Lindsay's cabin was filled with swirling tobacco smoke and the smell of whisky. The dockyard officials in their blue serge suits, some officers from the base engineering department, a lieutenant of the intelligence section, there seemed to bean endless array of alien faces.

He held a match to his pipe and watched the flame quivering above the bowl. It was shaking badly, and he had to force himself to hold it still. He saw Fraser talking with another engineer and knew from the slur in his voice he was halfway to being drunk. Lindsay had already had more drinks than he could remember yet felt ice-cold sober. He did not even feel tired any more, just numb. Empty of anything which he could recognise.

Lindsay had been down to see the survivors over the side and had spoken to most of them. A handshake here, a quick thumbs-up there. They. had all responded by playing their allotted roles. It was the unspoken word and unmade gesture which had moved him. The glances from some of the Wrens as they had looked down at the solid, unmoving jetty. The wounded sailor on a stretcher who had looked up at the grey sky and had stared at it with something like awe. And the girl with the bandaged face who had been carried by two S.B.A.'s on a kind of chair over the gangway with all the others.

It was almost as if she had sensed Lindsay was there, and had reached out to hold his hand. Nothing more. Just a quick contact, not even a squeeze, but it had told him- so much.

Now they were all gone and the old ship was waiting patiently for the next phase to begin. Repairs and all the indignities of dry dock. Then back again. To the Atlantic.

If Goss had not been so determined to stay with the ship he knew he would have done so. He did not want to I go anywhere else. Not to spend his leave in some hotel with all its Christmas noise and urgent gaiety. He would have to go somewhere. He thought of Aikman's face as he had explained what was arranged for him. But you never knew with men like Aikman. He might go under completely. He could just as easily grow a new outer covering and start all over again. Given time, he might even believe he had been blameless, that everyone else had caused the mistake. Lindsay hoped it would. be the latter. Aikman was too weak and insecure to carry the brand entirely for what had happened.

He realised with a start that the earnest young lieutenant from Intelligence was speaking to him.

I shall make a careful study of all your considerations, sir.' He nodded gravely.I feel sure that something very useful may come of them.'

Lindsay regarded him evenly. The lieutenant was a temporary officer with a beautifully cut uniform and perfect manners. Perhaps a journalist in peacetime who had found. his niche on the staff. He certainly appeared to be enjoying his role. He even spoke with a conspiratorial confidence, like some master-spy in a pre-war film..

Lindsay found himself wondering why he had bothered to compile such a lengthy report. Probably to retain his own sanity. He knew he needed some new purpose if he was to keep from cracking apart. And if hatred was a purpose then he might be halfway there.

He said, I believe that if we can discover more about the German raider, the man who commands her, then we might learn something.' He stopped. It was obvious from the lieutenant's polite smile he was already thinking of something else. He added,With the Japs in' the war we won't be able to rely too much on American protection on the other side of the Atlantic. They'll need all their spare ships in the Pacific until they can get on their feet again.'

The lieutenant looked at his watch. 'I am sure we can rely on'that very point being watched by the powers-thatbe, sir.'

I'm sure.' Lindsay signalled to Jupp with his empty glass.Like they watched the- Denmark Strait and the fjord where this bastard raider was anchored. Oh yes, I'm sure we can rely on them.'

Fraser said unsteadily, `What about some food? My guts feel like a rusty oil drum.'

The sudden silence which had followed Lindsay's angry outburst broke up in laughter, and Lindsay saw Fraser watching him grimly.

The lieutenant stood up and said, Well, I'll be on my way, sir.'-He forced a smile.I'm sure you're sincere, sir, but-'

Fraser took his elbow and pulled him away from the table. Look, sonny, if you want to play games, that's all right with me.' He tried to focus the lieutenant with his geyes.But don't come aboard this ship and try it, see?' He estured with his glass, whisky splashing across the carpet. `That man you were being so bloody patronising to has done more,. seen more and cares more than you'll ever know! While you sit on your bum, sticking pins in some out of date map, it'll be men like him who get on with the job!'

The lieutenant looked down at him, aware that some of the civilian dockyard men were grinning at his confusion.. `Well, really! I don't see there's any occasion to speak like that.'

Fraser lurched away. Piss off !' He collapsed into a chair and added as an afterthought,And stick, that on your bloody map!'

The others were leaving now. Most of them were used to dealing with men like Fraser. Western Approaches was unkind to those who served there. Death and constant danger had long since pared away the outward niceties and veneer of normal behaviour.

When they had all gone Lindsay said, `Chief, I think you are one of the most uncouth people I have ever met.' -

Fraser grinned. `Could be.' He was unrepentant.

Lindsay held out his glass against the grey light from a scuttle. `You'll be going home as soon as we've docked, I suppose.'

Fraser nodded. Aye. I'll have a good row and get this damn ship out of my system.' He grimaced.Still, I'll be there for Hogmanay. The wife'll have forgiven me by then.'

`Do you always have an argument when you go on leave?'

Jupp said, I think the chief engineer 'as dropped off, sir.' He removed the glass from Fraser's limp hand and added,I'll bring 'im some black coffee.'

Lindsay stood up. `No. Let him sleep. He's done enough for ten men. His second can take over when we shift berth.'

`And when will that be, sir?'

`Tomorrow. Forenoon.'

Lindsay listened to the mournful bleat from some outgoing tug. It reminded him of the sinking ship. The siren going on and on as the shells blasted her apart.

He could hear muffled laughter from the wardroom .and imagined them making plans for their unexpected leave. Wives and parents, girl friends and mistresses. Dancy's iceberg, as it had come to be known, had done them all a bit of good. Well, most of them. There were some, like Ritchie, who had nowhere to go. Wanted nothing which might remind them of what they had lost. And there was Goss. He had nothing but the ship, or so it appeared.

He said, `I'm going ashore.' He had spoken almost before the idea had come to him. He had to get away, just for a few hours. Go where he knew.no one and could find a moment of peace. If there was such a thing.

Jupp regarded him sadly. `Aye, aye, sir. I'll run a bath for you.'

He hurried away to lay out Lindsay's best uniform and to make him some sandwiches, knowing the captain would not wait for a proper, meal.

Lindsay walked to a scuttle on the outboard side and watched a rusty freighter being edged by tugs into the mainstream. But he was thinking of the signal and of the two ships lost on the other side of the world. Especially

the Prince of Wales. He could see her clearly in his mind as she had been at Scapa Flow.

The memory of that windswept anchorage brought it all back again in an instant. The staff car. The girl with her duffel coat and jaunty cap.

He was still thinking about her as he left the ship and walked slowly along the littered jetty, his greatcoat collar turned up against the drizzle.

By a crouching gantry he paused and looked back. Benbecula seemed very tall and gaunt, rising like a wet grey wall above the winches and coiled mooring wires, the nameless piles of crates and the clutter of a seaport at war. From this angle her list to starboard was all the more apparent, so that she appeared to be leaning against the wet stonework, resting from the ordeal which men had thrust so brutally upon her.

How was it that Lieutenant de Chair had described her? Long funnelled and rather elderly. It suited the old ship very well, he thought wearily.

Right aft an oilskinned seaman readjusted the halliards on the staff so that the new ensign flapped out with sudden vigour against the grey ships and sky beyond. But it took more than a flag to change a ship into a fighting machine. Just as it needed something extra to transform men into one company. Like Aikman, he thought. You could not expect a man to catch the same train to work day after regular day and then change into a dedicated, professional fighter. He strode on towards the gates. And when it was all over, would Aikman and Dancy, Hunter and Boase, and those like them, ever be able to break free from all this and return to that other, almost forgotten existence?

Then he stopped and took another look at his ship. It was up to him and the Benbecula to try and make sure they got the chance, he thought.

He showed his identity card to the dockyard policemen and then stepped outside the gates, suddenly confused and uncertain. Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe he was the one to be pitied and who needed help.

Some sailors disentangled themselves from their girl friends and saluted him as he passed, and he tried to read their faces in that small moment of contact.

Respect, envy, disinterest. He saw all and none of it. They were home from the Atlantic and were making the best of it. In a way, that answered his question, and he quickened his pace to look for a taxi.

11

Memories

During the forenoon of the second day in January 1942, His Majesty's Armed Merchant Cruiser Benbecula was warped from dry dock and made fast to her original jetty. In Western Approaches Command her appearance excited little comment, and if there was any reaction at all it was one of impatience. Impatience to be rid of her so that the dock, jetty and harbour services could be used again for the procession of damaged ships which came with every incoming convoy.

All leave for the ship's company was due to expire at noon, and as officers and ratings returned to Liverpool, with varying degrees of reluctance and according to the success or otherwise of their unexpected freedom, they could only stare at their floating home with a mixture of surprise and apprehension. For in their absence the old ship had shed her drab grey, and now rested at her moorings with an air of almost self-conscious embarrassment. From stem to stern, from the top of her single funnel to the waterline she was newly covered with dazzle paint. Green and ice-blue, strange angular patches of black and brown made it difficult to recognise her as the same ship. Only her list remained to prove her true identity, and as one amazed stoker remarked, `She looks like some old Devonport tart in her daughter's summer dress!' There were other comments even less complimentary.

Lindsay had returned from leave several days earlier, and as he sat in his cabin studying the piles of stores folios, signals and the latest Admiralty Fleet Orders he heard some of the raised voices and remarks, and could appreciate their concern.

As usual, nobody knew what role was being cast Benbecula's way. It was someone else's department. The dockyard people had made good the damage below the waterline and had added some of the extra refinements he had been asking for since taking command. There was an additional pair of Oerlikons on the boat deck, which he had not requested, so it rather looked as if the ship would be working within reach of enemy aircraft, at least for some of the time. Fresh armour had appeared abaft the bridge and wheelhouse, previously regarded as a very tender spot should an attacker be fortunate enough to approach from astern. Several new.liferafts, an additional generator in the engine room and a generous repainting job in the lower messdecks showed the dockyard manager had not been idle, even allowing for Christmas.

For Lindsay the leave had been a strange and frustrating experience. Far from seeking seclusion in some hotel as he had first considered, he had instead gone south to London. After several attempts he had managed to obtain an interview at the Admiralty with a fairly senior intelligence officer. As he had expected, the department had heard nothing from the suave young lieutenant in Liverpool, nor did they know anything of Lindsay's report and suggestions about the German raider. Looking back, the intelligence officer had been extremely courteous but vaguely unhelpful. He had known very little about the raider, other than she was the Nassau which had sunk Loch Glendhu as well as the recent losses. She had not returned to Norway, and even now, as Lindsay sat staring at the littered desk, nobody had heard or seen anythingof her at all.

But when Lindsay had persisted with his theme, that the Germans were planning another series of widespread attacks on Allied commerce to thin the resources of escort vessels and air patrols as well as to aid their new Japanese

ally, the officer had been more definite. He was being hard-pressed to the limits of his department. There was no evidence to suggest that Lindsay was right. And anyway, the war was quite difficult enough without adding to it with ifs and maybes.

Lindsay groped for his pipe, remembering London. The ruined buildings, the gaps in small terraced houses where the bombs had carved a path like some giant axe. Sandbags around stately Whitehall offices, policemen in steel helmets, the blackout, and the wail of air-raid sirens, night after night, with hardly a break.

The people had looked tired and strained, as with each new day they picked their way over rubble and firemen's hoses to queue with resigned patience for buses which still somehow seemed torun on time.

And everywhere there were uniforms. Not just the three services, but all those of the occupied countries as well. Poles and Norwegians, Dutch and Czechs, whose alien uniforms seemed to show the extent of the enemy's successes.

When not waiting in an Admiralty lobby or going through the latest intelligence reports in the operations room, Lindsay had found himself walking. He still did not know how far he had walked nor the full extent. The East End and dockland. Green Park and the scruffy gaiety of Piccadilly. Quiet, faceless streets south of the river, and the proud skyline of the city darkly etched against the night sky with its criss-cross of searchlights and sullen glow of burning buildings. He had been bustled into an air-raid ,, shelter by an indignant warden who had shouted, `Who do j you think you are, mate? God or something? You'll get . your bloody head blown off if you walk about while there's a raid on!'

He had sat on a bench seat, his back against the cold concrete, while the shelter had quaked and trembled to the exploding bombs. Beyond the steel door, where the same warden had stared at him fixedly as if to discover the reason for his behaviour, he had heard the clang of fire bells, the shrill-of a police whistle. But inside the crowded shelter he had found the same patience, the sense of oneness which had. made such a mark on his memory.

From the day he had entered the Navy as a cadet Lindsay had been trained in all matters of the sea and; above all, sea warfare. Ship-handling and seamanship, gunnery and navigation, the complex management of groups of vessels working together in every conceivable condition which past experience and history could offer.

Nobody had said anything about the other side of it. At Dunkirk and Crete, Norway and North Africa, the lessons had been hard and sharp. Terrified refugees on the roads, scattering as the Stukas had sliced through them with bombs and bullets. Soldiers queueing chest-deep in the sea to be taken off devastated beaches by the Navy, which like London buses always managed to reach them in time. But .at what a price.

The loss of his own ship, the agonising memory of the sinking transport which refused to leave him in peace, had all left their scar on Lindsay. But this last visit to London had shown him more than anything else that he knew -nothing of the other war at all. It was not-a battle to be contained in a gun or bombsight, with an enemy beyond reach or personality. It was right here. It was everywhere. No one was spared, and he knew that if these people with whom he had shared an air-raid shelter and all the others like them were to lose faith and hope the end was even closer than some imagined. It was amazing they had not given up already, he thought. Yet in the battered pubs with their shortages and watery beer he had heard plenty of laughter and optimism. Although on the face of it he could find no reason for either. The war was going badly, and the first breath of relief when it was learned that, willingly or otherwise, the Americans were now firm allies, was now giving way to an awareness that the real struggle had not even begun.

