But appearances notwithstanding, Dunbar stood rocksteady and alert.
The next salvo from the Tirpitz battery came down nearer
Marshall Marmont
. So though the rain shrouded the ships it was obvious that the observer in the balloon, the
bloody
balloon, could see something. Enough.
Sparrow
was at the end of her southward patrol, clear of the smoke where the balloon and the darting aircraft showed still but the coast was hidden by rainclouds.
Dunbar ordered, “Port ten.”
Sparrow
started the turn.
The signalman said, “Signal from
Marshall Marmont
, sir. ‘Observer reports target obscured.’”
So the rain had reached Ostende. Smith could see nothing of it now because
Sparrow
was behind the smoke-screen again but he heard the salvo that howled in and plunged into the sea a bare cable to seaward, only two hundred yards from
Marshall Marmont
. He swallowed. That one must have lifted Garrick’s cap. The pace was hatting-up, growing too hot altogether and the monitor could do no good now the aircraft could not see the target. He ordered, “Make to all ships: ‘Discontinue the action. Weigh and take station as ordered.’”
He realised that Buckley was hovering behind him and holding up an oilskin — so Dunbar had sent for it for Smith. He pushed Buckley away impatiently. “Not
now
!” He wanted no distraction. He jammed hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the rain that fell solidly now, and watched, outwardly calm but inwardly chafing as
Marshall Marmont
laboriously weighed anchor and got under way, started to turn. Had he given the order in time or was a salvo — “
What the hell is she doing
?” The monitor was turning not to seaward but towards the line of launches, their smoke dispersing, themselves getting under way. “Signalman! — No, wait!”
A hoist broke out from the signal yard of
Marshall Marmont
. He could see bustle on her bridge, through his glasses he saw Garrick’s tall, bulky figure and his mouth opening and closing as he shouted his orders. The signalman read, “‘Starboard engine out of action. Rudder jammed.’”
Dunbar gave a humourless bark of laughter. “Good old
Wildfire
! Up to her tricks again!”
Smith snapped, “Signal the launches to take evading action! And tell the tug to stand by.” To Dunbar he said, “Close her a little. Not too close because we don’t want her ramming us.” But he wanted to be close enough to see through the fog of war, of smoke and spray and beating rain.
“Aye, aye, sir! Port ten, cox’n!”
“Port ten, sir.”
“Steady! Steer that!”
Smith muttered, “If one of those shells hits
Marshall Marmont
it’ll go clean through her deck and burst below.”
Dunbar said, “If one of them hits
us
there’ll be no deck or bottom or anything else!”
Sparrow
closed the monitor and as she did so the salvo roared in and burst where
Marshall Marmont
had been anchored and dead ahead of
Sparrow
. Her bow lifted and dropped and they felt the tremor of it through the ship as if she had struck. She steamed on through hanging spray that stank of explosive and a sea that boiled. Smith wiped spray from his face. Well, he’d been right to shift the monitor. Now he had to get her out of this.
Dunbar said, “God A’mighty!” Peering through the rain that hissed into the sea, rattled on the bridge and the oilskins of the gun’s crew, they all saw
Marshall Marmont
still turning in a tight circle, running down on the launches, one of which was having trouble with her own engines, barely moving as the others scattered. Smith held his breath then blew it out as the monitor lumbered by the launch, close enough for her bow-wave to heel the little craft on her side before passing on.
He looked around and saw the tug butting towards them. “Make to
Marshall Marmont
: ‘Stand by for tow from tug.’”
The signalman’s lamp started clacking, flashing its message through the murk and the monitor acknowledged.
Lively Lady
was on a course
The next salvo from the Tirpitz battery came down nearer
Marshall Marmont
. So though the rain shrouded the ships it was obvious that the observer in the balloon, the
bloody
balloon, could see something. Enough.
Sparrow
was at the end of her southward patrol, clear of the smoke where the balloon and the darting aircraft showed still but the coast was hidden by rainclouds.
Dunbar ordered, “Port ten.”
Sparrow
started the turn.
The signalman said, “Signal from
Marshall Marmont
, sir. ‘Observer reports target obscured.’”
So the rain had reached Ostende. Smith could see nothing of it now because
Sparrow
was behind the smoke-screen again but he heard the salvo that howled in and plunged into the sea a bare cable to seaward, only two hundred yards from
Marshall Marmont
. He swallowed. That one must have lifted Garrick’s cap. The pace was hatting-up, growing too hot altogether and the monitor could do no good now the aircraft could not see the target. He ordered, “Make to all ships: ‘Discontinue the action. Weigh and take station as ordered.’”
He realised that Buckley was hovering behind him and holding up an oilskin — so Dunbar had sent for it for Smith. He pushed Buckley away impatiently. “Not
now
!” He wanted no distraction. He jammed hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the rain that fell solidly now, and watched, outwardly calm but inwardly chafing as
Marshall Marmont
laboriously weighed anchor and got under way, started to turn. Had he given the order in time or was a salvo — “
What the hell is she doing
?” The monitor was turning not to seaward but towards the line of launches, their smoke dispersing, themselves getting under way. “Signalman! — No, wait!”
A hoist broke out from the signal yard of
Marshall Marmont
. He could see bustle on her bridge, through his glasses he saw Garrick’s tall, bulky figure and his mouth opening and closing as he shouted his orders. The signalman read, “‘Starboard engine out of action. Rudder jammed.’”
Dunbar gave a humourless bark of laughter. “Good old
Wildfire
! Up to her tricks again!”
Smith snapped, “Signal the launches to take evading action! And tell the tug to stand by.” To Dunbar he said, “Close her a little. Not too close because we don’t want her ramming us.” But he wanted to be close enough to see through the fog of war, of smoke and spray and beating rain.
“Aye, aye, sir! Port ten, cox’n!”
“Port ten, sir.”
“Steady! Steer that!”
Smith muttered, “If one of those shells hits
Marshall Marmont
it’ll go clean through her deck and burst below.”
Dunbar said, “If one of them hits
us
there’ll be no deck or bottom or anything else!”
Sparrow
closed the monitor and as she did so the salvo roared in and burst where
Marshall Marmont
had been anchored and dead ahead of
Sparrow
. Her bow lifted and dropped and they felt the tremor of it through the ship as if she had struck. She steamed on through hanging spray that stank of explosive and a sea that boiled. Smith wiped spray from his face. Well, he’d been right to shift the monitor. Now he had to get her out of this.
Dunbar said, “God A’mighty!” Peering through the rain that hissed into the sea, rattled on the bridge and the oilskins of the gun’s crew, they all saw
Marshall Marmont
still turning in a tight circle, running down on the launches, one of which was having trouble with her own engines, barely moving as the others scattered. Smith held his breath then blew it out as the monitor lumbered by the launch, close enough for her bow-wave to heel the little craft on her side before passing on.
He looked around and saw the tug butting towards them. “Make to
Marshall Marmont
: ‘Stand by for tow from tug.’”
The signalman’s lamp started clacking, flashing its message through the murk and the monitor acknowledged.
Lively Lady
was on a course
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