The Greatest Enemy

by Douglas Reeman

  ‘Sarah Dalziel.’ Her voice seemed right alongside him. ‘I’d like to see you if you can manage it.’

  Standish stood very still. He could hear her breathing. ‘Is it urgent?’

  ‘Very.’ The telephone went dead.

  He looked at the quartermaster. ‘Tell the O.O.D. I’m ashore for an hour.’

  The seaman watched him leave and then winked at the sentry. ‘Jimmy the one’s got hisself a bird! Lucky bastard!’ He straightened his face as Irvine appeared at his side. ‘Pardon, sir, but the executive officer’s ashore.’

  Irvine eyed him bleakly. ‘Where was the call from?’

  The man paled. ‘Th’ Bates ‘Otel, sir.’

  Irvine walked away, his mind busy. ‘Very interesting.’

  The quartermaster muttered fiercely, ‘Big-eared sod! ‘E was listenin’ all the bleedin’ time!’

  The sentry grinned unsympathetically. ‘Shame, annit? One of ’em’ll probably catch a dose an’ give the new sawbones a job.’

  Irvine was out of earshot now and stood looking after Standish as he hurried towards the gates. So that was why Standish had stayed behind in the bar. It would bear looking into if nothing better turned up.

  10 Morning Departure

  SARAH DALZIEL’S SUITE was on the tenth floor and had an uninterrupted view of the sea and the busy harbour roadstead below the city.

  She said, ‘I’ll mix you a drink. Perhaps you will stay for lunch?’

  Standish glanced round the big room, the comfort and elegance. ‘I’m afraid I can only spare a few minutes.’ He thought of the taxi waiting at the entrance and wondered if the driver would keep his word and stay there until he returned. ‘It’s over ten miles to the dockyard. That’s more like fifty out here.’ He watched her as she moved unhurriedly to a drinks table. She wore another expensive dress.

  ‘Then I will try to be brief.’ She brought him the drink and seated herself in a chair, her figure in silhouette against the harsh glare beyond the balcony. ‘You look different in uniform. It suits you.’

  He felt vaguely cheated without knowing why. ‘You sounded on the phone as if there was no time to change.’ It had meant to be sarcastic. Instead it sounded childish, he thought angrily.

  ‘My husband is collecting his orders today.’ It was impossible to see her face against the bright light. ‘A friend told me this morning.’

  ‘Your friend would do well to remember there’s such a thing as security.’

  ‘Some place their trust where it has value.’ She turned slightly and he saw the quick movement of her small breasts. She was not so composed as she sounded.

  She said abruptly, ‘I really am worried. Your ship is returning to duty as before. It will be the last thing she does before …’ she paused, ‘before she is paid off for good.’

  ‘I think everyone was expecting that.’

  ‘But don’t you see?’ She got to her feet and moved restlessly to the table. ‘It is Hector’s last chance. If he tries to make more of it than it is, he’ll never be allowed to continue in the Service.’

  Standish looked at her steadily. ‘Mrs. Dalziel, I don’t know what you’re really worried about. Your husband’s reputation, or your own. How can I be expected to take anything seriously just because of some rumour handed to you by an old friend?’

  She swung round, her mouth moist in the sunlight. ‘Is Captain Jerram good enough to be considered reliable? Do you imagine I like talking with you like this?’ She was shaking with either anger or emotion.

  Jerram’s name seemed to be everywhere. ‘Perhaps he has his own axe to grind, too?’

  ‘Captain Jerram is an old friend of the family. I have known him for years. Some think him conservative, even dull, but I have never known him to be dishonest. And he is genuinely worried Hector might do something rash. The situation out here is reaching a difficult phase. If anything were to go wrong it would rest hard on my husband.’

  Standish stood up. ‘Jerram was with your husband when he lost his ship. From what I’ve gathered recently it seems he didn’t do much to speak up for him at the court martial.’ He could not keep the coldness from his voice. ‘Not for an old family friend, that is!’

  She replied, ‘Perhaps he took a greater risk by keeping silent.’