Even the newspapers found it hard to explain the daily events in Malaya. In a month the Japanese had driven almost the full length of the peninsula, smashing resistance and leaving a wake of horror and butchery which was impossible to measure.

' During his leave Lindsay had toyed with the idea of finding out where Eve Collins had lived. He would visit her parents. Would make and hold on to some small comfort by the contact., He had dismissed the idea almost immediately, despising himself for his own self-pity. What would he have said? That he saw the ship burn with their daughter condemned to a hideous death? That he was there, a witness who should have been able, to help but could not?

No, it was better to leave them to their own resources.After the harsh cruelty of an official telegram they would have to draw upon each other for strength. With time, even this unreality might ease and they would be able to think of her memory without pain, as countless others were having to do.

There was a tap at the door and Goss walked heavily into the cabin.

He said, Eight bells, sir. Still seven absentees, but there's been a' train delay. They might be on that.'' He opened his notebook.One call from the R.N. hospital. Able Seaman NIcNiven is detained in the V.D. wing for treatment.' He closed it with a snap. `I've detailed another A.B. to replace him as quartermaster, sir.' He did not sound as if he cared much about McNiven's unhappy predicament:

Thank you.' Lindsay eyed him steadily. Goss looked very strained, and he could imagine his feelings about the ship's new appearance.I expect we shall be getting our orders shortly.'

Goss nodded. `Yes.'

It was as hard as ever to make contact with Goss.

Lindsay said, `We will be taking on fuel and ammunition this afternoon. We'll work into the dog watches if necessary. If there's an air-raid on the port we don't want to be sitting ducks.'

In the distance he heard a man laugh, and pictured the returning hands far below his chair as they struggled out of their best uniforms, folding them carefully into kitbags and lockers until the next time. They would all be telling each other of their leaves. Their conquests and their failures. Their families and their expectations for the next leave. It was always the same.

Goss said suddenly, `I've been ashore a few times. Made it my business to find-out where we're going next.'

Lindsay asked, `Discover anything?'

He sighed. It seemed to come from his very soul. Snotty lot of bastards, sir.' His eyes gleamed.But I did hear we might be going south.'

Lindsay nodded. `Could be.' He had already noted the extra fans and ventilation shafts, and the bright dazzle paint pointed to something more than another Icelandic patrol. He realised too that he did not care where it was, except for one thing. The faint, impossible chance of meeting that raider again.

Goss said, If we do.' He moved slightly so that Lindsay could no longer see his face.I don't think we'll ever get back.'

Lindsay turned in his chair. Goss was deadly serious. As he always was. He was also more troubled than he had ever seen him.

Goss continued in the same empty tone, `While you were away, sir, they got the old Eriskay. Torpedoed her. Didn't say where.'

Without asking, Lindsay knew the ship must be another of Goss's old company.

Goss said, Only three left now.' He moved restlesslytoa scuttle, his face very lined. in the grey light.They'd no right to put them where they can't survive. It's always the same.' He turned, his eyes in shadow. `The big warships

i„ round their buoys in harbour. The best destroyers stay with em just in case they might be in danger. While the poor bloody escorts which should have been on the scrapheap years ago,' he took a deep breath, and ships like the Becky are made to take the brunt of it!' He clenched his big hands as if in pain.It's not bloody right, sir! It's notbloody fair!'

Lindsay watched him gravely. Goss's sudden-outburst was both vehement and moving. He knew he was hitting not only at the nameless warships but at the Service which controlled them. Perhaps indirectly at him, too.

I've seen people in London, Number One, who are in much-the same position. They've no choice.' He hardened his voice.Any more than we have.'

Goss recovered himself. 'I know that.'

The deck gave a delicate tremor, and Lindsay wondered if Fraser was already in his engine room, testing some machinery or the new generator.

He said, Well, carry on, Number One. We'll make an early start after lunch.' He saw Ritchie peering in the door and added,Come in, Yeo.' He watched Goss stride past Ritchie and wondered why he could not face the inevitable.

Ritchie said, `New batch of signals, sir.'

Thanks.' He flicked over the top one.Good leave?' He looked up, seeing the distress on the man's round face, cursing himself for his stupidity. `I'm sorry. That was bloody unforgivable.'

Ritchie smiled. S'all right, sir.' He added,I'm not sorry to be back.' He glanced around the cabin. `I stayed at the Union Jack Club. Better'n nothing, I suppose.'

Lindsay thought of his own leave. The endless walking, the visits to the Admiralty. The nights when he had at last made good use of Boase's pills. Now, with the ship needing him once more, he wondered what the first night would bring. Perhaps he would be safe.

Ritchie said, `Signal 'ere from H.Q., sir. Ops officer comin' aboard at 1400.' He added quietly, "E's bringin'the commodore with'im.'

Lindsay looked up. 'Kemp? I thought he was staying at Scapa?'

Ritchie shrugged. You know 'ow it is in the Andrew, sir. They give you tropical rig and sends you to the Arctic. 'Train you for torpedoes and make you a cook!' He grinned.They call it plannin'!'

Lindsay smiled up at him. It was good to see him again. Something familiar. To hold on to.

`We shall just have to see what it is in our case.'

There's another signal about A.B. McNiven, too.' Ritchie leaned over to open the pad.A shore patrol caught 'im breakin' into a chemist's shop. Poor chap probably thought 'e could cure a dose with stickin' plaster.' He became formal again. `An' Mr. Aikman's replacement is due this afternoon.'

Jupp entered the cabin and hesitated. `Pardon, sir.'

Lindsay stood up. I think we'll have a drink.' He looked at Ritchie.What about it, Yeoman? Just to start things off again.'

Ritchie grinned. `Well, if you say so, sir. Never bin known to refuse.'

Jupp darted a quick glance at Lindsay and saw the smoother lines around his mouth and eyes. The tablets had done some good then. He looked at the petty officer as he stood beside the desk, pleased yet awkward with the captain's invitation. He thought too of Ritchie's family photographs in the P.O.'s mess and wondered how he had endured the past three weeks.

He straightened his stooped shoulders. `Comin' right up, sir. An' as we're safe in 'arbour, the best glasses!'

Immediately after lunch, while the cranes dipped and swayed back and forth overhead, the ship's company turned to for work. There was a keen wind across the port and they needed little encouragement to make the business of loading stores and ammunition as brisk as possible.

On the outboard side an oiler nestled against the fenders while the pulsating fuel hoses pumped Benbecula's life-blood into her bunkers, her skipper already watching other ships nearby with signal flags hoisted to show they too were demanding his services.

Throughout the ship, above and below decks, officers and ratings busied themselves with their allotted duties, their faces absorbed as they relived some incident or memory of their leave.

Fraser stood by the guardrail above the oiler, his gloved hands on his hips-as he watched the chief stoker checking the steady intake. He had done it so often, in so many ports, he could gauge the fuel supply almost by the jerk of the hoses. He was thinking of his family in Dundee. It had all turned out to be quite different from what he had expected. For years he had been almost a stranger in his own home. A man who came and went, season by season. Back and forth to the other side of the world, a life which he could share with no one outside whatever ship he happened to be serving.

But this time he had been shocked to find his wife was suddenly growing old. And his two children had seemed like strangers, even embarrassed by his forced familiarity. There had been no tours around the pubs as in the past. No quiet anger on his wife's face as he staggered home in the early hours. For three whole weeks he had tried to make up for it. Had tried to rediscover what he had never known he had possessed. She had understood. No arguments. No quarrels about other ships' officers who lived in the district, whose wives had always told her how well their men were doing. Better ships than Fraser's. Promotion, more opportunities, fancy jobs on shore or in some harbour authority.

It had been a close, warm Christmas, and unlike any other leave when New Year had been involved, neither Fraser nor his wife had budged from their fire. As they had listened to the welcome to the New Year on their radio they had held hands, both realising perhaps that it was not merely the end of a year but also of this leave.

He had heard himself say, `If anything happens to me, will you let young Jamie follow the sea if he's so inclined?'

Their son was eleven but had seemed so much older this time.

She had replied, `Don't talk like that, Donald. It's not like you to fret so. What have they done to make you like this?'

`I didn't mean to worry you, lass.'

She had poured him a full glass of whisky. `Drink this, Donald. Jamie's like his father. I'll not stop him.'

And when he had made to leave he had stared around their small house as if trying to remember everything at once. Then he had kissed her and had gone down the path without looking back.

The chief stoker squinted up. at him, his eyes red in the wind. `That feels better, eh, sir? The old girl'11 take us anywhere!'

Fraser regarded him dourly. `She'd bloody well do just that, Usher! I'll. not forgive her, if she conks out now!'

Above on the boat deck Lieutenant Maxwell was staring up at the twin mounting which had appeared abaft the bridge superstructure.

His assistant, Lieutenant Hunter, was saying, `I've checked the communications, sir, and the siting of the mounting is quite good, too.' He was careful to say little, knowing how scathing Maxwell could be.

Maxwell bobbed his bullet head. `Good. Fine. As it should be.' He had hardly heard a word Hunter had said.

He still could not accept it. It was like a bad dream which refused to be broken even when the sufferer was endeavouring to burst awake and free himself from it.

If he had telephoned first he would never have known. He felt the sweat gathering under his cap, hot in spite of the bitter wind. He rarely bothered to telephone or send a letter about leave. Decia, his wife, always seemed to be home anyway. She had money of her own, plenty of it, thanks to her rich father, and was quite content to entertain her friends rather than go visiting.

It might have been going on for months. Years. He felt the anxiety and disbelief churning his insides as if he were going to vomit.

. On the last link of his journey down to Hampshire the train had been held up for several hours because of a " derailment further along the line. Without lights or heating, the occupants of his, compartment had satin resentful, shivering silence. Then when at last he had reached his station there had been no taxi or hire-car available. The aged porter had said sourly, `Don't you know there's a war on?' Stupid old bastard.

Maxwell had been almost out of breath by the time he had walked the five miles to his house. His case had been heavy, filled mostly with duty-free cigarettes and a length of silk which he had obtained in Liverpool from an old contact. For'Decia.

Inside the front door the house had been as quiet as a grave, and for a few moments more he imagined she might have been away. The housekeeper lived out, for now that factories and the services offered either better money or amore exciting life, servants were almost impossible to find. Decia often complained about this fact, as she did about other things, too.

Then he had heard her laugh. A long, excited, sensuous sound.

He did not remember running upstairs or how long he had waited outside the bedroom door. In his mind he could only picture.the scene captured in the bedside lights like some hideous tableau.

Decia sitting up and staring at him, her naked body like gold in the lamplight, her hair across her shoulders in a way he had never seen before. And the man, openmouthed and transfixed, one hand still thrust against her thigh. He had tumbled from the bed, blurting out senseless, meaningless words, groping for his trousers, falling, and then sobbing with terror as Maxwell crossed to his side.

The worst part of it was that Maxwell had been unable to hit him. Maybe in his heart he had known that if he had once started he would have killed him there and then. The man was paunchy and ridiculous. Not even young, and had been in tears as he had babbled for forgiveness..

Maxwell had slammed the door behind him, hearing the man stumbling. downstairs, the sounds of his feet across the gravel drive, and then silence.

In the. bedroom there had been no sound either. Just her breahing and his own heart pounding into his ribs like a hammer.

Why?' The one word had been torn from him even before he had recovered his reason.In Christ's name, why?'

I nstead of trying to cover her body she had leaned back, her eyes suddenly calm again.

`Why not? Did you imagine I'd be able to go on living like this without a man?'

Maxwell had turned towards the door. `Man? You call that a man?'

She had said, `He made -a change.'

Even as he stood stockstill below the twin Oerlikons Maxwell could not believe. She had not `been afraid or repentant. Had not even bothered to conceal what she had done, perhaps many times with others.

'You bitch!' He had almost choked. `You bloody, spoiled whore!'

Still she had not flinched, and when she had spoken her voice had been scathing, taunting.

What did you expect? That I could just sit here while you go playing the little hero again? But for this war you'd still be living on my money, pretending to be the retired gentleman, when we both know you were thrown out of the Navy! I'm only surprised they took you in the first, place!' She had mocked at his anguish.God Almighty, look at you! No wonder we're losing the war!'

I was not thrown out.' He had heard his excuses pouring from his lips, just as he had told them to himself over and over again.It was an accident. Someone else.

`Someone else? Oh, it would be. It always is when you make a mistake.'

She had let her shoulders fall back over the pillows, her ' perfect breasts firm in the bedside lights.

`You're a failure. Just as you're a failure in bed!'

He had almost fallen on top of her, his eyes blinded with tears and desperation, his hands groping for her as he had pleaded, `You're wrong. You know you are. I've had bad luck. I've tried to make you happy.'

And all the time she had just laid there, her eyes almost disinterested as she watched his hands running over her shoulders and breasts.

`You make me sick.'

Everything else had been lost in a blur. Like a film out of focus. He could still hear himself screaming down at her, saw her amused contempt change to sudden fright as he had swung back his arm and then struck her across the mouth. She had rolled on to her side, gasping with pain, only to rock back again as he had hit her once more. How many times he had struck her he could not recall. But he could see her doubled over the side of the bed, her cheeks puffed and swollen, her beautiful lips running with blood.

That last sight had frozen him, chilled his fury as if he had been drugged. Hesitantly, almost timidly he had put one hand on her quivering shoulder.

Before he could speak she had turned and looked up at him, her hair disordered across her bruised face, partly hiding one eye which was already closing from his blows.

`'Better now, little man?' The tears had been running down her face to mingle unheeded with the blood on her lips. Perhaps she had expected him to kill her and no longer cared.

