to collide with
Sparrow
but Dunbar ordered, “Starboard ten!…Meet her!…Steady!” And
Sparrow
came around so she was broadside to the monitor and coming up on her starboard quarter with the tug forging up to pass between them.
Smith said, “Slow ahead both, Mr Dunbar. I want to have a word with the tug.” The engine-room telegraphs clanged and
Sparrow
’s speed dropped away as the tug chugged up along her port side.
Smith picked up the bridge megaphone and stepped to the rail but Victoria Baines showed at the door of the tug’s wheelhouse, in yellow oilskins and a sou’wester dragged down over her ears. She bawled, “Don’t you rub up against me, young man!”
Smith muttered, “God forbid!” He saw Sanders lift a hand to hide a grin. Another salvo from the Tirpitz battery roared in and burst, tearing through
Marshall Marmonts
signal yard and sending yard, blocks and rigging cascading to the deck. The signal was gone and what rigging was left hung tangled. Smith called across to the tug, “Quick as you can!”
And Victoria Baines bellowed irascibly. “Don’t we know it! Business as bloody usual!”
“I’m glad to have you along, madam.” Smith lifted a hand in polite salute.
The woman ignored the gesture. “Don’t get in my way, damn your eyes!”
Smith winced and watched the tug pulling ahead of
Sparrow
as both of them came up with
Marshall Marmont
, her engines now stopped. He saw a crowd of men right in the bow, frenzied activity as they prepared the tow. And she’d lowered a boat that was pulling towards the bow. Garrick was going to use the boat to pass the tow, not wasting time with a heaving line. It could be done in this sea that was no sea at all. There was a lop, but no more than that. Garrick knew his business. For the rest, the rain poured down.
Smith allowed himself to be bundled belatedly into the oilskin by Buckley but broke away with the wind flapping it around him as another salvo came down inshore of
Marshall Marmont
. He peered anxiously through the rain then sighed with relief again as he saw the launches had not been touched. He lifted his gaze, looking for the shore, and though the smoke screen had dispersed he could make out nothing through the rain. The German observer would be equally blind but he would not waste ammunition. He must have seen the monitor’s erratic manoeuvring and the tug hastening up before the weather closed in and made a shrewd deduction. They’d be laddering up and down on the last bearing, firing blind, but if they kept at it they could find the monitor or the tug or both where they lay still, passing the tow.
He said, “Steer north-east! Mr. Sanders! Make ready to drop one of the life-rafts over the side and get some waste and paraffin from the engine-room. I want the raft packed with waste and all well-soaked in paraffin.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Sanders gave him a baffled look but dashed away.
Dunbar looked questioningly at Smith but got no explanation. Smith was shifting restlessly about the bridge, his gaze going from monitor to tug to the launches that were hauling out to seaward.
Sparrow
came around and headed north-east, leaving the monitor and the tug astern as another salvo burst still farther inshore but still on that same bearing that lay across the monitor and now they would lift the range again, feeling towards her.
Sanders bawled up from the iron deck. “Raft’s ready, sir!”
Smith snapped, “Stop her, Mr Dunbar.”
“Stop both!”
The way came off
Sparrow
and she rocked gently to the sea as the raft was lowered over the side, held briefly until Sanders, at Smith’s shouted instructions, lit a handful of paraffin-soaked waste and dropped it on to the raft.
Sanders yelped, “Shove off!” The raft was thrust away, smouldered and smoked then burst into flame with a roar as
Sparrow
pulled away.
Smith wondered if it would work, thought it had a chance as he peered through his glasses at the monitor and the tug seen dimly
Sparrow
but Dunbar ordered, “Starboard ten!…Meet her!…Steady!” And
Sparrow
came around so she was broadside to the monitor and coming up on her starboard quarter with the tug forging up to pass between them.
Smith said, “Slow ahead both, Mr Dunbar. I want to have a word with the tug.” The engine-room telegraphs clanged and
Sparrow
’s speed dropped away as the tug chugged up along her port side.
Smith picked up the bridge megaphone and stepped to the rail but Victoria Baines showed at the door of the tug’s wheelhouse, in yellow oilskins and a sou’wester dragged down over her ears. She bawled, “Don’t you rub up against me, young man!”
Smith muttered, “God forbid!” He saw Sanders lift a hand to hide a grin. Another salvo from the Tirpitz battery roared in and burst, tearing through
Marshall Marmonts
signal yard and sending yard, blocks and rigging cascading to the deck. The signal was gone and what rigging was left hung tangled. Smith called across to the tug, “Quick as you can!”
And Victoria Baines bellowed irascibly. “Don’t we know it! Business as bloody usual!”
“I’m glad to have you along, madam.” Smith lifted a hand in polite salute.
The woman ignored the gesture. “Don’t get in my way, damn your eyes!”
Smith winced and watched the tug pulling ahead of
Sparrow
as both of them came up with
Marshall Marmont
, her engines now stopped. He saw a crowd of men right in the bow, frenzied activity as they prepared the tow. And she’d lowered a boat that was pulling towards the bow. Garrick was going to use the boat to pass the tow, not wasting time with a heaving line. It could be done in this sea that was no sea at all. There was a lop, but no more than that. Garrick knew his business. For the rest, the rain poured down.
Smith allowed himself to be bundled belatedly into the oilskin by Buckley but broke away with the wind flapping it around him as another salvo came down inshore of
Marshall Marmont
. He peered anxiously through the rain then sighed with relief again as he saw the launches had not been touched. He lifted his gaze, looking for the shore, and though the smoke screen had dispersed he could make out nothing through the rain. The German observer would be equally blind but he would not waste ammunition. He must have seen the monitor’s erratic manoeuvring and the tug hastening up before the weather closed in and made a shrewd deduction. They’d be laddering up and down on the last bearing, firing blind, but if they kept at it they could find the monitor or the tug or both where they lay still, passing the tow.
He said, “Steer north-east! Mr. Sanders! Make ready to drop one of the life-rafts over the side and get some waste and paraffin from the engine-room. I want the raft packed with waste and all well-soaked in paraffin.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Sanders gave him a baffled look but dashed away.
Dunbar looked questioningly at Smith but got no explanation. Smith was shifting restlessly about the bridge, his gaze going from monitor to tug to the launches that were hauling out to seaward.
Sparrow
came around and headed north-east, leaving the monitor and the tug astern as another salvo burst still farther inshore but still on that same bearing that lay across the monitor and now they would lift the range again, feeling towards her.
Sanders bawled up from the iron deck. “Raft’s ready, sir!”
Smith snapped, “Stop her, Mr Dunbar.”
“Stop both!”
The way came off
Sparrow
and she rocked gently to the sea as the raft was lowered over the side, held briefly until Sanders, at Smith’s shouted instructions, lit a handful of paraffin-soaked waste and dropped it on to the raft.
Sanders yelped, “Shove off!” The raft was thrust away, smouldered and smoked then burst into flame with a roar as
Sparrow
pulled away.
Smith wondered if it would work, thought it had a chance as he peered through his glasses at the monitor and the tug seen dimly
Similar Books
