Between The Hunters And The Hunted by Steven Wilson

Author:Steven Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2012-08-08T16:00:00+00:00

The Royal Navy Base, Home Fleet, Scapa Flow

Captain Harland had always been most uncomfortable in the presence of Sir Joshua Bimble, but now he stood before Admiral Townes, the man who destroyed the mighty Bismarck. Even the cold Scottish wind that blew across Scapa Flow was not as intimidating as this sailor.

“Bimble sent you up here?” Townes roared. “And may I ask, sir, what are you to do? Hold my hand? Wipe my nose? This is Scapa Flow, young man, we are the Home Fleet. We are certainly aware that Nottingham has run into difficulty and that something is about in the Denmark Strait.”

Harland stood at rigid attention while Townes’s staff pretended to work diligently. They had probably been at the receiving end of one of Townes’s barrages and knew enough to keep low.

“Sir, if I may?” Harland said.

“What is it, young man? Speak up. Harland, correct? Captain?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, come to, Harland. What’s this all about? What’s Bimble up to?”

“Sir, it is not Sir Joshua. It is information that we have come across concerning the actions in the Denmark Strait.”

“Prader’s ‘battleship’? Nonsense. No such animal exists. Case of nerves, that’s all. First time that he smells powder and he’s beside himself. What we’ve got from him is scattered at best. Nothing of use. Nothing complete. Bits and pieces of radio messages. Suppose this German chap is a pocket battleship, maybe a battle cruiser, or perhaps a cruiser. Where is it now, Harland? What hole has he popped into? There are convoys out there that need protection, and protection I can give them if, if I know where that German chap has gone. It would bloody well please me to know what I’m fighting.”

“Admiral Townes, Sir Joshua has requested reconnaissance flights from Coastal Command and the RAF. The weather.”

“In the Denmark Strait,” Townes said sarcastically, “a poor sailor can hardly see from port to starboard on his own ship. They must fly nevertheless. These ships of mine need service, Harland. Bismarck handled them roughly enough, but even before the encounter they were past due for attention. Send them out I will but with damned more in my hand than what you’ve given me.” Suddenly Townes cooled a bit. He motioned Harland to a chair next to his nearly bare desk. “Like a squall,” Townes’s temper had been described to him, violent one moment, virtually nonexistent the next. Harland was relieved to see Townes becalmed.

“Now see here, Captain Harland,” Townes said in a surprisingly soft tone. “I’ve got poor old Repulse out with Kensington and three destroyers covering a territory that rightly belongs to three battleships and a dozen cruisers. K.G.V., Nelson, and Rodney are laid up for repairs and if I send them out now they’ll be cluttered with workmen. Renown and Victorious are with Force J and just coming into Gibraltar, so even if I were to recall them it would take some time before they arrive. My other carrier, Ark Royal, is escorting a convoy and I won’t be able to get my hands on her for seventy-two hours at least.

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