Kemp nodded. He was a slightly built youth, even slender, and his even features were extremely pale. But unknown to the young -midshipman he possessed one tremendous gift, one glittering asset which Dancy could never hold or share. He was a regular and had been to Dartmouth. Dancy had already discovered that he was the son of a senior officer, one of a family of naval men. He seemed to epitomise all Dancy's peacetime dreams, but at the same time did not really fit the role.

He asked casually, `Your old man, pretty senior, I believe?' Old man sounded just right, he thought. Assured. A man of the world.

Dancy had learned his etiquette the hard way. Once in the armed yacht there had been a party and several women had been invited as guests. He had asked one very poised young lady about her father and she had replied, 'Oh, Daddy's a sailor.'

He had been horrified. `Not an officer?'

She had stared at him as if he had spoken some terrible

obscenity. `But of course, silly! What else?' Yes, Dancy was learning.

Kemp replied, He's a captain. Shore job at Rosyth.' He sighed.He was beached between the wars for several years.'

Dancy nodded gravely. I'll bet he's glad to be back.' Kemp looked at him, his eyes strangely sad.Glad? That's an understatement.'

Yes.' Dancy was getting irritated without knowing why. It was like talking to a stone wall.You sound as if you're unhappy about the ship or something.'

I am.' He shrugged.Not the ship exactly. It's the Service. I hate it.' Now that he had, begun he seemed unable to stop himself. `I never wanted to enter the Navy. Never. But he kept on at me. Kept on reminding me of my obligations, my duty.'

Dancy, said, I expect it was all for the best.' God, he sounded like his own father. He tried again.But surely he knew the Navy well enough to understand, eh?'

Kemp stood up violently, a lock of hair falling across his eyes. `My father understands nothing about me, and cares less! He's a stupid, pompous bigot, so stop asking about him will you, please?'

Dancy was aghast. There's no call to speak like that! By God, if I'd had half your chances in life-' He checked himself hastily.What I mean is, if I'd not taken another profession I'd have wanted to enter the Service.'

Kemp's hands were shaking at his sides. `Well, you got there in the end, didn't you, sir!'

As he ran for the door he almost collided with Stannard who was carrying his cap and duffel coat and wearing his scarred sea boots. He watched the midshipman run past and said dryly, `Hell, that young fella's keen= to go somewhere.'

Dancy said angrily, Doesn't know when he's well off.' It , was like a betrayal, a broken image.I'll be watching him in future.'

The Australian grinned lazily. You do that, Admiral, but in the meantime shift yourself to the bridge, chop, chop!' He gestured to the clock.Our watch, I believe?'

Dancy's frown faded. Stannard was a bit coarse at times, but he was all right. He had been on the bridge with him. Never got in a flap.

Stannard paused by a screen door and looked at him searchingly. `Ever had a woman, Sub?'

Dancy stared at him. `Well, I -that is...'

Stannard pursed his lips. `Have to do something about that then!'

Outside the night was black. No stars or snow. Just the wind and the drifting feathers of spray above the guardrail.

Dancy buttoned his bridge coat and followed the lieutenant to the ladder. That was more like it. He was accepted.

Jupp stopped beside Lindsay's littered desk and placed a large china mug carefully on a mat before removing its lid.

He watched Lindsay and said, "Ot soup, sir. Just th' job before you turn in.

Lindsay leaned back in his chair and smiled wearily. `Smells fine.'

Feet scraped on the ladder overhead and he heard muffled voices and more footsteps clattering hurriedly from the bridge. The watch was changing. Midnight.

The soup was very hot, and Lindsay realised he was ravenous, that he had hardly eaten since the brief action with. the enemy. It had been a long day. Inspecting damage between decks, checking the progress of repairs, burying Cummings in another quick service at the rail. Poor Cummings, he had not even got used to living.

It was quite impossible to learn anything about the damaged raider. The Admiralty had merely acknowledged his signal. He felt vaguely bitter about it, yet knew it was because he was tired. Worn out. It was unlikely anything could be done about the other ship. It had been too stormy for flying off aircraft, and the sea was a big place. The German was probably steaming like hell for base, to some secluded Norwegian fjord where she could lie up and lick her scars.

He gripped the mug more tightly. At least she had not got completely away with it. Her captain might remember this day as he dropped his own men over the side with a prayer or some jolly Nazi song. He realised Jupp was still watching him, his hooded eyes worried.

The chief steward said, `The lads took it right well, I thought, sir.'

Lindsay nodded. `Yes.'

He recalled the great blackened areas on A deck where the shells had exploded. Buckled frames, and plates like wet cardboard. A ventilator, so riddled with splinters it had looked like one huge pepper pot. The damage was bad, but had Benbecula been a destroyer those two big five-point-nine shells would have broken her back like a carrot. He had visited the sickbay, giving the usual words, seeing the grateful smiles from the wounded men who were not too drugged to understand him. Their immediate shock had given way to a kind of pride. They were probably dreaming of that first leave, the glances of admiration and pity for their wounds. Except the one without a foot. He had been a promising tennis player before the war.

The telephone buzzed. It was Stannard.

`Middle watch at defence stations, sir. Time to alter course in seven minutes.'

The next leg of the patrol. It would be a beam sea, uncomfortable, as they were cruising at a mere seven knots.

I'll come up, Pilot.' He hesitated.No, you take her. Call me if you want anything:' He dropped the handset. Stannard was competent, and it did no good to have a captain breathing down their necks all the e time. Let them learn while there was still time.

There was a tap at the door and Maxwell peered in at him. `You wanted me, sir?'

The gunnery officer's face was red from the wind, but his uniform was impeccable. As usual he wore a bright whistle chain around his neck, the end of which vanished into the breast pocket of his reefer, and Lindsay was reminded of the leather-lunged instructors at the gunnery school.

`Yes, Guns. Sorry to keep you from your bunk after you've been on watch. Just a couple of points.'

Maxwell removed his cap. He had a very sharp, sleek head. Like a polished bullet.

He said, `Would have been earlier, sir. Hate unpunctuality. But my relief was late.'

`Late?' That was not like Stannard.

Maxwell did not blink. `One and a half minutes, sir.'

Jupp hid a grin and slid from the cabin.

Lindsay lookedat the lieutenant thoughtfully. An odd bird even for his particular trade. Maxwell had made some error or other before the war and been allowed to leave the Navy without fuss. It would not have been difficult when the country was more concerned with cutting down the services than facing the reality of a new Germany.

He said, `Whenever we return to base I want you to do something about the armour plate on the bridge. Lowering the windows in action prevents injuries from glass splinters, but it's not enough. The watchkeepers and gunnery team must have proper protection.'

A small notebook had appeared in Maxwell's hand as if by magic. He snapped, `Right, sir.'

The W/T office needs it also, but I'll get on to Number One about that.' It was amazing how little attention had been given to such matters, he thought.Then there are the bridge machine guns. Old Lewis guns from World War One by the look of them." He watched the pencil scribbling briskly. `See if you can wangle some Brownings from the B.G.O.'

Maxwell eyed him wearily. `Wangle, sir?'

Then I'll give you a chit, Guns, if it makes you happier.' Maxwell showed his teeth.Go by the book, that's me,

sir. Follow the book and they can't-trample you down.' `It's happened before then?'

Maxwell swallowed hard. `It was nothing, sir. Bit of a mix-up back in thirty-seven. But it taught me a lesson.. Get it on paper. Go-by the book'

Lindsay smiled. And they can't trample you down, eh?'Sir.' Maxwell did not smile.

A man entirely devoid of humour, Lindsay decided. . He said,. `The gunnery this morning was erratic. The marines got off two shots to every one from forrard. Not good enough.'

.Maxwell said swiftly, My assistant, Lieutenant Hunter, is R.N.R.,'sir. Keen but without proper experience.' He let the words sink in.But I'll get on to him first thing tomorrow.'

The deck quivered, and Lindsay saw the curtains begin to sway inwards from the sealed scuttles. She was turning.

He said, `You deal -with it, Guns. It's your job.'

Maxwell's mouth tightened into a thin line. 'I did not mean to imply-' he stopped.

`Carry on then.'

As. the door closed Lindsay stood up and walked slowly into the other cabin. The small reading' light gleamed temptingly above his bunk, and Jupp had put a Thermos beside it, wedged carefully between two shoes, in case the motion got too bad. In spite of his dragging weariness Lindsay smiled at the little gesture. Jupp would make a damn good valet, he thought.

He lay down on the bunk fully clothed, and after a few seconds hesitation kicked off his sea boots.

It never stopped. Demands and questions, jobs needing attention, reports to be checked and signed. His eyelids drooped as he thought back over the day, the enemy ship's outline looming through the snow. The anguish of sudden fear, the cruel ecstasy at seeing the shell burst on her upperworks.

He listened to the seal booming against the side, the darting spray across the scuttles, and then fell into a deep sleep.

How long he slept he did not know. All he understood was that he was fighting with the blanket, kicking and gasping as the nightmare flooded around him more vividly than ever. .

He rolled on to his side, half blinded by the reading light which was shining directly into his eyes, and as the madness retreated he heard a voice, remote but insistent, which seemed to be rising from the bunk itself. -

Officer of the watch.' It was Stannard, and Lindsay stared at the telephone as it swung back' and forth on its flex, the voice repeatingOfficer of the watch' like some cracked record.

He must have knocked it off in his nightmare, in his terror to escape from the torture.

He seized it and said, `Captain.'

Stannard said, `I'm. sorry, sir. I thought you were calling me.'

Lindsay fought to keep his tone even. `It's all right, Pilot. What time is it?'

0350, sir. I'm just calling the-morning watch.' A pause.Visibility as before. Wind's still north by east.' `Thank you.'

He lowered the phone and lay back again. God, how long had the line been open? What had he been saying? He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his mind, remember.

Then he swung his legs from the bunk and groped for Jupp's Thermos. What would he do? Bomb-happy, some people called it. He might even have said- it once about others. He shuddered violently, pulling at the Thermos cap. Not any more.

Up on the bridge Dancy was standing beside the voice pipes and turned as Stannard replaced the telephone.

Stannard did not look at him. `Sure. Just the skipper asking about the time.'

When Dancy had turned away he bit his lip with sudden anxiety. He should not have listened. Should not have heard. It was like falling on a secret, laying bare something private or shameful.

Heavy boots thumped on the ladder as Goss mounted to take his watch. Stannard thought of that desperate, pleading voice on the telephone and thanked God he. and not Goss had heard it. Things were bad enough without. that. They needed Lindsay, whatever he was suffering. He was all they had.

He faced Goss's heavy outline and said, `Morning, Number One.'

Goss grunted and waited until Stannard had made his formal report. Then he moved to Lindsay's chair, and after a small hesitation climbed into it.

Stannard walked to the ladder. Goss's action was almost symbolic, he thought.

Throughout the ship the watch had changed, and in bunks and hammocks men slept or lay staring at the deckhead reliving the fight. Drowsy cooks tumbled cursing from their snug blankets and made their way to the waiting galley with its congealed grease and dirty cups left by the watchkeepers. Barker sprawled on his back snoring, a copy of Lilliput, and not a ledger, open on his chest to display a voluptuous nude. In the sickbay an attendant sat sleeping beside the man who had lost his foot, and in another white cot a wounded stoker was crying quietly on his pillow, even though he was asleep. In his cabin, Midshipman Kemp was wide awake, looking up into the darkness and thinking about his father. Further aft, in the chief and petty officers' mess, only a blue police light glowed across the tiered bunks. Ritchie slept soundlessly, while on a shelf beside his bunk the pictures of his dead family watched over him. Jolliffe, the coxswain, was having a bad dream, his mouth like a black hole in his heavy face. His teeth, like his slippers, were within easy reach should the alarm bells start again. In the stokers' messdeck, Stripey, the ship's cat, lay curled into a tight ball inside someone's metal cap box, his body trembling gently to the steady beat of the screws.

Indifferent to all of them, the Benbecula pushed slowly across a steep beam sea, her shape as black as the waters which were hers alone.

6

Officers and men

If the Icelandic patrol known as Uncle Item Victor had been created solely to test man's endurance it was hard to imagine a better choice. By the middle of October, a month after their clash with the German raider, Benbecula's ship's company had reached what most of them imagined was the limit. To the men at the lookout and gun positions it appeared as if the ship was steaming on one endless voyage to eternity, doomed to end her time heading into worse and worse conditions. Only the bridge watchkeepers really saw the constant changes of course and speed as the old ship ploughed around her desolate piece of ocean.

During the whole of that time they had sighted just one ship, a battered little corvette which had been ordered to rendezvous with them to remove the wounded and the handful of survivors from Loch Glendhu. For two whole days the ships had stayed in company, hoping and praying for some easing of the weather so that the transfer could be made. Even some of Benbecula's most dedicated grumblers had fallen silent as hour by hour they had watched the little corvette lifting her bows towards the low clouds, lurching and then reeling into troughs with all but her bridge and squat funnel submerged.

Then, during a brief respite, and with Benbecula providing some shelter from the wind, the transfer had taken place.

Even then, and in spite of Fraser's men pumping out gallons of oil to settle the waves, it had nearly ended the lives of some of them. Lindsay had ordered the remaining whaler to be lowered, as a breeches buoy or any sort of tackle was out of the question. The boat had made three trips, rising and vanishing into the troughs like a child's toy, reappearing again with oars flashing like silver in the hard light as they battled towards the corvette.

Then with a defiant toot on her siren the corvette had turned away, her signal lamp fading as she pushed into yet another squall which must have been waiting in the wings for the right moment.

Alone once more they settled down to their patrol, or tried to. But it was a bitter world, an existence and nothing more. The weather was getting much colder as winter tightened its grip, and each dawn found the superstructure and gun barrels gleaming with ice, the signal halliards thick and glittering like a frozen waterfall. If watchkeeping was bad, below decks was little better. Nothing ever seemed to get dry, and in spite of the steam pipes the men endured damp clothes and-bedding while they waited their turn to go on deck again and face the sea.

Once they rode out a Force Eleven storm, their greatest threat so far. Winds of almost a hundred knots screamed down from Greenland, building the waves into towering, jagged crests, some of which sweptas high as the promenade deck, buckling the guardrails before thundering back over the side. Patches of distorted foam flew above the bridge and froze instantly on guns 'and rigging, so' that the watch below were called slipping and cursing to clear it before the weight of ice could become an additional hazard.

The ship seemed to have shrunk in size, and it was hard to find escape. Tempers became frayed, fights erupted without warning or real cause, and Lindsay saw several resentful faces across the defaulters' table to show the measure of their misery.

Much of the hatred was, of course, directed at him. He had tried to keep them busy, if only to prevent the despair from spreading over the whole ship.

Fraser had been a tower of strength. Like scavengers, he and some of his artificers had explored the bowels of the ship, even the lower orlop, and with blow torches had cut away plates from unused store rooms. They had skilfully reshaped them before welding them in the flats and spaces damaged by the enemy shells. He had even created his own blacksmith's shop' as he liked to call it, where his men were able to cut and repair much of the damaged plating and frames which otherwise would have waited for the dockyard's attention. For to Fraser the enforced isolation seemed to act as a test of his personal, resources and ability, but when Lindsay thanked him he had said offhandedly,Hell, sir, I'm only trying to hold the old cow in one piece until I get a transfer!'

The outbreaks of anger and conflict were not confined to the lower deck. In the wardroom Maxwell had a standing shouting-match with Goss, while Fraser never lost a chance to goad Barker whenever he began to recount stories of his cruising days.

There had been one incident which lingered on long after it had happened. Like the rest of the ship, the wardroom was feeling particularly glum about the latest news of their relief. Another A.M.C. should have relieved them on the sixteenth of the month. Due to unforeseen circumstances, later discovered to be the ship had run into a pier, the relief was to be delayed a further week. Another seven days after what they had' already endured was not much to those who arranged such details. To most of the ship's company, however, it felt like the final blow. Some had been counting the days, ticking off the hours, willing the time to pass. As a stoker had said, `After this, even bleedin' Scapa'll suit me!'

In the wardroom it had been much the same. At dinner, as the table tilted sickeningly from side to side, the crockery rattling in the fiddles, the little spark had touched off a major and disturbing incident.

One of the sub-lieutenants, a pleasant faced youngster called Cordeaux, had been talking quietly to Dancy about gunnery. He was quarters officer of Number Two gun, which had still to be fired in anger,. and because of the icy conditions had had little opportunity to watch its crew at drill. Dancy had turned to de Chair who was sitting beside him moodily staring at some greasy tinned sausages on his rattling plate.

You're better at gunnery, Mark.' Dancy had nudged Cordeaux.The marines always are!'

de Chair had emerged from his brooding thoughts, and in his lazy drawl had begun to outline the very points which had baffled Cordeaux.

Maxwell had been sitting at the head of the table and had said sharply, 'By God, I'm just about sick of hearing how bloody marvellous the marines are at gunnery!' He had jabbed his fork towards the startled Cordeaux. `And you, Mister, can shut up talking shop at the table! I know you're green, but I'd have thought good manners not too hard to imitate!'

Cordeaux had dropped his eyes, his face scarlet.

Then de Chair had turned slowly and said, He was speaking to me, Guns. As it happens, I do not believe that something concerning our job is a blight on the dinner table.' He had eyed him calmly.More useful than some of your topics, I'd have imagined. Your mind hardly ever seems to move beyond certain sexual activities, all of which put me off my dinner!'

Nobody spoke.

Then Maxwell had smiled. `We are edgy tonight! Are you a bit peeved because the captain hasn't put you in for a medal because of your superb gunnery? Bloody luck is more like it!'

de Chair had stood up very slowly, his neat figure swaying easily with the deck. `Perhaps-. But at least I have so far confined my gunnery to killing Germans.'

Maxwell's face had been suddenly drained of colour. `What the hell d'you mean?'

The marine had moved towards the door. `Just stay off my back, Guns, or by God you'll regret it!' The words had hung in the air long after de Chair had left.

