Cast No Shadow by Peter Sharp (books suggested by bill gates .TXT) 📕

smiled. “Well done, Dan. Oh and by the way … nice to see you again.” With that, he was gone.

Shearer produced a sheet of paper containing details of the ship’s watches which he handed to Kelly. “I wondered if you’d mind taking second of starboard watch, Dan? At the moment it’s led by a PO, that’s how short we are. He’s a good man but is beginning to feel the strain. He would really welcome some help, especially when we put to sea. We sail tomorrow at dawn.”

“I’d be happy to,” Kelly agreed. “What time am I on tonight?”

“Not tonight, Dan!” Shearer laughed. “You assume command of the watch from lunchtime tomorrow. Tonight, you sleep. You must be exhausted, man! Now away ye go.”

Kelly needed no second bidding. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

An interview with the Commodore

Kelly knocked on the door of office C17 of the Admiralty Building punctually at 09.30 hours. He had been summoned to attend an interview with Commodore Archibald Jenkins CBE.

Kelly had never met ‘Archie’ before, but his reputation went before him. He had been a Second Lieutenant on board the destroyer HMS Nessus during the battle of Jutland, when two shells hit her simultaneously. Several of the senior officers had been killed instantly and those not killed outright had been incapacitated. Jenkins’ quick thinking and leadership when taking command of the ship had won him the DSO. He had rallied the survivors into three makeshift teams, one dealing with damage control, another team tending the wounded and the third continuing the fight as best they could. It was the stuff of legends.

Kelly was about to knock again when a sweet, “Come in!” trilled out. Obeying the instruction, he entered the office and was confronted by a woman of about forty sat behind a desk. She was dressed in an inexpensive print frock that hugged her body and accentuated the slimness of her frame. Her slight figure contrasted with the fullness of her bosom. Her jet-black hair was ‘bobbed’ in the American style and framed an oval face. Bright, intelligent green eyes appraised Dan Kelly as he entered. However, her most stunning feature was the radiant and engaging smile that lit up the room and encouraged a smile in return.

Kelly did so. “My name is—”

“Kelly!” She interrupted him. “Second Lieutenant Kelly?”

“Dan Kelly,” he corrected, with just the slightest hint of intimacy.

“The Commodore won’t keep you a moment,” she said, gesturing towards a chair. “Won’t you have a seat?”

“I’ll stand, thank you,” Kelly responded. He was quiet for a moment before venturing, “You know my name, but ...?” it was more of a question than a statement.

The woman looked at him blankly for a moment, then smiled. “I’m sorry,” she said, “that was rude of me. My name is Meganwy Evans, but everyone calls me Megan. Welsh of course, as you can tell from the accent.”

“Barely,” said Kelly, “but there is an attractive lilt to your voice.”

“Thank you,” she said, colouring slightly, but clearly pleased. Then changing the subject, she asked him, “Have you come up from Portsmouth?”

“From Devonport,” Kelly corrected.

During a natural lull in the conversation Megan continued with her work. Kelly watched her as she went about her tasks. Her movements were unhurried and practised and she was clearly efficiently on top of her job.

On impulse Kelly spoke again. “Shall I describe the Commodore’s character?”

She looked up in surprise, “You know Commodore Jenkins?”

“I’ve never met him before,” said Kelly, “but I will deduce his character directly from you.”

Megan smiled broadly. “I can’t wait!”

Kelly looked thoughtful for a moment and then began. “He is fastidious and hates inefficiency, he wants things done well but is tolerant. He likes to run things in a business-like way, but is approachable and friendly?”

“Well done!” Megan began, but she was interrupted by a rather stern voice.

“Thank you for that character reference, Second Lieutenant Kelly. I hope I can live up to it!”

Framed in the doorway of the adjoining office was a tall man in No 2, dress naval uniform. Well over six foot, he had a broad frame but was not overweight. His thin grey hair was brushed down onto his protruding brow, nearly meeting the bushy eyebrows. The combination of eyebrows, protruding brow and a long, slightly-hooked nose gave Kelly the impression of an eagle.

Kelly didn’t need the evidence presented by the broad yellow band on the sleeve of the uniform or the triple row of medal ribbons on his chest to confirm to him that this was Commodore Archie Jenkins CBE. Archie was every inch a senior naval officer.

Kelly didn’t apologise, instead he simply smiled and said, “Hello Sir.”

Archie returned the smile and his whole face lit up displaying laughter lines running down from the corners of his eyes. “Come in, Old Chap!” he said and turned to enter his office. Pausing, he half turned back and was about to speak.

“Would you care for tea, Commodore?” Megan questioned before he could ask.

Again, the bright smiling face. “What an excellent idea Megan!” he said, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

It showed, thought Kelly, generosity of spirit.

Turning again, he walked into the gloom of the office. Kelly followed, winking at Megan as he passed, raising his eyebrows as if in enquiry. Megan nodded to confirm his assessment of the Commodore.

Kelly had the notion he had strolled into a ship’s wardroom. The walls were panelled in weathered oak and adorned with pictures and prints of warships old and new, along with other items of ships’ chandlery. He marched up to the battered oak desk situated in the far corner of the room and halted in front of it, driving his left foot into the right in true naval fashion, as he assumed the position of attention.

There was a slight cough from behind him, which caused him to turn. The Commodore was seated in a comfortable leather armchair in the opposite corner of the room.

“I wonder if we might conduct our business here, Old