Maxwell remembered only vaguely leaving the house. Even as he made to close the front door he had heard her call after him. Just one word which hung in his brain even now. 'Bastard!'

The leave had been spent in a small hotel. He had tried phoning her. Had even written several letters and then torn them up. After having her telephone hung up on him he had tried to get drunk. He had almost gone mad in his hotel room, drinking and going over it all again and again. The nightmare had been made worse by the other hotel guests singing Christmas carols, their curious or amused stares as he had sat at his table for an occasional meal. Once he had taken out her picture from his wallet and torn it in half, cursing her and her beautiful body until someone had banged on the wall and yelled, `Pipe down, chum! Who've you got in there? A bloody tiger?'

The sudden interruption had sobered him, and with pathetic despair he had dropped to his knees, gathering up the fragments of her picture, and had tried to fix them together as he had mumbled her name.

Hunter watched him carefully. He disliked Maxwell but his present mood was almost unnerving. Perhaps he had gone round the bend. It could happen, they said. Or maybe he had heard some bad news.

He asked, `Everything all right at home?'

Maxwell turned on his heels like a bullfighter, his face screwed up with sudden anger.

`You mind your own damn business, right? Do your job and keep the guns in order, that's all I want from you!' He swung away and marched violently towards the bridge, his shoes clicking across the worn planking as if he were on parade.

Hunter shook his head and smiled to himself. That was more like it. Better the bastard you knew than some nut case.

Lieutenant de Chair was passing and drawled, `Back to normal, I see?'

Hunter grinned. `One big happy family.'

The marine lieutenant rested his hands on the guardrail and watched a staff car driving towards the main gangway.

`Let's hope it stays that way, old son.'

A marine driver opened the car door and a stocky figure' climbed out to stare up at the ship's side, the dull light glinting on his oak-leaved cap and the single broad stripe on his sleeve.

de Chair added quietly, 'I should tell young Kemp to watch out.' He walked casually aft saying over his shoulder, `Some sort of god has just arrived!'

Commodore Martin Kemp selected an armchair and sat down very exactly. Without his cap he became just as Lindsay had remembered him from the wardroom party at Scapa. Stocky, even heavily built, he looked like a man who took some pains over his appearance. His features were very tanned, so that his keen blue eyes and the few remaining wisps of grey hair stood out as if independent from the rest of the mould.

He said briskly, `I expect you're wondering why I've come bursting in like this. I could have arrived quite unannounced, of course.'

Lindsay watched him impassively. The of course was somehow typical of the man, he thought.

He said, `I would be ready to receive you at any time, sir.'

Kemp grunted. `Yes. I expect so. Wasn't trying to catch you out.'

`Would you care for some refreshment, sir?'

He shook his head. No time.' He studied Lindsay calmly.But if you feel you would like a drink, don't let me stop you.'

Lindsay sat down and tried to relax. He must not let Kemp get under his skin so easily.

`What is it you want to see me about, sir?'

Kemp interlaced his fingers carefully across his stomach. Lindsay noticed how erectly he sat in the chair. There was not a crease in his uniform, and he guessed that he made a point of appearing alert whenever he was with his subordinates.

As you know, Lindsay, I have been doing a good deal of work on co-ordination.' A small sigh.A hard, thankless task.'

`I did hear something about it, sir. But I've been away for several weeks, and of course there has been leave for the whole ship since we came to Liverpool.'

Kemp's eyebrows lifted. `Away? Oh yes. The patrol.'

Lindsay took out his pipe and gripped it until Kemp's casual dismissal of the patrol faded into perspective. Perhaps being recalled to the Service after retirement, the fast-moving rate of the war, the sudden jump into his new work were hard to bear for him, too. There were plenty like Kemp. So grateful to be needed again, yet unwilling to bend in the face of the changes which war had hurled against the country and the world.

Kemp continued, That was a bad show about the convoy. Its commodore did not throw much light on the matter.' He shrugged.Past history now.'

Lindsay thought of the girl with the bandaged face. The blazing ship, and that last pathetic signal from the convoy escort. Am engaging.

He said quietly, 'It was murder. In my opinion, our people will have to start thinking like the enemy and not of acting out the war as if it is a game.' He could feel his hands trembling. `To see men die and be helpless to aid them was bad enough. To know it was because of carelessness makes it all the worse.'

Kemp smiled. You are still on your hobby horse? I've been hearing about your assault on the Admiralty. I'd have thought you'd find a better way of spending your leave.' He shrugged.No matter. I came to tell you your new assignment. Not partake in amateur strategy.'

Lindsay replied, `You don't believe that ships and men's lives are important then, sir?'

Kemp smiled again. He looked more at ease than when Lindsay and the side party had met him at the gangway.

`Look, Lindsay, you've had a bad time. I make a point of knowing everything there is to know about my officers. Especially commanding officers.'

Lindsay looked away. My officers. So Kemp was taking the reins.

He said, `I am involved, sir. I cannot just ignore it.'

`Of course not. Admirable sentiment. However, you must allow me to understand the overall position and what must be done to contain whatever the Hun intends to do.'

Lindsay watched him with sudden realisation. There was something old-world about Kemp. He may have been able to obtain this new appointment through his past knowledge or record, but his manner, his form of speech were as revealing as a Cockney barrow-boy trying to masquerade as a bishop. The Hun, for instance. It had a First World War, Boys' Own Paper ring to it. God, if Kemp thought he could introduce cricket into the Atlantic he was in for a shock. He felt the anger rising like a fever. But Kemp would not be the one to suffer.

Drastic situations call for drastic measures, Lindsay. I will be speaking with everyone concerned tomorrow, but I felt you should be put in the picture first.' He hesitated.Well, I mean, this ship is hardly a front-line warrior, eh?'

Lindsay said quietly, `They are using old pleasure boats, paddle-steamers for minesweeping, sir. China river gunboats for covering the army's flanks in the Med. Benbecula is not alone when it comes to unpreparedness.'

Well, we can't all have the plum commands.' Kemp's smile was still there but it was without warmth.We need every ship we can get. Every man-jack who can serve his country to step in and fill the breech.'

Lindsay wanted to laugh. Or cry. `And the breech isa big one, sir.'

Kemp let his hands move up and outwards to the arms of his chair. I think I am a tolerant man, Lindsay. Do not overtax me. There is vital work to be done and without wasting any more time.' He stood up and walked to a scuttle.The situation in Malaya is grave, more so than I would have thought possible. Of course I realise the Japanese have only been facing our native troops for much of the campaign, but I still feel that in my early days we would have given any attacker out there very short shrift indeed.'

Lindsay watched his profile. Native troops. Why not just let him talk. Get it over with and send him away happy.

Instead he said abruptly, The troops are from many parts of the Commonwealth. Indians and Australians, as well as our people. I understand the Indian infantry have not been trained in tank warfare. Have never even seen one. They were told no attacker could use them in the ungle. I suppose the Japs didn't know that though.' Kemp swung round.That's probably a damned rumour!' He calmed himself with a quick effort. `One thing is certain, however.'Singapore will be held. It is a sad business to lose so much of Malaya, but with Singapore made even stronger than before we can soon retake the initiative on the mainland.'

Lindsay massaged his eyes. What was Kemp saying? That Benbecula was to go to the Far East? If so he was deluding himself more than ever.

Kemp became very grave, so that his eyes seemed to sink into the wrinkles like bright buttons.

`Reinforcements will be sent forthwith. A fast convoy is being mustered and will sail in four days. It is a vital, convoy. Armoured vehicles and anti-aircraft weapons.

Troops and supplies, and everything else they'll need for a siege.'

Lindsay tensed. `Around the Cape, sir?'

`Of course. Did you imagine, I would direct it through the Med. to Suez? We'd have evry bomber and submarine 4 attacking it all the way.'

Lindsay replied, `I know, sir.'

Non-stop to Ceylon.' Kemp seemed satisfied Lindsay was now in full agreement.From there the troops and supplies will go on in smaller ships with fresh escorts. The FOIC in Ceylon is ready to act and will get them moving within two days of our arrival.' He rubbed his hands. `That will keep the moaning minnies quiet when they see what can be done with a bit of initiative and drive.'

Lindsay said, `It's thirteen thousand miles to Ceylon, sir. Even allowing for minimum changes of course to avoid U-boat attacks, breakdowns and delays it will take nearly seven weeks to get there.'

Really? Kemp's eyebrows seemed to rise a full inch.I' am glad you have such a quick grasp of routes and distances. But I hope you are not suggesting that Singapore will have sunk without trace before that time?' He laughed quietly. `And there will be no delays. This is an important job. We will have a heavy escort, and will go through regardless of what the Hun can throw our way.'

Lindsay stood up. `Look, sir, my idea about this German raider was not just born on the spur of a moment. I believe it is the start of something fresh. Something which could put our convoys into" real danger. We're fighting on two oceans now. Even the Americans can't be expected to help us until they've replaced some of their losses at Pearl Harbour.'

Kemp picked up his cap and eyed it critically. I am not concerned with the American Navy, Lindsay. How they fight their war ,is their affair. Personally I have greater respect for the Japanese. I worked with them in the last war. Courageous, plucky little chaps. Plenty of guts.' He sighed.But fate can be unkind,as we have seen.'

Lindsay could feel his mind reeling. It was like part of a badly acted play. Dinner jackets in the jungle. The captain on his bridge saluting as the ship went down.

He said, `I'm afraid I can't agree, sir.'

That is hardly my worry, Lindsay.' He smiled grimly.I know 'you're fretting about having this old ship to command. With any sort of luck I may be able to help towards something better.' His smile vanished. `But I intend to see that my arrangements work. I do not expect to hear any more of this defeatist talk from you or anyone else.'

Lindsay followed him from the cabin. `Would you like to see your son, sir?'

Kemp did not turn. `When he has achieved something worthwhile, yes. Then I'll see him with pleasure.'

Lindsay saluted as Kemp hurried down the gangway and then turned abruptly towards the bridge. The commodore had a new appointment and expected everyone to. work, or die if necessary to make it a success.

He stopped and looked up suddenly at the masthead pennant flicking out to the wind. He had just remembered Goss's words. I don't think we'll ever get back.

Then he thought of the commodore and quickened his pace again. I'll get them all back, if it's only to, spite that pompous fool, he thought.

And if Commodore Martin Kemp was coming along for the ride he might at last realise what he was up against. Or kill all of us.

Jupp was waiting for him and said, `South Atlantic then, sir?'

Lindsay sat down wearily. `Who says?'

Jupp showed his teeth. Some fur-lined watchcoats'ave just arrived, sir. The pusser 'as 'ad 'em on order for weeks.' He spread his hands.If they sends us that, then we just lave to be goin' to the sunshine, it stands to reason.'

Lindsay nodded. `Except for the word reason, Jupp, I'm inclined to agree.'

12

Convoy

Forenoon watch closed up at defence stations, sir.' Stannard saluted formally and waited for Lindsay to comment.

Lindsay glanced at the gyro repeater and then climbed on to his chair and stared at the grey horizon for several seconds.

`Very good, Pilot.'

He waited for Stannard to move away again and then lifted his glasses to study' the regularly spaced lines of ships. The convoy had been at sea for four whole days and as yet without a sign of trouble. The first two days had been very rough with gale force winds and visibility down to four miles. Maybe the U-boats had run deep to stay out of the savage buffeting which such seas could give their slender hulls, or perhaps they had just been lucky. The convoy was small but weighty nonetheless. The ships were. steaming in three columns, the centre one being led by a modern heavy cruiser mounting twelve six-inch guns, a formidable looking vessel which represented the main escort. She was followed by two oil tankers and then the most hated member in the group, a large ammunition ship which steamed directly ahead of the Benbecula. The two outer columns were led by troopships, followed at prescribed intervals by freighters, the decks of which were covered by crated aircraft and armoured vehicles of every kind. They were well down in the water, and Lindsay guessed their holds were also crammed to capacity.

The destroyer escort was impressive. Six of them, none more than a year old, an unusual state of affairs with so many shortages elsewhere, and evidence of the importance placed in the convoy's safety and protection.

It was strange how the weather had eased. That too was rare for January. The horizon was sharply defined and very dark, and as Lindsay steadied himself in his chair he thought it made Benbecula's list all the more obvious. The horizon line appeared to be on the tilt with the ships balanced on it and in danger of sliding uncontrollably abeam.

He readjusted the glasses to watch one of the escorts zig-zagging some five miles ahead of the convoy. He could see the great white surge of her bow-wave creaming away from her raked stem, the lithe hull almost hidden as she sped protectively across the convoy's ponderous line of advance. Just the sight of her plucked at his mind and made him remember his own destroyer and the others which he had served before her. Fast, aggressive and graceful. They' above all had managed to retain the dying art of ship design. The cruiser on the other hand was like some grey floating fortress. Bridge upon bridge, her triple gun mountings and secondary armament giving her an air of massive indestructibility.

Some signal flags broke from the yard of the troopship leading the starboard column. The commodore was urging some unfortunate captain to keep station or make better speed. He could picture Kemp up there, revelling in his new power. It was to be hoped he was equally aware of his great responsibility.

All around them the horizon was bare, with the enemyoccupied coastline of France some thousand miles away on the port beam. Apart from the distant shapes of the prowling destroyers the sea was theirs alone. Not even a gull, let alone a spotting aircraft to break the dull overcast sky as a warning of impending danger.

Seventeen ships in all. He saw some anti-aircraft guns aboard the cruiser swivel skyward, their crews going through the daily drills. Unconsciously he touched the gold lace on his sleeve. She was the Madagascar, nine thousand tons, and capable of tackling almost anything but a battleship. Had things been different he might have been on her bridge right now, or one like it. Doing what he had been trained for. What he had lived for.

