The First to Land (1984) by Reeman Douglas

Author:Reeman, Douglas [Reeman, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Navel/Fiction
Published: 2008-09-03T23:00:00+00:00

11

The Hero

Captain Vere Masterman put down his empty teacup and stared impassively through the stern ports of his spacious quarters. Separated from Mediator’s busy routine by steel bulkheads he could still hear the shrill of the boatswain’s calls, and the cry, ‘Hands to breakfast and clean!’ Seven in the morning although the light cruiser’s people or a large part of them had been up and about for an hour and a half already.

Masterman prepared himself for the many tasks he had to attend to. In another hour the Colours would be hoisted to mark the official start of another day, but to Masterman this was always the best part, the early morning when a man’s mind was crisp like the air. He stared at the nearest anchored warships, the German Flensburg, and beyond her an elderly French steam sloop. Like some of the other foreign men-of-war they had their guns trained on the shore. Masterman was irritated by what he saw. Things were quite serious enough without this pointless show of force.

Aboard his ship at least things would remain normal until he decided otherwise. When the time came Mediator would respond without any fuss or bravado.

He could see two of the Chinese forts through the morning mist, biscuit-coloured in the frail sunlight. There would be another series of useless parleys with the Chinese garrison commanders, but nothing would happen. The Chinese knew that the Allies would not open fire with Seymour’s force still trapped ashore. And every captain knew he would not shoot. So what was the point?

There was a tap at the door. Time to make decisions.

‘Come!’

It was Commander Wilberforce as he knew it would be, his arm wrapped around a bundle of lists, requests, and the usual signal pad. Wilberforce took his time as he laid down his papers, it was his usual ploy while he gauged the captain’s mood. The signs were not good.

Wilberforce said, ‘Signal from Flag, sir. A report has got through to say that Admiral Seymour’s force is falling back as planned.’

‘Falling back?’ He did not hide his anger. ‘It’s a bloody rout!’

‘Yes, sir.’

Masterman glared at the throngs of junks and small Chinese boats which hovered around the anchored warships like moths. Some of them would be pirates, the sweepings of the China Seas, he thought. They probably hated the Boxers more than anyone, as a criminal hates a man who murders a policeman. They knew that while the crime was unavenged they would get no peace to go about their affairs, unlawful or not.

‘The sloop Caistor has anchored, sir. From Hong Kong with despatches for the flagship.’ He held out a signal. ‘This came over in the guard-boat, sir.’

Masterman did not look at it immediately. He kept thinking of the Royal Marines he had landed at this godforsaken place. A day to reach Peking the admiral had proclaimed. It was already five days, and Seymour’s force was in full retreat, ridding itself of stores and equipment in its haste to reach the sea.

And

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