The Destroyers

by Douglas Reeman

  Mangin yanked the P.O. steward on to the deck.

  To the sentry he rasped, “Take the P.O. to ‘is mess and pour as much coffee into ‘is guts ‘as they can ‘old.” He gripped the beaming Owles by the lapels. “You’d better sober up, matey. The skipper is goin’ to need you, ‘eaven ‘elp ‘im,”

  Owles replied stiffly, “Can’t a chap enjoy a song when he feels like it?”

  He started to bawl again but allowed the sentry to lead him towards his mess.

  Sheridan was on the shore telephone. “I want to speak with Commander Drummond, please.” He pictured them together and felt vaguely ashamed. “Captain, sir? I think you’d better get down here as quick as you can.”

  16

  Old Friends

  DRUMMOND sat in his day cabin watching Beaumont’s bulky shadow as it soared back and forth across the white paint like an angry spectre.

  It had been hard to get a taxi from Edinburgh at this time of night, and all the way to the dockyard he had wondered what was so important to bring him back. Sheridan had said little on the telephone, other than to assure him that there was nothing wrong with the ship.

  He had found Beaumont fuming by the wardroom stove, his jacket drying on a chairback while he sipped repeatedly from a silver flask. To see him in such disarray, something which had never happened before, suggested a really serious situation.

  Now, as he watched the other man and listened to his barely controlled anger, he found he was able to match it calmly, instead of feeling the resentment he might have expected.

  Beaumont was saying, “By God, I thought I knew about men, and in you I believed I had found a loyal, trustworthy officer.”

  Drummond said sharply, “Look, sir, I’ve listened to you for ten minutes. I still don’t know what was so urgent to get me out of bed.”

  Beaumont glared at him. “Bed? Yes, I expected you to be with her!” But as Drummond made to rise to his feet he hurried on, “No matter! I don’t give a damn what you get up to. All I know is that people have been plotting against me behind my back, creating a vendetta, when I have, through my own efforts and trust, given them nothing but success and pride.”

  Drummond eyed him coldly. “I was interviewed some days ago by Vice-Admiral Brooks. He asked for my opinion. I gave it. I still believe that the plan of attack was right, but wrongly executed. “

  Beaumont paused in his movements and stared down at him, his face flushed and triumphant.

  “It bloody well worked, didn’t it?”

  “Good men died unnecessarily, sir.”

  “In your opinion!”

  “Yes.”

  Beaumont seemed momentarily confused by the bald reply.

  He exclaimed, “And another thing. You went to see that rating in a Manchester hospital. She put you up to it, didn’t she?” He shook both fists in the air. “After all I’ve done!”

  Drummond thought of their visit to the small hospital. The thing which had made it worse had been the quiet.. Absolute. Until it had seemed to press on the eardrums like thunder.

  And the man, Carson. Lying in a steel cot, hands exactly placed on the neat bed-cover. Like two lifeless claws.

  A doctor had already admitted that the hospital had been able to do little for him. Or for many of the others. Drummond had felt the girl gripping his arm, as if fearful of being separated from him as they had followed the doctor past silent wards.

  Gaunt-looking men in dressing-gowns. Leaning on sticks and crutches, or merely standing by the windows watching the rain without any sort of recognition. It was strange how their suffering had moulded them. They all looked the same age. The same build.

  Carson had showed a tiny flicker of recognition when his eyes had finally settled on Sarah.

  Drummond had said quietly, “I want to ask you something. “

  The contact had gone instantly, like the snapping off of a light.

  But she had whispered, “You can speak.” She had reached out to take Drummond’s hand. “Trust him, please.”

  Carson’s eyes had ventured round very slightly. Then in a strange, tuneless voice he had muttered, “It was true. We was on the raft. I was almost done in, but I could ‘ear ‘em shoutin’ at each other. Like madmen they was.”

  “Who?”

  “Beaumont.” The man had closed his eyes tightly. “The bloody bastard!” A clawlike hand had groped over to touch the girl. ” ‘Im an’ your brother. I was a messenger on Conqueror’s bridge. I ‘eard the admiral askin’ Beaumont’s advice about some signal or other. Beaumont kept sayin’ over an’ over, it was right to send the destroyers away.”

