“You there, Yank! Are you our Joey?” “My name’s Billy,” I said. Laughter rolled through the crew until an officer showed up at the gangplank. “Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Boyle. I’m Lieutenant Harold Dickinson, Royal Navy Reserve.” He was tall, thin, graceful, and hatless. His head of thick blond hair blew in every direction in the freshening wind. He wore a soiled fisherman’s thick white turtleneck sweater, and could’ve been a Harvard kid getting ready for a sail, except for the twin-mounted .50 caliber machine guns he was leaning against. “Don’t mind the lads. We call all our passengers
...more
