Ship of Force Read Online Free PDF Page B

clawing fingers and smashed on the deck. He said wearily, “Oh, Christ!”
    Smith looked down at him and silently echoed the sentiment. He said, “I understand you’ve had bad news.”
    Dunbar took a swallow from the glass and shuddered, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Letter. Navy always sends telegrams to them but I got a letter from her mother — the wife’s mother. A letter! They’ve been dead these four days and in the grave now! But the auld witch never liked me. She wanted Jeanie to marry some feller in a bank. Influenza, she says it was. Influenza! That’s something you cure wi’ a hot dram an’ a squeeze o’ lemon, but this was some new kind o’ germ. Her and the boy. It killed them.”
    Smith said, “I’ll see you get leave. You can go —”
    But Dunbar’s head was already shaking a negative. “Not me. Not to stand at a graveside wi’ that spiteful old woman sinking her knife into me. Here!” He shoved a hand in a pocket, pulled out a crumpled envelope and tossed it on the table. “Read that!”
    Smith smoothed the creases from the sheet of notepaper. A letter written in a jagged copperplate. He read it, phrases stabbing out at him: ‘shirking responsibilities…could have got a shore job…poor girl and her baby left to fend for themselves…’ He folded the sheet carefully and handed the letter to Dunbar who crammed it in his pocket.
    Dunbar said thickly, “Her and Trist are a bloody pair. Vicious old women.” He took another swallow from the glass, shuddered and shook his head. “No, I’m not goin’ home.” He squinted up at Smith. “Don’t you worry about me. I know fine we’ve sailing orders but don’t you worry. The stuff’s not touching me. I’m ready for sea.
You’re
the one that needs to look out.” He peered past Smith. “That steward out o’ the way? Good. Yon Brodie’s a good man but this is just between you and me.” He muttered, “Wondered if I should — tricky, y’know, discussing a senior officer an’ all that. But I’ve heard one or two things about you, and I had a chat wi’ Garrick yesterday an’ he told me a few more things though he’s an awful close-mouthed feller. Thinks a lot o’ you.”
    Smith thought that he ought to shut him up. But he didn’t.
    Dunbar mumbled, “Where was I? Oh, aye. D’ye know Trist, sir?” And when Smith shook his head, “I do. I’ve known him too long. I’ll be honest — I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me. Not for what I’ve said and done but I think he knows I’ve rumbled him. He never does anything wrong because he never does anything he doesn’t
have
to. He’s got a gang around him that agree with everything he says. Now there’s a lot of shouting for ‘offensive action’ against the U-boats and he’s got to
do
something, or
somebody
has. What he’s done looks all right, giving you this ship and
Wildfire
and maybe more to come but
we
know different. I think he realises he has to take a chance and this way he’s only risking
us
. We’ll be put up like targets to be shot at and if it goes wrong his hands will be clean. He’ll have given you a command and a job and
you’ll
have mucked it.”
    He was silent a moment, then: “Thought I might whisper a word in Garrick’s ear and let him pass it on, but that’s the way Trist works.” He pulled a face. “Mister Cautious himself. That’s all. Just a friendly warning to watch your step, sir.”
    He was staring past Smith now. “Bloody funny, really. I’ve been running back and forth across this neck o’ water for near three years, fair weather and foul. Never got a scratch, spite o’ U-boats, mines, and those bloody big destroyers o’ Jerry’s. While they sit comfortable at home —” He peered up again at Smith. He did not touch the whisky but he still swallowed and he said huskily, “It’s not fair. Is it?”
    “No.” Smith watched his head droop slowly down on his folded arms, reached forward and removed the glass from