  The doctor had interrupted worriedly, “I think that’s enough. It’s weakened him quite a lot. You’ll have to go, I’m afraid.”

  That same doctor had probably telephoned higher authority. Beaumot. Brooks. Anyone.

  Drummond said quietly, “You’re not the only one with responsibility, sir.” If he had hit Beaumont he could not have affected him more. “I have my own ship to consider. The lives of all the men who are working with me at any given time. You must realise that? There’s more to fighting a war than medals. “

  “Of course I do. D’you take me for a complete fool?”

  It was almost dawn. In a few more moments the cook would be roused, anyone might hear Beaumont shouting. Drummond stood up quickly. It was too late to turn back. Too much depended on it. On him.

  He said evenly, “When you took the flotilla on exercises, and we had the luck to capture a German midget submarine, one which up to then had been virtually unknown to the Allies, I believe you saw your way clear. I did not really understand what could happen to a man caught up in a system of ideas not of his own making. But I do now. Part of it anyway.”

  He expected Beaumont to shut him up. To put him under arrest. The silence was like that at the hospital.

  He continued, “You wanted to use your reputation to gain advancement. It’s not uncommon. But you did not see that every man has his limitation, beyond which he’s a menace. A threat to everyone who relies on him.”

  Beaumont sounded hoarse, as if his collar was too tight. “You dare to suggest that I would risk lives for my own benefit?”

  “I think, sir, that you saw the midget submarine as a useful lever for your next appointment. Far more senior officers than you have been tempted, sir.”

  “Go on.” Beaumont sat down in a chair, never taking his gaze from Drummond’s face for a second. “I can’t wait to hear your verdict!”

  Drummond said quietly, “Try to think about it, sir. Before it’s too late. You’ve allowed yourself to be used. Used beyond your scope. When you consider the odds against success on that last raid, I think we are all being driven beyond it.”

  “Really. “Beaumont dragged on his coat, breathing heavily. “I’m glad I came now. I needed to cut through red tape. To treat you fairly. As a man, not a subordinate. ” He smiled to himself. “I didn’t expect you to be pleased at the visit, but I did anticipate you would do me the favour of understanding. Of understanding that our work must arise above personal and petty ideals.” He paused and glanced at himself in the mirror. “However, I know the strain you have been under. Some react differently from others in such matters. Far too much depends on the efficiency of this unit to waste time and labour on you. You do your part and obey orders, and I’ll ask nothing more. Use your present fame to damage me, or to gain rewards for yourself, and you will regret it. As will others.”

  He faced Drummond, apparently composed, and with nothing to show for his heavy drinking. “Sarah Kemp’s brother was a fool and a coward. I tried to save his life, as I did others. After Conqueror went down, when I met Sarah Kemp and saw her despair, how could I tell her that her brother was a screaming, yellow-bellied coward?” He sighed. “Even at the risk of damaging my own reputation by lying about what happened, I could not bring myself to hurt that woman further.”

  Drummond watched the returning power in the man. Like sunrise on hard metal. Bea
umont had found a weakness and would use it ruthlessly if pushed further.

  He said, “Thank you for confiding in me, sir.” He did not hide his disgust and contempt.

  Beaumont picked up his cap. “Don’t try to dislodge me.” He looked round sharply as Owles appeared in the doorway. “Sorry. Can’t stop for coffee.” He smiled at the steward’s confusion. “But I daresay your captain needs one. Now.”

  The days which followed Beaumont’s unexpected visit to the ship were surprisingly empty of incident. Drummond expected a summons to naval H.Q. at Rosyth, even to the Admiralty. To be told he was being transferred to other duties. To be reprimanded by Brooks. Almost anything. But nothing of the kind happened.

  The worst part had been parting with Sarah at the railway station. Drummond had seen so many like it in the past. Two faces separated by a few inches. One on the platform, one in the train window. So many words which never came until it was too late and the contact broken. The station had been packed with uniformed figures. Some saying goodbye, like himself, others being joyfully welcomed home on leave.

