man at her side wore sea boots and a thick white sweater, and he looked at her with one eyebrow raised, a small, teasing smile lifting the corners of his mouth. And he had called her Jenny.
‘Nothing’s making me miserable.’
‘That’s all right, then. Thought you might be feeling a bit strange. New here, aren’t you. Where do you work?’
‘In the communications office, actually.’ She said it primly, nose tilted.
‘And are you going to like it on Omega, Jenny?’
‘Don’t call me that. My name is not Jenny.’
‘I’m sure it isn’t.’
‘Then why?’
‘Because all Wrens are Jennies. Got to be, haven’t they? My name’s Tom, by the way. Tom Tavey. What’s yours?’
Grudgingly she told him.
‘Then can we start again? Hullo, Jane Kendal.’
‘Hullo.’ She wished Taureg would come and she wished the sailor would go away. He was trying to pick her up, of course, but any Wren new to the flotilla must expect to be fair game, she acknowledged, especially in a base so isolated, where women were outnumbered by fifty to one.
‘Ever seen a submarine get the full treatment when it’s done a patrol?’
‘Afraid not.’ Until a few days ago she hadn’t even seen a submarine. ‘Is there something special about it?’
‘When a submarine’s had a spectacular patrol, yes. Taureg got depth-charged in the Bay of Biscay. A whole pack of German destroyers were after them. They had it pretty rough, by all accounts.’
‘But they obviously made it.’
‘They deserved to. They’d dived, you see, but eventually they had to surface – the air must’ve been getting bad – and up they came, damn nearly alongside a German destroyer the pack had left behind when they called off the hunt, waiting there, just in case Taureg surfaced. And surface she did; too near for the German to train his guns on her but near enough to get her own gun on them. Pumped one straight into the destroyer’s magazine, then took off, the cheeky sods! Laughing like drains, I shouldn’t wonder.’ He grinned. ‘Bet they couldn’t believe their luck.’
‘It isn’t funny, all that killing.’
‘No, Jane.’ The smile was gone in an instant. ‘Necessary, though. It’s them or us, isn’t it? You don’t hang around to say “Sorry, mate.” That’s what war is all about. Anyway, Taureg survived thirty-eight depth charges so she deserves a bit of a cheer. But we’ll know exactly what she’s been up to when we get a look at her Jolly Roger.’
‘Jolly Roger?’ Jane’s eyebrows shot upward. ‘On one of His Majesty’s ships?’
‘That’s right. The pirate flag. All returning submarines fly one if they’ve had a good patrol.’
‘You’re pulling my leg!’ Did he really expect her to believe such Peter Pan and Wendy nonsense. In the Royal Navy?
‘All right, then. Wait till they come alongside.’
She shrugged and stared unspeaking down the loch, and wished again that he would go away.
‘That’s the skipper arriving, and the submarine commander,’ he said, pointing to the well deck below them. ‘Taureg can’t be long now.’
His Majesty’s submarine Taureg came home to base smoothly and smartly, escorted by a frigate of the Free Netherlands Navy. On her fore and after casing, seamen submariners in bell-bottomed trousers and white sweaters stood comfortably at ease; on the bridge stood three officers, smartly dressed.
Jan Mayen gave a salute on her siren, then slipped away to her mooring buoy, leaving the submarine and her crew to savour their homecoming.
The bosun’s pipe whistled shrilly over the Tannoy. ‘Attention on the upper deck,’ commanded the disembodied voice. ‘Face to port.’
Omega’s captain and the submarine commander beside him lifted their hands in salute; heads high, Taureg’s officers returned it as the at-ease submariners snapped as one man to attention.
‘Three cheers for Taureg!’ came the order and once, twice, three times, hats and caps rose in the air and once, twice, three times the assembled well-wishers roared their approval.
So this was how a submarine came back from a successful patrol! And how very understated and very British, with every man of its crew trying not to show how pleased he was or how embarrassed, and quietly thanking the good Lord for getting them out of the mess in the Bay, and if He wouldn’t mind, could some other perishing submarine have the next thirty-eight? And whilst He was on their wavelength, how about a spot of leave …?
‘It isn’t!’ Only then did Jane see the flag. ‘Not the skull and crossbones!’
Tom Tavey laughed. ‘It is.’
‘But you wouldn’t think it would be allowed.’ Grown men on a killer submarine, flying a Jolly Roger! ‘Do they all do it?’
‘All of them.’ He nodded. ‘Every submarine takes one on patrol and someone sews on the bits as they happen. Take a look.’
The youngest of Taureg’s officers was holding out the flag for all to see, proudly proclaiming the success of their patrol and the reason for this, their special homecoming.
‘See the white bars in the top right-hand corner, Jane? They represent enemy ships sunk by torpedoes, and the crossed guns on the left means they’ve been in a surface action – that’d be when they got the German destroyer – and the dagger below is a special operation.’
Unbelieving still, Jane counted the white bars. Three ships sunk on this patrol; three merchantmen sent to the bottom, and thank God Vi wasn’t here to see this! ‘Special operation?’ she murmured.
‘Cloak-and-dagger stuff. Usually picking up an agent from one of the occupied countries, or taking one out. A couple of weeks back there was a strong buzz that Saffron landed one by dinghy into France. A young woman, I believe it was.’ He said it matter of factly, as if it happened all the time.
‘Then let’s just hope that Taureg has brought her back again,’ Jane whispered. What next would be asked of women and what would women do, when at last peace came? Would they, could they, after the sudden heady freedom thrust upon them by war, ever go back to what they had been?
‘You’re doing it again, Jane Kendal. Frowning. Looking chokka.’
‘I’m not. Really I’m not. It – it’s just the way my face is arranged, I suppose.’ Adroitly, she changed the subject. ‘What’s happening now?’
The returning submarine had nosed in to the depot ship’s side, and willing hands on the well-deck rails pulled on her stern lines, easing her closer, making her fast. Now the sentinel submarines were under way again, gently manoeuvring