Maxwell had said haltingly, `Can't imagine what the bloody man is talking about.'

But nobody had looked at him.

Barker had not been present on that occasion, but had received news of the flare-up within the hour. One of the stewards had served in the ship in peacetime and had been well trained by Barker in such matters. In fact, when he had been the ship's purser Barker had evolved an almost foolproof intelligence service. The ship's hairdresser had hoarded vital information about the rich female passengers, the. senior stewards had hovered at tables and around the gaming room just long enough to catch a word here, a tip there. There were others too, and all the information went straight ' to Barker.

With the hopeless mixture of hostilities only ratings, regulars and ex-merchant seamen he had found it harder to rebuild his network, but he was starting. He disliked the regular, naval officers, mainly because they made him feel inferior, or so he believed. For that reason he was glad to obtain the news of a clash between de Chair and Maxwell. 'Of Lindsay he knew nothing as yet. Very controlled, and from what he had heard, extremely competent. Nobody's fool, and with a sharp edge to his voice when he needed it. Midshipman Kemp, at the bottom of the scale, was the son of a senior officer. Kemp, in Barker's view, was worth watching. Any connection with a senior officer was always useful. The midshipman himself was not. Rather shy, not exactly effeminate, but you could never be sure. He had discarded Emerson, the warrant engineer. A pensioner, he was old, fat and dull. He.dropped his aitches, referred to his far off wife as `me old woman', and was generally distasteful.

But Maxwell now, here was something. Goss had hinted that the lieutenant had been under a cloud before the war, but Barker had always imagined it to be connected with some minor breach. Slight discrepancy in mess funds, or found in bed with his C.O.'s wife. Nothing too damning. But from what the steward had heard and seen it now appeared very likely that Maxwell had been involved in a serious accident.

He would, however, treat de Chair with- an even greater respect from now on, even if he was a regular. de Chair was exactly like some of the passengers whom Barker had served in the better days of cruising. Outwardly easy-going, deceptively relaxed, but with -all the toughness of arrogance and breeding just below the surface. Not a man to trifle with.

.It was a pity about Jupp, he had thought on more than one occasion. As chief steward and a personal watchdog over the captain, Jupp should have been the mainspring of the whole network. Barker had served with him twice before, and knew better than to try and force the man to betray his trust. It could be dangerous to push him. You could never be entirely sure how much a senior steward knew about his purser. Barker owned a boarding house in Southampton and another in Liverpool. People might suggest it impossible to acquire such property on his pay alone. They would have been right, too.

The only officer in the ship with whom Barker shared some of his confidences was Goss. Not because he particularly liked him, in fact, he usually made him feel vaguely uneasy. Goss had somehow never bothered to rise with his rank, not, that is, in Barker's view. Beneath warm, star-filled skies in the Pacific, with all the magic of a ship's orchestra, the gay dresses and white dinner jackets, Barker had always felt in his element. But once or twice at the chief officer's table in the dining room he had squirmed with embarrassment at Goss's obvious lack of refinement. Big, self-made, meticulous in matters of duty, Goss seemed unable to put on a show for the passengers at his table. Barker had seen the quick smiles exchanged between them as Goss had told some ponderous story about raising an anchor in a gale, or the time he had fought four drunken stokers in a Sydney bar and knocked them senseless. He was a difficult man to know, harder still to befriend.

. But he was the first lieutenant, and in Barker's eyes still the senior chief officer in the company. Once the war was over, breeding or not, Goss would get a command. With his seniority plus war experience the company could hardly avoid it. When that happened, Barker would be ready for his own step up the ladder, if he had anything to say about it.

So without too much hesitation he had made a point of visiting Goss that same night. Goss, he knew, had the middle watch, and as was his normal practice stayed in his roomy cabin out of sight until a few minutes before the exact time due on the bridge.

It was not that Goss openly discouraged visitors to his private domain, it was just that his attitude was generally unwelcoming, like some trusted curator of a museum who resented visitors on principle.

If the rest of the ship had been altered and scarred' by the Navy's ownership, Goss had somehow retained his old surroundings more or less as they had always been, so that his cabin was, in its own way, a museum, a record of his life and career.

There were many framed photographs of the ship and other company vessels in which he had served over the years. Pictures of groups, large and small, officers and owners, self-conscious passengers and various happenings in several ports of call. A blue and white house-flag of the company adorned one complete bulkhead, and the shelves and well-polished furniture were littered with models and mementos and more framed pictures. One of them showed Goss shaking hands with old Mr Cairns, the head of the company, who had died just a few weeks before the war.

Whenever Barker visited the cabin he always looked at that particular picture. It was the only place where he had seen Goss smile.

Goss had listened to Barker's casual excuse for the visit without emotion. Stores had to be raised from an after hold the following day and would the first lieutenant arrange some extra working parties for the task? It had all sounded innocent enough.

As he had gone through the motions Barker had studied Goss's heavy features with methodical interest. He had been sitting in one of his fat leather chairs, his jacket hanging neatly on a hook behind the door, his cap . and binoculars within easy' reach. But without a collar or tie, in his crumpled-shirt and a pairof old plimsolls, he had looked like one of his own relics. Had Barker possessed an ounce of sensitivity he might have felt either concern or even pity, but instead he was merely curious. Goss, the great unbreakable seaman, looked old, tired and utterly alone.

Goss had said eventually, `That all?'

Of course.' Barker had walked round the chair, steadying himself against the table as the ship rolled wearily into one more trough.Oh, by the way, I did hear something about Maxwell. Seems he was in an accident of some sort.' A carefully measured pause. `de Chair was saying a -few words on. the matter at dinner. Pity you weren't there yourself.'

`Accident?'

Barker had shrugged carelessly. `Gunnery, I believe. Probably shot some poor sod by mistake.'

`Probably.'

Barker had been astounded at Goss's indifference. He had merely sat there staring into space, one foot tapping slowly on the company carpet, a sure sign he wished to be left alone. It had been altogether quite unnerving.

`Just thought you'd like to hear about it.'

Goss had said slowly, You know, Henry, I was thinking just now.' He nodded heavily towards the photograph. The one with the smile.Old Mr Cairns was a good owner. Hard, some said, and I daresay he remembered the value of every rivet down to the last halfpenny. But he had an eye for business, and knew every officer on his payroll. Every one, even the bloody apprentices. Now he's dead and gone. And it looks as if the company'll never survive either.'

Barker had gone cold. `But after the war there'll be full compensation; surely? I . I mean, the government can't just take the ships, work the life out of them, and then give nothing back afterwards!'

Goss had heaved himself upright, so that his massive head had almost touched the steam pipes. Even if we win the war, and with some of the people I've seen aboard this ship I am more than doubtful on that score, things will never be the same. Mr Cairns' young nephew is in the chair now. Snooty little upstart with an office in London instead of down where the ships are. Had him aboard for our last peacetime trip.' His features had hardened.All gin and bloody shrimp cocktails, you know the type.'

Barker had swallowed hard. He knew. He liked to think of himself like that.

Goss had rambled on, as if to an empty cabin. `I was promised the next command, but I 'spect you knew that. Promised. I'd have had the old Becky by now, but for the bloody war.'

There had been something like anguish in his voice which had made Barker stammer, `Well, I'll be off.then. Just thought I'd fix up about tomorrow-' He had left the cabin with Goss still staring fixedly at the framed photograph.

As the door had closed Goss had taken a small key from his pocket, and after a further hesitation had opened a cupboard above his desk. Inside, gleaming from within a protective oilskin bag, was the cap. The company's badge and the captain's oak leaves around the peak were of the best pre-war gold wire, hand woven by a little Jewish tailor in Liverpool.

After locking the cupboard again he had slumped into the chair and lowered his face into his hands.

`I'd have had this ship by now. It was a promise.'

The words had hung in the sealed cabin like an epitaph.

A week later, as the Benbecula headed south-east away from the patrol area, those who were on deck in the bitter air saw the other armed merchant cruiser steaming past less than a, mile distant. Even without binoculars it was possible to see the fresh paint around her, stem, evidence of her collision with the pier, her guilt which had allowed an extra week in harbour while Benbecula endured the gales and the angry seas.

Lindsay sat in his tall chair and watched the other ship until she had passed out of his line of vision. The obvious excitement he had felt all around him as he had given orders to leave the patrol had momentarily given way to a kind of resentment as the relief ship had forged past. Not so much perhaps because she was late, but because she was heading into what appeared to many was calmer weather. The wind was fresh but no longer violent, so that the watch below was called less often to hack and blast away the clawing ice from decks and guns. To the men who imagined they had now seen and endured everything the Atlantic could offer, it seemed unfair their relief should get it so easy.

Lindsay sat back and looked at the hard, dark horizon line. With the ship so steady it made the list allthe more apparent. The horizon seemed to be tilting across the bridge windows like an endless grey hill.

Behind him he could hear a signalman talking quietly with Ritchie, the occasional creak of the wheel and, Maxwell's clipped voice from the chart room door. The afternoon watch was almost finished, and the sky above the horizon was already duller with a hint of more snow. It was natural for the new hands to complain about the other A.M.C.'s luck, he thought. The more seasoned men would know the real reason for the change. Ice. Before winter closed in completely there would be plenty about to the west and north, some perhaps as far down as this. He had already discussed it with Goss, but as usual it was hard to fathom the extent of his words.

Lindsay had been a first lieutenant himself to several commanding officers, and he could not get used to Goss's total lack of feeling for hiss new role. A first lieutenant in any naval vessel was the link between officers and captain, the one man who could and should weld the ship into one tight community. Goss was not a link. He was like a massive watertight door which kept his captain even more aloof and remote than usual.

There was no doubting his efficiency in seamanship and internal organisation. But there it ended, and unless he could bring himself to change his days were numbered afloat, Lindsay decided.

Maxwell crossed to his side and stood fidgeting with the chain around his neck. 'D'you think there's any chance of leave, sir?'

Lindsay watched the lieutenant's reflection in the saltsmeared windows.

`Unlikely, Guns. A lick of paint, a few bits of quick welding and we'll be off again, in my opinion.'.

Strange about Maxwell, he thought. He had been very quiet lately. Too quiet.

Maxwell said, `Oh, in that case.' He did not go on.

`You worried about something?'

Me, sir?' Maxwell's fingers tugged more insistently, at the chain.No, I was just thinking. I might put in for an advanced gunnery course. Not much scope in this ship.'

He spoke jerkily, but Lindsay thought the words sounded rehearsed. As if he had been planning the right moment.

`And you want me to recommend you?'

Maxwell shifted his feet. `Well, in a manner of speaking, yes, sir.'

Lindsay took out his pipe. It couldn't be much fun for Maxwell. A gunnery officer of the old school, who because of time lost on the beach was watching men far more junior being appointed to brand-new warships just as fast as they were built. But there was more to it than that. Maybe it was his assistant, Lieutenant Hunter. Only a temporary officer perhaps and in peacetime the owner of a small garage many miles from the sea, but Hunter had got to grips with the ancient armament as if born to it. Probably because he had not had many dealings with any other kind, or maybe, like Fraser, his natural mechanical bent made him accept the old guns like some sort of personal challenge rather than an obstacle.

`I'll think about it, Guns. But I need either you or a damn good replacement before I recommend anything, right?'

Maxwell nodded. `Yes, sir.'

The duty bosun's mate said, `Beg pardon, sir,, but Number Six. gun 'as just called up. They say one of the liferafts is workin' adrift again on th' poop.' He sounded disinterested. Ten more minutes and he would be in his mess. Hot sweet tea and then his head down until suppertime.

Maxwell glared. `Right, tell Lieutenant Aikman to deal with it.'

The man continued to stare at him, the telephone in his first. `But you sent 'im to the chart room, sir.'

Maxwell nodded jerkily. Oh, yes.' To Lindsay he added,He's fixing the plot.'

Lindsay turned slightly to study him. Maxwell was not usually rattled..

He asked, `What about young Kemp?' He had appointed the midshipman to Maxwell's watch for the experience, as well as to keep him from being bored to death by the ship's correspondence duties.

Maxwell nodded. 'Yessir.' To the seaman he barked, Mr Kemp is up in control. Pass the word for him to lay aft, chop, chop. The buffer will lett him have a couple of hands.' He added angrily,Bloody well get a move on!'

Lindsay faced forward again, troubled by Maxwell's sudden irritation. Perhaps it was his own example which had done it. Maybe his outward mask of self-control was not so strong as he believed.

He heard the bosun's mate passing the order on the handset, his voice sullen.

Maxwell returned to his side and said vehemently, Number Six gun, was it. Those marines are just trying to rile me.' He seemed to realise he had spoken aloud and swung away, adding sharply,Pipe the port watch to defence stations. And-I'11 see that rating who was smoking on duty in five minutes, got it?'

The bosun's mate faced him coldly. `Got it, sir.'

Lindsay thought about Goss and came to a decision. Maxwell's attitude was dangerous and could not be tolerated. But it was the first lieutenant's job to deal with internal grievances, and deal with them he would.

By the time Midshipman Kemp had made his way aft to the poop the daylight was almost. gone. As he groped along the guardrail he could feel the ice-rime under his glove and wished he had put something warmer than an oilskin over his other clothing. The sea looked very dark, with deep swells and troughs, through which the ship's wake made a frothing white track, fading eventually into the gathering gloom.

Beside the covered twelve-pounder he found Leading Seaman Swan waiting for him, one foot on the lower guardrail while he stared astern with weary resignation.

Kemp asked, `Where are the others?'

Swan straightened his back and looked at him. He was a big man, his body made even larger by several layers of woollens beneath his duffel coat He had already done several repair jobs about the upper deck in the freezing weather and was just about ready to go below. His neck and chin felt sore, mainly because he had started to grow a beard, and the cold, damp air was playing havoc with his patience. Kemp's arrival did nothing to help ease his irritation. Swan was a regular with seven years service to his credit and was normally quite tolerant of midshipmen in general. They were the in-betweens. Neither fish nor fowl, and were usually taken at face value by the lower deck. Hounded by their superiors, carried by petty officers and leading hands, midshipmen were more to be pitied than abused. But just this once Swan did not feel like carrying anyone, and Kemp's obvious uncertainty filled him "with unreasoning resentment.

He replied offhandedly, `They'll be here any second.' He waited for Kemp to pull him up for omitting the sir.

Kemp shivered and said, `What's the trouble anyway?'

The leading seaman gestured with a massive, leathergauntleted fist towards the nearest raft. It was poised almost vertically on two wooden skids, so that in a real emergency it could be released to drop straight down over the port quarter.

Trouble with some of these bloody O.D.'s is that they paint everything. Some idiot has slopped paint all over the lines, and in this sort of climate it only makes 'em fray more easily.' He saw Kemp's eyes peering doubtfully at the heavy raft and added harshly,Not that it matters much. What with paint and the bloody ice, I doubt if the thing would move even if Chatham barracks fell on it!'

Two seamen loomed up the poop ladder and he barked, `Where the hell have you been? I'm just about two-blocks waiting in the sodding cold!'

The first seaman said, The officer of the watch 'ad me on the rattle for smokin'.' He looked at Kemp.That's wot.'

Swan waited for Kemp to say something. Then he said angrily, `Well, just you wait here. I'm going to get some new lines. You can start by checking how many of the old ones are frayed, right?'

As he stamped away one of the seamen muttered, `What's up with Hookey then? Miserable bastard.'

Kemp gripped the guardrail with both hands, willing himself to concentrate on the raft. He knew the two seamen, like Swan, were testing him, that almost any other midshipman from his class would have snapped back at them. Won their obedience, if not actual respect. It was always the same. He seemed unable to face the fact he was here, that no amount of self-deception would change it. He could almost hear his father's resonant voice. 'I can't think where you get it. No moral fibre, that's you. No guts!'

He heard one of the seamen duck behind the twelvepounder gunshield and the rasp of a match. If Kemp was unwilling or unable to act, they were quite happy to wait for Swan's return.

One of them was saying, `Did you 'ear about that stoker in Scapa?' Ad a cushy shore job stokin' some admiral's boiler, an' they found 'im in 'is bunk with a bloody sheep!'

The other voice said,, `Never! You're 'avin me on!'

'S'truth.' He was enjoying the much-used yarn, especially as he knew the midshipman was listening: `When the jaunty slapped 'im on a charge he told 'im that he didn't know it was a.sheep. But that 'e'd been so long in Scapa 'e thought it was a Wren in a duffel coat!'

Kemp thrust himself away from the rail. `That's enough, you two!'

They both stared at him in mild surprise.

`Start working on those lines!'

One of them said, `Which lines, sir?'

The other added, `Can't see much in this light, sir.'

Kemp felt the despair rising like nausea. It had been the same when Dancy had been questioning him about his father. It was always like that.

He seized the nearest seaman's sleeve and thrust him towards the raft. Get up there and. feel them one at a time!' He swung on the second man.And you start freeing the ice from the metal slips. Swan will probably want to splice them on to the new lines.'

Behind his back the seaman on the raft made an obscene gesture and then looked away as Kemp returned to the rail.

Kemp was shivering uncontrollably beneath the oilskin. He knew it was partly because of, the cold, but also due to his inability to play out his part as he, knew he must if he was to keep his sanity. Kemp was an-only sonand in the beginning had been prepared to try and see his father's point of view. From as far back as -he could remember it had been like that. The tradition, the house full of naval portraits and memories, even now he could understand his father's desire to see him following the family's heritage. Perhaps if he had known what he had wanted to be, had found-someone to help and advise him, then his father might have relented. But at eighteen Kemp was still unsure. All he did know for certain was he did. not want or need the Service, and that his father had become more than an adversary. He was the very symbol of all he had come to hate.

When he had been appointed to this ship he had, known his father's hand was in it. To knock some sense into him. Smooth the rough edges. In some ways Kemp had almost believed it himself. The officers were so unusually mixed and totally different from those he had met before.