  She had been ordered to report back to the ministry in London, and the thought of her enduring the nightly raids worried him more than his own immediate future.

  He had watched her waving until the train had pulled around a curve, and had returned to the affairs of his ship. With Beaumont back in London, he was in control of the flotilla’s remaining ships.

  Captain Kimber, the admiral’s right-hand man, was a regular visitor to the dockyard. He was usually accompanied by several staff officers and base engineers, and he rarely discussed the operation which Brooks had hinted at in London.

  In fact, a complete security screen seemed to hang over the four survivors of the Scrapyard Flotilla. Lomond, the leader, was an outstanding example. She had remained in her basin, heavily guarded, and with only dockyard personnel allowed on board.

  Lieutenant-Commander Dorian de Pass had exclaimed more than once, “Damned cheek, I say. Don’t they trust me or something?”

  And then one day, while Drummond was writing a letter to Sarah in his cabin, Selkirk of the Ventnor came aboard to see him. He came straight to the point.

  “Look, sir, I know you’re only temporarily in charge of us while Captain (D)‘s away, but I’m worried. I’d like to ask you something. “

  “Go ahead.”

  Like the rest of them, Selkirk had been more withdrawn since the raid. At the best of times he was a difficult man to know. Selkirk said, “Captain Kimber’s experts have been aboard

  my ship again. She had a real battering from those Jerry guns, but I thought the repair work was finished. It looks very sound to me. “

  “Well then?”

  Selkirk shifted in his chair. “I got hold of a chap I know in the yard. Ordnance artificer. Been a friend for years.” He shrugged. “I know all about security. That I’m not supposed to speak with anyone.” He looked hard at Drummond. “How would you feel, if it was your ship?”

  Drummond asked quietly, “What did your friend tell you?”

  “That they’re putting my Ventnor back in dock. Like the Lomond, she’s got to have something else done to her. When I touched on the matter with one of Kimber’s staff he told me, politely, to mind my own business!”

  Drummond lowered his eyes, seeing the top line of a letter she had sent him yesterday. I have written to ask him for a divorce. It was like a dream coming true.

  He shook himself and said, “I’ll see what I can find out. Probably some new weapons being fitted.”

  Selkirk shook his head. “No. They’d put us down the other end of the yard. ” He stood up. “You will try and find out, won’t you?” He was pleading. It could not be easy for him. “I want to finish this bloody war in Ventnor. She can be a bitch, but I’ve got to know her. It’s different for you. You’re a career officer. But me, well, it’s one war and one ship. Then I go back to freighters and clapped-out old tramp steamers. ” He grinned. “Maybe I’ll make master of one of them! ” He went out without waiting for Drummond to reply.

  Drummond picked up a telephone. A voice answered, “Officer of the day, sir?” It was Hillier.

  “I’m going ashore to H. Q. in a while, Sub. Send the doctor down here. “

  Vaughan arrived as he was running a comb through his unruly hair.

  “Sir?” The pale eyes watched him emptily. “I’m afraid I can add nothing to what you heard about Jevers. He seems to be telling the truth. “

  “It’s not about Jevers.” Drummond turned to face him. “I believe you’re fairly friendly with a Wren officer?” He held up one hand. “No, I’m not nosing into your private affairs, Doc.”

  Vaughan smiled gently. “It’s perfectly all right, sir. I am quite proud of the affair actually.”

  Drummond grinned. “I’m glad to hear it. But I want you to go and see her right away. She’s a signals officer, right? So you will have to go up the ramp between two basins. I need to know something about Lomond. You will have to pass some guards, but if you’re going to the signal tower by that route they’ll have to let you through.”

  Vaughan was interested. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”

  “Anything. Everything. I’m not certain.”

  He scribbled some notes on a pad. “Here, take this. Tell Signals I want that pamphlet.”

  Vaughan beamed. “My cover, sir. I feel like a spy!”

  It seemed to take an age before the doctor returned.