He looked round the bridge, seeing the worn panelling, the usual scene of watchkeeping monotony. Quartermaster on the wheel, telegraphsmen swaying with the easy roll, their eyes lost in inner thought. A signalman was sitting on a locker splicing a worn halyard, and Ritchie was leafing through the morning watch reports with little on his face to show what he was thinking. A bosun's mate, a messenger gathering up the chipped enamel mugs, everything as usual.

Dancy was out on the open wing, his glasses trained on one of the ships. Stannard leaned against the screen, his face set in a tight frown.

Lindsay eased forward to watch some seamen who were working on the well deck, taking the rare opportunity to dab on some fresh paint under C.P.O. Archer's baleful eye. It was very cold, but after the ice and the constant hazards of working on a slippery deck with seas breaking over their numbed bodies they would find it almost normal.

He lifted his glasses and trained them on the commodore's ship. She was the Cambrian, a handsome twinfunnelled liner which had once plied between England and South America. Commanding the Benbecula had made a marked difference where merchant ships were concerned. Before, Lindsay had seen them as charges to be protected. Names on a convoy list to be chased or reprimanded as the occasion demanded. The slow ones, and those which made too much smoke. The ones who strayed out of their column or crept too close on the next ahead. With so many ex-merchant service people around him every day and night he was seeing them differently. They spoke of their past records, their cargoes and passengers. The carefree cruises or months in harbour without charter, and the dockside thronged with unemployed, hungry seamen. Rogue ships and bad skippers. Fast passages or valuable time and freight lost while searching for some other ship in distress. Shifting cargo in a Force Nine gale, miserly captains who kept their crews almost on starvation diet for their own ends. It was so remote from the regulated world of the Royal Navy. It was like re-learning everything just by listening to others.

Stannard had worked in a whaling fleet and on the frozen meat trade before joining the company. The second engineer, Lieutenant Dyke, had originally gone to sea in a Greek ship running guns to the Republicans in the Spanish Civil War. To them the ships they met in convoy were like old faces, old friends, with characters to match.

Stannard was studying the next ship ahead. Down two turns.' He looked at Lindsay and gave a wry smile.Don't want to be too near that joker if she gets clobbered.'

Lindsay nodded. He had seen an ammunition ship go up. She had been two miles away, yet the noise, the savage pressure on his ears had been almost unbearable. One great ball of fire, rising and expanding like another sun. When the smoke and steam had faded there had not even been a stick or spar to mark where the ship had been. What sort of men were they, he wondered, who would go to sea again and again knowing they were the targets?

He saw a small hatch open on the forward hold and Lieutenant Barker clambering on deck to stand shivering in the wind. He had been checking his stores again, no doubt. He did not seem to trust anybody where they were concerned. Barker had returned from leave in a very shaken state of mind. Lindsay had heard that he had some private property in England. Boarding houses or something of the sort. But when he had gone to make his usual inspection of his other source of income he had been horrified to find them commandeered by the military. Every room filled with soldiers. Paint scratched, floorboards used for firewood. The havoc had been endless. Jupp had casually mentioned it to Lindsay. It seemed to amuse him.

A destroyer on wing escort turned in a wide arc to begin another zig-zag and he watched her with silent fascination. Then he remembered that she was the Merlin and recalled her young commander waiting in the office at Scapa. That day when he had seen Lovelace. When he had met the girl in the passageway. He thrust his hands into his pockets and stared fixedly at the sloping horizon. It seemed so long ago. And it felt like yesterday.

Signal from commodore, sir.' Ritchie was wide awake.Alter course in succession to two-two-zero.'

`Acknowledge.' He heard Stannard moving swiftly to the gyro.

Ritchie steadied his telescope. `Execute.'

Like ponderous beasts the ships moved slowly on to their new course. A destroyer swept down between the lines, a signal lamp flashing angrily at a rust-streaked freighter which had edged badly out of station. As she dashed abeam of Benbecula her loud-hailer echoed across the churned water, `You have a bad list, old chap!'

Stannard snatched a megaphone and' ran to the open wing. `You have a loud voice, old chap!' He sounded angry.

Lindsay watched him thoughtfully. Like Fraser, Stannard was often quick to malign the Benbecula. But if anyone else tried it he became protective, even belligerent.

He came back breathing hard. `Stupid sod!'

Lindsay asked, `Have you heard how your brother is getting on?'

Not much.' Stannard stared gloomily towards the nearest ship.He is always a cheerful cuss. I think he enjoysbeing in the army.'

Lindsay could tell Stannard wanted to talk. Heseemed -on edge, different from before his leave.

`Your people are in Perth, I believe?'

'Yeh. My dad runs a sale and repair business of agricultural gear. He'll be missing young Jason, I guess. He's twenty-five almost. It was bad enough for my folks when I scarpered off to sea.' He turned his head sharply. `Watch your helm, quartermaster! You're snaking about like a whore at a christening!'

`Aye, aye, sir.' The man sounded unmoved. Nobody seemed to mind Stannard's occasional bursts of colourful language.

He continued, Most of Jason's mob come from Perth or nearby.' He gave a brief smile.Nearby means a coupla hundred miles either way in Aussie.'

Lindsay thought of the news reports, the confused despatches he had read in the London papers. It sounded as if the Japs were right across the Malay Peninsula, cutting it into halves with a line of steel.

Ritchie called, `Signal from Merlin, sir! Aircraft bearing zero-eight-zero!'

Before anyone could move the control tannoy reported, `Aircraft at Red one-four-oh. Angle of sight one-oh.'.

Stannard said harshly, That Merlin must have good RDF. She's two miles on our starboard quarter.' He shook his fist at the deekhead.Why the hell don't they give, us something better? We might just as well have a pair of bloody opera glasses!'

Lindsay strode to the port wing and levelled his glasses over the screen. It was not hard to see it now. A black splinter etched against the sky, seeming to skim just clear of the horizon line itself.

He hard Dancy at his side fumbling with his glasses.

'Door t bother, Sub. It'll be a Focke Wulf reconnaissance plane. Long-range job. It'll not come within gunshot unless by accident.'

Very faint above the sea noises and muffled engines Lindsay heard the far off notes of a bugle. The cruiser was doing things in style. Within seconds the A.A. guns would be cleared away and tracking the distant aircraft. It was always good experience for the crews. He rubbed his eyes and lifted the glasses once more to watch the enemy aircraft. How small it looked and near to the sea. Both were illusions, as he knew from bitter experience. The Focke Wulfs were like great eagles, huge whenever they came near enough to be seen properly. They could cover many hundreds of miles of ocean, where there were no fighter planes to pluck them down and no guns to reach them as they circled so lazily around a convoy, their radio operators sending back the vital information. Position, course and speed. It never varied. Even now, somewhere out there in the grey Atlantic a U-boat commander would be awakening from a quick nap by one of his officers shaking his shoulder. Convoy, Kapitan. And the signals from his H.Q. would waste no time either. Attack, attack, attack.

Signal from commodore, sir.' Ritchie stood in the doorway.Maintain course and speed. Do not engage.' Do not engage. Lindsay felt despair like pain. What did the bloody fool imagine they could do? Dancy said, `Is it bad, sir?'

Bad but not critical, Sub.' He looked at him calmly.We will be altering course at dusk. That may throw them off the scent. If we can keep up this speed we should soon be out of range even of that high-flying bastard!' He had spoken with unconscious venom and realised Dancy was watching him with obvious surprise. Surprise that the cool-headed commander should possess any feelings. That he could hate. He added slowly, `He'll keep up there as long as he can. Flying round and round and watching us. He may be relieved by one of his chums. It happens.'

Dancy turned towards the distant cruiser. `She's got an aircraft, sir. I saw it on the catapult.'

Lindsay laughed. `A poor old Walrus. Better than nothing, but that bastard would have it down in flames before you could blink.'

`Makes you, feel a bit naked, sir.'

Lindsay walked towards the wheelhouse. `Keep an eye, on him, Sub. I'm going to check the chart.'

Dancy stood at the end of the wing watching the aircraft. How slow it seemed. But it was very real. The r enemy. Something you could see. Not like the haphazard flash of guns in the night. The terrible leaping reflections on the ice as a ship had burned and died before his eyes. There were real Germans over there. Sitting on little stools. Drinking coffee perhaps as they peered towards the convoy. How would the ships look, he wondered? Little dark shapes, betrayed by their long white wakes and a haze of funnel smoke.. Impersonal. Remote. Dial they hate the men in the convoy? Did they feel anything at all as they listened to the plane's operator hammering away at his morse key?

He thought suddenly of his leave. His mother had prompted, `Go on, Mike, tell us what it was like.' She had laid the table, spread out the best cups and plates. The sandwiches and home-made cakes. His sister and her boy-friend had been there too. His father and one of his friends from the bowling club at the Nag's Head at the end of the road. Tell us what it was like....

He had tried to describe the ship, the first sight of floating ice, the party at Scapa. He had started to tell them about the captain. About Lindsay who had just left his side.

His mother had remarked, `I expect he's a proper toff, eh, Mike? Not one of our sort.'

His father had eyed her reprovingly. `Now, Mother, Mike's as good as anyone now that he's-an officer.'

It had ended there, or almost. His mother had started on about the reduced rations, how hard it had been to get enough even for this welcome-home tea party. They should have more consideration for those who had to stay at home and take it.

• His father had got out his Daily Mail War Atlas. `In my opinion, we should never have trusted the Froggies. It was just the same in the last lot. No guts, the lot of 'em.'

Dancy had recalled Lindsay's face at the burial parties. His quiet voice. And all at once he had not wanted to tell them anything. To share what they could never understand because they did not really want to.

Stannard came out on the wing and screwed up his eyes to search for the aircraft. It was almost abeam, parallel with the port column of ships.

He's flaming confident.' He looked sideways at Dancy's grim fate.I hope he runs out of gas without noticing!'

They lapsed into silence, watching the Focke Wulf until it was hidden by a freighter and the overlapping superstructure of the leading troopship.

Dancy said uneasily, `With an escort like ours we should be all right.'

`Too right. The destroyers can cope with the subs. And the big cruiser can beat the hell. out of the captain's raider.'

`is that how you see it?'

The raider?' Stannard shrugged, remembering with sudden clarity Lindsay's agonisedd voice on the telephone as he relived the nightmare or whatever was trying to destroy him.Every man has to have something in a war. Something to hate or hope for. A goal, personal ambition, who knows?' He glanced round quickly to make sure the nearest lookout was out of earshot. `Sorry I couldn't give you a ring, Sub. Got a bit involved. You know how it is. Still, I expect you had some little sheila to keep the cold out, eh?'

Dancy tried to grin. `I did all right.' He did not want to think of his leave. Or how hurt he had been when Stannard had failed to call him on the phone. Just for a drink. Anything. He watched Stannard's clean-cut profile. Lucky devil. There was something about him. A sort of carefree recklessness which would appeal to women very much, Dancy decided.

The closest he had got to female company had been a friend of his sister. They had made a foursome, which had of course included his sister's boy-friend. He was not in the armed forces but employed on some reserved job, in an aircraft factory. Plenty of money, a loud laugh, and his sister appeared to adore him.

The other girl had been called Gloria. They had gone to a local dance, and Dancy had been so desperate for enjoyment that once again in his young life he had mixed his drinks. Recklessly he had invited the girl back to his home. His sister and her friend had vanished halfway through the dance so he had the sitting room marked down in his mind as a suitable place for improving his relationship with Gloria. She was young and quite pretty and had giggled nervously when he had said casually, `We'll have a tot together. Some of the real stuff I brought back with me.'

The warmth of the fire, the scent of her hair and body, the gin, all seemed to combine against him. When he had kissed her it had still appeared to be going well enough. When he had put his hand on her breast she had pushed him frantically away, jumping up with such force that the gin and glasses had scattered over the floor with a crash loud enough to wake the dead.

. It had in fact awakened Dancy's mother. He could see it all clearly in his mind as if it was happening this very instant. Feel the humiliation and embarrassment as his mother had switched on all the lights and had stood in the doorway in a dressing gown, her hair in curlers, as she had snapped, `I don't expect this sort of thing in my house! I don't know what sort of people you've been mixing with in the Navy, but I'll not stand for filth under this roof!' To make it worse, Gloria had been violently sick. Altogether it had not been a successful leave by any standards.

Stannard raised his glasses and studied the ammunition ship for several seconds. `Check her bearing again, Sub. I think she's off station.'

He heard Dancy return to the wheelhouse and sighed. I must be losing my touch, he thought. He had never believed in coincidence, love at first sight, we were meant for each other, and all the other sentiments he had heard voiced in so many ports of call.

But it had happened to him. Just like that. There was no future for either of them. It was hopeless. Best forgotten. Equally he knew he was involved completely. No matter which way it ended.

He had had a couple of drinks at the railway hotel before getting a taxi to the flat. It was all exactly as he had remembered. As he had nursed it in his aching mind throughout the patrols and the freezing watches, the sights of death and pitiful survival.

But another girl had opened the door. When he had identified himself she had said calmly, `Oh, she left some weeks back.'

Stannard had been dumbfounded. No message. Nothing. Not even a goodbye.

The girl had said, But if you like to come back in an hour I'll be free.' She had smiled, and in that instant Stannard had realised his dream had been something more than he had bargained for.We're kept pretty busy you know.' She had reached out to touch his shoulder strap. `But. for a nice lieutenant like you I'll break all the other appointments, okay?'

He had left without a word, his mind a complete blank.

As he had reached the stairway she had called after him, `What d'you expect? Betty Grable.or something, you stuck-up bleeder!'

