Free The Horizon (1993) by Douglas Reeman

the allies had broken into some lively marches, to the obvious delight of the madly cheering soldiers.
    Jonathan had snatched a few moments’ rest during the day, although like most of the officers he had given hisquarters to the soldiers. Now, in retrospect, it seemed like another ship. The troops were being mustered by their own officers, sections checked and checked again.
    After leaving Mudros
Reliant
had steamed west and around the island of Lemnos as part of a deception to confuse the Turks before the final rendezvous was made.
    It was one of the few occasions on which Soutter had displayed his anger.
    ‘What kind of “deception” is that? Most of these troops have been transferred from Egypt. The Turks will likely know the exact strength of every regiment!’
    The navigator had told Jonathan quietly that the Turks would know anyway; they would have calculated that the attack would come between the waning of the old moon and the rising of the new. He recalled Rice’s white teeth grinning through his beard as he had added, ‘The Royal Navy isn’t the only one with navigators, you know!’ There was something very reassuring about the massive, bear-like lieutenant.
    He shivered, and yet his spine was wet with sweat. He probed his feelings. Fear, then? But he felt nothing, only the old need to get a move on, for better or worse.
    He had watched the ship’s own midshipmen, and there were fifteen all told in the gunroom ranging in age from children to self-possessed young men, who waited the chance for examination and promotion to sub-lieutenant. The first proper step up the ladder. They had stained their white uniforms into something like khaki, and were hung about with revolvers and water-bottles, which only made them look younger.
    He wondered about the other ships: some were said tobe carrying horses and mules. That at least seemed like a note of confidence. Somewhere astern was another battle-cruiser, H.M.S.
Impulsive
, the sister-ship of
Inflexible
, which had struck a mine on that first attempt to force the Narrows. Seven years older than
Reliant
, with eight twelve-inch guns of the former design, her captain had nonetheless boasted that his was the best gunnery ship in the fleet. Jonathan had heard little about
Impulsive
’s Captain Vidal, other than that he was known as an iron disciplinarian and had been a midshipman in the same class as Soutter.
    Soutter stirred. ‘Have all the soldiers been fed again?’
    Waring said, ‘Yes,’ curtly. It sounded like ‘of course.’
    Somebody whispered, ‘The admiral’s comin’ up, sir!’
    Soutter slid from his chair and turned as Purves and his flag-lieutenant loomed into the darkened bridge.
    Purves looked around, picking out shadowy figures and their immediate functions.
    ‘I have had a signal from the flag.’ He sounded angry and subdued.
    Soutter said, ‘So we’re not going in after all, sir?’
    Purves must have known that everyone was listening but did not care.
    ‘The Australian Infantry are to go on their own and join up with the rest of their division on the beaches. They all know what to do.’ He suddenly exclaimed, ‘God damn it, Captain, what about our marines?’
    Waring bobbed forward. ‘
We’re
ready, sir! Just give the word!’
    Purves stared across the screen, seeking a place where the sea joined the sky, but it was still too dark.
    Soutter said, ‘Perhaps Admiral de Robeck believes they are too inexperienced.’
    Purves almost choked. ‘What about these damned colonials then? Rounding up sheep is more in their line, I’d have thought!’
    ‘Ready to alter course, sir.’
    ‘Very well.’ Soutter sounded almost disinterested. He did not even turn as the order was passed down to the wheelhouse, and a whiff of funnel smoke alone betrayed the change of course.
    Jonathan moved closer. It was much as he had expected; hoped perhaps. The marines he had spoken to were trained to the hilt for barracks or parade ground, but they were not the