The Bonny Boy (A Harry Gilmour Novel Book 4) by David Black

Author:David Black [Black, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2019-01-17T22:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Harry creaked to his feet, and stretched the night chill out his bones. His backside felt permanently imprinted from the rope cats-cradle the second cox’n had rigged for him at the portside back corner of the conning tower. He’d been dozing; nothing more.

From the look of the intensifying glow away to starboard, instead of a firm light above the horizon line he could see it was going to be a hazy start to the day. Good.

Scourge had slipped her pontoon off the Lazaretto at dusk last night, and after she had parted from her escorting minesweeper, had barrelled northwest as fast as her twin diesels would drive her – minus the diverted power to top up her batteries. She’d steered 045 degrees true for the first part of her dash, then after making the dog-leg off Cape Passero in the middle of the night, had been running on 010. Doing the sums in his head to wake him up, Harry reckoned they couldn’t be much more than 20 miles south of Cape Spartivento – directly astride the track an Italian battlefleet would take if it were on its way to the Straits of Messina. Doing other sums in his head – the less than 300 miles from Taranto to here; the Italians’ likely speed; exactly when they’d slipped from Taranto – he was certain they’d passed.

Bugger.

Still, it made his next decision easier. He acknowledged the two lookouts and the officer of the watch, Lt Miles Harding RN. ‘Morning gentlemen,’ he said, sounding hearty, letting them know he was awake now. ‘Thank you for arranging a quiet night for me. Much appreciated.’

‘Sir!’ ‘Mornin’, sir!’ from the lookouts, who neither nodded nor turned to look at him. Lookouts weren’t meant to take their eyes off the horizon or the sky. Harding found himself smiling in spite of himself, ‘Morning, sir. I trust you slept well.’

Even before he’d met his new CO, Harding had been quite prepared to be nothing more than professional with Lt Gilmour, RNVR when on duty, and indifferent when not, in the time-honoured fashion of an RN officer working his commission under a pain-in-the-arse skipper. Except that Harding had found himself really rather approving of him.

Harry was at the voice pipe, ‘Control room, bridge. Send the first lieutenant up please.’ Then turning to Harding, he said, ‘A not-bright new day, I think. What d’you say, Mr Harding?’

Harding looked at what was shaping up to be a shitty haze. ‘Indeed, sir,’ he said. And Farrar, who must’ve already been out his bunk, propelled himself on to the bridge. ‘Sir?’ He said, just as hearty as his skipper.

‘Let’s go to diving stations in ten minutes, Number One,’ said Harry, still scowling at the insipid dawn. ‘But I’m not going to dive the boat. Look at this sunrise. I think I’m going to risk it on the surface, for a while anyway. And double up on the lookouts.’

‘Aye, aye, sir!’

‘Breakfast is going to have to be late, I’m afraid, but see if

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