“And harbour batteries, sir?”
“Exist and are very large. More effectivein daylight. Trying to aim onto muzzle flashes at night is anything but an easytask.”
Commodore Tyrwhitt seemed dismissive ofthe batteries. That being so, Simon had no choice other than to accept thatthey could be ignored. Lieutenant commanders, no matter how much the favouritethey might be, did not argue with officers three substantive ranks their senior.
“Have the monitors wireless sets that cantalk to us, sir? Be useful to pass the word if they find themselves underattack.”
Tyrwhitt regretted not.
“They can keep in contact with Dunkerque,who can message us. With luck, we will be able to contact you.”
It was better than nothing.
“Chances are that Lancelot will not beable to get a message to Harwich, sir. Our set is not the most powerful.”
“So, you will be unable to inform themonitors of what may be rushing down upon them. Unfortunate. I shall investigatethe possibility of installing a larger set, Sturton. May not be practical.Worth looking at.”
“Our searchlight as well, sir, is not themost powerful. L Class were not well served that way.”
“That would demand a larger generator aswell. Doubt we have them in our yard. End up being a substantial dockyard jobat Chatham. I will look into the possibilities, Sturton. Anything else while Iam considering a refit?”
“The Maxim, sir. Well positioned on itsbandstand but underpowered. I would far rather see a two pound pompom in itsplace. A six pounder QF might be a possibility, sir – handy for close rangework.”
“Pompom would be preferable, Sturton. Canput that on a dual-purpose mounting so that it could act in an anti-aircraftrole as well. Seeing more and more of seaplanes along the Belgian coast andsome of them carrying explosive bombs these days. We are looking to modify theLewis mountings so that they can fire upwards as well.”
“The advancement of science, sir. I am toldwe have balloons out submarine chasing now, in place of surface ships.”
“Assisting surface ships, more correctly,Sturton. Doing a good job, too. Put a pair of eyes a mile up in the sky and theycan see twenty miles and more, or something like, and spot any submarine on thesurface and drive it down. Useful machines, the balloons!”
Simon accepted his senior’s knowledge wasbetter than his. In this case, it likely was.
“Right, sir. Orders are to sail thisforenoon, overnight in Dunkerque and make all ready, sailing as if for Harwichin late afternoon.”
“Exactly. We know there have been spies inDunkerque – we caught them. That being the case, it’s a good bet there will bemore by now, replacements sent in. So many refugees that it’s impossible tosort the few bad eggs out. The authorities are trying to put them all to work –we need roadbuilders and labourers of all sorts in the rear areas, there arejobs for them. A few months and they will have emptied the town of the sparebodies that infest it just now – refugees all over the bloody place! They tellme it’s worse in London – not just Belgians but every sort of Balkan object aswell. Word is that the government is busy setting up governments in exile andgetting them to pass conscription laws for their own people. We shall end upwith all sorts of battalions within a few months. Useful! We need the men andthey are better off carrying a rifle than begging in the streets of London.”
It was war and Britain had a tiny army.All bodies were welcome.
They exchanged salutes and Simon marched offto Lancelot, wondering why he had been favoured with a discussion of more thanthe simple operation he was to undertake. It was almost as if Tyrwhitt wascoaching him, bringing him along in the Service. He was owed no favours, he wassure… His maternal grandfather was a powerful man and had shown some liking forhim when they had finally met. A quiet word from Isaacs the Banker might easilytranslate into a message from the Admiralty to ‘look after young Sturton’.
Perhaps he was in the same sort of positionas poor old Adams had once been. Better off than Adams, because he knew fromhis example just how easily a golden boy could be stripped of his gilt.
The boatswain’s pipes squealed as he trottedup the short brow and onto Lancelot’s deck, looking about him to see that allwas as it should be. Higgins had the watch, an extra reason to double-check.
He saw nothing out of place until heglanced at the bridge, saw something different on the wings.
“What’s that, Higgins?”
“Just fitted, sir. Mr Rees set them upthis morning. A new sort of Lewis, sir, with a pan that carries ninety-sevenrounds instead of forty-seven. Twins, sir, which needed a bit of fiddling withthe mountings, or so he said. Much more poke in a fight, sir.”
“’Poke’, Mr Higgins?”
“Yes, sir. His word, sir, not mine.”
“Ah! If the Commissioned Gunner says so,then it must be right. Perfectly correct, young man!”
“Thank you, sir. Look forward to usingthem, sir. I like the Lewis!”
Simon was amazed by such enthusiasm fromtheir very own village idiot. The boy might be growing up. Perhaps he hadstarted shaving.
“Make sure you are familiar with them, MrHiggins, and then bring all of the bridge up to scratch, myself included. Neverknow, I might have to lend a hand one day.”
It was clear from the expression onHiggins’ face that he did not think God should descend so far as to pull atrigger.
“Are you happy with your four inch, MrHiggins?”
“Yes, sir. No problems with the guns, sir.I like them. It’s not like navigation, sir. One knows where one is with a gun.”
Simon nodded gravely, only too aware thatHiggins rarely knew where he was when navigating.
“We must look at making you a gunneryspecialist perhaps, Mr Higgins…”
That would mean Whale Island. Everythingat the double and precise. Mature consideration, taking all of five seconds,suggested that Higgins would not survive the first day of his gunnery course.
“Although, perhaps not. General dutiesrather than a specialisation – often a better
