no doubt explain presently why a patrol somewhere
     off Palermo on Sicily’s north coast might be productive at this juncture. Mike called to McLeod, who was still on
Ursa
’s casing – in conversation now with the fourth hand, Danvers – ‘Thirty-six hours, Number One. Push off at first light Wednesday.’
    ‘
Right
…’
    Saluting Shrimp then – since he happened to be looking at him. Shrimp returning the salute and not having to be told his name:
     ‘How’s the battle, McLeod?’
    ‘I
think
we’re winning it, sir.’
    ‘About bloody time we did.’ A jerk of the head to Mike then: ‘Come on. Ops Room.’
    He’d been deep in thought on the way to it: as had Mike – in his own case, thinking about Ann and the letter in his pocket,
     and her husband Charles who if he was leaving Gib tomorrow should be here in five or six days. Question being – at least, the
     immediate one – whether she’d be crazy enough to go on writing: how boring it would be if she stopped and how dangerous if
     she didn’t. Passing meanwhile through the barracks end of the old building – in which, when it had been Malta’s quarantine
     station, the poet Shelley had been incarcerated at one time and had gone so far as to carve his name and a couple of lines
     of doggerel in the soft stone up there – through to the tunnelled-out bomb-proof quarters and new Ops Room.
    ‘So here we are.’ Shrimp offered him a cigarette, and they both lit up. ‘What d’you think of it?’
    ‘Well – in just ten weeks –’
    ‘Deserve medals, all of ’em.’Swapping one chart for another on the table-top, and reaching for dividers to use as a pointer.
     ‘Several factors relevant now. One – not immediate but by a long chalk the most important, convoy operation from the west,
     code-name “Pedestal”. Not immediate, ships are only now assembling in the Clyde, but it’s going to be an all-out effort –
     escort from Gib eastward to include two battleships –
Nelson
and
Rodney
– and no less than three aircraft carriers. Unprecedented – simple reason being that if the siege isn’t lifted, Malta starves.
     This flotilla’s contribution will be eight or possibly even ten boats. And meanwhile – week, ten days, fortnight even – might
     as well use the time, eh, let the buggers know we’re back?’
    Mike nodded. ‘Right.’
    ‘Palermo, now.’ He’d swung a lamp over the chart, and switched it on: the overhead light wasn’t all that brilliant. Continuing: ‘I’d
     say it’s not unlikely the Wops’ll be expecting a convoy operation now. One’s very much overdue, last attempt failed miserably,
     and they aren’t stupid, must know we’re not far off starvation – so we might reasonably expect fleet movements, deployments
     in advance. I’d guess particularly of cruisers, and in this bailiwick as likely as anywhere to Palermo – Cagliari, for that
     matter, but –’
    Glancing round – Mike too – as a door was opened and Hugo Short, Spare CO – he’d been on the arcade steps earlier to see
Ursa
slide in and tie up – told Shrimp, ‘Those orders are ready for your signature, sir. Want them now, or –’
    ‘On my desk, I’ll sign ’em when we finish here.’
    ‘Sir.’