Rendezvous-South Atlantic

by Douglas Reeman

  Goss stirred in his chair. `I am very busy, sir.' He was pondering on Lindsay's words, his eyes far away as he continued, `Who would be coming anyway?'

  Lindsay tried to keep his tone matter of fact, knowing Fraser was-watching him. He hoped Goss would not see through his little game as easily as Fraser was obviously doing.

  He said, `Oh, all the usual. Base staff, some of the people who have been helping us. That sort of thing.'

  Fraser said over the rim of his glass, `I think it might be too difficult. Number One's people have still got a good bit of clearing up to do. In any case, who'd want to come to a ship like this? There's a damn great carrier here now and....'

  Goss swung towards him angrily. `That's all you bloody well know! How,many ships like this one have you seen then, eh?' Some of his drink slopped on to his thighs but he did not notice. `A carrier, you say? Well, that's just another warship, and most people are sick to death of them up here!'

  Lindsay asked quietly, `You're in favour?' He saw Fraser drop one eyelid in a brief wink.

  Goss recovered some of his old dignity. `Well, if you think-'- He darted a glance at Fraser. `Yes, I am, sir.'

  `That's settled then. I'll leave it to you. Two days is not long to arrange it, but I expect you'll manage.'

  Goss pushed his empty glass towards Jupp. `Manage?' He frowned. `I've seen the main saloon filled to overflowing in my day. A prince, his whole retinue, and some of the richest passengers we've carried, all eating and drinking fit to bust.' He nodded firmly. `We'll show 'em.' He stood up violently. `So if you'll excuse me, I think I'll find Barker. Go over a few things with him.' He did not mention the patrol at all. `Carrier indeed! Who the hell wants to see that!' He left the cabin with unusual speed.

  Fraser signalled for another drink and then said quietly, `I've not seen him like that for years. My God, sir, you don't know what you've sparked off.'

  Lindsay smiled. `I hope you're right, Chief. This ship needs something, so we'll make a start with the party, right?'

  Fraser grinned. `Right.'

  Lindsay did not have much time to think about the proposed party. Almost to the hour of its starting he was kept busy dealing with the ship's affairs as with growing speed sailing preparations were completed. Fresh supplies and ammunition. A new whaler to replace the one destroyed by shellfire, as well as the promised turkeys, which were whisked away by Barker's men to the cold storage room before any could go astray. And of course there were the new ratings who arrived in dribs and drabs in the ferries to take the places of more seasoned men needed elsewhere.

  The Benbecula's company watched the new arrivals with all the usual interest. The men who had made just one patrol, who had been drafted straight from shore training establishments, now stood like old salts and eyed the newcomers with a mixture of contempt and assured superiority. Lindsay had watched some of them from the bridge. Their brand-new greatcoats and gasmask haversacks, their regulation haircuts and general air of, lost confusion marking them out from all the rest.

  He had heard Archer, the chief boatswain's mate, bellowing at them, `Come on then, jump about! Drop yer bags 'n'ammicks and get fell in while I gives you yer parts of ship!'

  Archer seemed to have grown in size since the commissioned boatswain, Tobey, had left for another ship, but quite obviously relished his new powers.

  When, one pale-faced recruit had said timidly, `I thought we were coming to a warship, P.O., not a....' he had got no further.

  Archer had roared at him, `This 'ere is an' armed merchant cruiser, see? Any bloody fool, can 'andle a battleship, but this takes seamen, got it?' As he had been about to turn away he had added loudly, `And I'm not a P.O., I'm the chief bosun's mate, so don't you bloody well forget it!'

  The little seaman ,had tried to escape after the rest of the draft but Archer's voice had pursued him like an enraged walrus. `An' get yer bloody 'air cut!'

  It was dark in the Flow when Goss came to Lindsay's quarters. `Ready for you in the wardroom, sir.'

  Lindsay noticed Goss was wearing a new uniform and his cheeks were glowing from a fresh shave and bath. There was something else, too. A kind of defiance.