He was not so inexperienced that he could not recognise the antagonism and occasional enmity between the officers, but when it came down to it they all seemed to be the same. In the action, as he had crouched inside the chart room he had heard their voices. Flat, expressionless, moulded to discipline, no matter what the men really thought behind the words.

He looked up startled as Swan bounded up the ladder carrying a huge coil of line.

Swan shouted, `What the hell are you doing up there, Biggs? Come down immediately and fix a lifeline, you stupid bugger!'

Even as he spoke the other seaman inadvertently cut through a lashing with his knife. Perhaps because' his fingers were cold, or maybe the icy planking beneath his boots took him off balance, but the result was the same, and immediate. The end of the severed lashing, complete with a metal shackle, slashed upwards like a frozen whip, cutting the seaman Biggs full in the face as he made to scramble back to the deck. Kemp. stared horrified as the man swayed drunkenly, his duffel coat pale against the black sea at his back. Then as Swan flung himself on to the raft Biggs fell outboard and down. One second he was there, the next nothing. He had not even had time to cry out.

Swan pushed Kemp aside and groped for the handset by the twelve-pounder. But the canvas cover was frozen iron-hard, and with a sob he ran for the ladder, yelling to the nearest marine gun crew as he went. .

Kemp gripped the rail and peered down into the churning white wash. But he did not know where to look. Where would Biggs be? Below, staring up at, his ship as she faded into the darkness? Or already far astern, choking and crying out in terror? He began to fumble with a lifebuoy and was still struggling with its lashing as

Swan came aft again.

Swan said hoarsely, `Forget it. He'll have been sucked into the port screw.'

The other seaman, who was still standing transfixed with the knife in one hand, said brokenly, `We're turnin'! The wheel's gone over!'

Kemp stared at the ship's pale wake as it began to change into a wide sweeping curve. In a moment he would wake up. It was a mad dream. It had to be.

Right in his ear Swan said, `They'll have to go through the motions. Even if he missed the screws he'll be a block of bloody ice in minutes!'

A marine corporal from Number Six gun clattered on to the poop and snapped, Captain's compliments, Mr Kemp, and he wants you on the bridge right away.' He looked at Swan.You, too.'

The man with .the knife said in a small voice, `Worn't my fault, Hookey!'

Swan looked at Kemp with savage contempt. 'I know. You were obeying orders!'

Kemp tried to speak, his mind reeling with shock. `I....I'm sorry. I was only trying to....'

Swan gestured astern. `Tell him, sir! He'll be bloody glad to know you're sorry, I don't think!'

All the way along the upper deck Kemp was vaguely aware of silent, muffled figures watching him as he passed. No matter what had really happened, he was already condemned in their eyes. Their silence was like a shouted verdict.

As they reached the door at the rear of the bridge Kemp heard Lindsay's voice, very level, as if from far away.

`Another five minutes, Pilot. Then bring her back on course.'

Then Stannard's voice. `If he'd had a lifejacket on, sir, with a safety lamp

Lindsay had turned away again. `But he hadn't.' Stannard saw Kemp's outline in the door and shrugged. There seemed to be nothing left to say.

7

A Wren called Eve

The Chief of Staff looked up from his desk as Lindsay, entered the office, and then waved to, a chair. `Take the weight off your feet. I'll not keep you a minute.'

Lindsay sat. After the bitter air across the Flow as he had come ashore in the motor boat the office seemed almost tropical. It was evening, and with windows sealed and a great iron stove glowing pink with heat, he felt suddenly drowsy.

The grave-faced captain was saying into a telephone, `Very well, Flags, if you say so. Another draft coming in tonight, Get on to stores and find out about kitting them up. Right.'

He put down the telephone and shot Lindsay a brief smile. Never lets up.' He groped in a drawer and took out two glasses and a bottle of Scotch.The sun, had it been out today, would be well over the yardarm by now, eh?'

Lindsay relaxed slightly, hearing the wind hissing against a window, the clatter of a typewriter in the next room.

Benbecula had picked up her buoy that morning, and while he had stood on the bridge wing to watch a fussy tug assisting the forecastle party with the business of mooring, he had allowed a grudging admiration for the Flow. The snow had held off, and it was not raining either. In the hard morning light there had even been a kind of primitive beauty. The cold, pewter water and hunched brown islands were as uncompromising as ever, but seemed to say, we were here first, so make the best of us.

The whisky was neat and very good.

The captain said, I didn't call you over until now because I thought you'd have enough-to do'. Anyway, it gave me time to study your report.' He smiled and some of his sternness faded.You did damn well to have a crack at that raider. Against all sane instructions, of course, but I'd have done the same.'

Lindsay replied, `I wish I could have finished him.'

I dare say. We had a couple of clear days recently and the R.A.F. got a reconnaissance flight going. Your raider is holed up in Norway, if you're interested. She's the Nassau, seventeen thousand tons, and fairly new.. Used to run to the East African ports.' He refilled the glasses.Intelligence have reported she's completely converted as a raider.' He added wryly, `Of course, they didn't tell us anything about her until a few days,ago.'

Lindsay nodded. He had been expecting the captain his name was Lovelace - to go for him, to attack him for taking independent action. But now hee could understand. As Benbecula had entered the boom gate he had been watching and waiting for orders to moor on some vacant buoy, wherever was convenient to the harbour-master rather than the returning A.M.C. He need not have bothered, as the Flow had been almost deserted.

The officer who had come aboard from the guardboat to collect Lindsay's despatchess and mail had said, `Several of the battlewaggons have sailed for the Far East and others to the Med. The shop window's a bit bare at the moment.'

So even if Benbecula had complied to the letter of her orders, to stand off and await assistance, there would have beenn little available. No heroics, Lovelace had said at their other meeting. Now it looked as if heroics were just about all they had.

As if reading his mind the captain said, We're tightly'stretched. Things are getting bad in the Med. and we've had some heavy losses in Western Approaches. My operations staff will let you have all the backlog when you're ready for it.' He looked grave.We have not.released the news of Loch Glendhu's loss to the public as yet. The less the enemy knows about our meagre resources the better. Of course, the German radio has been playing it up. They claim they sank a heavy cruiser. Maybe they really believe it, but my guess is it's all, part of the probing game. Testing our strength.'

Lindsay, felt suddenly depressed. The endless strain, the continuous effort needed to pull his new command into a fighting unit were taking their toll.

He said, `It all sounds pretty hopeless.'

Lovelace paused with the bottle in mid air above Lindsay's glass. Come on, man, I thought you Scots could drink!' With his eyes on the bottle he added slowly,Hard luck about losing that chap overboard. Still, you were damn lucky with your previous casualties. And with a partly trained company like yours I'd have expected ten times the number.'

Yes.' He let the neat whisky burn across his tongue, recalling Kemp's pale face, his wretchedness as he had stammered out his story of Biggs' death. The leading hand, Swan, had been stiff, even angry.Mr Kemp's got no idea of things, sir.'

Things, as Lindsay well knew, needed time to be mastered. Kemp had had very little. But he also lacked something else. Perhaps he did not care.

Lovelace asked, `What have you done about the midshipman?'

`Nothing, sir. It was an accident due more to ignorance than carelessness. I doubt Kemp will ever forget it.'

He thought of Fraser's reaction. `Just one of those things,' was all he had.said.

Lovelace nodded, apparently satisfied.. Fine. I should keep Kemp busy, Make him jump about. If I transferred him elsewhere it would do him more harm than good.' He shot Lindsay a searching glance.Unless, of course, you want him, shifted?'

`No. I'll see how it works out.'

Good. Especially as I'll have to take some of your people anyway. Tobey, your boatswain, and a few other key ratings. I need them as replacements. You'll have to fill the gaps from the next incoming draft.' He smiled grimly.Straight from the training depot, naturally.'

The telephone buzzed and Lovelace snapped, `I will see the commanding officer of Merlin in three minutes. Tell him to warm his backside on your fire until I'm ready.'

Lindsay stood up. `Any orders for me, sir?'

Soon.' Lovelace looked distant again, already grappling with the endless complications of his office..I've told the maintenance commander to do all he can. The repair ship is standing by to help, but anything she or your people can't manage will have to wait. I'm afraid a week is about all you can expect, so work along those lines. I hear you've completed refuelling, so you can allow local leave whenever it suits you.'

Lindsay picked up his cap. The whisky was burning his stomach like fire. All a question of priorities, and his old ship was very far down that list. A week, and back to patrol duty. Ice. Men being worn out by cold and endless discomfort. They were the dangerous times, when small personal needs blunted a man's vigilance. Maybe Loch Glendhu's people had been like that. Too tired, too beaten down by the seemingly futile patrol to see their peril until it was beyond their scope.

He said, 'Thank you for the drink, sir.'

Lovelace grinned. `My pleasure. I hear so much gloom that it's a real prize to meet somebody who's achieved something at last!'

Lindsay left the office, and as he walked through the adjoining room he saw the officer who was waiting for the next interview. A full rank junior to Lindsay, yet. he commanded the Merlin, a new and powerful fleetdestroyer which was lying quite near to Benbecula's buoy. He watched Lindsay pass, his face curious. When he had left the room Lindsay could imagine the little scene. The young lieutenant-commander would ask politely who he was. The Chief of Staff's secretary would tell him. In the mind of the Merlin's captain a whole new picture would form. Nobody to bother with. Just the captain of that old A.M.C. Looked all right, and seemed bright enough, but with a command like her he must have something wrong with him.

He stood stockstill in the deserted passageway,, spent and despairing. Damn them. Damn them all to hell.

`Are you all right, sir?'

Lindsay swung round and saw the girl standing just inside the blackout curtain by the main entrance. As before she was muffled to the ears, and her feet and legs were encased in a pair of muddy rubber boots.

He stared at her for several seconds. Yes, thank you.' He tried to smile, seeing the doubt and concern in her eyes.A bit bushed, that's all.'

She took off her jaunty cap and shook out her hair vigorously. I saw you come in this morning.' She was still studying him, her eyes troubled.We all heard about what happened.'

A door opened and closed with a bang and another Wren, also heavily covered in duffel coat and scarf, passed Lindsay without a glance. As she reached the door the Wren called Eve Collins tossed her an ignition key and said,Thanks for relieving me early, Sue. Watch out for ice on the roads.'

The other girl paused and looked at Lindsay. 'Do it for me sometime.' Then she was gone, the blackout curtain swirling momentarily in a jet of cold air.

She said quietly, `I'm glad you made it back all right, sir.'

Lindsay recalled the flashing headlights on the shore, the signalman who had seen them.

He said, `One of the bunting tossers read your message when we left Scapa. It was nice of you to see us off.'

She grinned. `Thank him for me, will you? My morse isn't too hot.'

Then she saw his expression and added huskily, `Was he killed?'

`Yes.' He tried to shut it all from his aching mind. Ritchie's face. The wet oilskins by the rail. We commit his body to the deep.

He said abruptly, I wonder if you'd care to have a drink with me?' He saw the sudden surprise and added,Maybe we could get a meal or something?'

She replaced her cap very slowly. `I'm sorry. I really am.'

`You've got a date?' It was all suddenly clear. The other Wren relieving her early. Do it for me sometime.

She did not smile. Something like that.' She looked away.I can break it though.'

'No. It's all right.' He thrust his hands into his greatcoat pockets, trying to sound casual. That it did not matter. He did not even know why it had all become so urgent and important. `Forget it.

The curtain swirled inwards again and a R.A.F. flightlieutenant blundered into the lamplight, banging his gloved hands together.

I guessed you'd take half the night to get changed! I've got a car outside. I'll run you to your billet.' He saw Lindsay and said awkwardly,Oh, sorry!'

She said, Jack, this is Commander Lindsay.' Then she turned to him again, her voice very quiet.The fighter boys are giving a dance at the field. Why don't you come, too? It might be. a change from-' She looked at the flight-lieutenant. `What do you say, Jack? It would be all right, wouldn't it?'

`Of course.' He did not sound very enthusiastic.

Lindsay smiled. I must get back to my ship. They'll be waiting to hear the news.' He looked at the R.A.F. officer and back to the girl.But thanks again. Enjoy yourselves.'

Then he was outside in the darkness, the icy wind driving down his throat, making his eyes water like tears.

In the passageway the flight-lieutenant spread his hands. `So?'

She tightened her-scarf and frowned. `So nothing. He's a good bloke, that's all.'

He grinned. `A full commander, too. By God, Eve, I admire your sense of priorities!'

Out on the roadway Lindsay heard her laugh and the sound of the car driving away. He had made an idiot of himself, and it mattered. It mattered so much he could feel it like pain.

Aloud he said, `You bloody fool. You stupid bloody fool!'

Then he quickened his pace and turned once more towards the sea.

Lindsay was working at his desk when Goss, followed by Fraser, entered his day cabin.

Sit, gentlemen.' He pressed the bell beside his desk and added,Nearly noon. We'll have a drink.'

He watched Goss's heavy features as he selected a chair, noting the deep lines around his mouth and eyes. It had been a busy time for the whole ship, but the effect on Goss was even more noticeable. Captain Lovelace had been right about. the timing, he thought bitterly. A week is about all you car expect.

He looked at the two men and said slowly, `I have just received our orders. We are at forty-eight hours notice for steam.'

Fraser muttered, A week and a day.- That's all they've given us.' Then he grinned.Generous bastards!'

Lindsay turned to Goss. `What about you, Number One? Are you all buttoned up?'

Poor Goss, he had taken the time in harbour badly. Lindsay had watched him arguing with engineers and workers from the repair, ship, seen him following the mechanics and welders between the Benbecula's decks like an old hen trying to protect its chickens from a pack of rampaging foxes. But for Fraser's excellent- work on repairs while the ship had been returning to the Flow it was hard to see how they could have managed. The shell holes in the hull had been covered by new plates, and with the aid of fresh paint the outer damage would pass unnoticed to all but an experienced eye. Inboard, the repairs had been equally brief, a case of patch up and hope for the best, as one dockyard official had described it.

Jupp padded into the cabin and opened the drinks cabinet as Goss replied, I've done my best, but it's nowhere near ready. Those butchers have made more mess than they've repaired. We should have gone down to Greenock or Rosyth.' He glanced at the nearest scuttle and added harshly,The weather's worse, too.'

Fraser grimaced. `Proper ray of sunlight, you are!'

Lindsay said, `I believe we may be at sea for'Christmas.'

He watched his words affecting each of them in different ways. He had been at sea for nearly every Christmas he could remember, but this was different. Most of the ship's company had not, and after the' misery of the last patrol, Christmas in the Arctic wastes might seem like a final disaster. He followed Goss's stare to the scuttle. The sky was very pale and without colour. Inside the cabin it was humid with steam heat, but beyond the toughened glass the air would be like a razor.

Fraser asked mildly, `Is it definite, sir?'

Lindsay glancedd at Jupp's stooped shoulders and

smiled. The chief steward informs me that it is so.' Jupp bowed over the-desk with his tray of glasses and eyed him calmly.I saw the turkeys meself, sir. Bein' stacked up ready for Mr Barker's people to collect 'em.' He shook his head. `A sure sign.'

Fraser grinned. `Very.'

Goss did not seem to be listening. `Same patrol?'

No.' Lindsay held up-his glass to the light.Further south-west than Uncle Item Victor. But that is just between us.'

Goss shuddered. `Nearer Greenland. There'll be ice about.'

The three of them lapsed into silence, so that the muffled shipboard noises intruded like whispers.

Lindsay watched as Jupp refilled his glass and wondered if the chief steward had noticed he was drinking more lately. He should have gone ashore, if only to stretch his legs or to find a change of scene. But apart from two official visits to the headquarters at Kirkwall he had remained on board immersing himself in the business of preparing his ship for sea again. He knew he had stayed too much alone, that it had solved nothing.

He realised too that something had to be done to break the gloom which. hung over his command likee a threat, .especially with the added prospect of Christmas at sea. He had granted shore leave as often as possible, but the libertymen had soon discovered the scope of enjoyment in Scapa was almost nil. There had been several fights, drunkenness and two cases of assault on naval patrolmen. Few of the defaulters brought before him for punishment had offered a reason for their behaviour, and he knew that all these things were just symptoms of frustration and boredom. The stark thrill of being spared Loch Glendhu's fate, of hitting at the -enemy, had soon vanished when back in harbour. Anywhere else and it might not have mattered. But here, in this dismal place it was taking its toll.

He said suddenly, `I thought we'd have a party before we sail. It will help make up for Christmas.'

Fraser eyed him curiously. `It'll pass the time.'

But Lindsay was watching Goss. `It's rather up to you, Number One. If you think you've too much on your plate we'll scrub round it, of course.'

Goss stirred in his chair. I am very busy, sir.' He was pondering on Lindsay's words, his eyes far away as he continued,Who would be coming anyway?'

Lindsay tried to keep his tone matter of fact, knowing Fraser was-watching him. He hoped Goss would not see through his little game as easily as Fraser was obviously doing.

He said, `Oh, all the usual. Base staff, some of the people who have been helping us. That sort of thing.'

Fraser said over the rim of his glass, `I think it might be too difficult. Number One's people have still got a good bit of clearing up to do. In any case, who'd want to come to a ship like this? There's a damn great carrier here now and....'

Goss swung towards him angrily. That's all you bloody well know! How,many ships like this one have you seen then, eh?' Some of his drink slopped on to his thighs but he did not notice.A carrier, you say? Well, that's just another warship, and most people are sick to death of them up here!'

Lindsay asked quietly, `You're in favour?' He saw Fraser drop one eyelid in a brief wink.

Goss recovered some of his old dignity. Well, if you think-'- He darted a glance at Fraser.Yes, I am, sir.'

`That's settled then. I'll leave it to you. Two days is not long to arrange it, but I expect you'll manage.'

