The Major was talking of strategy when he left.
“Wellington, of course, was the perfect general. Wellington understood attrition. Attrition....” The Major talked on.
Outside Martin breathed the deep night air gratefully. It was good after the heat and smoke. There were no stars out yet and that was not good. With a shiver he turned and walked quickly toward the docks.
Chapter Two
i
“It’s seven o’clock, Mr Evans.” The man on watch looked into his room.
“O.K., be right down,” Evans mumbled. The door was slammed shut and he opened his eyes. It was another morning. His bed was warm and the room, lit grayly by the morning sun, was cold. He closed his eyes and imagined that he was out of bed and already dressed. He imagined this clearly; so clearly that he began to fall asleep again. The sound of dishes being dropped startled him awake. He sat up in bed and put on his shirt. Then, quickly, so as not to feel the cold, he sprang out of bed and finished dressing. He was brushing his teeth when Bervick came in the room.
“Morning, Skipper, nice party? I heard you come in this morning.” Evans wondered why his second mate always seemed pleased when he had a hangover.
“It was pretty good. Is the Mate up yet?”
“He’s getting up. What time we sailing?”