The Dangerous Years (35 page)

The weekend before they were due to sail north, Kelly went to London to see his solicitors and arrange his part of the divorce. He took a room at the club and went to a show at Drury Lane. By sheer chance, Vera von Schwerin was there with a pale young man whose picture he had often seen in the glossy magazines.

‘He wants to be a Nazi,’ she whispered as they stood together at the bar between acts. ‘I must arrange for him to visit Berlin. He might have influential friends.’ She brushed his arm with her programme. ‘He’s very sweet, but he touches me as if he were handling a flower, so I’ll tell him I have a headache.’

They took a taxi to her home and immediately they were inside she took his hand and pulled him towards the bedroom.

‘You don’t waste time, do you?’ he said.

‘Oi, there is no time to waste, Kelly Georgeivitch,’ she retorted. ‘That’s one thing we’ve learned in Berlin. Life’s too short – physically, morally, politically. What has to be done must be done at once, without consideration for others.’

With cynical detachment he unfastened his tie and began to unbutton his jacket. Then, as he laid his jacket down, he saw the photograph on the dressing table again, complete with black moustache and pale intense eyes staring at him. Reaching out, he placed it face-down.

‘I bet he doesn’t go in for this sort of thing,’ he observed.

Their love-making was swift and devoid of passion. Vera had grown older in a harsh world and he was reminded all the time of the cold hidden eyes of Hitler staring across the bedroom at him.

He saw her studying him from the pillows. ‘Where have you been for so long?’ she asked. ‘Concerned with your country’s financial troubles?’

‘I suppose so. You’ll know what they mean.’

‘
I
shall pull through,’ she said soberly. ‘After Odessa I swore I would be rich again and there are men in Germany who know what to do. Government funds don’t always pay for portraits of President Hindenburg.’

Kelly shrugged. ‘Obviously you do things differently from us.’

She caught the contempt in his voice and her manner became cool. ‘When Adolf Hitler comes to power,’ she said, ‘Germany will rise as England sinks.’ She paused. ‘Your government will destroy your navy, you know,’ she ended. ‘There’s been a meeting in Portsmouth. I think there’s trouble in store for you, Kelly Georgeivitch.’

The switch of subjects caught him unawares.

‘How do you know?’

‘You forget that, in addition to being German, I’m also Russian and I have some strange friends. I hear them talking.’ She smiled. ‘You once did me a favour, Kelly Georgeivitch. But for you, I’d probably have ended up selling myself to Red soldiers in an Odessa brothel and I promised I wouldn’t forget.’

Kelly frowned. ‘When was this meeting?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. But I understood that men from your ships,
Norfolk
and
Dorsetshire
, were present.’

‘
Norfolk
’s a Devonport ship. What were they doing in Pompey?’

‘What’s more to the point, Kelly Georgeivitch, is what were they doing when those ships visited Kiel? I was there when they arrived and I saw the men going ashore. I imagine the first thing they saw was the war memorial painted red, like every other memorial in the town. The Communists have been active there since the mutiny in the High Seas Fleet and they doubtless found a few listeners among your men. I went to a dance the C-in-C gave at his official residence, but it had to be held in the rooms at the back in case the lights attracted a mob and led to rioting, and two of your British midshipmen were stoned while riding. I also heard that some of your sailors visited the International Seamen’s Club, and we know – and Adolf Hitler knows, too! – that that club’s a headquarters of subversive influences.’

Kelly had sat up now, hardly aware of her as a woman, his interest only in what she was saying.

‘Why are you telling me all this?’

She beamed at him. ‘Because Germany needs the British Navy,’ she said. ‘We shall never be able to equal it, however hard we build, and soon we shall expect it to stand alongside us to defeat Communism in the east.’

Kelly returned to Portsmouth in a thoughtful mood. As he stepped off the train at the harbour station, he stared about him at the interminable terraces of narrow houses and undistinguished brick buildings stretching from the neighbourhood of the dockyard to the north of the city. The streets seemed to be full of bicycles, all carrying dockyard mateys in threadbare coats, dominating the traffic as they did four times a day. Among them were a few women with shopping bags and pushing shabby prams. There was little beauty in the place but, in the brown-faced men swaggering in their best blue, their caps at a jaunty angle on their heads, arrogant despite their worries, there was a strange sense of self-assurance. The strength of a fleet was not in its ships but in its men and he hoped to God they’d never be called on to help Hitler’s thugs.

