A Ship Must Die (1981) Read Free Page A

leafing through a folder on the opposite side of the room.
    She looked at him impassively. ‘Captain Blake.’ Her glance moved to his decoration. ‘This way, sir.’ She was tall when she stood up, her face and hands very tanned, as if she were more used to the open air than an office.
    A stoutly built captain, as old for his rank as Blake was youthful, ambled round a large desk and shook his hand.
    ‘Sit down and take it easy.’ He glanced at the impassive Wren officer. ‘Okay, Claire, you can organize some tea when you get a moment.’ The door closed.
    The captain said, ‘I’m Jack Quintin. I’m sorry to drag you here first, and I know you’ve an appointment with the First Naval Member of the Board in thirty minutes. However. . . .’ He perched himself on the edge of the desk. ‘My job is to liaise intelligence between the RAN and your people. I did most of my time with the RN, so I’m the obvious choice, I guess.’ He grinned. ‘I’d be on the beach with a pension otherwise!’ It seemed to amuse him.
    Blake said, ‘I sent my report about the ship’s present strength. There is a list of requirements for the dockyard manager, too. They only did a temporary job after the –’ The words seemed to stick in his throat.
    Captain Quintin eyed him gravely. ‘We all heard. It must have been a terrible fight.’ He pushed it from his mind and added, ‘Fact is, you will not be leaving
Andromeda
just yet.’
    Blake looked up quickly. ‘What’s wrong?’
    ‘I don’t really know. But a full refit will have to wait. Your ship is needed at sea. It’s as simple as that.’
    Simple? Blake stared at him. Over half the ship’s company gone, much of the machinery in need of overhaul, even replacement.
    He said, ‘I understood that HMAS
Devonport
will be ready for any emergency while
Andromeda
is fitting out?’
    Nothing he said seemed to make sense. He was staying in command, but why?
    Quintin said, ‘It’s all top secret of course, but
Devonport
’s gone.’
    Blake exclaimed, ‘How?’
    Quintin spread his hands. ‘She was on the long patrol, the Cape Town to Melbourne convoy route. Pretty quiet these days, and anyway
Devonport
can, or could, take care of herself.’
    Blake got a brief mental picture of the missing ship. A sizeable cruiser with the ability to patrol great areas of ocean without refuelling. Eight eight-inch guns, aircraft, a powerful force to be reckoned with.
    The older man said, ‘We received the usual signal, then nothing. We’ve mounted a full search, escorts from an incoming convoy, aircraft, the Americans, everybody.’ He banged one hand into the other. ‘Damn all. Not even an empty raft.’
    Blake wondered if he was thinking of another Australian cruiser, the famous
Sydney
. She had fought with a German raider in these very waters just over two years back and had sunk her. But
Sydney
had paid bitterly for her victory. The last that anybody had ever seen of her, including the many German survivors from the battle, she had been steaming away under a pall of smoke. Then she had vanished. Just a battered life-raft. It was as if she had never been. Oblivion.
    She had been a modified version of the
Leander
class, like
Ajax
and
Achilles
which had won their fame against the
Graf Spee
at the River Plate. Blake felt the uneasiness stir his insides.
The same as Andromeda
.
    ‘With the Americans building up pressure in the Pacific, and the war in your part of the world taking a turn for the better, we’ve been left very much alone. Bigger events elsewhere have tended to make us too smug maybe.’ Quintin offered Blake a cigarette but then said, ‘Of course, you’re a pipe man.’
    He became serious again. ‘Fact is, we’ve lost trace of several ships in the past few months. Merchantmen sailing independently for the most part. You know the sort of thing.’
    ‘You think the enemy’s got another raider in these waters, is that it?’
    ‘Could be.’ Quintin looked at a large wall chart