The Dangerous Years (36 page)

‘This is a meeting of the Buffaloes, sir,’ he said indignantly as he picked himself up.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Kelly snapped. ‘And, even if it is, it’s terminated as of now. Out you go! Be thankful you’re not on report.’

There was no trouble. The men filed out and headed for their messdecks in silence, and Kelly slammed the door shut behind them. It probably meant very little, but it was the first sign of trouble and he suggested to Harrison that something should be done quickly before things got out of hand.

Harrison pooh-poohed the idea. ‘I think you’re making too much of it,’ he said. ‘And there’s bound to be a letter from the Admiralty when we arrive, explaining the situation.’

‘Unless they’re sunk in their usual elegant torpor, sir,’ Kelly growled. ‘I suspect they feel that while we’re at sea, we’re out of mischief and can be forgotten.’

Despite Harrison’s decision to do nothing, Kelly called the divisional officers to his cabin. Some of them looked incredibly young and had entered the Navy in the smug days after the war when Britain was still resting on the laurels of victory. Since then a block in promotions had existed and they all knew that elevation to commander was by arbitrary selection and that a single black mark could affect their whole career. In many cases, he knew, they were only watching their own yardarms, even at the expense of others. It wasn’t their fault, it was the fault of the system, but he’d come to the conclusion, nevertheless, that they all needed a good kick up the backside.

‘I’ve heard,’ he said, ‘that there’s talk aboard ship of strike action against the proposed pay cuts.’ There was a restless movement as if they preferred not to hear it discussed and he went on grimly. ‘Well, let’s get it clear straight away that in the service
there’s no such thing
! In the Navy “strike action” would be regarded as mutiny, pure and simple, and it’s up to you people to make that as clear as you can. Point out what happened with
Lucia
. Those chaps thought they were only making a protest; the Navy still called it mutiny.’

‘They feel they’ve as much right to strike as anybody else, sir,’ the first lieutenant pointed out. ‘And this time, I, for one, am entirely in agreement with them.’

Kelly frowned. ‘Come to that, Number One, so am I. Unfortunately, however, according to the Act, they haven’t that right. But they’re mostly intelligent men and it’s up to you to drum into them good and hard what the consequences could be.’

He also made a point of getting the chiefs and petty officers together in their mess and making the point again.

‘At least try to stop them turning their resentment into public meetings,’ he said. ‘And watch for the big talkers. Every ship has its share of moaners and loudmouths, but I believe they’re motivated less by politics than by despair. Try to stop them doing anything silly.’

He wasn’t sure he’d put his point across and even suspected that concerted action was the only way to overcome the smug torpor at the Admiralty and in Parliament. Even the thriftiest of men on the lower deck were left with no margin for emergencies and lived permanently on the borderline of poverty.

Sitting at his desk, he was consumed with rage at the memory of the charity parties he’d been to with Christina where there’d been a great deal of champagne but not very much charity. Doubtless at that moment, Christina was in Cannes enjoying herself with the same privileged people. None of the daily papers, he’d noticed, appeared to have felt the need to drop their society gossip columns and there were still plenty of shiny periodicals about to cover the doings of the wealthy.

By God, he thought furiously, what this country needs
is
a revolution!

That night they received news of the Budget. There were increases in income tax and the cost of beer, tobacco and other things which were staggering.

‘For God’s sake,’ the first lieutenant said. ‘Don’t those stupid idiots in Parliament have any idea? If they impose cuts on top of this the poor devils haven’t
anything
to live for!’

‘There’ll be
something
for ’em,’ the gunnery officer said doggedly. ‘They’d never dare impose cuts of the magnitude they say they’re going to impose without something to make ’em bearable.’

They entered Cromarty Firth with the sea dead calm, so that the presence of the vast grey ships seemed like a violation of the stillness. They dropped anchor one after the other, first
Hood
, occupying the berth of fleet flagship just off the pier of Invergordon, then
Rebuke
nearer to Nigg. Next was
Rodney
, with
Warspite
opposite Nairn,
Valiant
and
Malaya
north of Lossiemouth, and
Repulse
down the Firth of Cromarty. To the south was the line of cruisers, headed by
Dorsetshire
, the flagship, with
Norfolk
,
York
,
Adventure
and
Advance
lined up on her.