  As Standish made towards the door she said quickly, ‘Please wait. Perhaps I’ve not been completely frank. It’s difficult.’ She tried to relax as Standish sat down again. ‘After the court martial and Hector’s illness I tried, I really tried to help him. But he wanted another ship, and the more I attempted to dissuade him, the more he shut me off. He’s like that, you know. Anything he dislikes or mistrusts he blocks off from his mind. Completely. As if it wasn’t there. You’ll find that out soon enough.’

  She seemed to expect Standish to contest her words but then added, ‘So as I told you, I asked someone to pull strings and he got his ship.’ She plucked the front of her dress. ‘I really did think he was better, a lot better by that time. So it’s my fault in a way. I’ve made it worse for him. And for me.’

  Standish eyed her calmly. ‘I have to ask you. Are you going to leave your husband?’

  For a moment he thought she was going to shout at him. Or cry.

  Instead she replied very quietly, ‘Yes. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t even allow me to exist in his own mind.’

  ‘I see. He got his ship and you were to get a divorce.’ Standish looked away. ‘Now you’re worried because you’re afraid he’ll spoil his record at the last minute, be thrown out of the Service and become an embarrassment for you.’

  When he looked at her again he saw that she had gone very pale.

  ‘Don’t set yourself up as a judge.’

  ‘I’ve had some experience, Mrs. Dalziel.’

  She did not seem to hear. ‘I’m still young.’ She faced him challengingly. ‘And attractive. I have my own life to consider.’ She tried to smile. ‘I even thought of seducing you when we first met. Just to make you agree with me. But you were not quite what I expected.’

  Standish stood up again. He wanted to go, and quickly.

  ‘Your husband must decide his own future, as you must yours. But I can’t stay here and listen to a one-sided attack on my own commanding officer. I’ve heard too much already.’

  She said, ‘He’s not changed one bit. He thinks only of himself. You talk of his standards, but even they belong to other people. From books, from past leaders. Even his own background is what he believes it should have been.’

  ‘If what you say is true, then why does he refuse help?’

  She shook her head bitterly. ‘His pride. His damned, bloody pride!’

  ‘Then leave him that.’ He reached the door. ‘My loyalty is to him. It must be.’

  She replied, ‘Hector is lucky to have you. But it may prove otherwise in your favour.’

  With something of her earlier composure she added, ‘I will be flying to Rangoon shortly. And then to England.’

  ‘I suppose there’s someone waiting to hear your news? Wanting to know if there will be another marriage, without scandal?’

  She studied him coolly. ‘You put it crudely. But I don’t want to end my life married to the Navy. Or to a man who doesn’t even begin to accept his own failings. I’ve made one mistake. I’ll not do it again. This time I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Then I wish you luck.’ He stood outside the door, his cap in his hands. ‘You loved him once surely?’

  She smiled. ‘It was a long time ago. I’ve grown up since then.’ She called after him, ‘Take care.’ Then she slammed the door.

  All the way back to the ship he kept going over her words, sifting and examining, but with little to show for it. Viewed at a distance Sarah Dalziel’s explanation and plan of action seemed cold-blooded to a point of callousness. Dalziel had been ill, but had been discharged as fit. All men, wounded, injured or merely shocked came back with some of the scars remaining. He knew that better than most.

  He still c
ould not see Jerram’s part in it. Some old enmity perhaps which had come to a head after the collision. Or maybe his friendship for Sarah Dalziel’s influential family had caught him somewhere in the middle.

  But by the time he had reached the basin he had decided he would say nothing to Dalziel of the meeting. If he was still under some lingering strain then this last pressure might put the whole ship in jeopardy. It was unnerving how much he seemed to have in common with Dalziel. Both injured in their different ways, and each with his own marriage in ruins. He looked at the ship and recalled how she had been when he had first joined her. Whatever else had happened, Dalziel had certainly changed her, and for the better.

  Irvine was waiting for him at the brow, his face a study of curiosity. ‘Thank God you’re back, Number One.’

  ‘Trouble?’

  Irvine shrugged. ‘You could put it like that. The Old Man was aboard and informed us that the ship is being refloated this afternoon instead of tomorrow. It will be a real scramble, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘Did he want to see me?’

