"MacDonnell, J E - 125 - Blind Into Doom UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacDonnell J E)

"What do you make of that?"
Blake had noticed it as soon as he'd stepped on deck.
"Nimbus," he answered professionally, "growing and sailing
towards. Probably pelt down all afternoon."
"But well before then you'll have taken your gloom off the
bridge," Duncan jibed; Warwick's bridge was open.
Blake chuckled. "It will wash the old girl down. Good thing, too.
There's a moon tonight, and that salt will sparkle like a Christmas
tree."
The thought had already occurred to Duncan, as had the obvious,
and silly, antidote. Soberly, he said:
"You're right about that. Just in case your nimbus fails to deliver,
it might be a good idea to hose down the funnels and upper-works."
"Good," Blake nodded in agreement, "I'll get the Buffer on to
..." He frowned at the captain. "But the hoses use salt water." Then
he saw the grin in Duncan's eyes. "Thought you had me there, didn't
you?" he growled.
"Didn't I?
"Hmmmph. Are you doing rounds this morning?"
Morning?"
"Good Lord." Duncan was genuinely surprised. "Is it Saturday?"
"If it's not, then several hundred scrubbing sailors will hate my
guts."
- J.E. Macdonnell: Blind Into Doom Page 10 -



Duncan paused before giving his decision, looking up to the
northward. At any minute that emptiness could be broken by the
trucks of masts borne upon armour-clad platforms. But that was
speculation; he had received no radio warnings of major enemy units
breaking out from the Baltic or Norway. Of course they could have
sailed unseen under cover of rain or fog. Still speculation. But
captain's rounds were fact. For centuries the professional competence
of every commander and first lieutenant in the British Navy had to
be tested on Saturday mornings-weather and the enemy permitting.
Normally on Atlantic convoys men were too weary every morning
to do little else but clear up their breakfast mess and crawl into their
hammocks after a horrible and sleepless night. Captain's Saturday
rounds would have been a stupid and cruel imposition.
But this convoy was different. Miraculous if you like, but still
different. And Slippy had mentioned scrubbing sailors... Obviously
both he and the men had been preparing the ship since breakfast.
They would be cursing, a normal pastime, but they would be
disappointed if he failed to inspect the results of their labours.
Suddenly, even apart from that, Duncan wanted to see his men
and let them see him-close up, speaking distance.
"Yes," he said, and was rewarded by Blake's quick smile before
the commander cancelled it and asked: "Usual time?"
Had it been so long since Saturday rounds, Duncan wondered,