(1994) Sunset by Douglas Reeman

Author:Douglas Reeman [Reeman, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: World War; 1939-1945 - Naval Operations; British, War Stories, Hong Kong (China), Action & Adventure, Hong Kong (China) - History - Siege; 1941, Great Britain - Officers, Fiction, Sea stories, Historical, War & Military, General
ISBN: 9780099502357
Publisher: Random House UK
Published: 1994-01-01T13:30:00+00:00

Chapter11

A Ship of War

Esmond Brooke sat squarely in his bridge chair, an unlit pipe clenched between his teeth. The air was heavy and clammy, but compared with between decks where it was like an oven in spite of the busy fans, and the blazing heat in the confines of an open bridge during the daylight, it was almost exhilarating. He watched the arrowhead of the sharp forecastle rise streaming from the sea, water cascading down either side as far as 'A' gun before ploughing into the next steep roller. Even some of the older hands would be throwing up in this, he thought.

It was pitch black, with no stars to divide the ocean from the sky.

Down again, the spindrift flying over the glass screen like white arrows.

Kerr emerged from beneath the chart table's hood and said, 'Pretty lively, sir.'

'It may get worse.' Strange how easy it was to talk with the first lieutenant now. Perhaps Kerr's admission of his fear aboard the sinking fishing boat was a part of it. Like Calvert, who had even touched very briefly on flying.

Like me. He wiped his face with a wet towel as he recalled his shame over his injured leg. He was not over it, but the girl had helped more than she could ever know.

He had seen her only once more before Serpent had been ordered to sea on another patrol. Without effort he could summon her to his mind, even though he had repeatedly told himself he was being ridiculous. Perhaps she was trying to show his brother that she did not care about his behaviour. That she had never been really serious.

Their last meeting had been so formal he had barely spoken to her. Her father had invited some of his own friends to dinner at his fine house on the Peak, dedicated eaters to a man. Charles Yeung had prodded the air with a cigarette, which he was rarely without, and through the smoke had said, 'Lian, sit beside the commander. Teach him the foreign ways of chopsticks!'

She had not looked at him but had watched her hand on his as she had guided his fingers until he had eventually obtained a proper grip on them.

A wet figure lurched across the bridge. Sub-Lieutenant Paul Kipling, at odds with the others in the same old khaki drill uniform in which he had first come aboard.

Brooke twisted round in his chair. 'Number One? What can we do about getting some Chinese dhobi-men on board? Other ships on the China Station have them. They could manage our shirts and other gear in no time, I'm told.'

Kerr's teeth shone through the gloom. 'The old three-badgemen won't thank you for that, sir. They've got their own firm down below, in league with the boiler-room crowd of course, for drying out the clothing!' He considered it. 'I'll lay something on. The wardroom funds can stand it.'

He watched Brooke as he raised himself in the chair to stare into the spray. More like a first-passage midshipman than the commanding officer, he thought.

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