As he picked up his bag, he saw Fanshawe watching him from further down the platform. He hadn’t seen him since they’d met in Shanghai. He was in
Rodney
now and due to catch a train to Plymouth, and he was as uncertain of the future as Kelly was.

‘I think we should repair to the Keppel’s Head to celebrate,’ he said. ‘Sailing’s likely to be postponed.’

‘Why?’ Kelly asked at once, thinking of what Vera von Schwerin had told him. ‘Trouble?’

Fanshawe laughed. ‘My God,’ he said. ‘Everybody’s obsessed by this mythical trouble that’s supposed to be coming! We’re not expecting trouble in
Rodney
. No, Admiral Hodges has returned from leave seriously ill and they’ve whipped him into Haslar Hospital. They’ll have to postpone sailing until they can get a replacement.’

Back on board
Rebuke
, Kelly was called to the captain’s cabin where he enlightened Harrison as to what was happening. ‘I made enquiries, sir,’ he said, ‘and I understand Rear Admiral Tomkinson, of the Second Cruiser Squadron, will be taking over.’

‘Tomkinson!’ Harrison sniffed. ‘It’ll be his first independent command – in effect, his
first
command. He was always Keyes’ deputy.’

He listened to what Kelly had heard from Vera von Schwerin but he was obviously not impressed.

‘Who is this woman?’ he demanded.

‘German attaché’s wife, sir. I met her in Russia in 1919.’

‘Well, nobody else has heard of any meeting. I think you’re making too much of it.’

Confirmation of the change in command came later that night, and the new admiral hoisted his flag in
Hood
. The old flagship,
Nelson
, was to remain in Portsmouth to await Hodges’ recovery. When Harrison returned from Tomkinson’s conference, he was inclined to be critical.

‘Too hurried,’ he insisted. ‘Taking over a ship’s a long and complex business. Taking over a fleet has unlimited possibilities for going wrong. The Admiralty should have postponed sailing, and the admiral obviously thinks so, too, because he’s had no guidance about these damned cuts. Surely to God they’ll never permit men to lose twenty-five per cent of their pay.’

Kelly wasn’t too sure. Nobody on the May Committee had ever been connected with the sea.

The lower deck was also obviously fully occupied with thoughts of the cuts, and there was a heavy resentment about the ship, so that tasks were performed sullenly and with none of the normal cheerfulness. But the ship left port spick and span with the ship’s company lining the deck and the white ensign floating at the stern. The band of the Marines was bashing away for all it was worth at ‘A Life On The Ocean Wave’, and the bridge was packed with officers.
Hood
was already out in the channel and as
Rebuke
followed her she almost filled the narrow entrance to the harbour. There were crowds on the front at Southsea and Old Portsmouth as she cleared the Landport. The tower of St Thomas à Becket slid clear of the ramparts, then she moved majestically down the channel past the forts to deep water. There was a light westerly wind blowing and an east-running tide, and a sullen wash spread across the sky with violet clouds massed astern, so that the gulls stood out with striking clarity. Beyond them, Kelly could see the houses and pier of Ryde to starboard and to port the power station of Portsmouth, and somehow, it seemed as if he were looking on them all for the first time.

With
Nelson
remaining in Portsmouth with the aircraft carrier,
Courageous
, the squadron had a truncated look about it as it headed east. Beyond the Isle of Wight, the Devonport Division joined the flag and they moved up-Channel past Beachy Head, Dungeness and the Forelands to the Outer Gabbard in the entrance to the Thames, where vessels of the Nore Command also joined, and they altered course towards the north.

As they drove through the iron water beyond the Thames, the dark sky became covered with a pearly overcast which threw a strange light on the angles and curves of the ships. The battle fleet –
Rodney
,
Warspite
,
Malaya
,
Rebuke
,
Hood
and
Repulse
– were accompanied by four cruisers,
Dorsetshire
,
Norfolk
,
York
and
Centaur
; the minelayers,
Adventure
and
Advance
; the old battleship,
Iron Duke
; the submarine depot ships,
Lucia
and
Adamant
; and the Fifth and Sixth Destroyer Flotillas. Butting into the wind, they reminded Kelly of Beatty’s ships heading out past May Island for Jutland, all of fifteen years before.