And then, a few days later, as he had been walking aimlessly down a London street searching for a bar he had visited some years before, an air-raid had started. Within minutes, or so it had seemed, bombs had begun to rain down, the far end of the street had been filled with dust, smoke and crashing debris. With vague, scurrying figures he had run into a shelter, amazed that he had seemed to be the only one who did not know where to go or what to do.

The All Clear had sounded thirty minutes later. It hadg been a hit-and-run raid, a warden had said in an authoritative tone. `Lost 'is bleedin' way more likely!' a disgruntled postman had suggested.

But when Stannard had emerged from the shelter it was almost dark, and as the other strangers had melted away in the gloom it had begun to pelt with rain.

It was then that he had noticed her. She had been standing under the doorway of a bombed shop clutching a paper bag against her body and staring at the rain in dismay. Without hesitation he had taken off his greatcoat and slungitacross her shoulders before she could protest.

`Going far? Well, I'll walk you there, if you like. We'll be company for each other if there's another raid.'

And that was how it had all begun. She lived at a small house in Fulham, close to Putney Bridge. At the door she had looked at his dripping uniform and had said quietly, `Would you like to come in for a minute? I owe you that at least.'

Her name was Jane Hillier, and she was married to a captain in the Royal Armoured Corps.

As Stannard had given her his jacket to hang by the fire he had seen her husband's picture on the sideboard. A nice looking chap standing with some other soldiers in front of a tank.

.'I'd offer you a meal but I'm afraid I've only got some Spam until the shops open tomorrow.'

She was dark and slim, and very attractive. She had opened the rain-splashed parcel and taken out a small, brightly coloured hat.

`I was being extravagant. I wanted everything to be just right.'

Stannard had glanced at the photograph but she had said quickly, `No, he's all right. It's not that. But he'll not be coming home. Not yet anyway. He's in the Western Desert. I've not seen him for two years.'

Stannard had walked to his suitcase. `I've got something better than Spam. I was bringing it for...'

Then she had smiled. For the first time. `So we were both let down?'

Try as he might, Stannard could not remember the exact moment, the word or the sign which had brought them together.

As he leaned against the screen watching the distant aircraft while it reappeared around the port quarter all he could recall was her body, naked in his arms, her fierce passion as she had given herself, pulling him to her as if there were only minutes left before the world ended. Outside the room the sirens had sounded and somewhere more houses had been bombed to fragments. Once, as Stannard had lain awake staring up into the darkness he had felt her crying against his shoulder, very softly, like a child. But she had been asleep, and he had wondered if, like himself, she was thinking of that other man, the face in the photograph, somewhere in the desert with his tank.

The next day he had collected his things from his hotel and had stayed at the little house near Putney Bridge until the end of his leave.

She had said, `I'm not sorry for what we did. You know that, don't you?'

As he had stood by that same front door a lorry packed with soldiers had rattled past the house, and Stannard had heard the wolf-whistles and cheerful yells of admiration with something like hatred.

It wasn't just because you, we were lonely. You must know that, too.' The seconds had ticked away. Where were the words when you needed them?I don't know how, Jane. But we'll sort this out. I must see you again. Must.'

On the crowded train he had tried to rationalise his feelings. Collect his arguments. It was over. An episode, inevitable in this bloody war. He had wanted her. She had been starved of love for two years. That was all there was to it.

When Lindsay had told him of the convoy and the long haul around the Cape to Ceylon he had tried again. Time and distance would end it. But in his heart he knew he would have to see her again, if only to be sure.

Feet moved on the gratings and Lindsay said, We've had a signal from Admiralty, Pilot. Four plus U-boats in our vicinity. You'd better put your plotting team to work.' He watched Stannard's strained face.You bothered about something?'

Stannard looked at him. I'm okay, sir.' He forced a grin.Just thinking that I, could have stayed with my dad selling tractors instead of all this!'

Lindsay watched him, leave. He's like the rest of them. Like me: Sick and tired of being on the defensive. Worn out by retreat and vague plans for hitting back at an invisible enemy.

Signal from commodore, sir.' Ritchie grimaced.To Benbecula. Make less smoke.'

`Acknowledge, Yeoman.'

Lindsay glanced up at the tall funnel, garish in its new paint. No more smoke than usual. No more than anyone could expect from a ship which should by rights be ending her days quietly somewhere in the sun. Where war meant only a fight for better freight or cheaper running costs.

Maybe the commodore had seen in the curt Admiralty signal some small hint oŁ. what he was up against. Not pins and paper flags on a map. Not a glib daily communiq ie for the press and the civilians who were taking it as best they could. Out here it was very real. A killing ground where there were no rules and no standards. A place where the horizon never seemed to get any nearer, where the only quick escape was straight down, to the bottom.

He saw two destroyers wheeling in a flurry of spray and foam to take station on the port quarter, to :begin yet another sweep, listening for the unseen attacker, preparing to strike and kill if the opportunity offered itself.

He glanced at his watch. There was still plenty of time. The hunters, and the hunted knew, their various skills, just as they understood how easily their roles could be changed.

`I'm going below, Pilot. Call me if you hear anything.'

Stannard.watched him climb down the bridge ladder. Then he turned and stared at the hard horizon. The little house so close to Putney Bridge suddenly seemed very far away. A memory, which somehow he must hold on to. No matter'what.

It was at dusk when the first torpedoes streaked into the convoy. During the afternoon there had been numerous reports of U-boats in the vicinity, and later still a destroyer, the Merlin; had made a contact.

Aboard the Benbecula at the rear of the convoy the hands had been sent to action stations, but with nothing to do but wait had stared into the gathering gloom, listening to the thundering roar of depth-charges. They had seen tall columns of water bursting skyward even as the destroyer had swung round for another run-in across the hidden submarine. She had soon been joined by the other wing escort, and again the charges had thundered down, the explosions booming against the Benbecula's lower hull as if she too was under attack.

In the engine room Fraser had seen several of his men pausing at their work to look up at the oil-streaked sides, imagining perhaps that a torpedo was already speeding towards them.

On the bridge it was all remote and vaguely disconnected with attack or defence. The three lines of ships plodded on towards a darkening horizon while the other destroyers tore back and forth like nervous dogs around a valuable flock of sheep.

Merlin had reported she had lost contact. There had been some oil sighted but no one paid' much.attentioh to that. The U-boat might have been damaged. It could have been a ruse to allow her commander to take evasive action. Either way, Merlin's swift attack had given the convoy more time.

Lindsay sat on his tall chair and watched the ships on either bow. They were already losing their identity as darkness closed in. They were moving faster now, making a good fourteen knots in response to the commodore's signals.

Dancy said, `It looks as if we may have given them the slip this time, sir.' He sounded very tired.

Lindsay shrugged. `If the escorts can keep them down, yes. But if they surface they can make a fair speed, too.' He looked at Dancy. What with having the forenoon watch and being called to his action station on the bridge soon, afterwards he was showing the strain.

Stannard snatched up a handset as its shrill cry shattered the stillness in the enclosed bridge.

He swung towards Lindsay, his voice urgent. `Mast-'; head reports torpedoes approaching on the port quarter, sir!'

Lindsay jumped from his chair. `Full astern!'

When he reached the bridge wing he saw the pale white lines cutting across the dull water, his brain recording their bearing and speed even as he noted the urgent flash of signal lamps, the muffled squawk of the R/T speaker as the alarm ran like wildfire along the lines of ships.

`Stop engines!'

He craned over the screen, straining his eyes to watch the nearest track as it sped straight for Benbecula's port bow. Nothing happened. The nearest torpedo must have missed the ship by less than twenty feet.

`Resume course and revs, Pilot!'

He waited a few more seconds, half expecting to see another torpedo coming out of the gloom. Slamming the - engines astern for just those few minutes must have thrown the enemy's sights-off balance.

There was a single, muffled explosion which seemed to come from miles away, like thunder on a range of hills. As he ran through the bridge to the starboard wing he saw a searing column of fire; bright red against the clouds, a billowing wall of smoke completely hiding the victim from view.

Lindsay crouched over the gyro repeater on the bridge wing and took a quick bearing. The torpedo must have run diagonally right through the convoy, hitting a freighter just astern of the commodore's ship. There were no more explosions, and he guessed the U-boat commander had fired at extreme range, fanning his torpedoes in the hopes of getting a lucky hit.

Depth-charges boomed and echoed across the water, and over the R/T Lindsay heard an unemotional voice say, `Have contact. Am attacking.'

The freighter astern of the torpedoed ship was already swinging wildly out of line, the side of her tall hull glowing scarlet in the flames of her burning consort, the fires reflecting in her scuttles and ports so that her cabins appeared to be lit from within.

A destroyer was charging down the lines of ships, and faintly above the grumble of depth-charges and engine room fans Lindsay heard her loud-hailer bellowing, `Keep closed up, Pole Star! Do not heave to!'

Stannard said thickly, `God, look at her!'

The stricken freighter was beginning to heel over, and in the leaping flames and sparks it was possible to see the deck cargo starting to tear adrift and go crashing through the tilting steel bulwarks as if they were matchwood. Army lorries lurched drunkenly overboard, and from aft another column of fire burst out of a sealed hold, the flames licking along the upper deck and setting several lifeboats ablaze.

The destroyer swept down Benbecula's side, her- wash surging against the hull plates like a great wave breaking on a jetty. Just briefly before she vanished astern Lindsay saw her gun mountings swinging round and the crouching seamen on her quarterdeck beside the depth-charge racks.

Dancy called, `Pole Star's stopping, sir.'

Someone else said hoarsely, `He's going to try and pick up survivors!'

Lindsay gripped the screen and watched the sinking freighter swinging helplessly abeam in the heaving water. The other ship, Pole Star, obviously intended to ignore the escort's order, and already he could see a boat jerking down its falls, so clear, in the reflected fires it could have been midday.

`Starboard ten.' For a few seconds nobody moved or spoke.

Then Jolliffe said, `Starboard ten, sir. Ten o' starboard wheel on.'

Lindsay watched the bows swinging very slowly towards the burning ship. `Midships.' The bows were still edging round until the motionless Pole Star suddenly appeared in direct line with the stem.

Steady.' Lindsay hurried out on to the wing again.' Over his shoulder he snapped,Yeoman, make to Pole Star. Resume course and speed. Do not stop.'

He heard Ritchie's shuttered lamp clicking busily but kept his eyes fixed on the ship ahead.

Stannard exclaimed, `We'll ram her if we keep on this course, sir!'

`Exactly.' Lindsay did not move.

Several miles astern a starshell burst almost level with the clouds, and he heard the immediate crack of gunfire. That destroyer must have caught one on the surface.

Ritchie said, `Pole Star requests permission to pick up survivors, sir.'

`Denied!'

Stannard looked at Dancy's stricken face and shrugged. If Lindsay did not check Benbecula's onward charge they would hit the other ship fine on her port quarter. At nearly fifteen knots, Benbecula would carve through her poop like an axe into a tree.

Pole Star is under way again, sir.' Ritchie had to clear his throat before adding,She's turnin'!T 'Port fifteen.'

Lindsay stayed by the screen, his heart pounding in time with the engines. The Pole Star's master had ignored a necessary signal to try to save a few lives. It had taken the sight of Benbecula's massive bows to make him change his mind. As the freighter turned heavily on to her proper course the sinking ship drifted into view down her starboard side. Lindsay watched the blazing hull fixedly as if under a spell. When Pole Star moved clear it was like the opening door of a furnace. Most of the freighter was ablaze now and she was going down by the stern, her poop and after well deck blanketed in steam as the beam sea eddied and swirled over the heated metal.

A signalman called, `Sir! There's men in the water! I can see 'em by a raft!'

Ritchie said harshly, `Just you watch the commodore's ship, Bunts!'

But the signalman turned towards him, his - voice breaking. `But, Yeo, there's blokes down there! I saw one wavin' at us!' He sounded close to tears.

Ritchie strode across the vibrating gratings and gripped his arm. 'Wot d'you want us to do, lad? Bloody well stop and get our arse blown off!' He swung him almost savagely. `Up at the 'ead of the convoy there's two troopers with Gawd knows 'ow many squaddies on board, see? If we're goin' to get through we've got to stick together!'

The signalman was little more than a boy. 'I know that, Yeo.' He dashed one hand across his eyes and picked up his Aldis lamp. `It's just that....'

Ritchie interrupted gently, `You don't 'ave to spell it out, lad.' He sighed as the signalman moved slowly to the opposite side of the bridge. Away from the drifting inferno which was now almost abeam. He could feel the furnace heat on his face through the wheelhouse door, caught the foul stench of charred paint and woodwork. A ship dying. One more for the scoreboard.

The bosun's mate by the voicepipes said bitterly, `Look at the skipper. Just standin' there watchin' 'em fry! The cold-blooded bastard!'

Ritchie pivoted on his heels and thrust his face within inches of the seaman's. `If I 'ear you talk that sort of squit again I'll 'ave you on a charge!' He turned slightly to watch Lindsay's head and shoulders silhouetted against the angry glare. "E's worth twenty of your sort, an' you'll eat your bloody words 'if you lives long enough!'

Lindsay heard none of it. He watched the other ship's bows begin to rise slowly above the litter of drifting flotsam, heard the dull roar of inrushing water, the screech of machinery tearing free to crash through the burning hull to speed its end. Some sort of fighter plane had broken from its crate and was suspended across one of the blazing holds. In the red glow it looked like a charred crucifix, he thought dully.

With a final roar the ship slid steeply under the surface, leaving a maelstrom of exploding air bubbles and frothing foam. Then nothing.

A messenger said, `Captain, sir. From W/T office. Six plus U-boats in convoy's vicinity.'

Stannard snapped, `Very well. Tell my yeoman in the chart room.'