Kelly had to admit that
Rebuke
looked good. Her band on the quarterdecks were going at it hammer and tongs, and the Royal Marines, their white helmets and bayonets shining, made a picture with the steady ranks of her sailors. On the forecastle men were just securing after mooring and the cluster of officers on the bridge had not yet dispersed. He knew they were being watched from the town, people staring out at the long grey hulls and the mounting lines of guns, noting how the booms for the boats swung out from the sides as if by clockwork, how the scrubbed gangways descended and the launches touched the water. Immediately boats were sent ashore for mail and newspapers, and Captain Harrison’s pinnace was piped for.

As the stand-easy was signalled, the radios were turned on in the recreation spaces and at once the ship was filled with the calm voices of the BBC announcers, interrupted only by morse as a ship nearby started to send. Now that the exercises were over and they had arrived, the awareness of resentment in the ship grew. Everybody seemed in a state of great uncertainty; and now that the cuts appeared to have been finalised, family budgets were being redrafted and there was a great deal of talk about hire purchase and rent that Kelly couldn’t help but hear as he moved about the ship.

I hope to God the boats bring something back, he thought.

The captain returned very quickly from his business ashore. He seemed to have something on his mind but he gave no inkling of what it was. When the ship’s boats returned with the mail, the excitement in the faces of their crews was obvious and their demeanour spelt trouble. The papers contained nothing but further details of the Budget, but the mail consisted largely of letters from wives who were understandably worried, and an immediate stream of men demanded from the harassed master-at-arms the opportunity to see Kelly.

While he was interviewing them, a message came for him to see the captain. As he entered Harrison’s day cabin, a signal was tossed down.

‘My father’s ill,’ Harrison announced shortly. ‘He had a stroke and it seems it was more serious than was thought. I’ve been granted permission to repair ashore to visit his bedside and attend to his affairs. Captain Masterson will take my place from Portsmouth until I return, which will probably be in two or three weeks’ time. With the weekend intervening, he should be here on Tuesday.’

With the captain departed on his way south by train, a make and men was piped the following day and men began to appear on deck in their tiddly suits for the half holiday, the fronts of their blouses cut illegally low, their trousers wider than regulations permitted in an attempt to dispense that curious mystique which drew the girls like magnets. There were highland games ashore and the usual Saturday afternoon cinemas and football. As Kelly watched them gathering for the liberty boats, he noticed that the chatter didn’t appear to be the usual cheerful excitement, and there seemed a lot of anger.

‘Go ashore, Number One,’ he said to the first lieutenant. ‘And keep your eyes open. If there’s going to be trouble, I want to be ready for it.’

As he took a drink in the wardroom that evening, the wireless was on and the BBC was reporting that service pay was definitely to be cut. He stared at it angrily. The bloody BBC, he decided, seemed to be on the side of anarchy, rather than law and order. Speculation without fact seemed valueless and could only cause trouble when the men reappeared on board full of beer.

There was also a reference to an Admiralty Fleet Order published the day before; he frowned, remembering no such order, and called for Boyle.

‘Have you seen an Admiralty Fleet Order, Seamus?’ he demanded.

‘No, sir,’ Boyle said. ‘Nothing’s appeared from
Hood
. Perhaps it contained just the usual orders about stores, modifications and appointments and wasn’t issued to the fleet.’

Kelly’s frown grew deeper. ‘The BBC seems to think it contains information about the pay cuts. They also mentioned a letter from the Admiralty. Any sign of that?’

‘No, sir. None.’

Kelly was on the quarterdeck waiting for the liberty boats long before they were due to return. The breeze off the shore brought with it the scent of bruised grasses and herbs, and about him was that curious tang that haunted all big ships, a compound of metal polish, drying wood, new paint, caustic soda and soap, with occasionally the hot brassy taste of funnel fumes. Then the salt sea smell came again, clearer and cleaner, with the odour of new bread from the bakery just forward of the second battery. The ship was not silent, because there was never silence in a living ship. All the time there was the draughty murmur from the mouths of the fan trunkings, and beneath his feet the steady purr of some piece of auxiliary machinery, and the slop and scurry of the sea against the ship’s armoured walls. Even as she swung at her buoy, men were studying pumps and gauges, minding fans and dynamos, checking oil and water pressures, even watching by the gangway to see how she swung with the tide.

