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Atlantic Express Chapter 29 by justjames17.
Foxhound went through her shake down and Charles was well pleased with the performance of his new crew, the officers and men seemed keen and efficient and he told Alan, the first lieutenant, he was satisfied with how the crew worked. The young American grinned disarmingly at his new captain's words and seemed to swell in size with pride. Charles saw the reaction and smiled inwardly seeing how he'd made the volunteer officer happy, after all there were few Americans attached to the Royal Navy although quite a few pilots had come across flying with the RAF and gaining experience in combat conditions.
The ship steamed back to Scarpa and moored once again waiting to refuel and top up the ammunition expended in their short excursion to sea. A boat approached the ship and stopped alongside bearing an officer who climbed aboard bearing a large manila envelope and after saluting the ship he brought the papers to Charles who was seated on the bridge. Charles thanked the lieutenant who saluted and hurried away as he opened the sealed envelope, inside were their sailing orders requiring that Foxhound sailed as soon as possible for Gibraltar, the orders informed Charles that the oiler, stores and munitioning barges would be alongside forthwith.
Charles looked out over the anchorage and saw these vessels approaching from the shore base, he called Alan to his side and informed him that the ship needed to be loaded and ready for sea as soon as possible and set him the task of getting the operation done with all speed. Alan saluted and bounded away grasping the handset and barking orders over the intercom, the sound of running boots gave proof of the crew leaping into action. Charles sat back nodding at the alacrity shown as the crew threw themselves into the onerous task of reprovisioning their ship.
Some three hours later the barges cast off their lines and hoses and set off shorewards once again as the destroyer's twin funnels vented shimmering fumes showing her boilers were standing by ready to sail. Charles ordered the boatswain to pipe "stations for leaving harbour" and the crew dressed the deck as she cast off her moorings and slowly made her way towards the antisubmarine net guarded entrance. The boom guard boat fussed about as she opened a path through the boom for the destroyer, Foxhound slipped smoothly through the gap and set course South as the nets were closed behind her.
The trip down to Gibraltar was uneventful and apart from some dirty weather in the notorious Bay of Biscay, the voyage helped settle the crew and Charles got used to handling the smaller boat. The Rock hove above the horizon guarding the entrance to the Med like a crouching lion. The massive monolith dominated the narrow entrance between Spain and Morocco and was a massive base for the Royal Navy. Foxhound made her number to the shore station as soon as she was close enough and the boom was opened to greet the latest arrival to bolster the Mediterranean fleet. A launch met her and guided her to a mooring amidst a trot of he sister destroyers all nuzzling their buoys amicably, Foxhound picked up her mooring and soon was wind rode as she swung bow on to the breeze.
Charles rang down finished with engines and the boat stilled as she came to rest bows facing the impressive rock, where the Barbary apes watched the new arrival nonchalantly as they groomed each other. The boat had hardly come to rest when the signal lamp ashore began blinking her a message informing them to prepare for refuelling and for Charles to report aboard the Fortitude, the senior officer of the squadron's boat. Charles called away the whaler and the crew set to with a will pulling on the oars in unison speeding the heavy boat across to the Fortitude. Charles hurried aboard saluted the ship and acknowledged the officer of the deck's salute then followed him to the captain's cabin. Captain Richards a tall thin man in his 40's awaited Charles seated at his table in the cabin, Charles saluted him and took a seat as they shook hands.
Charles studied the hawk features of the man seeing the dark circles about his eyes and the lined face showing the strain of combat, the senior officer smiled at Charles and began to speak, "Welcome to the Mediterranean Charles, you will find the weather here kinder than where you have operated before but the action here is hectic and non stop similar to the Atlantic convoys even much worse as we are under air attack nearly the whole time, not to mention the threat of the Italian Navy and German U-boats prowling the waters."
Charles began inquiring about the action and tactics being used and the captain filled him in on the tactics and the aggression of the enemy. He warned Charles of the Italian frogmen who rode torpedos steering them towards the ships and the small fast motorboats they used packed with explosives, which they navigated towards their targets before leaping overboard and escaping in the darkness. Charles was amazed at these tactics as the captain described the gear used by these daring brave enemy, they wore air tanks on their backs from which they breathed as they swam away under water wearing goggles and black rubberised suits to protect them from hypothermia in the water. This was an amazing revelation to Charles who had never heard of frogmen before; he was dumbfounded by the ingenuity of the Italians.
