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

Then the situation changed. Lusby halted and swung round,
frowning as if at recognition of his own remissness. He spoke. He
was captain of one of the twin 4-inch, and required to drill its crews.
He spoke roughly, sharply and definitely. The seaman jerked away
from the rail.
"Use yer bloody melon," Duncan heard. "You wanna meet one
of them choppers for Gawd's sake?" "Not me. I just wasn't thinkin'."
"Nah, course you wasn't. I'm cox'n of the seaboat. It's nice'n clean.
I don't want it all fouled up with blood and guts, now do I? Watch it,
mate."
Lusby moved on and Duncan turned away, smiling behind the
hand stroking his nose. It was a good nose, big and with character,
bending down to meet the straight firm lips of his breed. Naturally
his face was weathered, bearing also those narrowed eyes and corner
wrinkles of the seaman, yet at the same time refined. Not all officers
were gentlemen: Duncan had that distinction.
"Good man, Lusby," a voice said behind him.
Duncan recognised the voice and so turned his head calmly, to
see a rotund man of about his own age with the three rings of a
commander on his sleeves. This face, too, held the marks of wind
and sun and worry, and a crinkle-eyed geniality, for Commander
Blake was an equable man. Mostly.
"Yes," Duncan nodded, realising that Lusby had had a closer
watcher. "I didn't hear you come up, Slippy."
The nickname referred not to Blake's stealth of progress round
the ship but to a certain facility he was blessed with which in his
earlier days had allowed him to avoid the consequences of unseemly
escapades he'd had a regular habit of getting into. Now, of course,
he was more soberly inclined, helped to this frame of mind by the
addition of a wife and seven children. He and Duncan had been
shipmates a long time, from destroyers up through light cruisers and
battleships, and when Duncan had been given Warwick a year ago
- J.E. Macdonnell: Blind Into Doom Page 9 -



he had specifically asked for Blake as his deputy. Neither man had
found cause to regret it.
"What's the strife?" asked Duncan.
"On a morning like this?" Blake smiled. He looked across at the
convoy, and just the smallest amount his eyebrows drew together.
"Things have been too damned good."
"Rubbish. Convoys have come through before without being
attacked."
"Of course. But without even the sniff of a U-boat contact? Or a
plane?"
"Blast you," Duncan said mildly. "This was such a pleasant
morning."
"Always pays to look on the gloomy side."
"Not on the bridge, if you don't mind." Duncan gestured ahead.