Sunset Read Online Free PDF

scrutiny, but was still thinking of the Chief’s pride in his engines and what they could do.
    In his harsh voice he had patted a shining safety rail and exclaimed, ‘Twenty-seven thousand horsepower, sir! Old lady mebbe, but I can still give you thirty-six knots at a swing of the throttles!’ He was right to be proud. Few new ships could match that.
    He glanced at the first lieutenant. Kerr was good at his job and obviously respected by all the senior rates he had met so far. Not a Number One to take any flannel from anybody. Tall, gravely good-looking with dark hair that never seemed out of place: the ship was lucky to have him. For a while longer anyway. He gave a half smile.
I’m lucky to have him
.
    How different the ship felt. With almost a full complement again,
Serpent
was alive. The new navigator was expected at any time now and only a single rating was absent, one of those sent on compassionate leave. The other had returned, watched in silence by his messmates, who knew that after the bombing of his home he had nowhere else to go. Brooke could smell the heady odour of rum pervading the ship, an all-important event, especially on a Sunday in harbour with a lazy make-and-mend for everyone but the watchkeepers.
    Brooke sat down. ‘Gin, Number One?’
    Kerr smiled. ‘I’d like that.’
    Brooke pressed a bell. It was a good sign. Kerr was loosening up a little bit. Before, he had made excuses. Maybe he had thought the new skipper was testing him, waiting to see if he drank too much or was trying to be too friendly.
    Bert Kingsmill, the petty officer steward, a lugubrious, even dour-looking man, slid through the door and opened the drinks cabinet. He looked after the wardroom but his first loyalty was to his commanding officer.
    Brooke returned his attention to Kerr. Greenwood, the previous skipper, had made the usual report about him, but there had been nothing special. Two words,
impulsive
and
stubborn
, stood out, but without any further explanation. In destroyers it was sometimes necessary to be one or the other. Kerr was stilldistant, but he would find out the reason for the comment eventually.
    A small but fairly typical wardroom, Brooke thought. He had even discovered why Barlow, the Gunner (T), had given himself the nickname Podger. For some reason he had decided his real name, Vivian, was too effeminate for an active-service torpedoman. The sub-lieutenant, Barrington-Purvis, seemed good at his work, and Kerr had confirmed this, but he was obviously blessed with a monumental conceit which could make him heartily disliked. The fact that his father was an admiral did not lend him humility.
    Kerr asked suddenly, ‘The new navigating officer is ex-Fleet Air Arm. A bit unusual, isn’t it?’
    Brooke picked up his glass and realised that it had been smoothly refilled. Petty Officer Kingsmill must have glided in soundlessly as if he moved on wheels.
I shall have to watch out
. But it was good Scotch. One of the perks of command to help settle the scales.
    He replied, ‘He should be joining today. He’ll tell you all about it, I imagine.’
    Calmly said, but Brooke saw the shadow fall like a curtain. Kerr asked, ‘What about sailing orders, sir?’ The first lieutenant again.
On duty
.
    â€˜Tomorrow, I expect.’ He saw Kerr’s eyes shift to the silver-framed picture of the ship which now adorned the cabin desk. No doubt he was still blaming himself for not knowing or bothering to discover that his captain’s father had been
Serpent
’s first C.O. The coxswain had known. It probably irked Kerr that he himself had not.
    Brooke said, ‘Warn the gangway staff that the new officer will be arriving just as soon as you get the signal.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Our shore telephone has been disconnected – for some more important newcomer, I have no doubt.’
    Kerr hesitated. ‘Will you care to drop into the wardroom this evening,