  Irvine looked at some point above Standish’s left shoulder, his eyes half hidden by his fair lashes. ‘He did bellow something to that effect. However, he’s gone dashing off ashore again now and told me to pass the word that you’re to take charge of operations if he’s delayed.’

  ‘I see. Is that all?’

  ‘He seemed normal enough, if that’s what you mean.’ Irvine smiled gently. ‘I did telephone you at Bates Hotel to tip you the wink. But you’d just left.’

  Standish regarded him calmly. But it was impossible to find anything beyond Irvine’s casual remark.

  ‘In that case I’ll have my lunch.’

  Irvine nodded. ‘My thought entirely.’ He stiffened. ‘My God, what is that?’

  Standish turned and stared towards the top of the wall.

  That was a long, semi-articulated truck upon which was cradled a gleaming fibre-glass launch. It was dark blue with a white gunwale, and painted on the bow was the name Whizz-Kid. It was about twenty-five feet long, and lashed just behind it on the rear of the truck were two giant outboard motors and a brightly-painted board which stated, ‘Tang Fu Boating Enterprises for Happy Sailing.’

  Irvine breathed out hard. ‘The captain will just love that when he sees it cluttering up the jetty. I’ll bet some local merchant has bribed a dockyard matey to allow him a berth for it.’

  The truck halted with a jerk and the passenger door opened smartly.

  Standish said quietly, ‘It’s the captain.’

  Dalziel was already clambering over the truck, feeling the boat’s hull as if searching for possible damage, and followed discreetly by the Chinese driver. Then he looked towards the ship and waved his stick in the air.

  ‘Capital, eh?’ He climbed down and hurried towards the brow.

  Standish saluted. ‘Our boat, sir?’

  ‘Naturally. Just the thing. Worth every penny.’

  ‘Hornby’s fund?’ Standish looked at the boat, aware that several seamen had also crowded at the guardrails to watch.

  ‘That’s right.’ Dalziel dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘The only one any good in the whole place. Took a bit of bargaining, but I beat the fellow down to our price.’

  Irvine asked, ‘Is it for water-skiing?’

  Dalziel looked at him coolly. ‘Can be used for that. Yes, of course it can. I’ll bet Hornby’s mouth will water when he sees it.’ He became serious again. ‘They’re opening the dock gates this afternoon. After lunch you can tell the Chief to send some mechanics to check over those outboards. The buffer can arrange a working party to sway the boat inboard.’ He ran his eye critically along the upper deck. ‘We’ll shift the R.N.S.A. dinghy and put some more chocks there. Get some new tackles rigged so that we can drop her in the water at short notice.’ He glanced at his watched and nodded abruptly. ‘Right. Lunch.’ Then he was gone.

  Irvine said softly, ‘Now I’ve seen everything.’

  Standish crossed to the screen door, leaving him staring at the new boat.

  Dalziel had said nothing about orders. No word of further disappointment or impatience. So perhaps Sarah Dalziel’s fears had been empty after all. The boat seemed to point to the fact that the captain intended to keep his men happy by less dangerous methods from now on. That too seemed to prove she had misjudged him in several ways.

  He hung up his cap and then saw Wills watching him by the wardroom door. Wills beamed, showing a line of uneven teeth.

  ‘There’s a letter for you, sir.’ He bobbed his head as if to share Standish’s pleasant surprise. ‘Though you’d like to know right away like.’

  Standish took it from him and then turned away. He did not recognize the handwriting at all.

  He walked in the wardroom and slumped in a chair as Wills placed a large pink gin beside him on a table.

  Another chair creaked and Quarrie asked, ‘Letter from home, Number One? That makes a bloody change in this ship.’

  Standish folded the letter blindly and thrust it inside his jacket.

  ‘My wife was killed in a road accident. This is from her father.’

  He was only dimly aware that the buzz of conversation around him had stopped as if to a signal. He knew Quarrie was staring at him, his rough features working with surprise and pity. He picked up the glass and swallowed the gin, almost choking as he tried to get it down.

  Quarrie said thickly, ‘Hell, I’m sorry. I really am.’

  ‘Six weeks back. Nobody thought fit to tell me. Until now.’ He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his voice level. ‘The driver of the car was drunk. Went off the Kingston By-pass into a tree.’