He walked out to the wing, sucking in the cold air like a man brought back from drowning.

He said, `Poor bastards. D'you think the escorts will be able to find any of them, sir?'

Lindsay's shoulders seemed to sag. `Listen.' Astern the depth-charge explosions were rising to a drumming crescendo.

Stannard opened his mouth and then closed it, his mind suddenly sickened. The depth-charges would do what the torpedo had failed to accomplish. He had seen many hundreds of dead and gutted fish left in the wake of a depth-charge attack. Men in the water would fare no better, except they would know what was coming.

Lindsay continued to stare astern, his mind still cringing from the suddenness of death. He should be used to it. Hardened, as his half-trained company imagined him to be. But you never did get used to it. Close the ranks. More speed. Don't look back. His mouth twisted in a tight smile. That was the most important bit. Don't ever look back.

Stannard saw the smile and said quietly, `I'm sorry, sir. I didn't understand.'

Lindsay turned his back'on the sea and looked at Stannard's dark outline against the dazzle paint.

Stop thinking about those men, Pilot.' He saw Stannard stiffen and added coldly,Another few feet and it would have been us. Think about that and about how you would have reacted then.'

An hour passed with nothing to break the regular beat of engines, the sea noises beyond the bridge. In the new darkness it looked as if the lines of ships had drawn closer together for mutual support. Another illusion.

Ritchie found Lindsay in his chair. `From escort, sir. No survivors.'

Half to himself Lindsay said, And no U-boat sunk.'No, sir.'

Lindsay turned in the chair. `Pass the word to Lieutenant Barker to get some hot soup around the ship for all hands. Sandwiches as well.'

As Ritchie beckoned to a messenger Lindsay heard Stannard mutter, `He should have thought of that already himself!'

Lindsay turned and stared at the screen, the black blob of the ammunition ship's stern which seemed to be pivoting on Benbecula's jackstaff.

`Pilot, come here.'

`Sir?' Stannard crossed to the chair.

Lindsay kept his voice very low. You have the makings of a good officer, a naval officer I'm talking about now.' God, how difficult it had become to keep his voice level.You are a good navigating officer too, and God knows that's something in a ship like this.' He turned and studied Stannard's face, pale in the darkness. `But try not to be too clever for your own good. Don't get' too hard or you'll grow brittle. Brittle enough to break when you're most needed.'

`I only meant

`I don't give a damn what you meant! For all you know, Barker may be dealing with the men's food right now. He may just as easily have fallen down a hatch and broken his neck.'

Stannard said abruptly, `I have apologised.'

That's fine then.' Lindsay turned back to the screen.Just one thing more, and then carry on. If a piece of Krupp steel comes through that screen or a shell bursts above your head on Maxwell and his spotters, things could change for you and fast.' He waited a few more seconds, feeling Stannard's resentment and uncertainty. `You will be in command at that moment. Alone on this bridge maybe. Perhaps for just a few seconds until the next shell. Or maybe you'll have to nurse this old tub a thousand miles without help from anyone.'

Stannard nodded slowly. I think I do understand, sir. I'm sorry.' He smiled sadly.When you've always had a captain or someone to give orders and get you out of a jam it's hard to see, yourself in that position.'

Lindsay nodded and took out his pipe. `We'll say no more about it.'

But Stannard said, `I was wrong about Aikman, too. I'll never forget how he looked when he left the ship.'

I was the one who made the mistake, Pilot.' He heard Stannard's quick intake of breath.Surprised? That I can be wrong?' He gave a short laugh. 'I used to think much the same about my first captain. He died at Narvik. He turned out to be just a man after all. Like the rest of us.'

Dancy called, `The first lieutenant's on the phone, sir. Wants to know if he can fall out action stations.'

No.' As Dancy turned back to his telephone he added quietly,Cold and uncomfortable it may be. Cursing my name and birth they most certainly are. But if we catch a torpedo 7 want our people, or as many of them as possible, on deck, where they've- got a chance.'

Jupp appeared at the door behind the helmsman carrying a tray. "Ot cocoa, sir?'

Lindsay looked at Stannard, feeling the nervous tension dragging at his mind like one huge claw. `You see, Pilot? Someone remembered us!'

Stannard walked to the starboard side where Dancy was peering through his night-glasses at the ship ahead.

I wish you'd heard some of that, Sub.' He kept.his voice very quiet.Sometime in the future you could have tried to write it all down.'

Dancy lowered his glasses. `He cares, doesn't he?'

Stannard nodded slowly. `By Christ, and how he cares. I saw his face when we steamed through those wretched devils in the drink back there. I've sailed with some skippers in my time, but never anyone like this.'

Dancy said simply, `I was scared to death.'

Stannard took a cup of. cocoa from Jupp and held it in his gloved hands. And so was he, he thought wearily. Lindsay was making himself watch those men die with

something like physical force. Testing his own reserves and hating what he was doing.

He thought suddenly of a captain he had once served in a ship on the meat-run from Australia. They had gone to assist a Portuguese vessel which had lost. her rudder in a storm off Cape Finisterre. And what a storm. Stannard had been a green third officer at the time, and the thought of standing by a crippled ship in such mountainous seas had made him swear it would be his last voyage,,if he ever managed to 'reach port. The old captain had stayed on the bridge for three days without a wink of sleep, never resting until they had lifted off every man from the stricken ship. And that was after several attempts to take her in tow.

There had been a doctor travelling as a passenger on board at the time and Stannard had heard him say to the skipper, `You must get some rest! Or your life will be in danger next!'

The skipper, a man of few words on most occasions, had regarded him indifferently. 'My life, doctor?' He had walked up the pitching deck to the screen again. `My life is obligations. Nothing else counts.'

Stannard had had his own troubles at the time and had not fully grasped the significance of those words.

He watched Lindsay as he craned over the gyro repeater, the unlit pipe still jutting from his mouth. But he understood now well' enough. Perhaps, better than any

other man aboard.

13

Abandoned

Thirteen days out of Liverpool found the convoy steaming due south, with the Cape Verde Islands some three hundred miles on the port beam. All the colours had changed, yet few aboard the Benbecula had noticed the exact moment the transformation had come about. Instead of leaden grey the sea had altered its face to a deep blue, and above the spiralling mastheads the sky was of paler hue with just a few frayed banners of cloud to break its washed-out emptiness.

Lindsay sat in his chair feeling every movement as the ship heaved up and over in an uncomfortable corkscrewing motion. There was a stiff breeze to ruffle the blue water with a million busy cat's-paws, and with a quarter sea to add to the ship's plunging lifts and rolls he could feel the chair pressing into his body as if the bones were pushing through his skin.

Thirteen days. Long days and longer nights, with hardly a break for the men who came and went about their duties like dull-eyed robots.

Not only the weather had changed. The convoy was steaming in just two lines, and it was smaller. The day after the first ship had been torpedoed the Pole Star had received a' similar fate. Except that the attack had been better planned and controlled, possibly by three U-boats simultaneously. She had taken two torpedoes in her side and had started to sink in minutes. Even before the bow-wave around her rust-streaked stem had died away a third torpedo had struck her dead amidships, blasting her into halves, the forepart sinking immediately, the stern section remaining afloat just long enough for a destroyer to scrape alongside and lift off the remaining survivors. That same day one of the escorts had been hit, the explosion shearing off her forecastle as cleanly as a giant welding torch, laying bare her inner hull for a few more minutes until she rolled over and disappeared with her straight white wake still marking where she had dived.

Encouraged by their success the U-boats had made a surface attack under cover of darkness, only to be caught and pinned down by starshells from one of the other destroyers. She had dropped far astern of the convoy to pick up some survivors sighted by the cruiser's Walrus flying-boat. In fact, they were from some other convoy, and they had not survived. Eight men in a scarred lifeboat who had not waved or cheered as the destroyer had come to find them. They must have been dead for several weeks. Just drifting with the currents and winds, already forgotten by the living world they had left behind.

The destroyer had chased after the convoy and even as she had been about to make the recognition signal had detected the surfaced U-boats directly across her bows.

In the eerie glare of drifting flares she had opened fire with every gun which would bear. One U-boat had managed to dive without being hit, but another had been seen to receive several shells so close alongside it was more than likely she would never reach home. But, the third had been even less fortunate. In the eye-searing flares her commander may have misjudged the destroyer's bearing and distance. Or perhaps his stern tube had been unloaded and he was trying to engage with his bow torpedoes. Whatever the reason for his sudden turn, the result of it had been swift and definite.

At twenty-five knots the destroyer had rammed her just abaft the conning tower, riding up and over the low whaleback of her casing with a scream of rending steel which had been heard even aboard the Benbecula. Like a gutted shark the U-boat had rolled over, breaking apart as the destroyer continued to grind and smash across her.

When daylight came the men on the rearmost ships of the convoy had lined the guardrails to cheer the victorious destroyer, the sound wild and almost desperate as she had turned away for the dangerous passage to Gibraltar. With her bows buckled almost to her forward bulkhead and her forecastle gaping open to the sea she would be out of the war for some time to come. She had made a sad but defiant sight as her low silhouette had finally faded astern, and there were few men in the convoy who had not prayed for her survival.

Nothing else had occurred for two whole days. Then one of the tankers had been hit by a long-range torpedo, her cargo spilling out around her broken hull like blood, until with a great roar the oil had caught fire, encircling the ship in a wall of flames which had almost trapped one of the escorts which was attempting to pick up some of her crew.

Lindsay put a match to his pipe and tried to concentrate his mind on the ships ahead. Without such constant effort his eyes seemed to droop, so that he had to drag himself to his feet, move about like some caged animal until his circulation and brain returned to life.

Thirteen days. Two escorts gone and three merchant ships. The two remaining lines were led by the commodore's troopship, Cambrian, and the cruiser Madagascar. Just four ships in each line, with Benbecula now steaming directly abeam of the ammunition freighter. The early fear of having her in the convoy, and so close to the Benbecula for most of the time, had given way to a kind of nervous admiration. Day in, day out, through the U-boat attacks and the desperate alterations of course and speed, she was always there. Big and ugly like her name,

Demodocus, she had, according to Goss, been sailing under almost every flag in the book since she had been laid down some four years before the Great War. A coal-fired ship, she was usually on the receiving end of some caustic signal about making too much smoke, but either her master didn't give a damn or as Fraser had suggested, her chief engineer had his work cut out just to keep the boiler from bursting.

He saw some off-watch seamen sprawled on the forward hold cover. In the bright sunlight their faces and bared arms looked very pale, almost white. He was thankful that for the past twenty-four hours there had been neither an attack nor any more reports of U-boats from the Admiralty. The hands had been able to get some rest, enjoy a properly cooked meal, and above all to be spared the jarring clamour of alarm bells.

He could hear Stannard moving about the chart room. It was not his watch, so he was probably getting his personal log up to date.

Lieutenant Maxwell had the forenoon watch, and he was out on the port wing staring at the ammunition ship, his cap tilted over his eyes against the glare. His assistant, Lieutenant Anthony Paget, did not seem to know where to stand. Afraid perhaps of disturbing his captain he stayed on the starboard side of the bridge, but at the same time he seemed unwilling to stray out of Maxwell's vision, just in case he was needed.

Paget was Aikman's replacement. He appeared a pleasant enough chap, Lindsay thought. He had obtained his watchkeeping certificate in a corvette but had been in the Navy for only eighteen months. Before the war he had been a very junior partner in a firm of solicitors in Leeds. It was his father's business, otherwise he might have found it more difficult to get that far, Lindsay decided'. He seemed rather shy and hesitant, and his previous captain had- written in his personal report, `Honest and reliable. But lacks qualities of leadership.'

But he was one of Benbecula's lieutenants now, and more to the point, his watchkeeping qualifications would help to spread the load more evenly in a wardroom where most of the junior officers had no experience at all.

Petty Officer Hussey, the senior telegraphist, walked to Lindsay's side and saluted.

Just the usual bulletins, sir. No U-boat reports.' He flicked over the neatly kept log.It seems that the Japs are still advancing though.' He held the log in the sunlight and squinted at it. Says that they've reached a place called Batu Pahat.' He grinned.Could be in Siberia as far as my geography is concerned, sir.'

The rear door slammed back. `What was that?' Stannard stood in the reflected sunlight, his brass dividers grasped in one: hand.

Lindsay said quietly, 'Batu Pahat.'

Stannard seemed to stagger against the voicepipes. `But that's only sixty miles from Singapore, for God's sake! It can't be true. No army could move that fast!'

Paget said timidly, `It's in the south-west corner of Malaya, sir.'

Stannard looked at him unseeingly. `I know.'

Paget nodded eagerly. 'I read somewhere that there's a prosperous coastal trade for rubber and....'

Lindsay said, Would you ask the chief bosun's mate to Lindsay looked away.Some people never read the words, Pilot. They just check the commas!' He rubbed his eyes. `Forget that. They're probably doing their best.'

Paget returned. `C.P.O. Archer cher is coming right up, sir.'

Good.' Lindsay settled down again on the chair.Now - I'll have to think of something to tell him.'

`Yes, sir.' Paget looked completely lost.

A signalman shouted, `Signal from escort, sir! Merlin has strong contact at zero-nine-zero. Closing!'

Paget stared at him, his mouth hanging open.

Lindsay snapped, Sound action stations!' He felt the . sweat gathering under his cap.Well, jump to it, man!'

As bells shrilled through the ship he stood up and walked to the port wing where Maxwell was still looking at the ammunition ship.

`What's the matter, Guns? Didn't you hear that?'

Maxwell stared at him. 'Yessir. Sorry, sir.' He turned and ran for the control , position as Hunter and the spotting team came pounding up the other ladder from the boat deck.

