The Death of Hope by Andrew Wareham (inspirational books for women txt) 📕

“Bit of a problem in Ireland, I hear, sir…”

“More than a bit, Sturton. Coming to a headjust now. Kaiser is sending money and guns to the Irish traitors. Still ahangover from the Curragh business last year so can’t entirely trust theProtestants either. Place is a pain in the arse! Still sending recruits by thethousand, mark you – the great bulk of the Paddies, Catholic and Protestantequally, are honest, trustworthy men. Best thing for Ireland would be to lineevery priest and politician of both sides up against a wall and shoot the lot ofthem! For Christ’s sake don’t repeat that, Sturton! More than my job’s worth tohave that heard!”

Simon assured him of his silence, leavingthe office with a quiet grin. He had heard the same repeatedly from his navalacquaintance – the Irish were sound, their leaders deserved to be shot. It soundednot unreasonable. The bulk of politicians were unfit to claim membership of thehuman race; when those politicos were priests and pastors as well, thesituation could only be worse.

“Shore leave for all hands and officers,Mr Canning. Leave a bare anchor watch, give all of the hands as long ashore asis possible. Defaulters included on this occasion. Have we any, by the way?”

“Two, sir. Fell into an argument andstruck each other. Dealt with it myself, sir, rather than risk it ending up ina court. Stupid business about which music hall singer it was who first sang somevulgar ditty. Both of them swore to hearing it for the first time – different placesand people. Twenty minutes after rum issue and neither of them with a head fortheir tot. Bloody rum has no place in a steam navy, sir! Might have made senseaboard sailing ships where they needed strong arms and no sense for most of themen. No damned good for us on a ship using complicated machinery!”

“Agreed, Canning. Nelson’s Blood – the spiritof the Navy! No arguing with that sort of stupidity. I presume you stoppedtheir issue?”

“Fourteen days, sir.”

“Good. Might bring them to their senses.Far better than a court and time in a shore prison for assault.”

“Can I ask what the word is on Higgins,sir?”

“Nothing yet. Too soon. What do the handsthink?”

“Most of them have a sort of affectionaterespect, sir, but no great admiration, if you can see the difference. Theythink it was a bloody daft thing to do. They think he’s bloody daft anyway, soit sort of fits.”

“Unfortunate. Can’t have the lower decknoticing when their officers are stupid. Be no end to it!”

Canning did not know whether Simon wasserious, made no response.

“I’ve put him up for the DSC, Canning.”

“No choice, sir. It was a brave act.Unthinking, damned stupid and successful – all the qualities needed for amedal, sir.”

Simon tapped his breast meaningfully andagreed.

“That is not to say that all medal winnersare necessarily foolish, of course, sir.”

“Just most of them, eh, Canning?”

They were interrupted by the coxswain.

“Beg pardon, sir. Mr Higgins has justfallen over. Might be as well to get him to a doctor for that leg of his, sir.”

“He said it was no more than a scratch.”

“Bit more than that, sir. Still bleeding.Quite deep.”

“Hospital. Quickly.”

The report came back that the wound hadbeen cleaned, foreign bodies removed and fourteen stitches applied. Mr Higginswas to remain in hospital for a day in case of infection.

“My fault, Canning. I should have knownbetter than to expect sense from that young bugger!”

Simon visited the hospital, cornering thedoctor in charge of Higgins and enquiring how long he must be ashore.

“When will he be fit for sea duty, sir?”

“Three weeks would be best, CaptainSturton. A nasty wound, jagged lacerations. Not too deep and no damage to bonebut needing time to knit together.”

“Can he go home? Convalescent leave?”

“Best place for him. His mother will givehim better care than we can.”

“I shall see what can be arranged. Thankyou, Doctor.”

Next stop was SNO’s offices.

“Young Higgins, sir. They’ve just put fourteenstitches into what he said was a scratch on his leg. The doctors want him offfor three weeks at least and say he would be better off at home. I would like areplacement for him, if possible, sir, until he is fit to serve again.”

“Necessary, Sturton. If he is wounded, hemust be looked after. I shall arrange transport for him at soonest, get him outof the hospital, clear a bed. Where to?”

“London, sir. I have an address for him.”

“Well done. Consider that dealt with. Areplacement, now… Not so easy if it is to be a temporary posting.”

“If he is promoted, then a destroyer isnot the best place for him as an inexperienced lieutenant, sir.”

SNO grinned.

“You don’t want him back.”

“Not as a lieutenant, sir. Too great a chancethat Canning might be promoted out - or killed, of course – and he might have tostep up to First, which he could not do. He lacks the knowledge and does nothave the ability to learn quickly. As a lieutenant, he will be a liability,wherever he is, unless he is given a very small boat of his own, perhaps.”

“So be it, Sturton. The Coastal Motorboatswill be in service in a few months. He can be put across to one of them, totake one of the first and learn how to handle it with a sensible AB at his side.I will put that forward, a strong recommendation, at soonest. Might be able to swingit. I know he is a special case, though why has not been vouchsafed to me…”

It was time to make the admission, toconfirm SNO’s obvious surmise.

“I have a strong suspicion, sir, but have beenordered to keep my mouth firmly shut. I might say Dirty Bertie, sir, as long asthere was nobody to hear me.”

“Oh, Lord! Another one of those! Why theymust be dumped on the Navy, I do not know. I served with one of that sort yearsback, must be thirty years ago now, as a midshipman. He was in fact a competentsailor. That was fortunate, as he was a post captain before he was thirty!”

“This one is slightly different, sir. Thelower deck has the expression ‘thick as two short planks’. We tend to