11 MAY 1991, Page 38

Destroyers off Oman

More mongrel than whippet, their raked line Top-heavied by equipment, they slide off Our TV screens into silver horizons we have To imagine. Though siblings, they confine Parental resemblance to displacement, not outline. Like racehorses, they carry in their frames Ancestral images, bear the same names Cities, counties, hunts — reinstated Generation after generation, liquid green Memories drawn like a wake, undated.

It is impossible not to fear for them, Names we once shared, similarly slicing An ocean, heat not of our essence, But cold, and the sea-floor's icing.

Alan Ross