Monsarrat Nicholas by The Cruel Sea

Author:The Cruel Sea [Sea, The Cruel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-04-01T09:45:37+00:00

10

In the cold hour that stretched between two and three a.m., with the moon clouded and the water black and fathomless as sable, a step on the bridge ladder. But now it was a different sort of step: cheerful, quick-mounting, no longer stealthy. It was Chief E.R.A. Watts.

‘Captain, sir!’ he called to the vague figure hunched over the front of the bridge.

Ericson, stiff and cold with his long vigil, turned awkwardly towards him. ‘Yes, Chief?’

‘Ready to move, sir.’

So that was that, thought Ericson, standing up and stretching gratefully: they could get going, they could leave at last this hated corner, they could make their escape. The relief was enormous, flooding in till it seemed to reach every part of his body: he felt like shouting his congratulation, seizing Watts’ hand and shaking it, giving way to his light-headed happiness. But all he said was: Thank you, Chief. Very well done.’ And then, to the voice-pipe: ‘Wheel-house!’

‘Wheel-house, bridge, sir!’ came the quartermaster’s voice, startled from some dream of home.

‘Ring “Stand by, main engines”.’

Very soon they were off: steaming swiftly northward, chasing the convoy: the revolutions mounted, the whole ship grew warm and alive and full of hope again. There was no need to look back: they had, by all the luck in the world, left nothing of themselves behind and given nothing to the enemy.

At about six o’clock, with the first dawn lightening the sky to the eastwards, they ‘got’ the convoy on the very edge of the radar-screen. Lockhart, who was Officer-of-the-Watch, looked at the blurred echo appreciatively: it was still many miles ahead, and they would not be in direct touch till mid-morning, but it put them on the map again - they were no longer alone on the waste of water that might have been their grave. He woke the Captain to tell him the news, as he had been ordered to: it seemed a shame to break into his sleep with so straightforward an item, which might well have been kept till later in the morning, but the orders had been explicit - and probably Ericson would sleep the easier for hearing that they were in touch again. Indeed, the sleepy grunt which came up the voice-pipe in answer to Lockhart’s information seemed to indicate that Ericson had only just risen to the surface, like a trout to a fly, to take in the news, before diving down fathoms deep to the luxury of sleep once more. Lockhart smiled as he snapped the voice-pipe cover shut again. After such a night, the Captain deserved his zizz.

The morning watch progressed; towards its ending at eight o’clock the light grew to the eastward, blanching the dark water: Tomlinson, the junior steward, foraging for the cups and sandwich plates of the night’s session, went soft-footed on the wet and dewy decks, like a new character in a suddenly cheerful third act. The engine revolutions were now set near their maximum: Compass Rose’s course was steady, aiming for the centre of

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