The Glory Boys (39 page)
Authors: Douglas Reeman
He thought of the moment when the torpedoes had found their target. Like an earth tremor; the flames had still been visible even after the supply ship had been blown apart. And the aftermath, the sea strewn with fragments, the remnants of a midget fleet. He allowed his eyes to leave the pilot and rest briefly on the ships.
We were just in time
.
Kearton said, “Glasses, anyone?” and felt the binoculars instantly come within his grasp. “Many thanks.” He had spoken almost unconsciously, and did not notice who had offered them.
The pilot was leading them into Grand Harbour itself.
A dockyard job, then
…
He touched the thin plating and one of the jagged holes. Close. Too close for some.
He steadied the binoculars with effort. Overlapping rooftops, the crucifix of a church of golden stone almost side by side with the ornate domes of Malta’s eastern past; bombed buildings, and repaired ones. People on the waterfront, where he had recently begun to see stalls and barrows displaying fruit, even flowers. And further still, the official building where he had stood on the balcony with Garrick, watching this same great waterway. The other buildings were hidden at this angle, but perhaps she was there. On the old wall where Brice had seen and spoken to her, and done his best to reassure her.
If she was watching now, what might she think? Tracer and shell damage to the hull, but at that distance it might not seem so cruel.
He turned, too quickly, and felt the pain reminding him. It seemed a little less sharp.
“Pilot’s altering course, sir!”
Kearton moved the binoculars. The pilot boat would be leading them directly abeam of the battleship. It came to him: he had heard a bugle when he had been trying to find the other building.
Her
roof.
The binoculars were heavier now, and he knew he should take Ainslie’s advice, but he braced himself and focused again. A ceremony of some kind seemed about to begin aboard the battleship. Royal Marines, bayonets shining in the glare. He moved the binoculars once more: they felt like lead. Then he held them still. There was a flag flying above the grey superstructure and powerful guns, the flag of a rear-admiral. And they were going to steer straight past, battered and blood-stained, with a ceremony already about to begin.
He gripped the screen.
“Have the hands fall in! Tell Dawson, be ready to pipe!”
Suppose Brice was right? Was it Rear-Admiral Ewart Morgan’s flag, and if so …
Ainslie saw the battleship’s upper bridge rising above him, shutting out the sun like a cliff.
Then he heard another bugle, and saw Kearton’s face.
Nothing else seemed to matter. And he was sharing it.
He said, “Not this time, Skipper.” There was cheering now. “They’re saluting
you
!”
The pilot was sounding his horn. One blast.
Turning to starboard
.
But not before he heard Kearton murmur,
“Us.”
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Epub ISBN 9781446494899
Version 1.0
Published by Arrow Books 2009
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Copyright © Bolitho Maritime Productions Ltd 2008
Douglas Reeman has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in Great Britain in 2008 by Century
Arrow Books
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9780099484271