Between The Hunters And The Hunted by Steven Wilson Read Free Book Online

night. He noticed Hardy watching as well and wondered what the man must be thinking.
    â€œSt. Luke, Number One, chapter fifteen, verse four,” Hardy said into the darkness, but it was obviously meant for Number One. “‘What man of you having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the other ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost until he find it?’” Hardy adjusted his duffel and pulled his scarf tight around his neck. “Well? Are you that type of officer?”
    â€œBridge, W.T. St. John struck by a torpedo. Captain D advises he expects an attack in Firedancer ’s quadrant.”
    Hardy leaned over the voice tube, his eyes still on Land. “Reply, ‘Signal acknowledged. Standing by.’ Well, Number One. I see by your silence that you have not made a decision. ‘Indecision’ is not good enough out here. ‘Indecision,’” Hardy added, “kills sailors and sinks ships.”
    Land felt warmth spread over him despite the cold as he fought back his anger. There were times when he found Hardy tolerable and once or twice he actually enjoyed the man’s company. There were other times, most of the time in fact, when he couldn’t stand to be around the sharp-tongued, ill-mannered officer.
    Hardy slid the binoculars to his eyes again and said, “We’ll speak about it again when you do know how to make decisions.”
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    Chief Torpedo Gunner’s Mate Sandy Baird, standing next to the MK 1 Depth Charge Rail sandwiched between the two TSDS Davits at Firedancer ’s stern, removed his gloves, blew on his fingertips, and examined the fuses in the six depth charges. His shivering crew, bundled in every bit of clothing that they owned so that they looked more like a band of unemployed dock workers than sailors of the Royal Navy, stood near him, awaiting orders. “‘The Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty hereby appoint you captain of His Majesty’s Ship Firedancer and direct you to repair on board that ship.’” He slipped on his gloves. “Now of course,” he continued, as the men around him tried to rub some warmth into their torsos, “everyone bloody well knows that you’ve got a case of the shakes. And everyone bloody well knows that your Jimmy the One—”
    Another explosion racked the St. John , and Baird’s eyes narrowed in hatred as he watched the flames roll into the darkness. “That your Jimmy the One,” he continued, using lower-deck slang for Number One, “is sailing ‘two balls at the yardarm.’”
    â€œWhat’s—” Seaman Tommy Blessing began.
    â€œâ€˜Not under control,’” Torpedo Gunner’s Mate Engleman said. “Sandy there knows all there is to know about our officers, Sandy does. Ain’t that right, Sandy?”
    â€œYoung Seaman Tommy has a right to know,” Baird said. “It wasn’t long ago that the lad was just a boy seaman straight off of H.M.S. Ganges, and God bless all that sailed on her.”
    â€œYou men,” Sublieutenant Morrison said, “quit your loafing and make ready in case we’re called in.”
    â€œRight you are, sir,” Baird said sharply, and then watched as Morrison made his way along the starboard gangway to the Y-throwers. “Lord Nelson himself come back to life.”
    â€œSandy’s never had a kind word for anyone,” Engleman said to Blessing. “How he’s managed to stay chief torps this long is a mystery. Every P. R. O. in Andrews wants a short talk in a dark room with Torps Baird. Enemies he’s got all right. Thirty years of them.”
    The deck telephone rang three times in quick succession. Sublieutenant Morrison slid back along the icy deck and barely stopped himself long enough to pick up the receiver.
    â€œDepth Charge, Morrison.”
    Baird felt a change in the timbre of the ship’s