The captain told Charles that he had arrived just in time to take place in a sortie to convince the French Naval ships anchored in Mers-el-Kebir to either join with the British or scuttle their ships. Admiral Somerville aboard the battle cruiser HMS Hood along with the aircraft carrier Ark Royal and the battleships Valiant and Resolution, both veterans of World War 1 plus a couple of light cruisers and the flotilla of destroyers were to set sail during the night to arrive off the port at dawn. The operation was named Catapult and Charles was to sail with the flotilla as his baptism to the Mediterranean.
The fleet steamed quietly from harbour in the wee small hours, the night was black as pitch with a heavy overcast masking the stars, they South from the Rock forming up heavy units in the centre with the cruisers and destroyers operating as a screen against enemy attack. The dawn found them off the harbour of Mers-el-Kebir where part of the French fleet was anchored. The French had signed an armistice with the Germans on their defeat and the British had demanded they either join with them or face the consequences, as they couldn't have the Germans taking over the ships.
Admiral Cunningham signalled the French to surrender their ships or he would open fire, the British could see the four Battleships in the harbour, The Provenance, Dunkerque, Strasbourg and the Bretagne along with half a dozen destroyers and a seaplane tender. The French ignored the demand and the Hood opened fire wreathing herself in cordite smoke as her massive shells screamed through the air to plummet down in the crowded port. Huge water spouts heaved into the air awakening the French sailors to their fate, the crews rushed to get up steam as their gunners raced to man the turrets but the British fleet all opened fire as one. Shells hit creating havoc and death the third salvo hit the Bretagne rupturing her hull and she capsized and sank within 10 minutes. The other French capital ships succeeded in raising steam and began to move but in the chaos and panic the battleships Provenance and Dunkerque ran aground. The harbour covered in smoke from gunfire and burning installations hid the fleet as the British sailed off shore, unseen the Strasbourg and four destroyers slipped out and steamed at full speed towards France.
The Foxhound raced after the escaping French but was driven back by their combined fire as she signalled to the Hood of the escape, Cunningham knew he would risk his fleet pursuing the fleeing ships as the German air force would be alerted to give them air cover. The shelling finished and the British turned back towards Gibraltar leaving a demoralised and shattered French fleet nursing its wounds their battle ships heavily aground and damaged. The return journey was suddenly disrupted by the sight of four torpedo tracks racing through the calm blue waters towards the HMS Hood; a submarine had opened fire at the pride of the British navy.
Foxhound and Firedrake were despatched to track down the hidden foe and the two sister ships raced at full speed towards the estimated firing position, as they neared the area they slowed and lowered their asdic domes and began searching the depths. Back and forth the two small ships prowled searching the empty pings coursing through the sea not finding and bouncing back from the unseen enemy. Firedrake got an echo and signalled Foxhound the position and bearing and Charles called for full speed ahead as their asdic was retracted and the propellers thrashed the water driving her forward.
Again and again she dropped her depth charges, the sea tortured and torn by the explosions yielded nothing but spray and dead fish but as her charges were nearly used there was a shimmering translucence on the disturbed frothy sea. The shallowness of the Med worked against the submarine as they were unable to dive deep, oil seeped to the surface in a huge spreading pool, huge bubbles of air humped and burst then articles of clothing and other unidentifiable objects dotted the sea as gulls squabbled and fluttered about the area picking up dead or dying fish and other edible objects. Charles steamed slowly through the disturbed water fished out some clothing and saw it was German naval clothing, eventually two bodies broke surface floating limp and motionless as they sailed past. The crew cheered and showed their excitement at the victory as the two destroyers turned for base, their spirits high after the two successful actions. They reached Gibraltar and entered harbour as they signalled the result to the base and the admiral's ship; they moored at their buoys and Charles wrote in the log then made out a report for his squadron commander. Charles was impressed with both the gunners and the depth charge crews they had all carried out their duties brilliantly, he sent for the Gunner and when he arrived and knocked at the door Charles told him to enter. The young officer stood to attention inside his captain's cabin until Charles asked him to sit and the handsome young man sat primly on the wooden chair facing Charles but looking decidedly nervous.
Charles looked up from his writing and put aside his fountain pen after screwing on the cap then sat back and studied young Douglas smiling at him genially. The young man squirmed in the chair at Charles attention looking uncomfortable his shyness evident, Charles spoke, "I called you here to tell you I was agreeably impressed with both the gun crews and the depth charge crews under fire. The men were a credit to your training lad you should be very proud of them."