Staring from the bridge, his eyes dwelt nostalgically on the sleek shapes of the light forces as they combed the grey seas with their washes. The big ships, he thought bitterly, were too big! And too damned old! The First Lord in the new government had already protested about the general ageing condition of the fleet and the money being wasted in refitting the great grey mastodons instead of building destroyers. It hadn’t been Jutland that had destroyed Germany, but the blockade; and it hadn’t been the High Seas Fleet which had brought Britain to her knees in 1917, but the submarines. Light forces were what was needed, but to attack the big ships against the entrenched attitudes of the Admiralty had become like challenging the Scriptures.

At least, the old stately sarabands which had been called exercises before the war had fallen into disfavour and the run north was performed in a tight two-day convoy drill. The heavy atmosphere of resentment was still in evidence, however, and Kelly was conscious all the time of dissension below decks. Remembering Vera von Schwerin’s warning, as they headed north past Flamborough Head he called the signals officer to his cabin. ‘Any communications between ships?’ he asked.

‘Only the usual, sir.’

‘I mean signals that have nothing to do with the exercises or the handling of the ship.’

‘What sort of signals, sir?’

In his attempts to be non-committal, the signals officer seemed stupid and Kelly exploded. ‘Dammit, man,’ he snapped. ‘You’re as aware as I am of the feeling in the fleet about the pay cuts! Are they organising some sort of concerted action? Are signals being tagged on to normal traffic?’

The signals officer flushed. ‘I’ve seen no sign of it, sir,’ he answered stiffly. ‘It’s possible, of course, but surely it would be picked up by the petty officers.’

‘The petty officers,’ Kelly retorted, ‘seem to be adopting a position of neutrality in this business. They’re not for the cuts, and they’re certainly in sympathy with the lower deck. No possibility of visual signals being passed?’

‘Not a chance, sir.’

‘Have you noticed anything?’

‘Sullenness, sir.’

‘So have I,’ Kelly growled. ‘It’s been quiet today but it seems to be intensifying. Perhaps they’re waiting for the Admiralty signal explaining what’s going on. I know damn well they’re discussing what to do if pay’s reduced enough to affect their way of living. Dammit, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes, sir.’ The signals officer clearly took the view that Kelly was chasing shadows.

Kelly glared at him. ‘Well, keep your eyes open,’ he said. ‘I think most of ’em don’t know much about it, but I don’t think we should be deluded that they aren’t talking about it. Do they listen to the BBC?’

‘It’s relayed through the ship, sir. as you know. Up to now, though, as far as I can see, all the BBC’s doing is speculate on the possibilities in the emergency budget. It’s a pretty fragile situation ashore.’

‘I think it’s a pretty fragile situation at sea,’ Kelly snapped.

As they drew nearer the Scottish coast, Kelly’s suspicions multiplied. He’d been in the Navy too long not to he aware of subtle differences. There was a feeling in
Rebuke
that worried him, and the night before they were due to anchor he decided to make the rounds himself in an effort to gauge the temper of the ship’s company. Following the Royal Marine bugler blowing G, he stalked along the passageways and through the messdecks, alert for any subtle change in a tone of voice or the expression on a messdeck sweeper’s face as he made his report, any change in the stiff faces of the sailors standing at attention or the shifting of the shrouded shapes in the hammocks in the background.

As he passed through the ship with Rumbelo and the rest of his party, he was aware of a silence of resentment. With the men divided into watches, the sailors had only limited contact with each other and they were still tired from the extra duties of the run north, but it was obvious the cuts were pressing heavily on their minds. Everything seemed to be subdued, however, and on an even keel until they came to the band room. From outside, there was quite clearly a meeting in progress and they could hear loud and angry voices.

‘What’s going on in here?’ he asked Rumbelo.

‘Meeting of the Buffalo Lodge, sir. They have that privilege. Normal Friendly Society.’

Kelly was just about to move on, wondering what the Royal Antediluvian Order of Buffaloes could be debating so fiercely, when he caught the words, ‘Admiralty indifference.’ He stopped dead at once and, pushing open the door, he saw the band room was crowded with men with Leading Seaman Doncaster mounted on a stool, apparently in the middle of an inflammatory speech which came to an abrupt halt as the stool was whipped from beneath his feet by Rumbelo.