Ritchie was already here, brushing crumbs from his jacket and still chewing as he snatched his telescope and shouted, `From commodore, sir. Alter course to two-fivezero!'

'Acknowledge.'

Lindsay gripped the screen, feeling the ship vibrating under his fingers as the voicepipes and telephones burst into life once again.

Ritchie's telescope squeaked as he readjusted it on the leading ships. `Execute in succession, sir!'

Stannard was already at the gyro compass, his face expressionless while he studied the column wheeling slowly to starboard. The ship directly ahead was the convoy's remaining oil-tanker, a smart, newly built vessel which had already narrowly avoided a torpedo in the earlier attacks.

come to the bridge, please?'

As the lieutenant scurried for the rack of telephones Stannard said, `Thanks, sir. You didn't have to do that. He didn't mean anything by it.'

I know.' Lindsay watched him gravely.But sometimes one extra word is enough to drive a man mad.' He smiled. `I expect your brother has been pulled out by now anyway. If Singapore Island is to be the real holding-point it would be the obvious thing to do.'

Stannard nodded. I guess so. But all these reports.' He shook his head.Surely to God the people in charge out there can see what's happening?'

Ritchie said, `Merlin's got'er black pennant'oisted, sir! She's goin' in for a kill!'

A messenger muttered, `We hojef

`Starboard ten.' Stannard's mouth twitched as a pattern of depth-charges exploded somewhere on the port quarter. The Merlin was moving at full speed and swinging in a wide arc while the sea erupted in her curving wake like some. impossible waterspout.

'Midships.' Stannard twisted his head quickly to watch the straight black stem of the Demodocus following round . in obedience to the signal. More explosions, and a second escort came tearing back down the column, racing for the great spreading area of churned water where the last charges had exploded.

As she ploughed through the white froth Lindsay saw the charges fly lazily from either beam, while two more rolled from her quarterdeck rack into her own wash. He could picture them falling through the untroubled depths, ten feet a second, and then.' ... Even though he was expecting it he flinched as the charges detonated and hurled their fury skyward How long the columns of water seemed to hang there before subsiding into the growing area of foam and dead fish.

Madagascar's signallin', sir!'- The man's voice was almost shrill.Torpedoes approachin' from starboard!'

Already the cruiser was turning her" grey bulk towards .the invisible torpedoes, while far away across the commodore's bows, a destroyer was turning to race in to give additional cover.

Must be two of the bastards, sir!' Stannard raised his glasses and added sharply,Watch the ship ahead, Cox'n. Follow her like a bloody sheepdog, no matter what happens!'

`Aye, aye, sir.' Jolliffe eased the spokes and kept his eyes fixed on the oil-tanker.

`Missed her anyway!' Dancy swung round as a double explosion rattled the-bridge screen and brought down some flecks of paint on to his cap.

The freighter astern of the cruiser had been hit. The torpedoes must have passed between the two troopships' in the starboard column, missed the cruiser, and struck the other vessel as she attempted to follow her leader in the turn.

She was already staggering to port, thick smoke billowing from her side, her bridge wing hanging towards the sea in a tangle of twisted metal and broken rigging.

A great flurry of froth rose around her counter and Stannard said, `She's going astern. Her skipper. must be trying to get the way off her to save the bulkhead.'

Lindsay held the glasses jammed against his eyes while the gratings jerked and vibrated to the thunder of depthcharges. He saw tiny figures running along the freighter's boat deck, while further aft there were others struggling to slip one of the heavy rafts over the side. There was a sudden internal explosion, so that the bridge superstructure appeared to lift and twist out of alignment, the funnel buckling and pitching into the smoke as if made of cardboard.

Whatever had caused- the explosion must have' killed everyone on the bridge, Lindsay thought. Or else the controls had been shattered by the blast. Whatever it was, the ship was still churning astern, her engine room probably too dazed or desperate to know what had happened on deck.

The freighter which had been following the torpedoed ship had at last understood the danger and her captain was reducing speed, his bow-wave dropping while the distance between him and the runaway freighter continued to diminish.

One of the lifeboats had reached the water, only to be upended by the reversed thrust, hurling-its occupants, overboard to vanish instantly in the churned wash from the propellers.

The other seamen had at last succeeded in releasing the liferaft, but could only stand huddled by the guardrails as their ship continued to forge astern. She was heeling very slightly and certainly sinking, but as the convoy fought to maintain formation she was still a very real menace.

`Commodore's signalled Rios to take evasive action, sir!'

The Rios was the one astern of the torpedoed freighter, and with something like a prayer Lindsay watched her turn unsteadily and head diagonally from the broken column.

Torpedo to port, sir!' Dancy had the masthead telephone gripped in his fist so tightly his knuckles were white.Two cables!'

Lindsay lifted his -glasses and saw the flurry of excitement on the ammunition ship's bridge. It must be running straight for her.

A man screamed, `If she goes up we'll go with her!V 'Silence on the bridge!' Jolliffe's voice was like a saw, but his eyes stayed, on the ship ahead.

It was more of a sensation than a sound. Lindsay saw the other ship stagger, her foremast and derricks falling in tangled confusion even as the tell-tale column of water shot violently above her fore deck.

In those few seconds nobody spoke or moved. Even breathing seemed to have stopped. As the Demodocus started to slow down and fall past Benbecula's port beam, to those who were able to watch her it felt as if there were just seconds left to live. The sea and sky, the depthcharges and fast-moving destroyers, none of them counted for anything now.

The torpedoed freighter, her screws still dragging astern, ploughed, very slowly beneath the surface, her hull breaking up as she dived for the bottom. But it was doubtful if any man on Benbecula's decks even saw her last moments or the few struggling figures caught in the last savage whirlpool above her grave.

Lindsay lowered his glasses and rubbed his eyes, the movement making Dancy jerk with alarm.

The old Demodocus was still there. There was plenty of smoke rising above the hidden wound, and as he held his breath he heard the discordant grinding of her port anchor cable running out. The explosion must have blasted away a capstan or sheered right, through the forepart of the lower hull.

`They're callin' us up, sir.' Ritchie cradled the Aldis on his arm and watched a small winking light from the other ship's bridge.

Have fire in forrard hold.' He took another breath. 'Am -holed port side but pumps are coping.' He, gasped and then shuttered an acknowledgement before saying thickly,An' 'e says that there is a God after all!'

A telephone had been buzzing for some seconds. Or minutes. Nobody seemed to understand anything any more.

Then a messenger said, 'W/T office reports that the escorts have sunk another U-boat, sir. Definite kill.'

Lindsay wiped his face with his hand. It was clammy.

`That will keep them quiet for a bit.' He felt unsteady on his feet. As if he was recovering from some terrible bout of fever.

From commodore, sir.' Ritchie was very calm, "E's callin"up the ammo ship.' He smiled grimly.Can't never pronounce 'er name, sir. 'E's enquirin' about damage, sir.'

Lindsay walked out on to the port wing and looked at the other column. The cruiser, the Rios, which had narrowly avoided being rammed by the sinking freighter, and now, dropping still further astern, the ugly bulk of the ship whose name Ritchie could not pronounce.

Eleven left of the seventeen which had headed so bravely from Liverpool,

Ritchie said suddenly, `She's tellin' the commodore she can only manage five knots till they've carried out repairs, sir. But the fire's almost under control. There: was no ammo in that 'old, sir.' He watched the slow winking light. 'But the next 'old is filled to the brim with T.N.T.'

Lindsay looked at Stannard. 'Near-thing. She may still have to abandon. Tell Number One to warn the boat crews and lowerers.'

A destroyer was edging past the Demodocus's hidden side, her raked masts and funnel making a striking contrast to the bulbous hull and outdated upperwor-ks of the ammunition ship. As she moved into full view Lindsay saw she was the Merlin.

Her loud-hailer squeaked and then boomed into life. 'I have a message for you, Captain!'

Lindsay trained his glasses on the slow moving destroyer. The open bridge with the officers and lookouts standing down from their last battle, their last kill.

Her captain's face swam into the lenses, reddened by sea and wind, but the same man he had seen in the office at Scapa. He, at least, had something to be proud of. He had sunk a U-boat and damaged at least one other.

Lindsay picked up the megaphone and shouted, `Well done, Merlin!'

As he said the words he felt a new upsurge of resentment and despair. To this young destroyer officer Benbecula would not be seen as anything more than just another charge to be escorted and protected. A big, vulnerable liability.

The loud-hailer continued, 'From the commodore. You will stand by Demodocus and act as her escort. He feels the risk to the troopships is too great to slow down.' He added almost apologetically, 'The cruiser too is somewhat naked under these conditions.'

Behind him Lindsay heard Dancy whisper fiercely, 'What's he saying? No escort? We're being left behind?'

The destroyer was starting to gather speed again. The voice called, 'By dawn tomorrow you should be joined by other escorts. But I'm pretty sure there are no more U-boats in the vicinity now. If there are, they'll keep after the convoy.'

Lindsay lifted one hand to him. 'Good luck!'

He watched the destroyer surging ahead. Good luck. That young man certainly had that, and more. But it was hard to hide the hurt, the knowledge that he could have been on that bridge. Being useful.

He turned his back on the other ships. 'Signal Demodocus to take station astern. Find out her exact speed and reduce revs accordingly.'

Stannard was still watching the oil-tanker. She was drawing away so fast it made it appear as if Benbecula was going astern. Lights were flashing and more signal flags were breaking from the commodore's yards. The escorts re-formed and the cruiser altered course to lead the single line of merchantmen like an armoured knight watching over his private possessions. In fifteen minutes the convoy was so far away that the,ships which had been old friends had lost their meaning and personality. In an hour there was little to see at all. Just a smudge of smoke on the horizon, a single bright flash of sunlight on the bridge screen of an escort as she turned in another sweep for echoes from below.

Ritchie said quietly, 'Now 'ere's a fine thing, Swain.'

Jolliffe darted a glance at the officers and nodded. 'I know. A D.S.O. for the commodore, D.S.C. for the escort commander, and medals all round, I shouldn't wonder.' He grinned. 'An' us? We'll be lucky if we sees the bloody dawn tomorrow, let alone a soddin' escort!'

Stannard said, 'Look at the damage, sir.'

Lindsay followed him on to the port wing and studied the ship astern. It was a great gash, as if another vessel had rammed her at fulll speed. Smoke was still billowing from the hole and the deck immediately above. But there was less of it, and he could see plenty of activity on the forecastle where men were working to clear away some of the debris from the fallen derricks. It must be like standing on one gigantic floating bomb, he thought. And if the fire got out of hand again or the next bulkhead became overheated, that would be that.

He said, `Fall out action stations.'

Stannard looked surprised.

Well, Pilot, if there is a U-boat about we can't see it, and we can't damn well hear it, so where's the point of wearing everyone down for nothing.' He touched Stannard's arm:Anyway, if there was one of the commodore's Huns about, I think he would have announced his presence by now.'

Stannard nodded. `I guess so.'

`But double the lookouts and keep all short-range weapons crews closed up.'

Stannard hurried away as Goss mounted the bridge ladder and stood breathing heavily for several seconds. Then he swivelled his head slowly from side to side as if still unable to grasp that the convoy had vanished.

Ritchie called, `Ammo ship 'as R/T contact now, sir.'

Lindsay strode quickly to the W/T office where Hussey and his telegraphists slumped wearily in their steel chairs.

Hussey said, Here you are, sir.' He handed a microphone to Lindsay and added shortly,Permission to smoke, sir? My lads are just about dead beat.'

Lindsay nodded and snapped down the button. 'Benbecula to Demodocus. This is the captain speaking. How is it going?'

The telegraphists looked up at the bulkhead speaker as a tired voice replied, Thanks for staying with us. We're not doing too bad. But the collision bulkhead is weeping a bit and I've got the hands shoring it up as best they can. There's still a fire in the forrard hold,-and we've no breathing apparatus. Nobody can work down there for more'n minutes at' a time.' They heard his sigh very loud on the speaker.Can't make much more'n four knots. If

that bloody bulkhead collapses the hold will flood. With the weight of cargo forrard it'll damn near lift my arse out of the drink! Then he laughed. `Still, better that way than how the Jerry intended, eh?'

Lindsay said, `Keep a good lookout astern, Captain. I'm going to drop a boat and send some breathing gear and extra hands.'

I'm obliged.' A pause.A doctor too if you can spare him. Mine was killed by the blast and I've twelve-lads in a bad way.'

Will do.' Lindsay saw Ritchie in the doorway.Tell the first lieutenant. Quick as you can.'

He hesitated and then spoke again into the microphone. `At the first sign of trouble, Captain, bale out. I'll do what I can.'

The speaker went dead and he returned to the bridge wing.

Goss said, I've got things going, sir. Boat will be ready for lowering in five minutes. I'm sending Lieutenant Hunter to take charge. Doc's already on the boat deck.', He added,I'll go myself if you like.'

'No.' Lindsay watched the port motor boat swinging clear of its davits. `I need you here.'

Goss shrugged. `Won't make much difference anyway if another U-boat arrives.'

It took another half-hour to ferry the required men and equipment to the other ship and recover the motor boat. Groups of unemployed seamen and marines crowded the Benbecula's poop to watch the activity as hoses were brought to bear on the burning hold and a winch came to life and started to haul some of the debris clear of the fore deck.

All afternoon the work continued while the two ships ploughed across the blue water at little more than a snail's pace.

Aboard Benbecula the atmosphere was unreal and strangely carefree. In close convoy, with U-boats reported in every direction, death had seemed very near. But like most men in war, it had to happen to others, never to you. Now, without escort or aid of -any kind, the mood was entirely different. Men went about their duties with a kind of casual indifference. Like people Lindsay had seen in the London air-raids. They could do nothing, so what the hell, the mood seemed to suggest.