  Pigott crossed to the chair and placed his hand on Standish’s shoulder. ‘The dirty bastard! God, what a rotten thing to happen!’

  Standish stood up very slowly, conscious of little but the fact that Pigott’s voice had lapsed once again into broad Yorkshire. He said quietly, ‘Mustn’t think too badly of him. He’d apparently been living with her for months.’ Then he pushed past them and strode out of the wardroom.

  Pigott was the first to break the silence. ‘He’s been waiting for a letter since he came aboard. The poor bastard.’

  Wishart bent down and picked up the discarded envelope. ‘It’s not even a private one. It’s written on company note-paper.’ He sounded shocked.

  Rideout murmured, ‘This won’t do him any good at all.’

  At that moment Irvine entered the wardroom and strode to the sideboard. ‘Well, well, well! All brooding again?’

  Quarrie turned savagely. ‘Just for once, Pilot, keep your stupid blatherings to yourself, eh? I’ve just about had your supercilious, snotty-nosed wit up to here!’ He drew one hand across his throat. ‘So stow it!’

  Irvine faltered and then shrugged. ‘Point taken.’ He signalled to Wills. ‘Horse’s neck. Large one.’

  In his cabin Standish stood staring at himself in the mirror, his mind completely numb. She had had no intention of coming back to him. He would not have taken her if she had. But now she had gone, and like this. He was equally aware of a complete sense of finality.

  He thought suddenly of the letter and withdrew it from his pocket. Her father must have scribbled it at his desk between business appointments. Just to let you know. Standish crumpled it into a ball and hurled it through the open scuttle. Her father seemed to be more accusing than sympathetic. As if it was his fault. He recalled the nightmare and wondered if Alison had been laughing at the moment of impact.

  He sat on the edge of the bunk and lowered his head into his hands. Just to let you know. It was like an epitaph.

  * * *

  By the time the Terrapin had been refloated and warped clear of her dock to the loading jetty it was early evening and most of her weary company were ready to drop. On the jetty were piles of stores waiting to be restowed aboard, and there was something like a combined sigh of relief when the pipe came to clear up decks and secure until the following morn
ing.

  Dalziel walked slowly around the upper deck, examining and commenting as he went, pausing occasionally to single out a petty officer or rating and fire a brief question about his duty or how long he intended to remain in the Service.

  Right forward in the eyes of the ship he paused at last and leaned against the guardrail, his eyes relaxed as he looked aft along the length of his command.

  ‘Still a few lower deck lawyers and skates amongst them,’ he remarked absently, ‘but the rest are beginning to settle down as a ship’s company. A single force instead of that damned shambles I inherited.’ He paused until two seamen with hoses and scrubbers had moved away and then looked quickly at Standish who had followed him on his inspection. ‘Heard about your news, Number One. Don’t have to say how sorry I am about it. Bad show all round, but it may still turn out for the best.’

  Standish watched Wishart on the jetty walking with Petty Officer Harris, the chief bosun’s mate, as they checked the mooring wires and fenders along the port side.

  He said flatly, ‘You think so, sir?’

  ‘Impossible to go through life without trouble.’ Dalziel was watching him gravely. ‘Your main disadvantage was to have so much all at once. I gather there was a delay before you were informed? Well, that is on the credit side in my opinion.’ When Standish said nothing he added, ‘Otherwise I’d have had to fly you back to U.K. to deal with all of it yourself. Nothing would have changed the situation for you, and the ship would have been denied a good officer when she most needed it.’

  ‘It was a six weeks delay, sir. You were not even aboard at that time.’ He shrugged. ‘But you’re probably right. It was too late for anything by then.’

  ‘Good.’ Dalziel nodded. ‘I’m glad you see it like that. No sense in brooding.’ He shook his head firmly. ‘I shall not mention it again, unless you wish to speak about it.’ He looked at his watch. ‘They seem to have finished clearing up decks so have the hands piped aft. I wish to address them before we give shore leave for the night.’

  Standish beckoned to a bosun’s mate and then said, ‘I’ll not be sorry to get to sea again. Wherever it is.’