Goss pushed his empty glass towards Jupp. Manage?' He frowned.I've seen the main saloon filled to overflowing in my day. A prince, his whole retinue, and some of the richest passengers we've carried, all eating and drinking fit to bust.' He nodded firmly. We'll show 'em.' He stood up violently.So if you'll excuse me, I think I'll find Barker. Go over a few things with him.' He did not mention the patrol at all. `Carrier indeed! Who the hell wants to see that!' He left the cabin with unusual speed.

Fraser signalled for another drink and then said quietly, `I've not seen him like that for years. My God, sir, you don't know what you've sparked off.'

Lindsay smiled. `I hope you're right, Chief. This ship needs something, so we'll make a start with the party, right?'

Fraser grinned. `Right.'

Lindsay did not have much time to think about the proposed party. Almost to the hour of its starting he was kept busy dealing with the ship's affairs as with growing speed sailing preparations were completed. Fresh supplies and ammunition. A new whaler to replace the one destroyed by shellfire, as well as the promised turkeys, which were whisked away by Barker's men to the cold storage room before any could go astray. And of course there were the new ratings who arrived in dribs and drabs in the ferries to take the places of more seasoned men needed elsewhere.

The Benbecula's company watched the new arrivals with all the usual interest. The men who had made just one patrol, who had been drafted straight from shore training establishments, now stood like old salts and eyed the newcomers with a mixture of contempt and assured superiority. Lindsay had watched some of them from the bridge. Their brand-new greatcoats and gasmask haversacks, their regulation haircuts and general air of, lost confusion marking them out from all the rest.

He had heard Archer, the chief boatswain's mate, bellowing at them, `Come on then, jump about! Drop yer bags 'n'ammicks and get fell in while I gives you yer parts of ship!'

Archer seemed to have grown in size since the commissioned boatswain, Tobey, had left for another ship, but quite obviously relished his new powers.

When, one pale-faced recruit had said timidly, `I thought we were coming to a warship, P.O., not a....' he had got no further.

Archer had roared at him, This 'ere is an' armed merchant cruiser, see? Any bloody fool, can 'andle a battleship, but this takes seamen, got it?' As he had been about to turn away he had added loudly,And I'm not a P.O., I'm the chief bosun's mate, so don't you bloody well forget it!'

The little seaman ,had tried to escape after the rest of the draft but Archer's voice had pursued him like an enraged walrus. `An' get yer bloody 'air cut!'

It was dark in the Flow when Goss came to Lindsay's quarters. `Ready for you in the wardroom, sir.'

Lindsay noticed Goss was wearing a new uniform and his cheeks were glowing from a fresh shave and bath. There was something else, too. A kind of defiance.

When they reached the wardroom Lindsay was astounded. It was difficult to believe he was in the same ship. Everything shone with polish and small coloured lights, and two long tables were groaning under such a weight of sandwiches, canapes and go many tempting. morsels that he could pity the officers and their mess bills when the reckoning was made. Most of the stewards who had been with the company before the war were wearing their old mess jackets and maroon trousers, and as Lindsay followed Goss's massive figure towards the assembled officers he saw three other stewards waiting selfconsciously with violins and a piano which had certainly not been present before.

Goss turned and faced him grimly. `Well, Sir?'

Lindsay kept his face impassive. It's not Navy, Number One.' Then he reached out and touched Goss's forearm.But it's bloody marvellous! I knew you'd do your best, but this is more than that!'

Goss stared at him uncertainly. `You like it then?'

Barker appeared at his side, beaming. `Just like the old days!'

Goss ignored him. `You really like it, sir?',

I do.' Lindsay saw Jupp making towards him with a tray.It's what I needed. What we all need in this bloody war!' And he knew he meant it.

Goss snapped his fingers at a steward and said, `I heard a boat alongside. The first guests are arriving.' Then he strode away, his eyes darting across the laden tables to ensure nothing had been eaten.

Fraser watched him go and then said, You've made his day.' He looked at Lindsay searchingly.I'm drinking to you.' He lifted a glass. `That was a damn nice thing you just did.'

In no time at all the wardroom seemed to get crowded with visitors. As the din of conversation and laughter mounted and the trio of musicians did their best to rise above it, Lindsay was conscious of the impression Goss's party was having. What had started almost as a joke was gathering way, so that he too could sense a kind of pride for the way this old ship, his ship, was hanging on to her past and so giving pleasure to the present.

Faces swam around him, handshakes and slaps on the ,shoulder marked each new arrival. Officers from the base and other ships. Some nursing sisters and the wives of senior officers and officials added the required feminine interest, and the plentiful supply of drink did the rest. There were several Wrens, too, but not the one he had been waiting to see. He knew it was pointless to try again, just as he realised he wanted very much to meet her once more before the ship sailed.

His own officers appeared to be enjoying themselves. de Chair, impeccable as ever in his best blue uniform, was entertaining two of the women. Stannard and SubLieutenant Cordeaux seemed to be having a drinking contest, while Dancy was speaking gravely to a blonde nurse on the trials of being surrounded by so much literary material.

She was saying huskily, `It must be marvellous to be a real writer.'

He looked at her and nodded, his eyes already glazed. `It can also be a great responsibility.'

Even Emerson, the elderly warrant engineer, was coming out of his shell. He was talking with the wife of a dockyard manager, his voice loud with enthusiasm.

'Yeh. So I says to me old woman, what about a run to Margate? An' she-says-' he paused to dab the tears from his eyes, `-she says, wot d'you think I am? A bloody rabbit?'

Behind him Lindsay heard Dancy's nurse ask, `Is he really an officer?'

Dancy said thickly, `One of my best, actually.'

And through and above it Goss moved like a giant, his voice carrying over all else as he received his compliments and replied to many of the questions.

Yes, I recall the time when we were at Aden, that was quite a trip.' Or,She was the best paying ship in `the line. Always popular on the Far East run, was the old Becky.'

Lindsay took another drink, trying to remember how many he had swallowed so far. Goss was really enjoying himself. It was just as if the opportunity to show what his old ship could do had released some of the pressure.

Jupp said quietly, `There has just been a telephone call, sir. Captain Lovelace will be coming aboard shortly.'

But Lindsay was looking past him towards the door. Boase, the doctor, was greeting several latecomers and leading them to the tables. One of them was the Wren called Eve.

At first he could not be certain. Without her scarves and baggy coat she looked quite different. For one thing, she was much smaller than he had imagined, and her hair was cut very short, giving her a sort of elfin simplicity.

He pushed through the press of figures and saw Boase stiffen and say, `Oh, this is the captain.'

She held out her hand. It was small and very warm. `I know.'

Lindsay said, `I'm glad you could come.'

She had hazel eyes, very wide. And she was studying him with that same mock gravity he had remembered so vividly from their first meeting in that wet, quivering staff car.

She said, `It's like nothing I've ever seen. She's a beautiful ship.'

He realised with a start he was still holding her hand and said awkwardly, `Here's a steward. Take a drink from the tray and tell me what you've been doing.'

She smiled up at him. Not much.' She lifted the glass.Cheers.'

Boase had sunk back into the crowd but Lindsay had not even noticed. He said, `I'm sorry I was a bit stupid the other night. You must have thought...'

She interrupted quietly, `I thought you looked worn out. I was sorry, too. About that dance.'

Lindsay glanced round. Have you brought him with you?' He forced a smile.He seemed a nice chap.'

You hated him, and it showed!' She laughed at his confusion.But he's not with me.' The laugh wavered. 'He was a friend of Bill's. The one who was killed.'

Then she waved her glass to another Wren who was in deep conversation with Lieutenant Hunter. `Watch it, Judy! You know what they say!' The mood had changed again.

Lindsay guided her to the bulkhead. `We're leaving tomorrow, but I imagine you know. I was wondering. About that meal I promised you?'

She looked at him with new concern. `Oh, I forgot to tell you. I've been drafted.'

`Drafted?' The word hung between them like a shutter.

`Well, I've been trying for ages to go on a signals course. I should have gone when I joined, but I had a driving licence, you see.'

Lindsay did not see. All he knew was he was losing her almost before he had found her. 'Licence?'

She wrinkled her nose. Yes. So they made me a driver. You know how it is.' She staggered against his arm.Oops. I'm getting tipsy already!' Then she saw his face and added, Well, my draft-chit has at last arrived. I'm being sent on some new course.' She faltered..In Canada.'

Lindsay looked away. `I'm very glad for you.'

`No you're not.' She rested a hand on his sleeve. 'Neither am I. Now.'

Canada. Not even where he could visit her. He cursed himself for allowing his disappointment to show. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't anyone's fault.

He said, `You didn't come aboard. to be miserable. Come and meet the others.'

She shook her head. I can only stay a little while. They're shipping me out tonight. I expect I'll be joining a convoy at Liverpool.' She was not smiling.Rotten, isn't it?'

Yes.' He wanted to take her away. Free himself and her from the noise and enjoyment which hemmed them in like a wall.I shall miss you.'

She studied his face for several seconds. `You mean it, don't you?'

Maxwell's polished head moved from the crowd. Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Captain Lovelace is here.' He kept his eyes on the girl.He has an important visitor with him.'

Tell him I'll be right over.' As Maxwell hurried away he said urgently,You won't leave the ship without saying goodbye?'

She shook her head very slowly. No. Of course not.' She tried to bring back her cheeky grin.I'll go and yarn with your delicious doctor.' But somehow the grin would not come.

Lindsay moved through the crowd and found Lovelace speaking with Maxwell, his serious features breaking into a I smile as he said, 'Ah, Lindsay, I'd like you to meet Commodore Kemp.'

The other guest was a sturdy, thickset man, who nodded abruptly and said, `Quite a party. Never think you'd been in action, what?'

Lovelace eyed him coolly. `No. You've done a marvellous job, Lindsay.'

Lindsay was still watching the commodore. There was something aggressive about him. Intolerant. Like his words. `Are you joining the base, sir?'

The commodore took a glass from a steward and regarded it critically. I'm here to co-ordinate new strategy.' He glanced at Lindsay again.Still, this is hardly the time to-discuss Service matters, what?' He did not smile.

Lindsay felt suddenly angry. Who the hell did he think he was anyway? He thought too of the girl, of the fading, precious minutes.

The commodore said abruptly, `Where is that son of mine then?'

Kemp. Of course. He should have guessed.

`I'm afraid I don't know, sir.'

`I would want to know where every one of my officers was, at any time of the day or night.'

Come along, sir, why not meet 'some of the other guests?' Lovelace sounded tense.I'm sure the captain doesn't bother about one more midshipman, eh?'

Kemp stared at him bleakly. `I want to see him.'

Lindsay sighed. `I'll send for him.' It was his own fault. After all, Kemp had come a long way to see his only son. It was not much to ask.

He heard the commodore say, `Young fool. When I heard about his latest failure I thought I'd explode!' He stared round at the shining panels and glittering lights.

`Under these circumstances, however-'

Lindsay turned sharply, `Are you here on official business, sir, or as a guest?'

Kemp looked at him with surprise. `As a guest of course!'

Lindsay said quietly, `Then, sir, may I suggest you start acting like one!' Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

The commodore opened and closed his mouth several times. `The impertinent young.' He turned to Lovelace again. 'By God, there will be a few changes when I'm in control, I can tell you!'

Lindsay almost collided with Jupp ass he pushed between the noisy figures by the door.

Jupp said, Beg pardon, sir, but the young lady 'as gone. There was a call from the shore. Somethin' about 'er draft. bein' brought forward an hour.' He held out a paper napkin.She said to give this to you, sir.'

Lindsay opened it. She had written in pencil. Had to go. Take care o f yourself. See you in Eden. Eve.

Then he hurried out and on to the promenade deck, the breath almost knocked from him by the bitter air. He found the gangway staff huddled together in their thick watchcoats, banging their hands and stamping their feet to keep warm.

The quartermaster saw Lindsay and said, `Can II 'elp, sir?'

`The last boat, Q.M. Can you still see it?' Beyond the guardrail the night was pitch black.

The quartermaster shook his head. No, sir. Shoved off ten minutes back.' His breath smelt strongly of rum. Lindsay felt the napkin in his hand and folded it carefully before putting it in his pocket.Thank you. Goodnight.'

The quartermaster watched him go and said to his companion, `Funny lot.'

The bosun's mate looked at him. `Who?'

The quartermaster reached for his hidden rum bottle. `Officers, of course! Who the bloody else!'

Lindsay walked back into the noisy wardroom and noticed that Commodore Kemp was speaking to his son in a corner. Several of the guests were showing signs of wear, and when they reached the cold air outside they would know all about it.

He reached Goss's side and said, `I'm going to my cabin, Number One. You take over, will you.'

Goss nodded, watching him strangely. `Good party; sir.'

Yes.' Lindsay looked at the door, as if expecting to see her there again.Very good party.'

Then he saw Jupp and said, 'I'll have some whisky in my cabin.'

`Now, sir?'

`Now.'

He walked out of the wardroom and climbed the companion ladder which now seemed very quiet and deserted.

8

A small error

The telephone above Lindsay's bunk rattled tinnily, and without switching on his overhead lamp he reached up and clapped it to his ear.

`Captain?'

Stannard sounded off guard. He had probably imagined Lindsay to be fast asleep.

`Time to alter course, sir.'

Lindsay held up his watch and saw the luminous face glowing in the darkness. Four in the morning. Another day.

`Very well, Pilot. What's it like up top?'

Not that it would have altered in the three hours since he had left the bridge. Nor had it changed much in the days and the weeks since they had slipped their buoy in Scapa. Ten days to reach the patrol area and another twenty pounding along the invisible lines of its extremities while the sea did everything possible to make their lives a misery. Even now, as he listened to Stannard's breathing and to the dull boom of waves against the hull, he could picture the water sluicing across the forward well deck, freezing into hard bulk, while the blown spray changed the superstructure and rigging into moulds of crude glass. Men frozen to the bone, slipping and cursing into the darkness with hammers and steam hoses, knowing as they toiled that they would be required again within the hour.

Stannard replied, `Wind still nor'west, sir. Pretty fresh.

It might feel easier when we turn into it.'

`Good. Keep me posted, Pilot.'. He dropped the hand set on its hook and lay back again on the pillow.

What a way to fight a war. Mile upon wretched mile. Empty, violent and cold. He heard feet overhead, the muffled clatter of steering gear as Stannard brought the old ship round on the southernmost leg of her patrol. Right at this moment of time Stannard's little pencilled cross on the chart would show the Benbecula almost five hundred miles south-west of Iceland, while some seven hundred and fifty miles beyond her labouring bows was the dreaded Cape Farewell of Greenland. It was not a patrol area, he thought. It was a wilderness, a freezing desert.

One. more day and they would be in December, with still another month to go before they could run for home, for Scapa and its weed-encrusted buoys.

He turned on the bunk and heard the small pill jar rattle beneath the pillow. The sound was like a cruel taunt, and he tried not to think of Boase's reserved voice as he had handed them to him. Enough to make you sleep for four hours at least. Deep, empty sleep which he needed so desperately. Pitifully. Yet he knew he was afraid to take even one of them. In case he was needed. In case.... He rolled over to his opposite side and thought instead about opening a new bottle of whisky. It was no use. He could not go on like this. He was slowly destroying himself, and knew he was a growing. menace to all those who depended on him at any hour of day or night.

Whenever he fell into the bunk for even a few moments the nightmare returned with the regularity of time itself. Again and again and again he would awake, sweating and frightened. Shaking and knowing he was beaten.

Perhaps if they were on convoy duty it might have been different. The daily check of ships under escort, the careful manoeuvres with massive merchantmen charging blindly through fog or pitch darkness for fear of losing the next ahead. The search for stragglers, and the triumph at watching the lines of weatherbeaten charges plodding past into harbour and safety.

But here there was nothing, and he knew it was affecting almost every man aboard. Tension flared into anger. Someone just a minute late on watch would be cursed by the waiting man with all the hatred and venom of an enemy. Lindsay tried to break the deadly monotony and discomfort by speaking daily to the ship's company over the new tannoy system. He occasionally left the bridge to do his rounds, to visit as many parts of the ship as he could between other duties, but he could feel the hopelessness of it just the same. Even the pathetically early Christmas decorations in some of the messes seemed to make a mockery of their efforts to stay sane.

The telephone jarred into his thoughts like a gunshot. It was Stannard again.

Sorry to bother you, sir.' His Australian accent was more pronounced than usual.There's a westbound convoy altering course to the south-east of us. W/T office is monitoring all traffic as you instructed.'

`How far away?'

Stannard sounded vague. `Approximately five hundred miles, sir.'

`Anything else?'

`Admiralty reports a deployment of seven plus U-boats converging ahead of convoy's original course, sir.'

`Very well. Keep a good listening watch.' He heard the line go dead.

As he lay back he thought of the countless times he had heard such warnings himself when he had commanded the Vengeur. Except that now there were more U-boats, bigger and better organised than before. He could . imagine the heart-searching which would be going on at this moment as the commodore and escort commander of that unknown convoy examined and discussed the latest information. Alter course. Run further north to avoid the eager U-boats. Lose time certainly, but with luck the ships would be saved from destruction. U-boats rarely wasted their efforts and fuel by sweeping too far from the main convoy routes. And why should they? Their growing toll of sinkings was evidence of their harvest.

But in the Atlantic you could never be really certain. Time and distance, speed and visibility were so different heree from the calm efficiency of the plotting rooms in the far off Admiralty bunkers.

But it was not Benbecula's concern. The convoy, like all the others at sea at any given time, must depend on its own resources.

He closed his eyes and tried to dismiss it from his mind. But try as he might he could not put aside a sudden feeling of uneasiness. Doubt or instinct? It was impossible to describe.

He switched on the light and swung his legs off the bunk, feeling automatically for his sea boots. It was no surprise to hear the discreet knock at the outer door and to see Jupp's mournful face peering in at him. Perhaps he could not sleep either.

Will you be wanting an early breakfast, sir?' His eyes flickered swiftly across the disordered bunk.I 'ave some coffee on the go.'

Lindsay, shook his head, steadying his legs against the tilting deck. `I think I'll make do with coffee for now.'

