Their Lordships Request: A Harry Heron Adventure (66 page)

             
"
I
know
what
you
mean
–
it
happened
a
couple
of
times
today
in
the
Control
Centre.
I
had
just
begun
to
assemble
a
request
for
performance
data
and
it
appeared
on
the
display,
likewise
when
I
was
wondering
about
the
vector
and
orbital
distance
as
we
swung
round
Neptune
and
there
it
was
on
the
display.
"
The
Captain
'
s
link
chirped
and
he
answered
it.
He
put
down
his
glass
and
rose,
"
Dinner
will
be
served
soon,
sir,
my
officers
are
waiting
for
us
in
the
Wardroom
with
our
other
guests.
"

             
"
Good.
"
The
admiral
got
to
his
feet.
"
I
have
to
admit
I
'
m
ready
for
it.
Lead
the
way
James.
"

***

             
Three
decks
below
the
Wardroom
the
ship
'
s
Coxswain,
a
Chief
Master
Warrant
Officer
surveyed
the
dining
room
and
nodded
in
satisfaction.
Everyone
was
here,
barring
the
gangway
dutymen.
He
tossed
back
his
drink
and
said
to
his
companion,
"
Something
to
celebrate
alright.
She
performed
like
a
thoroughbred.
And
the
Owner
certainly
knows
how
to
look
after
the
people
–
he
'
s
paid
for
the
bar
tonight.
"
He
grinned.
"
But
there
are
some
limits
I
understand.
"

             
His
companion,
the
ship
'
s
Regulating
Master
Warrant
chuckled.
"
Oh
yus.
An
'
my
lads
are
enforcing
it.
"

             
"
Well,
they
'
ve
earned
a
knees
up
so
let
'
s
get
to
work
on
it,
looks
like
the
Chief
Steward
'
s
ready.
"

             
"
Yup.
"
The
ship
'
s
policeman
nodded.
"
But
I
notice
you
'
ve
put
all
the
lad
'
s
that
really
need
a
clear
head
tomorrow
on
ship
duty
–
so
they
will
at
least
be
fit
for
work.
"

             
"
Yes.
"
The
Coxswain
frowned.
"
And
the
rest
of
them
better
be
too
–
or
they
'
ll
be
taking
a
transfer.
Our
Strike
Squadrons
start
arriving
tomorrow,
we
'
re
getting
617
and
854
in
first
and
the
handling
crews
better
be
spot
on.
"

             
"
True,
"
the
RMW
responded.
"
There
'
ll
be
no
room
for
mistakes
loading
them.
The
barges
and
boats
coming
aboard
are
going
to
be
a
bit
of
a
juggle
I
should
think.
Especially
the
barges,
they
'
re
flipping
huge.
"

***

             
In
the
Wardroom
Captain
Heron
raised
his
glass,
"
A
toast.
To
our
ship
–
may
she
be
all
we
hope
she
can
be.
"

-

             
Captain
Blackwood
gripped
the
nettings
tightly
as
the
ship
heeled
steeply
under
the
thrust
of
the
howling
south
westerly
gale.
The
ship
staggered
as
another
gust
caught
the
triple
reefed
topsails.
Overhead
topmen
worked
to
resecure
the
maincourse
as
the
sail
was
showing
dangerous
signs
of
working
loose
as
the
gale
explored
the
tight
holds
of
the
furled
canvas.
In
the
mizzen
rigging
other
hands
struggled
to
replace
one
of
the
topping
lift
tackles
that
had
suddenly
parted
earlier
in
the
predawn
of
this
storm-wracked
day.
In
these
latitudes
the
wind
could
be
expected
to
be
powerful
–
after
all
there
was
little
to
disturb
the
power
of
it
between
the
shores
of
South
America
and
New
South
Wales,
but
at
this,
the
height
of
the
Southern
summer
season,
storms
such
as
this
were
supposedly
rare.

             
He
glanced
around
the
quarterdeck,
taking
note
of
the
positions
of
his
lieutenants
as
they
encouraged
their
men
at
their
tasks.
His
gaze
paused
for
a
moment
on
the
figure
of
Midshipman
Heron,
diligently
recording
something
on
the
watch
keeper
'
s
slate
at
the
binnacle
under
the
watchful
eye
of
the
ship
'
s
Sailing
Master,
Josiah
Wentworth.
He
caught
the
exchange
of
some
comment
between
the
young
midshipman
and
the
youth
watching
the
half
hour
glass.
He
recognised
the
boy
as
O
'
Connor,
the
Irish
fiddle
player
who
entertained
them
all
from
time
to
time
with
his
enthusiastic
and
skilful
playing.