Voices on the Wind - Assault

Before Stevie could suggest they all have a tot of rum and turn in for some sleep, shouting from overhead interrupted them. An instant later, the ship’s whistle shrieked “Action stations!” They looked at one another and then sprang to obey. Stevie, with Babbitt and Goff trailing, bounded up to the bridge, nearly colliding with Nielsen going the other way as he headed for the gun.

“Ship approaching,” Captain Sommers explained out of the side of his mouth as Stevie reached him. “And it’s neither big enough nor slow enough to be another merchantman.”

Stevie felt his stomach lurch, and the dangerous tension that had seeped away during the storm was back with a vengeance. His nerves were suddenly fizzing with excessive vigilance. He could cope with nature; it was the enemy that terrorised him.

Although the storm had noticeably eased, they were still being flung around like driftwood. The approaching vessel, evidently smaller still, disappeared entirely when it sank into the deep troughs. Each time it reappeared, it was noticeably closer. Suddenly, it started blinking at them.

“Can you read that, Number One?” Sommers snapped irritably. The Merchant Navy did not use Aldis signals in peacetime and it was not a skill easily acquired by ‘old salts’ like Sommers.

Babbitt was just out of training and eager to show what he’d learned. “He’s asking ‘What ship are you?’ sir.”

Sommers looked at Babbitt with approval and then turned to Stevie. “What do you think, Number One? A Hun trick?”

“It could be — although I doubt a Hun could flash Morse in English at that speed. I’d put my money on the Royal Navy. Let’s have Babbitt ask the same question back.”

Sommers nodded agreement to Babbitt, who alacritously moved behind the Aldis lamp and started flashing the message with the painful slowness of someone not very proficient at either Morse or Aldis lamps. The others could only hold their breath as they stared in the direction of the white speck rolling wildly on the waves.

The winking began again and Babbitt read aloud. “H-M-S G-l-a-d-i-o-l-u-s. Repeat: what ship are you?”

Stevie felt the tension that had nearly choked him melt away. The Gladiolus was one of three escorting corvettes from their convoy. They had been found and were about to be shepherded back to the other ships.