The lieutenant blushed heavily as he sat mute before his commanding officer; Charles called for Bradley to bring some scotch and water to celebrate. Bradley appeared bearing a tray with a bottle of Dewares Scotch and a jug of water with two glasses and set it on the table then withdrew quietly. Charles poured two drinks and picked up the water jug looking at the young officer inquiringly, the gunner nodded and said, "Thank you sir, plenty of water thanks I'm not a big drinker."
Charles smiled at the handsome young officer as he poured the liquor; he was admiring the fresh clean-cut visage, the truly English peaches and cream complexion set off a pair of wide spaced soft grey eyes framed by long fair lashes a straight fine nose and very luscious pink lips. The gunner looked up and saw the intensity of Charles stare and blushed bright pink as he looked down once again staring uncomfortably at the tabletop. Charles chuckled quietly and handed the lad his glass, Douglas took it and their fingers touched sending excited tingling through both men.
Charles felt the excitement and Douglas raised his eyes once again showing his realisation of a magical moment as his eyes widened in surprise. Charles maintained the moment by holding onto the glass a fraction longer as the young officer sat motionless as if hypnoti9sed by the contact. Charles felt his penis growing in his pants as the electricity surged between them, the lad seemed to squirm slightly on the hard wooden chair seat as if he suddenly was uncomfortable as Charles smiled disarmingly and relinquished the glass to the young officer. He now was certain that Malcolm was if not homosexual then definitely had tendencies that way, the two men sat opposite each other studying one another, Charles blatantly while the gunner did so furtively with quick shy little glances.
Charles stood up ostentatiously adjusting his hard tool in his trousers as the lad watched his face flushed and wide eyes staring openly, Charles moved to the side and looked down at Malcolm's crotch partly hidden by the uniform jacket but still showing a firm bulge. Charles placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and felt him shiver and jerk slightly at his touch, he massaged the firm flesh under the serge material then returned to his seat and took a sip of his whisky leaving Malcolm confused and unsettled. Charles smiled to himself, as he knew he had commenced the action to seduce the naive lad and hoped that Bryce would complete the task soon. They chatted on about the gunnery and the success of the recent operation before Charles dismissed the gunner who left the cabin in a confused state of mind with a rock hard rod in his trousers as he relived seeing the captain's erection.
In the passageway he ran into Bryce on his way to the captain bearing a message from the radio officer, Bryce noticed the young lieutenants throbbing cock and he ensured the officer saw him staring as he licked his lips erotically. He slowly raised his eyes till he stared into the gunners and he smiled as he rubbed his own crotch suggestively. Malcolm couldn't help noticing the good-looking youth's actions and his eyes locked on to his crotch as Bryce clutched and hefted his meat in his pants. The young lieutenant was again feeling incredibly hot as his face flushed and perspiration broke out on his forehead. His brain awhirl with confusing erotic thoughts as he walked semi dazed to his small cabin, he opened the door and entered closing it behind him then he removed his jacket and threw himself onto his bunk and tore open his trousers pulling out his hard hot horn and started stroking it frantically.
In two minutes he arched his hips up legs wide apart throbbing tool glistening as if about to burst as he climaxed a torrent of tool juice up into the air then it fell spattering all over his uniform shirt, lower abdomen and his pubes. He gasped and shook as he collapsed spent on his bed, hand still stroking the dregs from his balls.
He slowly calmed and lay there dazed by his feverish desire to wank off, he pictured both Bryce and his commanding officer's boners in their uniforms and had the terrible urge to fondle and investigate both men's genitals. He sat up shaking his head as he cleaned himself up and removed his sperm stained shirt tossing it on the chair, his right hand still toyed with his limp sticky tossle then dreamily he raised his hand to his mouth as he licked the thick creamy goo from his fingers and palm. Smiling he rolled the tangy cum in his mouth relishing the tart bitter sweetness then he swallowed and stood up to get a clean shirt from his drawers.
Bryce meanwhile was with Charles in the cabin, both men lay 69ing on the bunk as they sucked each other off while caressing each other and fingering their hot holes. They brought one another off drinking the sweet product of their throbbing nuts then lay back recovering, Charles after regaining his composure began relating the short episode with the young gunnery officer. Bryce listened avidly as he fiddled with both their soft tools, he now knew he could seduce the sexy young officer without too much hastle.
To be continued.
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