Free On the Edge of Darkness (Special Force Orca Book 1) by Anthony Molloy Page A

water’.
     
    *     *     *
     
    Astern of the two ships the first inkling of morning wove the eastern horizon with slender pink ribbons. The German tanker was making a healthy twelve knots, the ‘Nishga’ slowly circling her at twenty, shepherding her home.
    On the br idge of the warship the ever-present and all-invading ping of the Asdic speaker formed the background to the watch’s routine. The bridge lookouts scanned the empty horizon their dark silhouettes stark against the dawn’s glow. The officer of the watch studied his chart, occasionally crossing to the compass platform to check a bearing or the ship’s head. The bridge signalman had his eyes on the tanker’s bridge wing where, in the growing light, his colleague could be seen peering sleepily back.
    The morning was passing peacefully by in the well-oiled rhythm of naval watch keeping. Below decks, the morning jobs were well under way, the galley fire was lit, the ship’s cook and the duty cooks from each mess began to prepare breakfast. The hands off watch were shaken and climbed ladders to wash and shave.
    At six-thirty the decks were scrubbed and hosed down with salt water from the fire main then the hands went to their breakfast.
    “ Jesus!” exclaimed Wyatt, “what this? Cabbage for breakfast?”
    “ It tastes ….weird.” said Stubbs.
    “ That’s because it’s ain’t cabbage,” replied Wilson, smugly, he was cook of the mess and had prepared the ‘dish’, as he insisted on calling all his ‘creations’. Confiscated it from that Jerry tanker, the cook reckons yer Jerry eat it all the time.”
    The men wordlessly poked the sauerkraut around their plates. The action moved Wilson into further defence of his cooking. “Well, it was free…There ain’t a lot left in the mess funds…I thought we oughta give it a go.”
    “ That’s what it’ll do, all right…make you go,” remarked Wyatt, prune faced.
    “ Cook said it was sour sommick or the other.” Wilson added, with a vain attempt at enthusiasm.
    Another short silence followed provokin g Wilson once more, “If you don’t like it stick it on the side of yer plate and eat yer German banger.”
    “ German!” said Wyatt, “Gawd Almighty!” he pushed his plate away with an expression of disgust, “I don’t know about you blokes, but if this is what we’re fighting Jerry for, I reckon we oughta let him win.”
     
    *     *     *
     
    They escorted the tanker until the drone of aircraft engines, from the west, announced the arrival of the air cover they had radioed ahead for.
    Before parting company with their prize, they heaved to and transferred several drums of aviation fuel pumped up from the ta nker’s hold. The rumour spread that the wardroom had run out of gin.
    They turned south then, signal lamps flash ing. Barr hoping that the westerly course would again fool any spotter planes.
    A tha nkfully uneventful day followed; there was time to rest after the rigours of the night, time to recharge their batteries and time to clear up the chaos above and below decks.
    F or the first time in weeks, they went into four watches instead of two. It meant three-quarters of the men had an afternoon off, a ‘make and mend’.
    It didn ’t please everybody.
    “ You know I ain’t had a dry stitch on me back in yonks.” said Wyatt, moaning to no one in particular whilst arranging his overalls over an adjacent warm pipe.
    “‘ Ere! Look at that will yer,” exclaimed Goddard, staring at the naked beauty in his borrowed ‘Esquire’, “That’s what I’d like my girl to look like.”
    “ If you had a girl you wouldn’t know what to do with her.” said Wyatt.
    “ I wish my misses had breasts” commented Wilson peering over the reader’s shoulder.
    “ What’s she got instead?” inquired Stubbs.
    Wilson feigned memory loss , “I can’t remember it’s been so long.”
    “ How long has it been since the last leave, Blur?” asked Wyatt.
    “ Christmas… four