  He said, “They didn’t even stop me, sir. Saw my scarlet stripe, I expect. Doctors are not supposed to know anything about ships.” He became serious. “Lomond’s forecastle is completely open to the sky. Welders and all kinds of people swarming about like flies. Seems to be some sort of steel framework being put into the front of the hull.”

  “Strengthening it, do you think?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Thank you. Get Owles to fix you a drink. I’m off to H.Q.”

  He walked out and up to the iron deck. It was very cold, with a stiff wind ripping at the overnight rain puddles and making the ships’ flags stand out like. painted metal.

  After the usual delays, showing passes, waiting for messengers to return from delivering trays of tea to all the various offices, Drummond was eventually escorted to a small office below the operations room. It was steamy with heat from a radiator, but the walls were running with condensation. As if the room were submerged.

  Captain Kimber greeted him cheerfully. “God, you must be a damned mind-reader. Was just going to pop over and see you. “

  Drummond said, “About our orders, sir?”

  “Yes. Up to a point.” Kimber lit his pipe methodically. “Vice-Admiral Brooks was here this morning. Flew up.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Not surprised. He moves very quietly.” It seemed to amuse him. “He put me in the picture about the latest events. By the way, what did you want to see me about?

  “Lomond, sir. And I’ve heard a rumour about Selkirk’s ship, too. “

  Kimber frowned. “Can’t keep anything secret up here. Well, I can tell you part of it. We need two destroyers. Lomond’s keel was damaged by that last bombing. Had several near-misses, as you know better than I. She’s had a long life.” His eyes were distant as he continued, “Served in her myself as a young subbie.” He became businesslike again. “Ventnor was knocked about, too. She is the next obvious choice.”

  “For what, sir?”

  He could feel his muscles tightening. He had imagined that it would be different the next time. It never was.

  “Sit down, Keith.” Kimber perched on the edge of a desk and studied him thoughtfully. “I know you can keep a secret. I know, too, that you’ve already agreed to go on this next operation. The admiral wanted you from the start. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse!” He added, “We’re planning a raid into occupied France. We’ve got full, backing from the P.M. downwards. It’s important. It could also be dam
ned dicey for those who are taking part. Lomond and Ventnorwill be manned by volunteers only. For them it will be a one-way trip.”

  “Bill Selkirk came to see me, sir. He had heard rumours, too. “

  “Yes. He would. ” He sighed. “He loves that old tub of his. But…”

  Drummond asked, “What about Warlock, sir? And Vic tor?”

  “You will be going, too, of course. But in a more conventional role. There will be troops and commando taking part. Air cover. The lot.”

  “Can you give me any idea when, sir?”

  “Around Christmas, I should think. Long dark nights. Foulweather. Be easier for you in the long run.”

  It was about two months away.

  As if reading his thoughts Kimber added, “I’ll want you and Victor to go round to the west coast. To Greenock. You can exercise from there, up through the Minches. The Army have

  several special training camps on the islands. Your orders will fill you in. It’s kid stuff to you, but it should help your new men, the, er, replacements, to settle into the team.”

  Drummond nodded. “It’ll keep everyone’s mind off it, too. “

  “I’ll see Selkirk myself. It will come better from me. I’m not involved. It will give him someone to blame, if that’s what he wants.” He hesitated. “Of course, I’d rather he remained in command. “

  Drummond eyed him gravely. “Don’t worry. He will.”

  “As for Lomond.” Kimber looked away. “Captain (D) will be in command of her, I imagine. As it’s his show, so to speak. “

  He glanced at his watch and Drummond knew it was time to leave.

  A Wren officer, not Vaughan’s, caught up with him. “Commander Drummond?”

  He looked at her. She was pretty, but strained. “Yes.”

  “We’ve just had a signal phoned to us from Chatham. It was for you. We were going to send it to the ship, but I knew, we all knew you were in the building … ” Her voice trailed away and she blushed.

  Drummond asked, “What was it about?”

  She said, “I’m awfully sorry, sir. It’s about a friend of yours. Lieutenant Frank Cowley died last night in the hospital at Canterbury. His widow wanted you to know.”