Jupp vanished just as quietly and returned in minutes with a pot of fresh coffee.

He said, Blowing a bit up top; sir.' He glanced with. obvious disapproval at Lindsay's soiled and crumpled sweater.I could get you some more gear from my store.'

Lindsay smiled. `Later.'

He swung round as the handset rang again. `Captain?'

Stannard said, 'W/T office has just received a signal for us, sir. Top Secret. I've got Aikman on to it right away.'

Lieutenant Aikman, who was listed as boarding officer, had the additional chore of decoding the more secret and difficult signals, and would not thank Stannard for hauling him from his warm bunk.

Lindsay swallowed some coffee and then asked, `Any news of the convoy?'

`Six more U-boats reported to the south of it, sir. I've marked 'em on my chart, so it also gives us a fair idea of the convoy's position.'

Lindsay nodded. 'Good. That was sensible.' There was more to Stannard than he had imagined.

He replaced the- handset as Jupp said, `Marvellous 'ow the Admiralty know all them things, sir..'

Lindsay shrugged. `They've the Germans to thank for that. Admiralty intercepts signals from seagoing U-boats to German naval headquarters and passes the information on to the convoys. Got it?'

Jupp looked doubtful. `Not quite, sir.'

Lindsay groped for the nearest dry towel and wound it round his neck. `If a U-boat sights a convoy her skipper flashes the news to Germany.. The German operations staff then signal all U-boats in the vicinity to home on to it like a pack of wolves.'

As he buttoned his jacket he was thinking of those submarines. Seven plus ahead of the convoy's previous course. Now six more to the south. It was a formidable force, but fortunately there was still time to take avoiding action. Thanks to the radio operators at the Admiralty.

Jupp handed him his cap and glasses. `It's all too much for me, sir. Makes me feel old.'

Lindsay brushed past him. `You'll never get old. You're like the ship. Rheumaticky but reliable!'

As he hurried up the companion ladder he realised with a start that it was the first time he had attempted to make a joke about anything since ... he shut the other picture from his mind.

By the chart room he paused and glanced inside. Stannard was, stretching across the big table, his fingers working deftly with dividers and parallel rulers...He made some small notations on the chart and then straightened his back. Seeing Lindsay in the doorway he said, Oh, good morning, sir.' He grinned.Although it's as black as

a boot outside.'

Lindsay leaned on the table and studied the neat lines and bearings.

Stannard said, As far as I can make out the convoy has made a really drastic alteration of course.' He tapped the chart with his dividers.They are steaming almost nor'west and really cracking it on.'

`What do we know about it, Pilot?'

Lindsay knew what the convoy's commodore was doing. He had already passed out of effective range of air cover from England and was heading further north in the hopes of getting help from the longe-range bomber patrols from Iceland. There were so many dead patches where aircraft could not reach to carry out sorties and anti-submarine attacks. Like the vast area now covered by Benbecula's endless vigil.

Stannard said, `I looked at the intelligence log, sir. Seems it's a fast westbound convoy. Only ten ships, according to the last information.'

The door banged open and Aikman, his pyjamas covered bya duffel coat, stepped over the coaming.

Bloody hell, Pilot! Can't you let a bloke get some shut-eye!' He saw Lindsay and flushed.Sorry, sir!'

Lindsay smiled. I know how you feel.' He was still thinking about the convoy.What does the signal say?'

Aikman ran his fingers through his tousled hair. Three German heavy units have left Tromso, sir. Last reported heading south along the Norwegian coast. Further information not yet available.' He looked up as Lindsay turned to face him.There's a list of deployments too, sir.'

Lindsay took the long, neatly written signal and read it very slowly. It might be nothing. The enemy could be moving three important warships south to Kiel or to the Baltic for use against the Russians. They had been seen steaming south, but that could have easily been a ruse to confuse the Norwegian agents who must have flashed the news to the Admiralty in London. Perhaps they were going to make another attempt to break into the Atlantic in strength. He ran his eye over the deployment information. A cruiser squadron was already on its way from Iceland, and more heavy units had left Scapa Flow: He found he was reading fasteras the mental picture began to form in his mind. Almost every available ship was being sent to forestall anything which the three German units might attempt. He thought of the deserted buoys at Scapa. The place would really be stripped bare now.

He looked- at Stannard. `I want you tomake notes on this signal. You'll need help with it, so I'll stay on the bridge awhile until we hear something more.'

Stannard nodded and picked up a telephone. He said, Bosun's mate? Get the navigator's yeoman double quick. And tell Midshipman Kemp I want him here, too.' As he dropped the handset-he was already searching through his chart folios until with a grunt he dragged one out and laid it on the smaller chart table by the bulkhead.Just so as I can plot what's happening off Norway, sir.' He grinned and added, `Not that we'll be involved, but it helps to pass the time.'

Lindsay eyed him gravely. `Good thinking. But don't bank' on the last part too much.'

As he walked towards the wheelhouse Lindsay was thinking of the carefully detailed information in the signal, What Stannard did not yet realise was that apart from Benbecula and two patrol vessels in the Denmark Strait there was hardly a single ship within five hundred miles of the convoy and its escorts.

He found Dancy standing in the centre of the bridge staring straight ahead through a clearview screen. Beyond the toughened glass there was little visible but the dark outline of the forecastle framed against the oncoming ranks of white-topped waves. Past the pale crests there was complete darkness,, with not even a star to . show itself through the thick cloud.

Dancy stiffened as Lindsay lifted himself on to the chair.

Lindsay remarked, `How is the ice on deck, Sub?'

Dancy replied, The middle watch had it cleared before we came up, sir. But there is some forming below Number Two gun mounting, I think. I'll get the hands on it in half an hour.' He hesitated.If that is all right, sir?' '

Lindsay looked' at him. How much more confident Dancy had become. Probably through working with Stannard.

`Fine,' he said.

Stannard entered the wheelhouse a few minutes later but he was no longer so untroubled. I've marked all of it on the charts, sir.' His palm rasped over his chin.If those three jokers make a go for the Atlantic, which way will they come, d'you reckon?'

Lindsay shrugged. `They'll know they've been seen on the move and will not waste time trying for the Denmark Strait this time. Quite apart from the problems of drifting ice, they'll imagine we've a mass of -patrols there already waiting for them.'

Stannard said quietly, `If they only knew!'

Lindsay nodded. `My guess is they'll head for the Rose Garden.'

`Sir?' Dancy sounded puzzled.

Stannard understood. `That's the area between Iceland and the Faroes, you ignorant oaf!' ,

Dancy replied carefully, `All the same, it'll be hard to slip past our ships, surely?'

Over four hundred miles, Sub?' Lindsay looked away.It's a pretty wide gap.'

He settled back in the chair and waited until the others had moved away. He did not want to talk. He wanted to think, to try and explain why he felt so uneasy: Involved.

On the face of it, Dancy's youthful optimism should be justified. The Navy had been planning for such an eventuality since the Bismarck's breakout., But this was a very bad time of the year. Visibility was hopeless and air cover restricted accordingly. It was just possible the Germans might make it. If so, where would they go, south to prey on the convoys from the Cape, or further west in search of more rapid results?

Aikman entered the wheelhouse, his eyes glowing faintly in the shaded compass light. `Another signal, sir. Two more U-boats reported to south of convoy.'

Stannard snapped, `Give it to me. I'll put it on the chart.'

Lindsay's voice stopped him by the door. While you're there, Pilot, get me a course and speed to intercept the convoy.' He hesitated, feeling Stannard's unspoken warning.I mean to intercept the convoy if it comes as far north as our patrol limit.'

Stannard said, `Right away, sir.'

Aikman asked, `They'll never come right up here, surely, sir?'

Lindsay looked at him. `Wouldn't you if you had fifteen odd U-boats coming after you?'

Aikman nodded glumly. `I suppose so.'

Somewhere below the bridge the tannoy speaker squeaked into life. `Cooks to the galley! Forenoon watchkeepers to breakfast and clean!'

Lindsay looked at his watch. Nearly three hours since Stannard had called him on the telephone about the change of course. It seemed like minutes.

Stannard came back and said, Course to intercept would be one hundred degrees, sir. Revs for fifteen knots.' He paused, his voice empty of everything but professional interest.If the convoy maintains its present course and speed we should make contact at 2000 tonight.' He stood back, his face hidden in shadow as he waited for Lindsay's reaction. Then he added slowly, `Of course, sir, we'd be out of our allotted area by noon if you decided to act on it.'

`Yes.' He thought of the two lines which Stannard must have drawn on his chart. Two converging lines. One the Benbecula, the other a handful of desperate, valuable ships. The convoy's original track was straddled by Uboats. To the south the gate was also closed. But if the convoy came further north and the German heavy units burst through the patrol lines, they would need all the help they could get.

He said, `Very well. Bring her round to one-zero-zero. Call up the chief before you ask for maximum revs, but warn the engine room what to expect.'

He could feel the sudden expectancy amongst the shadowy figures around him. Moments before they had been lolling and swaying with the regular motion, half asleep and dull with boredom. His words had changed all that in an instant.

`Port fifteen.' Stannard rested one hand on the gyro, his eyes watching the quartermaster as he began to turn the wheel.

Below decks, as the forenoon watchkeepers queued for their greasy sausages and powdered egg, their, sweet tea and marmalade, they would feel the difference and cling to their mess tables until the turn was completed. Only the seasoned men would guess what was happening. The others would merely curse the officers on the bridge for deliberately trying to ruin their breakfast.

'Midships.' Stannard had his eye down to the gyro. `Steady.'

`Steady, sir. Course zero-nine-five.' The quartermaster sounded breathless as the ship rolled heavily across a steep trough.

`Steer one-zero-zero.' Stannard looked up as small tinkling sounds echoed above like tiny bells. More ice .forming on the control position and rigging made by the spray-flung high over the bows.

A telephone buzzed and Stannard said, Yes, Chief.' He looked at Lindsay.For you, sir.'

Fraser sounded irritable. `What's all this I hear about full revs, sir?'

Lindsay turned his back to the others and spoke very quietly into the mouthpiece. `There may be a convoy coming into our pitch, Chief. There are three bandits at large from Norway and a whole pack of U-boats to the south. I thought our presence might cheer 'em up a bit. Pilot will give you the details. I just wanted you to know the rest of it first.'

There was a long pause. `Aye, sir. Ring down when you're ready; I'll give you everything I've got.'

Lindsay handed the telephone to Stannard and said, `'I'm going below. I have a feeling this is going to be a long day.'

Two hours later Jupp stood beside Lindsay's table and eyed him with grave approval. Lindsay had shaved, taken a quick shower, and had allowed Jupp to supply him with a freshly laundered sweater. But it was the fact that he was eating his first complete breakfast since taking command which was obviously giving the steward so much pleasure. He even felt better, but could discover no cause for it.

Beyond the bulkhead he could hear hammers banging away the ice and the squeak of metal as the gun crews tested their weapons and made sure the mechanism had not frozen solid overnight. It was still dark on deck, and would be for most of the day. He could feel the ship's stern lifting slowly to the following sea, while the bows crashed and vibrated like dull thunder, throwing up the spray in long tattered banners as high as the foremast derricks.

There was a tap at the door and Petty Officer Ritchie stepped over the coaming, his cap beneath his arm. He too looked brighter and more relaxed than Lindsay could remember. Perhaps, like himself, he craved to be doing something, if only to keep his inner hurt at bay a while longer.

`Good morning, Yeoman. Anything new?'

Ritchie took a pad from his pocket. Not much, sir. No more U-boat reports. And there's nothin' about the three Jerry ships neither.' He leafed through the pad.Bad weather over the Denmark Strait, so. all air patrols is grounded.'

`That follows.' Lindsay gestured to Jupp for some more coffee.

Ritchie added, `Some more information about the convoy, sir. Ten ships and three escorts.'

`Only three?'

Ritchie grimaced. `Well, sir, it's a fast convoy apparently. Mostly tankers in ballast and two personnel ships. One of 'em's; got a party of Wrens aboard it seems. A complete signals course.'

Lindsay stared at him,- suddenly ice cold. It was more than a coincidence, surely. The feeling. The nagging instinct that something was wrong. Like the dream. Only this time it was real.

`Give it to me.' He took the pad, his eyes darting across Ritchie's round handwriting as if to see something more than the bare details.

Ritchie watched him curiously. `I did 'ear they was sendin' some Wrens to Canada, sir. Wouldn''ave minded an instructing job out there.'

Lindsay stood up. Get back to the bridge, Yeo, and tell the W/T office I want every channel open. Anything,' he paused,, holding Ritchie's eyes with his own,anything they hear I want to know about. Then pass the word for Lieutenant Stannard to report to me.'

Ritchie looked as if he were about to ask a question, but as he glanced past Lindsay he saw Jupp give an urgent shake of the head and decided against it.

Jupp watched the door close and asked, More coffee, sir?' When Lindsay remained staring at the bulkhead he added gently,She'll be safe, sir. They'll not take chances with a ship full of women.'

Lindsay turned slowly and looked at him. Poor Jupp, what did he know of the Atlantic?

He said quietly, `I expect you're right. And thank you.'

Jupp had been expecting Lindsay to fly at him for his foolish comments and had been prepared for it. But he had been determined Lindsay should not be dragged down by the sudden despair which was stamped on his face. The fact that Lindsay had spoken so quietly was in some ways much worse. Jupp' was deeply moved by the discovery, as he was troubled by the realisation he could do nothing to help.

In his private office below the bridge Lieutenant Philip Aikman carefully locked the secret code books inside his safe and took a quick glance at himself in the bulkhead mirror. He was past thirty, and occasionally worried about a certain flabbiness around his chin and waist. He liked to take care of himself whenever possible, but with the Benbecula rolling drunkenly through trough after trough it was not easy to exercise in comfort and work up a sweat without being watched by prying eyes.

Unlike most of the other officers aboard, Aikman really enjoyed his appointment to the ship. Benbecula was not involved with complicated manoeuvres of fleet actions. She was remote from all but the rarest chances of air or U-boat attack, which suited him just fine.

He slipped into his duffel coat and arranged his cap carefully on his fair hair at what was a jaunty angle, but. not enough to draw sarcasm or a harsh reprimand from Goss.

In civilian life Aikman had been manager of a small but busy travel agency in the London suburbs. Holidays for middle class families in Brighton and Torquay. Weekends for the less fortunate in Southend and Selsey Bill. It never varied very much except when someone came to see him for advice on something more daring. France or Italy. A cruise to the Greek Islands or the ski slopes of Switzerland-Aikman knew every place, almost as if he had visited each one himself.

His education was scanty, but he made up for it by his sharp attention. to detail and manner. He watched and listened to those who came to his shop to book their holidays, and never pushed. himself further than was necessary to gain more information from them when they returned to tell him of his satisfactory, or otherwise, arrangements.

Deep inside he yearned to be part of the world he sold and traded in his shop. That unreal world of laughing girls on posters holding beach balls and calling you to sunshine and endless enjoyment. Of the white-hulled :liners anchored in glittering bays and harbours, surrounded by boats of eager wogs and, of course, more smiling girls.

When war came he volunteered for the Navy without really knowing why. He never lost a chance in seeking someone who could help him reach his new goal, a commission, and when luck came his way he seized it with both hands. In the early months, the phoney war as it was called by all those not made to fight in it,-there was much confusion, as a peacetime Navy became swollen. in size "and purpose. By chance he saw and confronted one of his old customers, a retired captain of some age who was now back in the Service, and like it had become larger than life. Aikman had always flattered him, and when the old captain asked casually if he was interested in a job on Contraband Control, Aikman jumped at it.

One advantage Aikman had over the younger officer candidates was that he had experience of life outside the Navy or some public school. Without a blush he completed his forms, adding a list of languages which he spoke fluently and more of which - he had a fair knowledge. In fact he spoke only one, his own, and even that was limited. But as he had told his customers often enough. `Everyone speaks English!' His supreme confidence and smooth acceptance of his new work somehow carried him through. In the early part of the war, when maritime neutrals still outnumbered the combatants, he was required to board and search'their ships to make sure no war materials were being smuggled to the enemy. To his surprise, he found everyone did speak English, well almost, and when a rare' ignorance spoiled his approach Aikman would soon discover another officer or a steward who could give him his necessary information. In fact, he did so well he gained a second stripe almost before the first one had become tarnished.

But when he was transferred to a troopship and later to Benbecula he felt a pang of relief. Luck could not last forever, and here he was really safe. The officers were nicely mixed, and only a few like Maxwell, the gunnery officer, and Goss, the first lieutenant, ever bothered him. He had not a 'specified job, other than as boarding officer, until of course the captain had made him his senior decoding officer, an untouchable and unreachable position. It suited him very well indeed.

He stepped over the cabin coaming and winced as the wind smashed, him back on the wet steel. Over the weather rail the sea was sinking and then surging high against the hull, and he had to run like mad to reach the bridge ladder, without getting soaked.

He entered the chart room and shook his cap carefully on the deck. Stannard was not there, and only Midshipman Kemp and Squire, the navigator's yeoman, were working on the two charts.

Kemp was well bred, you could see it in the fine clear skin and sensitive mouth. He had an important father too, Aikman had learned from someone, and he guessed there might be a next step for him there if he played it carefully.

He said casually, I've just decoded that last top secret one.' He laid the pad on the chart.It states, two repeat two of the German heavy units have entered the Skagerrak, so you'd better riote it in the pilot's log.'

Kemp looked up, his eyes rimmed with fatigue. `Just two of them?'

Aikman gave a grave smile. It stands to reason that if two of them have gone to earth the other will be close behind.' He shrugged.If not, I imagine the Home Fleet can take care of that bugger!'

Kemp thrust the pad to-Squire. `You do it, will you?'

I said as much to Pilot.' Aikman yawned hugely.When he got me out of my pit at the crack of. dawn. Still, -there you are.'

