Sixty Minutes For St George

In the prescribed Hornblower tradition, the British Navy again performs heroically, this time during The Great War.
"Marvelous chaps," says a battle-weary warrior glancing about himself appreciatively. "Thank God, I'm an Englishman!" It's mid-April 1918, St. George's Day, to be precise, and the sea-land assault on Zeebrugge, Belgium—so appropriately prominent in British naval annals—has just been successfully concluded. In the thick of it all was Lieutenant Nick Everard, who, though severely wounded, behaved valorously, it need hardly be said, since Nick, the author informs us at every juncture, is demonstrably the Right Stuff, the stuff of which the real British navy is made. Only 22, this series hero (The Blooding of the Guns, 2000, etc.) has risen spectacularly to the command of a destroyer, though he's not always been an Admiralty favorite. While obviously a brilliant sailor, he's had an unfortunate way of "blotting his copybook" between engagements. Nothing really serious, yet the demerits are there, enough to cause occasional official irritation. In fact, at the outset of his current adventure, Nick's on a short leash and has been told as much by the man who at that moment is his immediate superior and in absolute control of his naval destiny. Lieutenant-Commander Edward Wyatt, a cross between Captains Bly and Queeg, has taken an instinctive dislike to Nick, the feeling enthusiastically mutual. Through some luck and dollops of pluck, however, Nick's sterling qualities shine through, and, as things turn out, Wyatt finds it in his own best interest to give them their due—at least partially. But these are piddling matters compared to the sea battles, the descriptions of which are as vivid as they are relentless.
First published in England in 1977, this is the second in a series now nine novels long, featuring a thoroughly likable hero submerged under a torrent of nautical detail.