Read Online A Prayer for the Ship by Douglas Reeman - Free Book Online Page A

dead again, but I expect it’s some message from the Signal Tower.”
    Royce paused, one eye on the clock. “Hm, I guess it’ll wait till I get back. I don’t want to wait an hour for another train.”
    â€œAye, aye, sir. I’ll tell them you’ve gone if they get through again.”
    Royce settled himself in an empty compartment, and proceeded to fill his pipe with duty-free tobacco. Ten minutes to wait, and then the war and the Navy would be left behind.
    His line of thought was interrupted by a screech of brakes in the station forecourt, where he saw a grey dockyard van jerk to a halt, and immediately a small figure in blue jumped out, and hurried up the platform, apparently peering in each window, to the obvious delight of the sailors in some of the compartments.
    â€œGood God,” he thought. “It must be an urgent message after all.”
    He went cold at the thought of a possible recall to duty, but in order not to prolong the agony, he thrust his head out of the window.
    â€œAre you looking for me?” he called.
    She reached him, and stood looking up, breathing fast. He saw by her badges that she was in the signals branch, but at once his attention was taken by the girl herself. She had quite the most attractive face possible, he thought. The eyes, which were now looking anxiously into his, were of the darkest brown, which contrasted with the smoothest skin Royce had ever seen. From beneath her jaunty cap, dark curls were rebelling against naval uniform, and completed this enchanting picture.
    He realized he was staring, and coloured slightly. “I’m Royce,” he explained. “Are you looking for me?”
    â€œYes, I wanted to ask you about Lieutenant Harston,” she said quickly, her voice soft and warm. “I was hoping you could wait for me.”
    Royce tensed, taken aback. “I didn’t know he had any friends outside the flotilla here.” He felt vaguely angry. “I expect the Royston can tell you the full details.”
    The rather sad little face tightened. “I’m Julia Harston, his sister,” she said quietly.
    Royce was completely shattered. This unexpected turn of events made his mind whirl, and he struggled to put right the damage his hasty words had done.
    â€œI-I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t understand,” he stammered. “You see I thought . . . I thought Harston had no relatives . . .” He coloured when he realized he had referred to her brother by his surname. “I thought a great deal of him, he taught me everything about this job, and when you came up to ask about him, well, I just felt I didn’t want to share . . .” He broke off helplessly.
    She studied his face for a few seconds, and when she spoke it was with slow deliberation, as if she wanted him to feel the impact of every word.
    â€œWe have no parents. They were killed in an air-raid on London last year.” She paused, and for a split second her lower lip trembled. “Now I’m the only one left.”
    Somewhere down the platform, a hundred miles away, a voice shouted: “Hurry along there! Close all doors!” And a warning whistle sounded.
    Royce was torn by violent and previously unknown emotions. She stood there alone and small on the now empty platform, and he felt he wanted to jump down and hold her close to him, to comfort her, and to protect her.
    The words came tumbling out of him. “Look, can I see you again? I’ll be back soon; I can come back earlier.”
    â€œI shouldn’t think so. I’m going on draft tomorrow,” she answered simply.
    A shrill whistle called urgently, and the engine gave a violent hiss of steam, and the train shuddered.
    â€œPlease, I must see you,” implored Royce, leaning right out of the window, until her face was but a foot away. “Where will you be going?”
    The train jolted, and began to trundle out of the station.
    Her small chin