He walked to a salt-stained scuttle and peered down at the leaping, jarring wave crests. It was just past noon, yet the sky was dull grey, like a London fog in winter. He watched the rivulets of spray running down the glass and freezing into small distorted worms.

`Nasty. But I've seen worse.'

Behind his back Squire looked up and grinned. Pompous twit. Sounded like a proper old sea-dog. He lowered his head again and reached for his pencil. Squire had been a merchant seaman, but now that he was officially in the Royal Navy for the duration of the war was - as determined as Aikman to better himself. There the similarity ended. He was a dark haired seaman of twentyeight years, with the quiet good looks of a scholar rather - than a sailor. He had worked hard and had gained the coveted appointment as Stannard's personal yeoman, astep, as the Australian had explained more than once, which would land him a bit of gold lace if he kept his nose clean. So there it was.

He paused, the pencil in mid air. He was too tired. Too worn out by the cold and damp of his endless visits to the bridge. He tried again.

As Aikman walked across the passage to visit the W/T office Squire said quietly, `These two Jerry ships, sir. How can they be in the Skagerrak?'

Kemp, who had been brooding about his father and their last angry confrontation, turned and looked at him warily. `Why not?'

Squire studied him thoughtfully. He liked Kemp, but as an officer he was bloody useless.

Patiently he said, If three of them left Tromso last night, how can two have reached as far south as Denmark in that time?' He put down the pencil.It's not possible, sir, unless they grew wings!'

Aikman's voice was loud in the passageway and Squire said, `You'd better tell him, sir. It could be important.'

`Tell him what?' Aikman was back, smiling at them with assured ease.

Kemp looked at the signal pad. `The yeoman says that these ships could not have reached the Skagerrak so quickly, sir.'

What?' Aikman was still smiling.That's bloody rubbish; lad.' He crossed to the table. If their lordships tell us they've got there, then who are we to question them, eh?' He laughed.Would you like me to make a special signal to the First Sea Lord? Tell him that Mr Midshipman Kemp and Acting Able Seaman Squire are of the opinion his information is all to hell?'

Kemp dropped his eyes. I was only saying what Squire interrupted,I think you should check the original signal, sir.'

Do you?' Aikman felt a sudden twinge of alarm. They were all reacting wrongly. He was losing control.As it happens, Squire, I do not require any advice on my department!V

'Sir.' Squire looked away, hurt and suddenly angry. What the hell was the matter with Aikman? He glanced at Kemp's strained face. And he was little better. He should have spoken out, done the job Stannard had entrusted him with.

He said stubbornly, `When the navigating officer returns, sir, I shall have to tell him.'

You do that small thing, Squire!' Aikman shot him a withering stare.I may have some things to tell him, too!' He stamped out of the chart room and slammed the door.

Kemp shrugged. `Phew, you've really upset him now.'

Squire did not look at him. The first thing he had done wrong. Spoken out against an officer. He must be mad. Even Stannard would be unable to wipe that from his record.

At that very moment Stannard was standing beside Lindsay's tall chair, his eyes fixed beyond the bows and the steady panorama of cruising wave crests.

He said, `Well, sir, I have to tell you thatwe should make a turn. Even allowing for dead reckoning and little else, I'm sure we're miles over our patrol line.'

Lindsay nodded slowly: Stannard was right, of course. All the forenoon as he had sat or paced the creaking, staggering bridge he had listened to the intermittent stream of incoming signals. The convoy had made another turn to westward, its commodore apparently satisfied the U-boats had given up the chase. There had been several reports of ice to the south and south-east of Cape Farewell from the American ice patrols, but every captain had to be prepared to take avoiding action in these waters.

He replied, `Well, if anything had happened we'd have been better placed to go and assist.' It sounded as lame as he knew it was.

Aikman strode on to the bridge and reported, `Two enemy units have been sighted in their own waters, sir. The third is still unaccounted for.'

Stannard grinned. `That settles it then. I'll go and lay off a new course.'

Lindsay glanced at Dancy. `Ring for half speed.'

He settled down again in the chair and thought of the convoy and the party of Wrens who were probably quite unaware of their momentary danger.

He realised that Aikman was still beside him, and when he turned saw his face was deathly pale, as if he was going to bee sick. `What's wrong?'

Aikman spoke between his teeth. There's been a mistake, sir. Not important now as the enemy ships are back in safe waters, but Lindsay asked,What sort of mistake?'

I was called here this morning and told to decode that first signal.' He- was speaking mechanically, as,if he had lost control over his voice.I was tired, I'd been overworking, .you see, sir, and I must have confused the times of origin.

Lindsay gripped the arms of the chair. `You did what?'

Well, sir, it was just a small slip.' A bead of sweat ran from under Aikman's cap.But the three German ships left Tromso twenty-eight hours earlier than I calculated.'

Lindsay saw Dancy watching him over the gyro, his face like a mask.

But two of them are back in their own waters.' Lindsay forced himself to speak gently, knowing Aikman was near breaking.Is that part right?'

Aikman nodded. `Yes, sir.'

The sliding door at the rear of the wheelhouse crashed open and Stannard said harshly, Own waters be damned! They're in the Skagerrak, and that was how Squire knew he,' Stannard pointed angrily at Aikman's rigid shoulders,had made a cock of the decoding!'

Easy, Pilot!' Lindsay slid from the. chair, his mind working wildly.This won't help anything.'

Stannard crossed the bridge and said to Aikman, `You stupid bastard! Why the hell did you take so long to find out?'

Aikman faced him, his lips ashen. Well, they're back now, so what are you trying to make trouble for?' Lindsay's voice silenced all of them.In twenty-eight

hours quite a lot might have happened.' He looked at Stannard. See what,you can find out about the convoy.' Then he looked at Aikman.I just hope to God I'm wrong. If not, you'd better start praying!'

Aikman walked from the wheelhouse, his eyes unseeing as Stannard came back from the W/T office.

He said quietly, `Convoy is now steering two-seven-five, sir. Fifteen knots. Should pass within fifty miles of our southernmost leg at 2000.'

Lindsay waited, knowing there was more.

`A Swedish freighter reported sighting an unidentified ship in the Denmark Strait the night before last, sir. That is all the information :available.'

Lindsay walked past him and gripped the rail beneath a clearview screen. Almost to himself he said, So while every available ship is out searching for the three from Tromso, one other slips quietly through the Denmark Strait. He's been there, sitting patiently and waiting while the U-boats did the hard part for him.' He swung round on Stannard and slammed one fist into his palm.Like beasts to the slaughter!'

Stannard stared at him `Oh, my Christ!'

Lindsay turned away,. `Bring her round on to your new course. Maximum revs again, and I'll want the hands to exercise action stations in thirty minutes before the light goes!'

He gestured to a bosun's mate. Get the first lieutenant and gunnery officer.' As the man ran to his telephone he looked at Dancy.And you, 'Sub, pray for a snowstorm, anything, if you've nothing else to do.'

Below in his small office Aikman sat on the edge of his chair, the knuckle of one finger gripped tightly between his teeth to keep himself from sobbing aloud. The mistake which he had anticipated and then ignored had at last found him out. He still did not understand exactly what had happened up there on the bridge, but knew it was far more terrible than even he imagined.

Overhead a tannoy speaker blared, `Hands will exercise action in thirty minutes. Damage control parties will muster on A deck.'

Aikman stared at the speaker, his eyes smarting from the strain. What the hell was happening? There was no real danger now, surely? Two ships had been found, and probably the, other one too by now.

Tears ran unheeded down his cheeks. That fool Stanhard and his stupid, crawling yeoman were responsible.' The signal could have been filed and forgotten like so many others. And now, whatever happened, his small world was broken and lost to him forever.

9

The trap

L indsay made himself sit very still in his chair as the deck lifted, hesitated and then swayed through another steep roll. Apart from the shaded compass lights the bridge was in total darkness, and because the sea had moderated during the afternoon and evening the shipboard noises seemed all the louder. Steel creaked and groaned as if in pain, and above the bridge the long necklaces of iced spray on stays and rails rattled -and tinkled in tuneless chorus.

The Benbecula had turned in a great arc, so that she was now heading once again towards the southern extremity of Greenland. All afternoon they had listened to the crackle of morse from the W/T office and watched the mounting clips of signals. The third German ship, a cruiser, had at last been sighted entering the Skagerrak like her consorts, so whatever doubt had remained in Lindsay's mind had almost gone. This was no slapdash operation for morale or propaganda purposes. The German navy was showing what it could do when it came to co-operation between all arms of the service.

But for the twenty-eight hours delay things might have been very different. He could have taken Benbecula at full speed to the northern span of her patrol area, where there was the best chance of contacting any ship which might come through the Denmark Strait. If only the neutral freighter had reported seeing the fourth ship earlier, but/the unknown vessel had made good use of time and the carefully planned ruse to draw. off the Home Fleet's reserves, and by now could be almost anywhere.

Th 'Admiralty was suspicious, too. Benbecula had received more signals giving details of the convoy's course and approximate position. The best Lindsay could do was to keep on a slowly converging track, putting his ship between the convoy and whatever was likely to come down from the north-east.

The ten ships and their escort were now in a position on Benbecula's port bow. It was impossible to fix the exact distance. It could be thirty or one hundred miles away.

He watched the spray lift over the stem and drift lazily towards the revolving screens, saw the quick pinpoint of light from one of the guns as a quarters officer made some frantic inspection in the freezing air. The sea was very much calmer, moving towards them in a great humped swell with only an occasional whitecap to betray its anger. There were several reports of ice, and Lindsay knew the smoother surface was evidence enough that there was some quite near. He half listened to the engines' muted beat and imagined Fraser on his footplate, watching the dials set to the present reduced speed and waiting to throw open the throttles at a second's warning.

He thought too of the girl out there in the blackness. It seemed incredible that it could be so. She was probably fully dressed- and in her lifejacket, talking quietly and listening to the unfamiliar orders and sounds around her. One good thing was that the convoy consisted of fast ships. It was not much but...

He turned on his chair and rapped, `Time?'

A signalman said, `Twenty-one 'undred, sir.'

Feet thumped overhead where Maxwell and his fire control team had been sitting and shivering for several hours.

He darted a quick glance around the bridge. Dancy and Petty Officer Ritchie. Stannard just by the rear door, and the signalmen and messengers arranged at telephones and voicepipes like so many statues. The coxswain was leaning slightly over the wheel, his heavy face set in a frown of. concentration. as he watched the ticking gyro repeater. The tension was almost a physical thing.

Watertight doors were closed, and apart from the bridge shutters every hatch and scuttle was tightly sealed.

Lindsay-felt his stomach contract painfully and realised he had not eaten since breakfast.

The buzz of a telephone was so loud that a seaman gave a yelp of alarm.

Stannard snatched it and then said quickly, Signal from convoy escort to Admiralty, Sir.' He paused, listening to the voice from behind the W/T office's protective steel plate. 'Am under attack by German raider. One escort in sinking condition. Am engaging.' He swallowed hard.Require immediate repeat immediate assistance.'

Lindsay did not turn. `Full ahead both engines.'

Stannard shouted above the jangle of telegraphs. `Admiralty to Benbecula, sir. Act as situation demands. No assistance is available for minimum of twelve hours.'

Dancy whispered, `God!'

Another telephone buzzed and Lindsay heard Dancy say, Masthead. Yes. Right.' Then he said,Gunflashes at Red two-oh.'

The bridge was beginning to vibrate savagely as the revolutions mounted.

Then Stannard again. `Admiralty have ordered convoy to divide, sir.'

Dancy called, `Masthead reports that he can see more flashes, sir.'

`Very well.'

Lindsay forced his spine back into the chair, willing his mind to stay clear. The flashes were a guide, but with the low cloud and possibility of ice about it was impossible to. gauge the range.

The control speaker intoned, `'We can see the flashes too, sir. No range as yet.'

With the freezing spray splattering over the bridge it was hardly surprising. Maxwell's spotters probably had their work cut out to keep even the largest lens free of ice.

`Any more news from the escort?'

`'No, sir.' Stannard had the handset against his ear.

Lindsay pounded the screen slowly with his gloved fingers. Come on, old girl. Come on. He recalled the words from the Admiralty. Act as situation demands. Would they have said it if they had known Benbecula was so close?

Dancy asked quietly, 'D'you think it's the same one that sank Loch Glendhu, sir?' He sounded hoarse.

`Yes. That last effort was just a rehearsal. Maybe this is, too.'

Someone gasped as a bright orange light glowed suddenly in the blackness ahead. It seemed to hang like a tall, brilliant feather of flame, until with equal swiftness it vanished completely.

Stannard said, `That's one poor bastard done for.'

Maxwell's voice made him look round at the speaker, `Approximate range is three-double-oh, sir. Bearing Red one-five.'

Lindsay clenched his fingers to steady himself. Fifteen miles. It might as well be double that amount.

Stannard was by his side again. We're a lot closer than I calculated, sir.' He seemed to sense Lindsay's despair and added,We might still be. able to help.'

Another bright flash against the unmoving backcloth. This time it seemed to last for several minutes so that they could see the underbellies of the clouds shining and flickering as if touched by the fires below.

Out there ships were burning and men were dying. Lindsay stared at the shimmering light with sudden anguish. It had been so well planned, with the methodical accuracy of an assassination.

The fire vanished, as if quenched by a single hand.

Lindsay looked away. If she was in that ship, please God let it have been quick. No terror below decks with the ship falling apart around her. No agony, of scalding

steam, of shell splinters. Only the freezing sea, just for this once-being merciful.

Stannard took the handset from a messenger before it had stopped buzzing. To us from Admiralty, sir. Convoy has divided. The two personnel ships with the commodore aboard have turned north. The tankers and remaining escort have headed south.' He sounded surprised.Enemy has ceased fire.'

Lindsay stood up and walked slowly across the violently shaking gratings. Of course-the German had ceased fire. He had destroyed two or more in the convoy. The U-boats would be waiting for the tankers now. The raider could take his time. Follow the two helpless ships as far as the ice, and then....

He swung round, his tone harsh: `Come to the chart room, Pilot. We'll alter course immediately.'

`Are you going after them, sir?'

Lindsay looked at him. `All the way.'

Ritchie watched them leave the wheelhouse and then crossed to the gyro, straddling his legs as the ship crashed violently in the heavy swell.

`What d'you think, Swain? Will we make it?'

Jolliffe's face remained frozen in the compass light like a chunk of weatherworn carving. `I'll tell you one thing, Yeo. If we gets stuck up there in the ,bleeding ice it'll be like shooting fish in a barrel.'

Dancy heard his words and walked quickly to the forepart of the bridge. He watched the spray rattling against the glass and thought of men like. Jolliffe and Ritchie. Professionals, yet they were worried. He gripped the rail and shivered uncontrollably. Knowing he was at last afraid.

Down in the ship's damage control section Goss sat in a steel swivel chair, his hands on his thighs; his head jutting forward as he stared grimly at the illuminated ship's plan on the opposite bulkhead. This compartment had altered very little since her cruising days, and apart from additional titles and new functions, the plan, the various sections throughout the jiull had not changed. Coloured lights flickered along the plan showing watertight compartments and bulkheads, stores and holds, the complex maze of passageways and shafts which went into the body of a ship.

The damage control parties had been at their stations for hours, and behind him Goss could hear some of the .stokers and seamen chattering together, their voices almost lost in the pounding rumble of engines and the whirr of fans.

In another seat at the far end of the plan sat Chief Petty Officer Archer, his head lolling to the unsteady rolls, his cap tilted to the back of his head as he waited with the others for something to happen.

Goss did not like Archer, and already there had been several flare-ups between them. With Tobey, the ship's boatswain, who had been drafted to more important duties, as the dockyard had explained, Goss had got on very well. Not on a sociable level, of course; but professionally, which was all Goss required in any man. Tobey was a company officer, one who had served in the line for many years, most of them in the Benbecula. He knew the ship, every rivet of her, like his own skin, and had nursed her over the thousands of miles they had steamed together. Being sparing with paint and cleaning gear, avoiding waste in materials by keeping an eagle eye on the seamen to make sure a proper wire splice was used instead of merely signing a chit for a whole new length of it. But at all times he had kept the ship perfect, a credit to the company.

He darted a glance at Archer. He on the other hand was a regular Navy man. He knew nothing of making do with meagre resources, with a clerk in the company office checking every item and expense. He had lived off the

taxpayer for too long, and cared nothing for economy. When Goss had gott on to him about the constant increase of-rust streaks on the superstructure, Archer had merely ordered his men to slop on more paint. Hide it, cover it up, until somebody else made it his business to deal with properly. Someone else, in Archer's view, was the dockyard, any dockyard. He was not concerned.

He sat bolt upright in his chair as the deck and fittings gave a sudden convulsion, and above the engines' confident beat he heard a drawn-out, menacing roar.

A seaman called, `What was that, Chief?'

Archer looked at Goss, his eyes anxious. `I'm not sure.'

Goss listened to the sound as it faded and then stopped altogether. `We must be pushing through some drift ice.'

He licked his lips. The captain must be stark, staring mad to drive the ship like this with ice about.

Archer said quietly, `Well, I expect they know what they're doin'.' He did not sound very convinced.

A door opened and aa seaman staggered into the compartment carrying a huge fanny of cocoa. Feet scraped and mugs clattered as the men hurried to meet him, their concern temporarily forgotten.

Goss glared at the clock. It was six in the morning. Nine hours since the bridge had reported sighting gunflashes and had rung down for full speed. The old Becky must have covered nearly a hundred and forty miles in that time, and it was a wonder the boilers hadn't burst under the strain. A further scraping roar echoed around the hull, and he gripped the arms of his seat as he pictured the surging slabs of ice dashing down the ship's flanks, fading into the wash astern.

He could feel his palms sweating, and knew from the stricken silence behind him that the others were watching him.

He said gruffly, `She can take more than this, so get on with your bloody cocoa!'