  When they reached the wardroom Lindsay was astounded. It was difficult to believe he was in the same ship. Everything shone with polish and small coloured lights, and two long tables were groaning under such a weight of sandwiches, canapes and go many tempting. morsels that he could pity the officers and their mess bills when the reckoning was made. Most of the stewards who had been with the company before the war were wearing their old mess jackets and maroon trousers, and as Lindsay followed Goss's massive figure towards the assembled officers he saw three other stewards waiting selfconsciously with violins and a piano which had certainly not been present before.

  Goss turned and faced him grimly. `Well, Sir?'

  Lindsay kept his face impassive. `It's not Navy, Number One.' Then he reached out and touched Goss's forearm. `But it's bloody marvellous! I knew you'd do your best, but this is more than that!'

  Goss stared at him uncertainly. `You like it then?'

  Barker appeared at his side, beaming. `Just like the old days!'

  Goss ignored him. `You really like it, sir?',

  `I do.' Lindsay saw Jupp making towards him with a tray. `It's what I needed. What we all need in this bloody war!' And he knew he meant it.

  Goss snapped his fingers at a steward and said, `I heard a boat alongside. The first guests are arriving.' Then he strode away, his eyes darting across the laden tables to ensure nothing had been eaten.

  Fraser watched him go and then said, `You've made his day.' He looked at Lindsay searchingly. `I'm drinking to you.' He lifted a glass. `That was a damn nice thing you just did.'

  In no time at all the wardroom seemed to get crowded with visitors. As the din of conversation and laughter mounted and the trio of musicians did their best to rise above it, Lindsay was conscious of the impression Goss's party was having. What had started almost as a joke was gathering way, so that he too could sense a kind of pride for the way this old ship, his ship, was hanging on to her past and so giving pleasure to the present.

  Faces swam around him, handshakes and slaps on the ,shoulder marked each new arrival. Officers from the base and other ships. Some nursing sisters and the wives of senior officers and officials added the required feminine interest, and the plentiful supply of drink did the rest. There were several Wrens, too, but not the one he had been waiting to see. He knew it was pointless to try again, just as he realised he wanted very much to meet her once more before the ship sailed.

  His own officers appeared to be enjoying themselves. de Chair, impeccable as ever in his best blue uniform, was entertaining two of the women. Stannard and SubLieutenant Cordeaux seemed to be having a drinking contest, while Dancy was speaking gravely to a blonde nurse on the trials of being surrounded by so much literary material.

  She was saying huskily, `It must be marvellous to be a real writer.'

  He looked at her and nodded, his eyes already glazed. `It can also be a great responsibility.'

  Even Emerson, the elderly warrant engineer, was coming out of his shell. He was talking with the wife of a dockyard manager, his voice loud with enthusiasm.

  'Yeh. So I says to me old woman, what about a run to Margate? An' she-says-' he paused to dab the tears from his eyes, `-she says, wot d'you think I am? A bloody rabbit?'

  Behind him Lindsay heard Dancy's nurse ask, `Is he really an officer?'

  Dancy said thickly, `One of my best, actually.'

  And through and above it Goss moved like a giant, his voice carrying over all else as he received his compliments and replied to many of the questions.

  `Yes, I recall the time when we were at Aden, that was quite a trip.' Or, `She was the best paying ship in `the line. Always popular on the Far East run, was the old Becky.'

  Lindsay took another drink, trying to remember how many he had swallowed so far. Goss was really enjoying himself. It was just as
if the opportunity to show what his old ship could do had released some of the pressure.

  Jupp said quietly, `There has just been a telephone call, sir. Captain Lovelace will be coming aboard shortly.'

  But Lindsay was looking past him towards the door. Boase, the doctor, was greeting several latecomers and leading them to the tables. One of them was the Wren called Eve.

  At first he could not be certain. Without her scarves and baggy coat she looked quite different. For one thing, she was much smaller than he had imagined, and her hair was cut very short, giving her a sort of elfin simplicity.

  He pushed through the press of figures and saw Boase stiffen and say, `Oh, this is the captain.'

  She held out her hand. It was small and very warm. `I know.'

  Lindsay said, `I'm glad you could come.'

  She had hazel eyes, very wide. And she was studying him with that same mock gravity he had remembered so vividly from their first meeting in that wet, quivering staff car.

  She said, `It's like nothing I've ever seen. She's a beautiful ship.'

