Brian Callison > Quotes

“CAN OFFER YOU A TOW OR WOULD YOU PREFER US TO HEAVE TO AND WIND UP YOUR ELASTIC BANDS AGAIN SIGNED CLINT CHIEF OFFICER END.”
― Brian Callison, A Flock of Ships

“You also killed Despatov," he countered. "You and your damned seamen."
It was the crocodile killed Despatov," I pointed out as reasonably as I could, still hoping to find a compromise. "We can hardly be held responsible for the actions of every crocodile on the River Beet-"
SILENCE!" Bormann screamed.”
― Brian Callison

“His sextant is a natural extension of any seaman navigator; virtually a part of him. Even today, in a maritime world of satellite precision fixing, the sextants are as much a necessity as they were aboard the Indiamen of old. No well-run merchantman will make an ocean passage without each and every one of her deck officers reporting to the bridge before midday, sextant in hand in preparation for ‘sights’.”
― Brian Callison, THE SEXTANT

“They even had the firecracker: conveniently buried at the core of their experimental oven. It was a very large firecracker, and would leave no doubt at all when the moment of revelation came. It had been placed precisely, almost as if in anticipation of the great pyrotechnic gamble; distributed evenly throughout the lower holds of numbers five and six before they sailed from Gourock. Six hundred and fifty tons of ammunition. Calibres assorted.
CHAPTER FIVE ‘Shugie McGlashan committed six thefts to subsidise his June tour of the west coast resorts,’ Charlie said musingly.”
― Brian Callison, THE SEXTANT

“... only it was too late by then. Far, far too late. To preserve the life of Captain Jonathan Herschell: the last of those wartime merchant sailors who had struggled to bring Highlander into the haven of Loch Fhadaig. And some of whom had survived every hazard the Devil had cast before them. Except for the Good People themselves. Of a quiet wee village called Laichy.”
― Brian Callison, THE SEXTANT

“It was a state called fear which afflicted Second Officer James Devlin, or perhaps - considering he was still aboard Highlander on that wild evening - a state called, simply, courage. Because you can’t produce the second without experiencing the first. There are no brave men who haven’t first tasted the sourness of their own inward terror, yet continued despite it.”
― Brian Callison, THE SEXTANT

“I saw the old petty officer on Mallard’s after end look up momentarily from his crouch over the depth-charge primers as his half ship fell away astern. His arm went up briefly to the lowering sky, then he bent back down again to his self-imposed task. Was it a gesture of supplication ...? No. I closed my eyes in silent prayer as I realised he had been saluting us—a final absolution from a man who knew what war was all about ... A Royal Navyman! And I knew, too late, there was no room for the contempt of differences between Us and Them.”
― Brian Callison, A FLOCK OF SHIPS

“But it would still be his own personal fear which would force him to stay aboard with the trapped Operator Stronach, not his bravery. Because Captain John Herschell’s private nightmare was that of being seen to fail in his responsibility to those under his command. The prospect of being drowned or blown to bloodied lumps was secondary to a terrible wound like that.”
― Brian Callison, THE SEXTANT

“For anyone who doesn’t know the sea I suppose it’s easy to frown and wonder what all the fuss and nerves are about: to ask how two modern ships with highly competent officers and in full sight of each other, both steaming on the same mean course, could possibly run the risk of collision. But it’s happened before, too often, even without the added stresses and strains of a critical zig-zag plan such as we were involved with. It’ll happen again when this war’s finished—maybe even more often as, presumably, merchant shipping increases in numbers and density. If there are any of us left to increase upon.”
― Brian Callison, A FLOCK OF SHIPS

“It shouldn’t have happened. But then, theoretically, no collision at sea should. Collisions are invariably an accumulation of small, individually insignificant events which, if unnoticed, make up the formula for disaster. Like this one, where the corvette watchkeeper’s irritating elan had needled Evans into a disgruntled attitude”
― Brian Callison, A FLOCK OF SHIPS

“I’d hesitated as I followed him down through the high-vaulted entrance hall with its mahogany panelling and terrazzo floor, and the glass cases covering beautifully detailed models of straight-funnelled merchantmen long dissected by the breakers’ torch. The splendour of a bygone age in miniature, where even the scaled likenesses gleamed with the proud craftsmanship of the men who had built them. They didn’t make models in the yards today. Not of ordinary, slab-sided bonus-constructed containerships. Models didn’t show a profit; they weren’t economically viable; the real ships themselves were barely viable now, despite our brave new computerised, electronic maritime world.”
― Brian Callison, THE SEXTANT

“And Chief Engineer Graham? He never even tried to leave his post at the controls. He simply stood there and watched as the water rose to engulf him: and reflected on how much better it was to enjoy ten seconds longer as a ship’s engineer than live ten more years as a friendless, shore-bound relic. And then he died too, in the most contented moment of his life.”
― Brian Callison, THE SEXTANT