When the drifters returned, he saw at once that there were noisy arguments going on aboard them and, as he watched the liberty men vanishing below, he heard catcalls and caught the words, ‘Down tools!’. Turning abruptly, he called the midshipmen to his cabin and asked them what the behaviour of the men had been like.

‘Excited, sir,’ one of the youngsters reported.

‘What sort of excitement?’

‘Saturday night boisterousness chiefly, sir.’

‘It was rowdiness,’ another midshipman interrupted firmly. ‘There was singing on the pier and in the boats. ‘The Red Flag’ was one of the songs.’

The officer of the watch had seen nothing very different from the usual Saturday night behaviour on returning aboard. ‘But I doubt if they’d heard the BBC news, sir,’ he added.

‘They’ll have heard it by now,’ Kelly said. ‘How did they appear to you?’

‘Normal, sir. Though I did notice there was a lot of talking in undertones and that they kept well away from me. They had a strange manner.’

‘What sort of strange?’

‘Shifty, sir.’

The first lieutenant returned on board alone. He was looking grim, ‘I think they held a meeting,’ he reported. ‘They went to the canteen and I thought they were pretty angry. I gather the meeting wasn’t planned, but it took place all the same. It must have been spontaneous combustion, because it seems to have attracted no attention. The shore patrol reported nothing unusual.’

‘What’s your view, Number One?’

The first lieutenant gestured. ‘There’s something there, sir,’ he admitted. ‘You can’t put your finger on it, but it seems stronger than it was. I think there’s been some canvassing and the word’s been spread.’

‘What word, Number One?’

The first lieutenant frowned. ‘To me, sir,’ he said, ‘it seems like strike action.’

Kelly was eating his breakfast the following morning, when the mail boat brought the Sunday papers aboard.

As the steward laid
The Sunday Times
alongside him, he idly began to turn the pages. As he browsed, the first lieutenant sat down beside him. He was obviously upset. ‘Seen this, sir?’ he asked, laying
The
News of The World
between them. ‘It’s got the lot. Able seamen to get a twenty-five per cent cut. With nothing to make up for it either.’

‘What!’

‘It’s there, sir! The unbelievable’s happened!’

Snatching up the newspapers, Kelly swallowed his coffee and headed for his office, followed by the first lieutenant. ‘“Able seamen twenty-five per cent,”’ he read out loud in a fury. ‘“Admirals and those receiving two thousand a year only ten. Junior officers eleven.” Have they gone off their bloody heads, Number One?’

The first lieutenant looked worried. ‘It’s rubbish, of course, sir.’ he said, ‘Because it doesn’t allow for extras and allowances.’

‘It’s still dangerous, Number One,’ Kelly snapped. ‘Unless they get more detailed explanations, they’re not going to be aware that it’s rubbish and I don’t want ’em going off at half-cock. It says here the Army Council’s issued explanations. Where are the explanations from the Board of Admiralty?’

The first lieutenant shrugged. ‘They also appear to be quoting the Admiralty Fleet Order issued yesterday, sir – the one we don’t appear to have received.’

Kelly frowned. ‘Two thousand a year’ll seem a princely salary to a chap getting four bob a day. Any reaction yet?’

‘I wouldn’t exactly say that the news had been welcomed, sir.’

‘I think I’d better say something at divine service. You’d better tell the chaplain to keep his sermon short and, while he’s at it, he’d better put in a good word with God for us. We might need it.’

The chaplain was inclined to be lazy and seemed to spend most of his time dozing in one of the wardroom armchairs. When he’d galloped indifferently through his football-cricket-and-jolly-hockey-sticks brand of religion, Kelly held the men together and tried to speak to them. Without Harrison on board, he felt it was his duty to do so. But it was a tricky subject and he picked his way carefully through the maze of complications. He could see Rumbelo near the back, his eyes on him, but the one impression he got was of the total lack of expression on the hundreds of faces staring at him. They were regarding him politely and without a sound and he had a feeling that what he was saying simply wasn’t sinking in. The hostility was there even if it didn’t show.