  He realised with a start he was still holding her hand and said awkwardly, `Here's a steward. Take a drink from the tray and tell me what you've been doing.'

  She smiled up at him. `Not much.' She lifted the glass. `Cheers.'

  Boase had sunk back into the crowd but Lindsay had not even noticed. He said, `I'm sorry I was a bit stupid the other night. You must have thought...'

  She interrupted quietly, `I thought you looked worn out. I was sorry, too. About that dance.'

  Lindsay glanced round. `Have you brought him with you?' He forced a smile. `He seemed a nice chap.'

  `You hated him, and it showed!' She laughed at his confusion. `But he's not with me.' The laugh wavered. 'He was a friend of Bill's. The one who was killed.'

  Then she waved her glass to another Wren who was in deep conversation with Lieutenant Hunter. `Watch it, Judy! You know what they say!' The mood had changed again.

  Lindsay guided her to the bulkhead. `We're leaving tomorrow, but I imagine you know. I was wondering. About that meal I promised you?'

  She looked at him with new concern. `Oh, I forgot to tell you. I've been drafted.'

  `Drafted?' The word hung between them like a shutter.

  `Well, I've been trying for ages to go on a signals course. I should have gone when I joined, but I had a driving licence, you see.'

  Lindsay did not see. All he knew was he was losing her almost before he had found her. 'Licence?'

  She wrinkled her nose. `Yes. So they made me a driver. You know how it is.' She staggered against his arm. `Oops. I'm getting tipsy already!' Then she saw his face and added, `Well, my draft-chit has at last arrived. I'm being sent on some new course.' She faltered.. `In Canada.'

  Lindsay looked away. `I'm very glad for you.'

  `No you're not.' She rested a hand on his sleeve. 'Neither am I. Now.'

  Canada. Not even where he could visit her. He cursed himself for allowing his disappointment to show. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't anyone's fault.

  He said, `You didn't come aboard. to be miserable. Come and meet the others.'

  She shook her head. `I can only stay a little while. They're shipping me out tonight. I expect I'll be joining a convoy at Liverpool.' She was not smiling. `Rotten, isn't it?'

  `Yes.' He wanted to take her away. Free himself and her from the noise and enjoyment which hemmed them in like a wall. `I shall miss you.'

  She studied his face for several seconds. `You mean it, don't you?'

  Maxwell's polished head moved from the crowd. `Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Captain Lovelace is here.' He kept his eyes on the girl. `He has an important visitor with him.'

  `Tell him I'll be right over.' As Maxwell hurried away he said urgently, `You won't leave the ship without saying goodbye?'

  She shook her head very slowly. `No. Of course not.' She tried to bring back her cheeky grin. `I'll go and yarn with your delicious doctor.' But somehow the grin would not come.

  Lindsay moved through the crowd and found Lovelace speaking with Maxwell, his serious features breaking into a I smile as he said, 'Ah, Lindsay, I'd like you to meet Commodore Kemp.'

  The other guest was a sturdy, thickset man, who nodded abruptly and said, `Quite a party. Never think you'd been in action, what?'

  Lovelace eyed him coolly. `No. You've done a marvellous job, Lindsay.'

  Lindsay was still watching the commodore. There was something aggressive about him. Intolerant. Like his words. `Are you joining the base, sir?'

  The commodore took a glass from a steward and regarded it critically. `I'm here to co-ordinate new strategy.' He glanced at Lindsay again. `Still, this is hardly the time to-discuss Service matters, what?' He did not smile.

  Lindsay felt suddenly angry. Who the hell did he think he was anyway? He thought too of the girl, of the fading, precious minutes.

  The commodore said abruptly, `Where is that son of mine then?'

  Kemp. Of course. He should have guessed.

  `I'm afraid I don't know, sir.'

  `I would want to know where every one of my officers was, at any time of the day or night.'

  `Come along, sir, why not meet 'some of the other guests?' Lovelace sounded tense. `I'm sure the captain doesn't bother about one more midshipman, eh?'

  Kemp stared at him bleakly. `I want to see him.'

  Lindsay sighed. `I'll send for him.' It was his own fault. After all, Kemp had come a long way to see his only son. It was not much to ask.

