He saw Bill standing at the head of the air crews and handling parties on the flight deck, his hand to the peak of his cap. How different they all looked. The seamen and stokers, the mechanics. No longer in greasy overalls or scuffed flying jackets. They stood in swaying lines, a blue collar ruffling here and there along each rank, and further down the deck, their much-used aircraft, although there were few of them.
‘Ring off main engine.’
Rowan looked at the captain. He was quite a different man from Buchan. Jolly had been flown off to another ship of his own. There were not many faces up here who had seen the bombers and the blazing carrier.
He lifted the glasses again. There were others on the jetty who had no cause to be here today. A frail little woman in a black coat with a glittering naval crown on the collar. Mrs Buchan. Trying perhaps to share all she had left. A tall, plain-looking girl who turned away even as he picked her up in the lens. James’s widow. She had been allowed in the dockyard at last.
Rowan had not expected to see Honor here. He had told himself over and over again. He had written to her from Australia, where Growler had been bustled from dock to dock, and nobody seemed to have an inclination to complete the repairs. Honor had replied while the ship had been in Sydney. Thanking him for writing, and for describing as simply as he could her husband’s death.
After that, the ship had been moved again and again. The war was hotting up, and victory was no longer a mere bit of fantasy. The Allies were through Germany, and total surrender there was anticipated in weeks. It did not seem real. And in the Pacific, where Growler and her consorts had played their small part in the whole, events were also moving fast, and most of the Japanese-held areas had been retaken.
It was no wonder that Growler’s problems excited little interest in dockyard superintendents.
Rowan had got two other letters from her, forwarded on to the South African base at Simonstown where they had been forced to stop with major engine failure. But she had told him little. The letters had been warm, but lacking the promise he had been hoping for.
He lowered the binoculars as the ship’s company fell out and the work of securing brows and fenders got under way.
The captain was speaking with the harbour master and the pilot. The signalmen were rolling up flags, the new navigation officer was rubbing pencilled lines off a chart.
Rowan had not expected to see her. But the disappointment was real enough. As raw as a wound.
He left the bridge and went down the ladders to watch the busy jetty alongside. They would all be ashore soon. Then new ships, new faces, while they waited for the Pacific War to end. Even Bill would be off within an hour. He had heard from Magda. She was free to marry him.
He felt Bill’s heavy tread on the rough metal and heard him ask bluntly, ‘Why don’t you ring her?’
Rowan looked at him, trying to hide his feelings. ‘She’s probably only just getting over it. Trying to pick up the threads again.’
Bill took his arm and turned him round towards the pier. ‘Are you more afraid of being snubbed than of losing her?’ He added gently, ‘She’s probably thinking the same about you. That if she tries to make contact, you’ll feel an obligation, love or no love.’
Rowan did not look at his friend. ‘You’re right, of course.’ He walked towards the quartermaster’s lobby. ‘I’ll see if there’s a shore line yet.’
There was, but it took an age before the call was cleared and switched through several different exchanges.
When she spoke, it was as if she was here. In the ship.
‘Hello? Who is that?’
‘Tim. You remember when I last wrote I said –’ He broke off, hearing her quick intake of breath and what sounded like a sob.
‘Oh, Tim! My darling Tim! I was afraid. I thought . . .’
Rowan gripped the telephone, wanting to hold her, to stop her crying. He knew Bill, the quartermaster and several seamen were watching him, but he did not care.
‘I want you. I’m coming for you. I shall be with you tonight if I have to steal the transport!’
She was very quiet now, and he could hear her breathing.
He continued. ‘After that I just want to be happy. Together.’
She said, ‘I’ll meet you at the station. I don’t care what time you get here. I’ll be waiting. Oh, Tim, I’m so happy.’
Bill watched his face and smiled thankfully. They were so right for each other, and yet had been held apart by their selfsame sense of consideration.
He watched him replace the telephone and asked, ‘All fixed, old son?’
Rowan nodded, and looked up at the empty island. ‘Better than that. I’m going to her right away. Now.’
Bill breathed out slowly. ‘I’ll see you over the side myself.’
Later they stood at the top of the brow, beneath which a taxi waited with its engine ticking over.
Rowan hesitated, his eyes moving over Growler’s scarred hull. Then he raised his hand in salute and walked down towards the land. To a future.
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Epub ISBN: 9781448151189
Version 1.0
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First published by Arrow Books in 1976
This edition published by Arrow Books in 2001
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Copyright © Bolitho Maritime Productions 1975
Douglas Reeman has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
First published in the United Kingdom in 1975 by Hutchinson
Arrow Books
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9780099133803
Winged Escort Page 31