Goss tried to shut them all from his mind, close them out, as he often did when he was worried. He thought back to that last cruise, before the war had changed everything. Even by looking at the damage control plan he could bring back some of it. The passengers had often come down here on one of the little conducted tours which had always been so popular. The ladies in the silk dresses, with tanned shoulders, the men in white dinner jackets wafting the scent of rich cigars as they listened to some earnest junior officer explaining the ship's safety arrangements. It had all been a bit of a joke to them, of course. Like the boat drill, with the-stewards taking as many-liberties as they dared when they assisted some of the younger women with their lifejackets. But Goss had never looked on it as anything but deadly serious. He had been in one ship when fire had broken out and the lifeboats had been lowered with minutes to spare. An ugly episode. He looked along the plan, his eyes dark. In those days, of course, one of the main points to be watched was the watertight door system. It did not actually say anything about it on the plan, but Goss had known that if Benbecula had begun to sink it would have been his job to ensure the emigrants and other poorer passengers were not. released by his system of doors until all the first class had been cleared into the boats. He had always disliked the tours down here, just in case some clever bastard had noticed the obvious.

He felt the chairback pushing against his spine and sa`w a pencil begin to roll- rapidly from the table. The helm had gone over, and fast. He thrust himself forward and gripped the table,. as with a grinding vibration more ice came roaring against the ship's side. But this time it did not pass so quickly. Even as he staggered to his feet the whole compartment gave a tremendous lurch, so that men fell yelling and cursing amidst. the widening stain of spilled cocoa. An overhead light flickered and went out, and flecks of paint chippings floated down' like a toy snowstorm. The deck shook once more and then the noise subsided as before.

But Goss was already reaching for his array of buttons,, his eyes fixed on the neatly worded compartment on the port side where a red emergency bulb had begun to flash.

Pumps! Come on, jump to it!' He snatched up a telephone and shouted,Give me the bridge.' He saw Archer and a mechanic fumbling with the pump controls and added violently, `Yes, the bridge, you bloody idiot!'

Benbecula had hit hard and was flooding. It was all lie knew. All he cared about.

`Bridge? Give me the captain!'

Lindsay watched the foreshortened figures of some seamen slipping and sliding across the forward well deck. Because of the thin coating of ice their black oilskins made them stand out like so many scurrying beetles as they began work with their hammers to clear the wash ports and scuppers before the task became impossible.

Dancy was saying, `Masthead? Yes, you can be relieved now.'

Lindsay thought briefly of the masthead lookout. Even with his electric heater he had to be relieved every hour if he was to keep his circulation going. fie peered at his luminous watch. Six o'clock. It did not seem possible they had been charging through the darkness for so many hours. He walked to the port side to watch as more fragments of broken ice materialised out of the black water and swirled playfully along the side. Nothing dangerous, in fact it was unavoidable. It looked more menacing than it was, and in the darkness gave an impression of great speed and size. .

Stannard said, `We should sight something soon.' But nobody answered.

Hardly anyone had said much as hour by hour the ship had pounded into the night. The noise-and violent shaking had thrown most of them inwards on their own defences, and even the men with cocoa and huge chunky sandwiches who had come and gone throughout the agony of waiting had passed without more than a quick, anxious word.

Stannard said, `I'd like to go and check the chart again, sir.'

Yes.' Lindsay thrust his hands into his pockets, feeling the gratings under his sea boots jerking as if being pounded by unseen hammers.Do that.'

Maybe the German' had indeed turned away and run for base. He might think the Home Fleet was better deployed than it was, and feared a quick and overwhelming reprisal. And where were the two ships?

A telephone buzzed and a messenger said urgently, `It's the doctor, sir.

Lindsay tore his mind from the mental picture of the chart, the course which he and Stannard had evolved to contact the two ships.

`What does he want?'

The seaman, hidden in the darkness, answered, `He asked to speak with you, sir.'

Lindsay swore silently and groped his way across the deck. It was . slippery from the constant comings and goings of slushy boots, and added to the streaming condensation from deckhead and sides it filled the bridge with an unhealthy, clinging humidity.

He snatched the handset. `Captain. Can't it wait?'

Boase sounded edgy. `Sorry, sir. It's Lieutenant Aikman. He's locked himself in his cabin. One of my S.B.A.'s tried to make him open the door. I think he's upset.'

Upset? The word hung in-the air like one additional mockery.What do you want me to do, for God's sake?' Lindsay made an effort to steady his voice. `Do you really think he's in trouble?'

Boase replied, `Yes, sir.'

As Lindsay stood with the telephone to his ear, his eyes staring at Ritchie's shadowy outline by the nearest window, the hands of the bulkhead clock showed eight minutes past six.

At that precise moment in time several small incidents were happening simultaneously. Small, but together they amounted to quite a lot.

Able Seaman Laker, known to his messmates as Dracula because of his large protruding teeth, was just being relieved from the crow's-nest by a seaman called Phelps. As they clung together on the swaying iron gratings outside the pod Laker was shouting in the other man's ear about the stupid, bloody maniacs who had fitted such a piddling little heater for the lookout's survival. Neither of them was paying much attention to the sea beyond the bows.

On the forward well deck another seaman fell from a bollard and slithered like a great black crab across the ice and came up with a thud against a hatch coaming, dropping his hammer and yelling the most. obscene word he could think of at such short notice.

The lookouts on Numbers One and Two guns turned to watch him, drawing comfort, from the man's clumsy efforts to regain his feet, while the rest of the deck party paused to enjoy the spectacle as well.

On the bridge Dancy was remembering Aikman's stricken voice, his pathetic self-defence under Stannard's anger and the captain's questioning. He had not heard what Boase was saying, but he could guess. He did not know Aikman very well, but realised probably better than the others that he was, like himself, acting a part which had suddenly got beyond him. He turned to peer at 'Lindsay's vague outline at the rear of the bridge, wondering what it was Aikman had done to excite Boase and make him risk disturbing the captain.

All small incidents, but as Dancy turned once more to his clearview screen he saw in that instant what a momentary lack of vigilance had created. Looming out of the darkness was a solid wedge of ice. In his imagination he had often pictured icebergs as towering and majestic, like white cathedrals, and for several more seconds he was totally incapable of speech or movement.

Then he yelled, Hard astarboard!' He heard the wheel going over, the sudden gasps of alarm, and then added wildly,Ice! Dead ahead!'

Lindsay dropped the telephone and hurled himself towards the screen, his voice sharp but level as he shouted, `Belay.that! Wheel amidships! Both engines full astern?

Ignoring the clang of telegraphs, the violent response of reversed screws and the clamour of voices from all sides he gripped the rail and stared fixedly at the oncoming wedge of ice. It was difficult to estimate the size of it. It was not very high, probably about ten feet, and some eighty feet from end to end. Against the dark backcloth of sea and clouds it appeared enveloped in vapour, like ice emerging from a giant refrigerator. He felt the engines shaking and pounding in growing strength to stop-the ship's onward dash, and found himself counting seconds as the distance continued to shorten. Dancy should not have put the helm over. If the ship had hit an ice ledge with her bilge it would slit her open like one huge can. But if he had not even seen it the ship would have smashed into it at full speed, with terrible results.

Stannard came running across the bridge, then stood stockstill beside him, his voice strangled as he said, `We're going to strike, by Jesus!'

It seemed to take an eternity for the ice to reach them. The engines were slowing them down, dragging like great anchors so that the bow wave was falling away even as the ice became suddenly stark and very close, the jagged crest of it looming past the port bow as if drawn by a hawser.

The crash, when it came, was muted, but the sensation transmitted itself from the keel to the flesh and bones of every man aboard.

The ice turned slowly as the ship surged against it, making a kind of clumsy pirouette with pieces breaking adrift and sliding haphazardly into the dwindling bow wave.

`Stop engines!'

Lindsay ran to the port door and tugged it open. As he hurried to the unprotected wing he felt the wind across his face like a whip, and under his gloved hands the rail was like polished glass. He watched the ice moving away while the ship idled forward sluggishly, the deck under his feet very still, as if the ship herself was holding her breath, feeling her hurt.

There was more ice nearby but just small fragments as before. It was a piece of bad luck which had brought that one heavy slab across their path without anybody sighting it.

Stannard called, `First lieutenant's on the phone, sir.'

Lindsay strode into the bridge again, feeling the heated air enclosing him like a damp towel.

Goss was very brief. Flooding in Number Two hold, sir. I've got the pumps working on it, and I'm waiting for a report from the boiler room. Their main bulkhead is right against that hold.' He paused and then said thickly,I knew something like this would happen.'

`Any casualties?'

`I don't know yet,' The question seemed to catch Goss off guard.

`Well, get on with it and let me know.' He replaced the handset very slowly.

He knew what Goss was thinking. What most of the others were probably thinking, too. That their captain was still unfit for command. Even this one. Especially this one: He felt the pain and despair crowding his brain like blood and he had to turn away from the others, even though they could not see his face.

Jolliffe said, `We're drifting, sir. Ship's head is now three-three-zero.'

Stannard said quickly, `Very well, Cox'n.'

A messenger called, Engine room reports no damage, sir.' He gulped.To the bulkhead, I mean, sir.'

Stannard remarked softly, `Once saw a great berg down off South Georgia. Big as Sydney bridge it was, and all covered with little penguins.'

Lindsay said flatly, `Penguins?' He did not even know he had spoken.

`Yes. There were these small killer whales about, you see, and the penguins would push one of their cobbers off the berg every so often as a safety measure. -If the little chap survived they all dived in. If he was eaten they'd just wait there like a lot of unemployed waiters and stand around a while longer before they pushed another one over the edge.'

Nobody laughed.

Lindsay thought suddenly of Aikman, and was about to tell Stannard to call up the doctor when Ritchie snapped, `Listen! I 'eard a ship's siren!'

Once more Lindsay was out in the freezing air, as with Ritchie and Stannard he blundered through the opposite - door and on to the starboard wing.

`And there's another!' Ritchie was peering over the wing like a terrier at a rabbit hole.

Stannard- said quickly, Same ship.' He too was bending his head and listening intently.When I saw those penguins I was doing a spell as third officer in a whale factory ship.. Some masters used their sirens to estimate the closeness of heavy ice. Bounce back the echoes, so to speak.'

. Lindsay heard it again. Mournful and incredibly loud in the crisp air." The echo threw back its reply some ten seconds later.

Dancy joined them by the screen. `I-I'm sorry about that helm order, sir. I lost my head.'

Lindsay did not take his eyes from the bearing of the siren. You were quite alone at that moment, Sub.' He heard Dancy's breathing, knew how he was suffering.And if we had not stopped the engines we would have drowned out that siren.'

Damage control says the pumps are holding the intake, sir. No apparent danger to boiler room bulkhead.' The seaman waited, gasping in the cold air.And only one casualty. Man on A deck broke his wrist.'

Lindsay nodded. Good.' He tried to-rub the ice from the gyro repeater below the screen but it was thick like a Christmas cake.We'll try and close on that siren, Pilot. Warn control in case of tricks. And we'll have some extra lookouts on the boat deck.'

Stannard was listening to his voice when his face suddenly lit up in-a violent red flash. The savage crash of gunfire echoed across the water, lighting up the scattered patches of ice, painting them with scarlet and yellow as again, and again the guns tore into the darkness, blasting it aside in short, violent cameos.

Lindsay dashed through the open door, his glasses banging against his chest as he shouted, Half ahead together!' Around him men were slamming the new steel shutters, and he added,Leave the centre one!' As he cranked it open he felt the air clawing his face and lips, heard the sudden surge of power from the engines as once more the ship began to push. forward.

`Steer for the flashes, Cox'n!'

He tensed as a ball of fire exploded and then fanned out to reveal the outline and angle of a ship. She was less than two miles away, her upper deck and superstructure' burning fiercely in a dozen places. There was ice all around her, small fragments and heavier, more jagged prongs which seemed to be enclosing her like a trap. Another ripple of flashes came from her opposite beam, and Lindsay saw the telltale waterspouts shooting skywards and one more bright explosion below her bridge.

The siren was bellowing continuously now, with probably a dead man's hand dragging on the lanyard, but as the Benbecula gathered way Lindsay thought it sounded like a beast dying in agony.

Crisp and detached above the din he heard a metallic voice intone, `Control to all guns. Semi-armour-piercing, load, load, load.'

More thuds and clicks below the bridge, and somewhere a voice yelling orders, shrill. and momentarily out of control.

`Target bears Green two-oh. Range oh-five-oh.'

Lindsay raised his glasses as Maxwell's voice continued to pass his information over the speaker. Five thousand yards. Maxwell's spotters had done well to estimate the range on the flashes alone.

`Port ten.' He watched the ticking gyro. 'Midships. Steady.'

Jolliffe replied heavily, `Steady, sir. Three-one-zero.'

Almost to himself Lindsay murmured, `That'll give the marines a chance to get on target, too.'

More flashes blasted the darkness aside and joined with those already blazing on the helpless ship. He could see her twin funnels, the great pieces of wreckage falling into the fires and throwing fountains of sparks towards the clouds. Not long now.

To Dancy he snapped, `Pass the word to prepare that signal for transmission.'

Stannard said thickly, `Aikman's got the code books, sir.'

Lindsay kept his glasses trained on the other ship. Was it a trick from the reflected fires, or was she starting to settle down?

He said harshly, `Tell the W/T office to send it plain language. What the hell does it matter now?'

Stannard nodded and handed his pad to a messenger.

`Give this position to the P.O. Tel. He knows what to do.'

Maxwell's voice again. `Starboard battery stand by.'

Lindsay lowered his glasses. `Open fire.'

Maxwell waited until the hidden raider fired again and then pressed his button. The bells at each mounting had not rung for more than a split second before all three starboard guns roared out together, their long tongues flashing above the wash alongside.

Lindsay held his breath and counted. He shut out the bellowed commands, the click of breech blocks and the chorus of voices on the intercom. Someone at the Admiralty would be listening to all this, he thought vaguely. They would be plotting Stannard's position and rousing out some senior officers from their camp beds in the cellars. From Benbecula to Admiralty. Have sighted enemy raider. Am engaging.

Not much of an epitaph. But it might be remembered.

`Up five hundred. Shoot!'

Again the guns belched fire and smoke, the bridge jerking violently as the shock made the steel quake as if from hitting another berg.

`The other ship's going down, sir!' Dancy was shouting, his voice very loud after; the crash of gunfire.

`Yes.'

Lindsay watched rigidly as the stricken ship began to tilt over towards him. She must have been hit badly, deep inside the hull, and the fires which he had imagined to have begun on her superstructure had in fact surged right up• through several decks. He could see the gaping holes, angry red, the criss-cross of broken frames and fallen masts, and found himself praying there was nobody left to die in such horror.

More distant flashes, and this time he heard the shells pass overhead almost gently, the high trajectory making them whisper like birds on the wing.

Maxwell's bells tinkledd again, and seconds later Lindsay heard him shout, `One hit!'

A fire glowed beyond the sinking ship, just long enough for Maxwell's guns to get off another round each.

Then it died, and Lindsay guessed the enemy had turned end on, either to close with this impudent attacker or to run, as before.

He would have picked up the short signal and would probably be wondering what sort of ship he was tackling. Benbecula's name was not on the general list, as far as he knew, and it might take the German time to realise what was happening.

`Enemy has ceased fire, sir.' Maxwell seemed out of breath.

Very well.' Lindsay watched the dark line of the other ship's hull getting closer and closer to the sea.Tell Number One to prepare rafts for lowering.' Dancy asked, `Will we stop, sir?'

Lindsay rubbed his eyes and then raised the glasses again. `Not yet.'

A sullen explosion threw more wreckage over the other ship's side, and he imagined he could see a flashlight moving aft by her poop. One lonely survivor, he thought dully.

Slow ahead together.' He heard men pounding along the boat deck.Starboard fifteen.' He watched the steam, rising like a curtain, and knew the sea was exploring the damage, quenching the fires too late.

As if from a great distance he heard Stannard say, `We can't stop yet, Sub. We'd be sitting ducks if that bastard is still about.'

`Yes, I understand.' But from his tone it was obvious Dancy did not. Like the others, he was probably thinking of the people who were trying to escape the flames only to face being frozen to death in minutes.

Lindsay climbed on to his chair and stared through the slit in the steel shutter. The slit was glowing red from the other ship's fires, like a peephole in a furnace door. Like a fragment of hell.

He looked at the gyro repeater again. 'Midships.' They had almost crossed the ship's stern when with a great roar of inrushing water she turned over and dived, the fire vanishing and plunging the sea once more into darkness.

Lindsay looked at his watch. Seven fifteen.

`Prepare both motor boats for lowering, Pilot. Each will tow a raft. Number One will know what to do.'

I can see some red lights on the starboard beam, sir.' Ritchie lowered his telescope.Might be in time for 'em.'

'Yes.'

Lindsay heard the rumble of power-operated davits, the protesting squeaks from the falls as the two motor boats jerked down the ship's side. If their motors would start under these conditions it would be a miracle. `Ready, sir.'

`Stop engines.'

Another set of sounds as the boats were slipped and took the released rafts in tow. Both motors were working, and Lindsay thanked God for an engineer like Fraser who kept an eye on such details.

`Sky's a bit brighter, sir.' Stannard looked at Lindsay's unmoving outline against the shutter.

The enemy had gone. Lindsay did not know how he could be sure, but he was. Slipped away again. Just like that last time. Leaving death in his wake. Blood on the water.

He stood up suddenly. `Yeoman, use the big searchlight. Tell the gunnery officer to expect an attack, but we'll risk it.'

He walked to the door and then out on to the open wing. The searchlight's glacier blue beam licked out from the upper bridge like something solid, and as it fanned down across the heaving water where the two boats and their tows stood out like bright toys, he saw the endless litter of flotsam and charred wreckage. Chairs and broken crates, empty liferafts and pieces of canvas. Here - and there a body floated, either spreadeagled face down in the water or bobbing in a lifejacket, its eyes like small stones as the beam swept low overhead.