  He heard the commodore say, `Young fool. When I heard about his latest failure I thought I'd explode!' He stared round at the shining panels and glittering lights.

  `Under these circumstances, however-'

  Lindsay turned sharply, `Are you here on official business, sir, or as a guest?'

  Kemp looked at him with surprise. `As a guest of course!'

  Lindsay said quietly, `Then, sir, may I suggest you start acting like one!' Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

  The commodore opened and closed his mouth several times. `The impertinent young.' He turned to Lovelace again. 'By God, there will be a few changes when I'm in control, I can tell you!'

  Lindsay almost collided with Jupp ass he pushed between the noisy figures by the door.

  Jupp said, `Beg pardon, sir, but the young lady 'as gone. There was a call from the shore. Somethin' about 'er draft. bein' brought forward an hour.' He held out a paper napkin. `She said to give this to you, sir.'

  Lindsay opened it. She had written in pencil. Had to go. Take care o f yourself. See you in Eden. Eve.

  Then he hurried out and on to the promenade deck, the breath almost knocked from him by the bitter air. He found the gangway staff huddled together in their thick watchcoats, banging their hands and stamping their feet to keep warm.

  The quartermaster saw Lindsay and said, `Can II 'elp, sir?'

  `The last boat, Q.M. Can you still see it?' Beyond the guardrail the night was pitch black.

  The quartermaster shook his head. `No, sir. Shoved off ten minutes back.' His breath smelt strongly of rum. Lindsay felt the napkin in his hand and folded it carefully before putting it in his pocket. `Thank you. Goodnight.'

  The quartermaster watched him go and said to his companion, `Funny lot.'

  The bosun's mate looked at him. `Who?'

  The quartermaster reached for his hidden rum bottle. `Officers, of course! Who the bloody else!'

  Lindsay walked back into the noisy wardroom and noticed that Commodore Kemp was speaking to his son in a corner. Several of the guests were showing signs of wear, and when they reached the cold air outside they would know all about it.

  He reached Goss's side and said, `I'm going to my cabin, Number One. You take over, will you.'

  Goss nodded, watching him strangely. `Good party; sir.'

  `Yes.' Lindsay looked at the door, as if expecting to see her there again. `Very good party.'

  Then he saw Jupp and said, 'I'll have some
whisky in my cabin.'

  `Now, sir?'

  `Now.'

  He walked out of the wardroom and climbed the companion ladder which now seemed very quiet and deserted.

  8

  A small error

  The telephone above Lindsay's bunk rattled tinnily, and without switching on his overhead lamp he reached up and clapped it to his ear.

  `Captain?'

  Stannard sounded off guard. He had probably imagined Lindsay to be fast asleep.

  `Time to alter course, sir.'

  Lindsay held up his watch and saw the luminous face glowing in the darkness. Four in the morning. Another day.

  `Very well, Pilot. What's it like up top?'

  Not that it would have altered in the three hours since he had left the bridge. Nor had it changed much in the days and the weeks since they had slipped their buoy in Scapa. Ten days to reach the patrol area and another twenty pounding along the invisible lines of its extremities while the sea did everything possible to make their lives a misery. Even now, as he listened to Stannard's breathing and to the dull boom of waves against the hull, he could picture the water sluicing across the forward well deck, freezing into hard bulk, while the blown spray changed the superstructure and rigging into moulds of crude glass. Men frozen to the bone, slipping and cursing into the darkness with hammers and steam hoses, knowing as they toiled that they would be required again within the hour.

  Stannard replied, `Wind still nor'west, sir. Pretty fresh.

  It might feel easier when we turn into it.'

  `Good. Keep me posted, Pilot.'. He dropped the hand set on its hook and lay back again on the pillow.

  What a way to fight a war. Mile upon wretched mile. Empty, violent and cold. He heard feet overhead, the muffled clatter of steering gear as Stannard brought the old ship round on the southernmost leg of her patrol. Right at this moment of time Stannard's little pencilled cross on the chart would show the Benbecula almost five hundred miles south-west of Iceland, while some seven hundred and fifty miles beyond her labouring bows was the dreaded Cape Farewell of Greenland. It was not a patrol area, he thought. It was a wilderness, a freezing desert.