"MacDonnell, J E - 021 - The Coxswain" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacDonnell J E)

officers. But then it was a most precious position, and a candidate
was most carefully and shrewdly judged before he was promoted to
it; so that although there may have been unreliable or inefficient
coxswains in the British and Australian Navies, this chronicler has
never heard of them.
Now Wind Rode's coxswain judged that his master had been
allowed sufficient time for introspective thought. He did not reason
quite like that-rather, he was worried about sufficient time in which
to get his four cases out of their working rig into clean khaki shorts
and shirts to meet their judge. He coughed.
The small and respectful sound was as expressive as the imminent
narrowing of a lover's eyes, or the clang of a bus-conductor's bell.
Bentley's head swung, to see the brown face looking back at him
expectantly.
"Oh, `Swain," he said, half apologetically, "I'd forgotten you
were still there."
"Yes, sir," Smales answered truthfully. "Ah ... I was wonderin'
about the time for requestmen, sir . . ."
"I was thinking, `Swain," Bentley said, ignoring the suggestion
with a nod of his head at the book under the coxswain's arm, "we
seem to have the punishment returns licked. Looks like we have a
pretty taut bunch down there."
"So long as they're kept that way," Smales answered definitely.
"They ain't all angels, not by a long shot." He shook his head slightly.
- J.E. Macdonnell: The Coxswain Page 10 -



"There's a rogue or two amongst
em.
But I've got a bigger and better one, the captain thought with
satisfaction. He said, smiling:
"So long as they know that you know more wrinkles than they do
. . ."Smales did not look too sure about this dubious compliment. But
he said, dutifully:
"Yes, sir."
"Now," said Bentley, his tone crisp, "we'll be through Jomard in
half-an-hour. I'll see defaulters directly we're clear."
Smales's tone was also crisp.
"Aye, aye, sir," he said, saluted smartly, and left the bridge.
A small smile on his lips, Bentley turned and walked slowly
towards the binnacle. The officer of the watch, the radar-officer,
saw him coming and made to step down from the raised wooden
grating. Bentley made a slight negative gesture with his forefinger
and the officer stayed where he was. Bentley halted beside the grating.
His head and eyes turned up to the sullen sky.
The clouds were dark grey, almost black, and heavy. But he was
not much concerned with the weather threat. He said, his voice low
and casual:
"That stuff could be troublesome."