There was a stench of oil and burned paint, and as the boats moved apart to begin a closer search Lindsay stood and waited, his body almost frozen with cold, but unable to move.

Stannard strode on to the gratings and said, `The first lieutenant has reported that Aikman has tried to kill himself. Cut his wrists with some scissors. But he's still alive, sir.' He stared past Lindsay as a boat stopped to pull someone aboard.

Lindsay nodded. `He couldn't even do that properly, could he?'

He too was watching the motor boat as it gathered way again towards another dark clump in the water. The other personnel ship was probably further to the northwest, waiting for some light before attempting to brave the ice and the possibility of a new attack. She would have seen the gunfire, and may have thought it was a second enemy ship making the assault.

A torch stabbed across the water and Ritchie said, One boat 'as got eleven survivors, sir.' He turned as the second boat's light winked over the lazy swell.She's got eighteen, though Gawd knows 'ow she's managed to cram 'em in.'

Lindsay wanted to ask him to call up the boats, to ask what was uppermost in his mind. But he was afraid. Afraid that by showing his fear he might make it happen. She could be in the other ship. Frightened but safe. Safe.

The search continued for a full hour. Round and round, in and out of the, great oil stain and its attendant corpses and fragments.

Recall the boats.' Lindsay wiped the ice rime from his eyebrows, felt-the pain of cramp in his legs and hands.Tell the sickbay to be ready.'

Entry ports in the hull clanged open and ready hands were waiting to sway the first survivors inboard. Goss came' to the bridge and said, `Boats secured, sir. I've had to abandon the two rafts. They're thick with ice.

I'd never get them hoisted.' He watched Lindsay and then added, `There are five women amongst 'em. I don't know if they'll survive after this.'

Lindsay gripped the screen. So the Atlantic had cheated him after all. He said, `Take over the con and get under way. I'm going below.'

By the time he reached the sickbay he was almost running, and as he stumbled past huddled figures cloaked in blankets, the busy sickberth attendants, he saw a young girl. sitting on a chair, hair black with oil, her uniform scorched as if by a hot iron, her face a mass of burns.

Boase looked across her head and said tersely, `We'll do our best, sir.'

Lindsay ignored him, his face frozen like a mask as he stared around at the scene of pain and survival. One body lay by the door covered inn a blanket. One bare foot was ;thrust into the harsh light, and with something like madness Lindsay pulled the covering from the girl's face. She was very young, her features pinched tight with cold, captured at the moment of death. The sea water had frozen around her mouth and eyes so that she seemed to be crying even now. He covered her face, and after a small hesitation pulled the blanket over the protruding foot. As his fingers touched it he felt the contact like ice itself.

Without another word he turned and began the long climb to the bridge. The engines were pounding again, leaving the fragments floating and bobbing astern in their wake. She was with them. Back there in the Atlantic. Alone.

Take care, she had said. Will see you in Eden.

He reached the bridge and said, Fall out action stations and secure.' He looked at Stannard.We will steer northeast for an hour and see what happens.'

Stannard asked quietly, `What about Aikman, sir?'

Lindsay did not hear him. `Take over, Number One. I'm going below for half an hour.' He left without another word.

Goss grunted and walked to the empty chair. Stannard sighed and turned towards his chart room.

Only Ritchie knew what was wrong with the captain. Jupp had explained. Not that it helped to know about it, Ritchie thought.

10

Christmas leave

Lindsay removed his cap and tucked it beneath his arm as he stepped into Boase's sickbay. A week had passed since the survivors had been pulled aboard, and in that time the doctor and his staff had done wonders. Three of the survivors had died of their injuries and two more were still dangerously ill, but under the circumstances it was a miracle any had endured the fires and the freezing cold.

Boase was washing his hands, and hurried across when he saw Lindsay. He looked very tired: but managed to smile and say, Nice of you to look in, sir.' He eyed Lindsay's strained features and added,Wouldn't do you any harm to rest for a bit.'

Lindsay looked around the long sickbay. The neat white cots, an air of sterile efficiency which he had always hated. The five girls had survived, and that was the biggest surprise of all. Maybe they were tougher than men after all, he thought wearily. Four of them were sitting in chairs, watching him now, dressed in a colourful collection of clothing which the ship's company had gathered. The fifth Wren was in a cot, her burned face hidden in bandages, her hands outstretched to the sides of the blankets as if to steady herself. She had nice hands, small and well shaped. Boase had told him she cried a lot when the others were asleep, fearful of what her face would be like when the bandages came off.

All told there were only thirty survivors. From what he had gleaned Lindsay had discovered the ship had carried a company of one hundred and fifty as well as some forty Wrens en route for Canada.

He cleared his throat. 'As you know, we have been ordered to proceed direct to Liverpool, where you will be landed and my ship can receive repairs.'

Lindsay looked slowly around the watching faces. The Wrens, their eyes just a bit too bright. Holding back the shock which would grow and sharpen as thankfulness for survival gave way to bitter memories for those who had died. The men, young and old alike, some offwhom had probably been bombed or torpedoed already in the war, watching him, recalling their own moments, like the ones when a motor boat had come out of the searchlight's great beam to snatch them to safety.

He continued, I have just received another signal from the Admiralty. The Japanese have invaded Malaya, and yesterday morning carried out an air attack on Pearl Harbour in the Pacific.' He tried to smile as they stared at each other.So the Americans are in the war with us. We're not alone any more.'

He nodded to Boase. `I'll leave you in peace now.'

Lindsay did not even know why he had come down to tell them the news. Boase could have done it. It was just as if he was still torturing himself by wanting to be near someone who had been with Eve when she had died. What did Malaya and Pearl Harbour mean to them at this moment anyway? The sea was all they understood now. During the night, before sleep relieved them, -they would be.thinking of it just beyond the sides of the hull. Waiting.

He recalled the atmosphere in the sickbay when Benbecula had sighted the second personnel ship two days after the attack. She had been edging through some drift ice, and her relief at seeing B enbecula's recognition signals had been obvious to everyone aboard. Except here, in the sickbay. Was it that they felt cheated? Did they think it so cruelly unfair that their friends had been slaughtered while the other ship had escaped with little more than a bad scare? It was hard to tell.

The other ship had been ordered to Iceland and would be in Reykjavik by now with another escort. Benbecula had not been short of company either. As she turned and steamed south once more she had been watched by two long-range aircraft, as well as a destroyer on the far horizon. But it was all too late. And the evidence of it lay and sat around him listening to him as he said, `And remember, you'll all be having Christmas at home.' He turned to leave, the words coming back to mock him like a taunt. Christmas at home.

Something plucked at his jacket and when he looked down he saw it was the Wren's hand, the girl with the burned face.

As he bent over the cot he heard her say, Thank you for coming for us.' He took her hand in his. It felt hot. She said,I saw you when I was brought here. Just a few seconds.'

Boase shook his head. `That's enough talking.'

But her voice had broken Lindsay's careful guard like a dam bursting. Still holding her hand he asked gently, `Did you know Wren Collins? Eve Collins?'

`I think so. I think I saw her by the lifeboats when She could not go on.

Lindsay released her hand and said, `Try and sleep.' Then he swung round and hurried from the sickbay with its clean, pure smells and shocked minds.

He found Goss and Fraser waiting for him outside his day cabin. Sorry you were kept so long.' He could not look at them.I just wanted to go over the docking arrangements at Liverpool.' He remembered the other thing and added quietly, `By the way, Number One, you told me when I took command that one of Benbecula's sister ships was an A.M.C. in the Far East.'

Goss watched him closely. `The old Barra, sir. That's right.

`Well, I'm afraid she's been sunk by Jap bombers off Kuantan.'

He saw Goss's face crumple and then return swiftly to the usual grim mask. `That's bad news, sir.' It was all he said.

Lindsay could feel the agony inside his skull crushing his mind so that he wanted to leave the others and hide in his sleeping cabin.

In a toneless voice he said, `Right then, we'll start by discussing the fuel and ammunition. We must arrange to lighten ship as soon as we pick up the tugs.'

Fraser took out his notebook but kept his eyes on Lindsay's face. You poor bastard, he thought. You keep fighting it and it's tearing you apart. How much more can you take?

Goss was thinking about the Barra. He had been third officer in her so many years' back. Her picture hung-in his cabin beside all the others. Now she was gone. He looked desperately around the cabin. Benbecula could go like that. In the twinkling of an eye-. Nothing.

Lindsay was saying, `And there's the matter of leave. We should get both watches away for Christmas with any luck.'

Goss said, `I'd like to stay aboard, sir.'

Fraser looked at him. Oh God. Not you, too.

Lindsay made a note on, his pad. `Right then. Now about Number Two hold...'

In his pantry Jupp listened to the muted conversation and walked to a scuttle. Below on the promenade deck he saw a figure in a duffel coat walking slowly aft. He knew from the bandaged wrists it was Lieutenant Aikman. He saw two seamen turn to watch Aikman as he shambled unseeingly past them, and wondered how he would be able to survive after this.

He returned to his coffee pot and hoped Fraser at least would remain and talk with the captain. He had seen what the. girl's death was doing to Lindsay and knew he must not be left alone. He had heard him whenever he had turned into his bunk, which was not often. Fighting his nightmares and calling her name like a lost soul in hell.

Whenever he was alone Lindsay seemed to be searching through his confidential books and intelligence logs, totally absorbed, his eyes filled with determination, the like of which Jupp had never seen.

Maybe when the ship was in dock the captain would 'find some comfort at home. He frowned as he recalled hearing that Lindsay had no proper home to go to.

The bell rang, and with a flourish he picked up his coffee pot and thrust open the pantry door. Something might turn up: And until it did, Jupp would make sure Lindsay would have his help, just as long as he needed it.

The wardroom stove glowed cheerfully across the legs of the Benbecula's officers as they waited for the stewards to open the bar. The ship felt rigidly still, for she was moored to a wharf awaiting the next move to dry dock, and some of the officers glanced repeatedly through the rain-dashed scuttles as if unable to accept the fact. Murky grey buildings, motionless in the rain, instead of a tossing

'wilderness of angry wave crests. Tall cranes and gantrys and the masts of other ships, instead, of loneliness and complete isolation.

Dancy listened to the clink of glasses and squeak of bolts as the stewards opened their pantry hatch, and tried to think of some special, extravagant drink to mark his return to the safety of harbour. While the ship had crept through the morning drizzle and mist and tugs had snorted and puffed importantly abeam, he had watched the great sprawling mass of Liverpool opening up before him with something-like wonder. There had been little for him to do at the time so he had been able to let his ready imagination encompass everything he saw and felt. Relief, sadness, excitement, it had all been there, as it was now. Around him on. the bridge he had watched his companions, faces and voices who had become real and very close to him. Stannard at the gyro taking careful, unhurried fixes while the ship glided up channel. Ritchie and his signalmen peering through their glasses at the diamond-bright lamps which winked from the shore. Down on the forecastle he had seen Goss waving his arms as he strode amongst the busy. seamen at the wires and fenders, while from the upper bridge the pipes shrilled and twittered in salute to passing or anchored warships. Cruisers and sturdy escort vessels. Destroyers and stumpy corvettes, all showing marks of the Atlantic weather, the seasoned look of experienced and hard used warriors.

Lindsay had been sitting in his chair for most of the time. He had seemed very remote, even aloof whenever someone had attempted to make personal contact with him. But Dancy had watched him, nevertheless, and had tried to draw from him some of the strength he seemed to give. He had seen the twin towers of the Royal Liver building loom above the mist and had felt the infectious excitement and purpose of this great port. Headquarters of Western Approaches Command, it was also one of the main doors through which came the very life blood of a country at war.

Stannard crossed to his side and held his hands above the glowing stove. `Well, Sub, we've made it. All snug and safe. Until the next bloody move!'

He sounded relaxed, and Dancy envied him for it. Stannard was really important, a man who could work out a position when there was neither star nor sun to help him. When the deck was trying to stand on end while he plotted and brooded over his charts and instruments.

A steward said, `Orders please, gentlemen.'

Dancy and Stannard stood back to wait for the first rush to subside.

`What do you think about the laps, Pilot?'

Stannard looked at him thoughtfully. God knows. We were always told that if Malaya or Singapore were attacked the enemy would come from the south.' He shrugged.Still, I guess they've got it in hand by now. When I think of the places I've been out East, it makes me puke to picture those little yellow bastards clumping all over them.'

Then he brightened and added, `Now, about that drink. Have it on me.'

Dancy frowned. `A brandy and gin.'

Stannard stared at him. `Mixed?'

`Mixed.'

You greedy bastard!' Stannard waved to a harassed steward.I hope it chokes you!'

The door banged open and Goss marched towards the fire.

Stannard asked, `How about joining us, Number One?'

Goss did not seem to hear. Turning his back to the fire he barked, `Just pipe down a minute, will you!'

They all paused to look at him, suddenly aware of the harshness in his tone.

Goss said, We've just had news from the Far East. The Japs are still advancing south into Malaya.' He swallowed hard.And they've sunk the Prince of Wales and Repulse.' He did not seem able to believe his own voice. `Both of 'em. In less than an hour!'

Jesus.' Stannard stared at Dancy.Those two great ships. How the hell could they wipe them out so easily?'

Goss was staring into space. `They had no air cover and were overwhelmed by enemy bombers.'

It's getting worse." Stannard downed his drink in one swallow.I thought it would have been a fleet action at least.' He sounded angry. `What's the matter with our blokes out there? No air cover, they must be raving bloody mad!'

Goss continued, `There'll be leave for three weeks. If you'll 'all see Lieutenant Barker about your ration cards and travel warrants after lunch we can get it sorted out without wasting any more time.'

Dancy looked at his glass. Goss's news had left him confused and feeling vaguely cheated. They had done so much, or so it had seemed. The quick, savage gunfire in the darkness, the handful of gasping, oil-sodden survivors, it had all been part of something special. The brief announcement about the two great capital ships sunk in some far off, unknown sea had changed it in an instant. That was the real war, the swift changing balance of sea power which could and might bring down a country, a way of life for millions of people. It made his own part in

things appear small and unimportant.

Stannard said quietly, `Drink that muck, Sub. I think I feel like getting stoned.'

Dancy touched the drink with his tongue. It tasted like paraffin.

Stannard was saying, My brother's out there in an Aussie battalion.' He looked away.To think his life depends on those stupid Pommie brasshats!' He faced Dancy and smiled. `Sorry about that. You're quite a nice Pommie, as it happens.'

Dancy watched him worriedly. `Thanks.'

Then he said quickly, `What about coming home with me, Pilot? My people would love to fuss over you. Christmas is pretty quiet but.....' He hesitated, realising what

he had done. All his carefully built up disguise as the intrepid writer would be blown to ashes when Stannard met his parents.

Stannard eyed him gravely. `No can do, Sub.' He was thinking of the girl he had met on his last leave in London. She had a small flat in Paddington. He would spend his leave with her. Have one wild party and make it

last until the leave was over. He added, `But thanks all the same. Maybe next time, huh?'

Dancy nodded, relieved and saddened at the same time. He could imagine what Stannard had in mind. And he thought of his own house. The Christmas decorations, his mother complaining about rations, his father telling him how the war should be waged, where the government were going wrong.

He said, `Maybe we could meet up somewhere? Just for a drink or something.!

'Yeh, why not.' Stannard grinned lazily. `I'll give you a shout on the blower when I get fixed up.' She would probably have forgotten him by now anyway. But she was a real beaut. Long auburn hair, and a body which seemed to enfold a man like silk.

pA steward called, 'Ambulances'ave arrived to take your eople away, sir.' He waited until Boase had extracted himself from the group by the bar. `The P.M.O. is comin' aboard.'

Dancy said, `Let's go and see them leave, Pilot.'

Stannard nodded. I was feeling very sorry for myself just now.' He nodded again.We'll go and cheer them up a bit, eh?'

pThey grabbed their caps and hurried to the promenade deck. There were plenty of the ship's company with the same idea, Dancy noticed. A ragged cheer greeted the first of the survivors, as on stretchers or walking with white-coated attendants from the base hosital they started to move towards the gangway. Stannard muttered quietly, `Oh Jesus, there's Aikman.' Dancy turned and saw the lieutenant walking slowly along the deck, a suitcase in his hand, a sickberth petty officer following him at a discreet distance.

Stannard bit his lip. Aikman was going ashore for observation. That was typical of Lindsay, he thought.

Most other skippers would have slapped him under arrest to await court-martial for negligence and God knows what else. But Lindsay seemed to realise Aikman could not be punished more than he was already. He would probably be kept in hospital and then quietly dropped. Kicked out. Forgotten.

He said impulsively, `Poor bastard.'

Dancy looked at him, recalling Stannard's bitter anger on the bridge. His contempt for Aikman's pathetic efforts to cover his mistake.

Stannard strode forward and asked, `You off then?'

Aikman stopped as if he had been struck. When he turned his face was very pale, his eyes shadowed by dark rings, like a man under drugs.

He said thickly, `Yes. I-I'm not sure quite what He could not go on.

Dancy watched Stannard, wondering what he would say next. Aikman looked terrible, far worse than immediately after'' he had tried to kill himself. He had remained in his cabin, one of Boase's S.B.A.'s with him the whole time. Now he was slipping away, with not even a word from the other officers.

Stannard thrust out his hand and said quietly, Good luck, mate. I'm sorry about what happened.' He turned away as if to watch the ambulances on the jetty.Could have been any one of us.'

Aikman seized his hand and said brokenly, `But it wasn't. It was me.'

There were tears running down his cheeks, and the petty officer said cheerfully, `Come along, sir, we don't want to keep 'em all waiting, now do we?'

Dancy looked at Stannard. It was like hearing a teacher speaking to a backward child. He said quickly, `So long, sir.' Then he saluted and watched Aikman being led down the gangway and into one of the ambulances.

Stannard said, When you're in a war you think sometimes you might get bloody killed or have a bit shot out of yourself.' He shook his head as they turned back towards the wardroom.You never think about this side of it.'