A messenger called, “Pilot wants you up top!” He too looked wild-eyed, not yet able to accept that he was still alive.
Forward held up his hand to show the watch. “Fair exchange, eh, Wings?”
It was done.
• • •
Fairfax lowered his glasses and said to Martineau, “She’s going, sir.”
Martineau laid Tyler’s binoculars on the chair. Ten killed, fifteen or more wounded. Bad enough, especially when added to those in the other ships.
Then he made himself look at the sinking Lübeck. Her forecastle deck was now almost awash, ant-like figures lowering boats and rafts, facing the inevitable. The W/T office was destroyed, but his small sea cabin was intact. Her photograph would be there to remind him. Perhaps to restore him.
How do I feel? Everyone will think I have the answer. Why is that? After Firebrand, and all that had followed. A sense of victory, or one of revenge? Triumph or tragedy?
They had done what was expected of them, more than was expected. The convoy was safe. There would be others, many others. He ran his bare hand along the wet steel, feeling it, sharing the pain.
“But not for you, my girl. Not for a while, anyway.”
Fairfax listened and watched, feeling the ship, their ship, rising to the challenge like this man whom he had come to admire, and care for so much.
He saw young Wishart joining Kidd by the chart table, his eyes averted from the stain where Tyler had died. And when he stared aft along the littered deck he saw the empty tubes, still pointing towards the enemy they had helped to destroy.
Some would go to other ships, and many would be ashore for some time to come.
He saw Tonkyn, the chief steward, picking his way towards the bridge, carrying something covered by a spotless napkin, his passage bringing a few grins from the exhausted victors.
And another figure going in the opposite direction. Forward, who had made up his mind, and had given his medal, the only thing apart from the watch he had left to value, to his young “winger” Wishart.
They would all remember Hakka.
Martineau said, “Here comes the cavalry, Jamie!” Two of Dancer ’s Seafires roared low overhead, dipping their wings in salute, when they had probably expected to find only the enemy left afloat.
Wishart watched and shared all of it. He knew the package contained Bob’s medal. Just as he somehow realized he would never see him again.
The other ships were moving closer, ready to take station as ordered. On the new leader.
Martineau found himself holding his breath as Lübeck began to slide under the drifting debris. There was much to do. Dead to be buried. He saw Tonkyn by the bridge ladder, watching him, then nodding as if satisfied in spite of the carnage he had witnessed.
A signal would have to be made through Jester. And then she would know, and Hakka ’s little marker would not be taken down from the Operations wall map.
But first . . . “Take over, Jamie.” He touched his arm lightly. “I’m going round the ship.”
Fairfax saluted as he left the bridge without knowing he had done it. When he looked again, Lübeck had gone.
Is Anything Impossible?
For Valour Page 32