C.P.O. Archer and his men had checked the liferafts for instant lowering, and as the sun began to dip towards a hazy horizon most of the ship's company appeared to accept the inevitable.

The last dog watch had almost run its course when a signalman said sharply, `There's someone callin' us up, sir!'

Ritchie had been squatting on a flag locker, legs outstretched as if asleep, but he was across to the open wing before Lindsay could move from his chair.

`I don't see nothin'1'

The signalman pointed. `There. On the upper bridge, Yeo.'

Lindsay trained his glasses and saw one of the ammunition ship's, officers dimly outlined against the outdated compass platform, his arms moving very slowly like a child's puppet.

Ritchie raised his telescope and muttered, 'Bleedin' semaphore! 'Ow the 'ell does 'e expect me to read that in this light?'

Lindsay steadied his feet on the gratings. There was a lazy swell and the breeze had dropped considerably. At such slow speed it was difficult to hold the glasses on the tiny dark figure.

Ritchie gasped and said, "E says there's somethin' astern, sir. Five miles or thereabouts.' He looked quickly at Lindsay's set features. `Could be a submarine.'

Lindsay lowered his glasses. The ammunition ship had become part of the scene. Familiar. Almost part of themselves. It seemed impossible that anything could happen now. Just like this.

He said, That captain is a very clever man, Yeoman.' He watched Ritchie's telescope wavering in the motion like a small cannon.Most men as tired and worried as he must be would have used a lamp, or even worse, the R/T.'

Goss came hurrying from the chart room. `What's it doing?'

Lindsay said, `Go aft, Yeoman, and keep contact with the bridge by the poop telephone.'

To Goss he added, `Reduce to dead slow and close the gap. We must keep visual contact. Their lookouts may be able to see the U-boat, but if we try and turn they'll know we've spotted them.'

Stannard asked, `Why doesn't the bastard fire, sir?'

Goss nodded. `Christ knows we're moving slow enough. He could catch us up in no time.'

A messenger called, `W/T office reports no signals, sir.'

Lindsay nodded slowly. It could just be possible the U-boat had been damaged in that last attack. Maybe she could not dive, or perhaps her torpedo tubes had been put out of action by depth-charges. But she was back there all the same. Limping along like a wounded wolf, and every bit as dangerous.

He glanced quickly at the masthead pendant. It was flicking out very gently towards the stern. The wind was still coming from the south-east.

He turned and stared unblinkingly at the dipping sun. It was too high. The slow-moving ships would stand out against the "horizon as perfect targets for another halfhour, maybe longer.

`I think the U-boat is going to close and use his deck gun.'

Even as he spoke his thoughts aloud he knew he was committing himself. All of them.

Goss stared at him. `But if they get one shell into that bloody ship....' He could not go on.

Stannard said tersely, `Shall I signal them to abandon, sir? We could drop' all our boats and rafts and maybe come back for them later.'

Lindsay was still watching the ship astern. Big, solid and black. That U-boat commander would recognise her all right. Would probably know. her lethal cargo down to the last bullet. It would make up for the way his own command had been mauled. The terror of his men as the charges had rained down from the hunters on, the surface.

Leave her, you mean?' He spoke very quietly.Run away?'

Goss said, `It's not that. We've the ship to consider. Our own people.'

A signalman called, `The yeoman says that the ammo ship can still see the U-boat, sir. On the surface. Full buoyancy.'

Lindsay thought briefly of the Demodocus's master. A man he would dearly like to meet. Someone who, despite the hideous death which was so close to him and his men, could note the small but vital details. No U-boat would chase after its prey fully trimmed to the surface. It would be ballasted well down with just part of the casing and conning tower visible. It must be damaged. It was their only hope.

`Tell the yeoman to use his Aldis. It should be masked from the U-boat by the other ship. I want the Demodocus to start another fire. It'll be damn dangerous. But her captain will know the risks without my telling him. Oily rags, anything, but I want plenty of smoke.'

He pushed past the others and snatched up the engine room handset. `Chief? This is the captain.'

Fraser chuckled. `I thought you'd forgotten us.'

`Listen. I want you to make smoke, everything you can do to produce the biggest fog inn creation! Just as soon as I give the word!'

Aye, sir.' Lindsay heard him yelling to his assistant, Dyke, above the roar of fans. Then he asked calmly, Might I be told the reason, sir?'Yes. We're going to engage a surfaced U-boat.' He dropped the handset as Stannard said, `They've got a fire going already. God, I'd have thought the worst if I'd not heard your order.'

Lindsay saw the pall rising rapidly astern. Sound action stations.' He grasped Goss's arm.I'm going to go hard astarboard in about ten minutes.' He saw Goss's anxious features and wondered if he was fearing for his life or that of the ship. The fact that the U-boat's made no W/T signals doesn't mean she won't very soon. Her radio may be damaged, but if they once get it going again we're done for.' He had to yell above the alarm bells.So go to damage control, and pray!'

Dancy called, `Ship at action stations, sir.'

`Very good. Tell control to stand by. Maxwell will have to engage with the starboard battery.'

He looked at Stannard. `Inform the chief. Make smoke now.'

He turned to watch the thick greasy cloud which started to gush over the funnel's lip almost before Stannard had replaced the telephone.. He made himself wait a few more minutes, feeling, the ship heaving uneasily beneath him, trying to estimate her turning circle under such desperate circumstances.

`Ready, Cox'n?'

Jolliffe nodded. `Ready, sir.'

`Pilot?'

Stannard forced a grin. `As I'll ever be, sir.'

Lindsay took out his pipe and thrust it between his teeth.

Stop starboard. Full ahead port.' He counted more seconds, feeling the deck shuddering violently to the added thrust on one shaft.Hard astarboard!'

He glanced through a stern scuttle at the dense smoke. Already the angle was changing. `Starboard engine full astern!'

He turned again to face the empty sea beyond the bows. Perhaps it could not be done. There was nothing in the book to say it should even be attempted. But there was little in any of those books about the war either, he thought.

'Midships! Full ahead together!'

14

Hitting back

Heeling steeply to the violent thrust of screws arid rudder the Benbecula thrashed round until she was steering almost the reverse of her original course. Lindsay stood in the centre of the bridge, his glasses level with his chin as he waited for a first sight of the enemy. The fore deck was almost hidden in a thick, choking fog from the funnel, as caught by a sudden down-draught and aided by the change of direction the wind fanned Fraser's screen over the ship in a solid wall. Lindsay knew they must be passing the Demodocus somewhere to starboard, although her improvised smokescreen was so thick she could have been a mile away or fifty yards. Even with the doors closed Lindsay could taste the acrid stench, just as he could hear the lookouts on the upper bridge retching and gasping above the din of racing engines. He lowered his eyes a few inches to the gyro.

`Steer zero-one-zero!'

He heard Jolliffe's quick reply but kept his eyes fixed on the thinning pall of smoke across Benbecula's line of advance. Soon now and he would know if he had been right. Justified.

The U-boat commander may have seen the two ships as stragglers from the convoy, which indeed they were, and was so confident that he considered it wasteful to use his remaining torpedoes.

Lindsay dashed a trickle of sweat from his eyes. If that was the case, and the U-boat was undamaged, one salvo from her bow tubes would be enough. With Benbecula working up to her maximum revolutions the effect would be too terrible to contemplate.

Maxwell's voice came over the bridge speaker, detached and toneless. `Starboard battery stand by.'

Lindsay dropped his gaze to the fore deck and saw the two starboard guns moving their muzzles slightly, like blind things in the swirling smoke. Further aft de Chair's marines would have to remain inactive for the present. Their starboard gun could not bear on the target if Lindsay's calculations were correct. If; if, if. The word seemed -to hammer in his brain as if someone had shouted it aloud.

Slivers. of spray spurted over the bows, and he knew that Fraser's gauges were well into the danger mark now. The old ship was shaking and groaning to the whirling screws and the whole bridge seemed to be quaking under the strain.

Maxwell's voice cut above the other sounds, as if he had the handset right against his lips. `Submarine on the surface at Green two-five! Range oh-eight-oh!' -

Lindsay gritted his teeth, willing the smoke to clear so that he could see what Maxwell and his spotters had sighted from their precarious position above the bridge. -

There was a brief flash beyond the smoke and seconds later the sound of a shellburst. For an instant longer he imagined the enemy had already anticipated his move, was even now slamming a shell towards Benbecula to make her sheer away and present a perfect target for torpedoes.

Through the smoke there was another flash, the sullen bang of an explosion.

Lindsay glanced at Stannard and said, `He's shooting at the ammunition ship!'

When he turned his head again he saw the U-boat. Even at four miles range her austere silhouette was exactly as he had pictured it in his mind. The dying sunlight seemed very bright on the slim conning tower, so that it looked as if it was made of pure copper.

Then the bells rang below the bridge and both six-inch guns fired in unison.

It seemed an age before the shells reached the narrow target. Then as Lindsay jammed his glasses against his eyes he saw twin columns of bursting water astern of the U-boat, very white against the darkening horizon.

`Over. Down two hundred.' Maxwell could have been at a practice shoot. Lindsay had never heard him so cool.

.He watched the sudden reaction on the U-boat's fore deck, holding his breath. She was turning, steering almost on a converging course now. But she was still high on the water, the bow-wave creaming along her rounded saddle tanks as she completed the slight turn.

The bells sounded once more and both guns lurched back on their springs, the shockwaves rattling the bridge screens like gale-force winds.

Lindsay bit his lip as both shells ploughed into, the sea to the right of the target.

There was an answering flash from the U-boat's deck gun, and he felt the hull-shudder as the shell ploughed alongside and exploded, hurling up a great column of water and smoke as splinters clanged over the bulwark.

Lindsay felt very calm. Whatever happened in the next few moments would decide the fate of his own ship and that of the damaged Demodocus. But one thing was certain. The German captain could not dive, nor could he use torpedoes. He would have done both by now it it was humanly possible. Lindsay could imagine the consternation on that conningtower as Maxwell's six-inch shells ripped down on them, getting closer with each agonising second. And it must have all looked so easy. Just two more stragglers from a convoy and not an escort within miles.

Smoke funnelled back from the bows, and Lindsay heard the screeching crash of a shell exploding between decks.

`Range oh-six-two.'

He banged the teak rail by the screen with his clenched fist. The U-boat showed no sign of turning and her gun was firing with even greater rapidity than before. Just one good shot and Benbecula could be slowed or stopped while the German manoeuvred to a more favourable position. Right ahead of the bows where not a single gun would bear.

A shell ripped past the bridge and exploded somewhere astern. It made a terrible sound, like tearing canvas, and so close that a gyro repeater on the starboard wing exploded like a small bomb, the fragments thudding into the door and steel plates overhead.

Lindsay heard a man cry out and Maxwell snap, `First aid party on the double!'

Stannard yelled wildly, `We've straddled the bastard!' He was almost sobbing with excitement as two waterspouts bracketed the U-boat, burying her after casing beneath tons of falling spray.

Two tiny figures pitched from the bandstand abaft her conning tower, where a four-barrelled Vierling pointed impotently at the sky, and vanished into the falling deluge of water. One of the shells must have exploded close enough to rake the stern with splinters.

Stannard said tightly, `She's turning, sir!'

The bridge speaker intoned, `Target has altered course. Moving right. Number Three gun stand by to engage!'

Lindsay said, 'l think his steering is damaged.'

The U-boat's forward gun flashed once more, and he felt the deck jump beneath him as a shell exploded inside the hull.

From the boat deck an Oerlikon opened fire, the tracer drifting like lazy red balls towards the U-boat before pitching down into the darkly shadowed troughs.

Maxwell sounded furious. `Number Three Oerlikon cease firing!'

Lindsay could imagine the lone Oerlikon gunner losing his self-control. Even the knowledge that his gun was almost useless above a thousand yards, his training and Maxwell's discipline were re not enough under -such circumstances. Just to see the enemy. To watch him in the sights and be doing nothing about it was too much for any man.

He flinched as the two forward guns belched fire yet again: He had-.lost all idea of time and distance covered. His brain and hearing seemed lost in the crash of guns, the blasting returns from the U-boat.

A tall waterspout shot skyward beyond the German's hull and the other shell exploded directly against her side. It must have hit a saddle tank just beneath the surface, and for several seconds Lindsay imagined she had been blasted apart. As spray continued to fall he saw the black hull sliding clear, heard Stannard gasp, `Oh, the bastards! They're still afloat!' -

Lindsay steadied his glasses, waiting for some sort of reaction to take hold of him. He heard himself say, `She's going over. Look, Pilot, the gun's crew are baling out.' Why was his voice so flat? So empty of excitement?

He moved his glasses very slightly to watch more dark shapes tumbling from the - conning tower which was - already tilting towards him. The way was off the hull and gigantic air bubbles were exploding on the surface alongside, like obscene glassy creatures from the depths.

`Reduce to half speed. Starboard ten.'

He swung around as the second gun on the well deck lurched inboard, the shell exploding alongside the Uboat's listing hull like a fireball.

Lindsay shouted, `Cease firing!' He lowered his eye to the gyro. 'Midships. Steady. Steer zero-four-five.'

That last one had been more than enough. The Uboat's bows were lifting very slowly above the dotted heads in the water. Greedily the sea was already clawing along her buckled after casing, dragging a corpse with it as it advanced.

Lindsay, watched without emotion. The Atlantic was having another victory. It was as impartial as it was ruthless.

Dancy called, `Damage control reports flooding in Number Three hold, sir. There's a fire on B deck, too.'

Lindsay kept his eyes fixed on the submarine. In the powerful lenses he could see the weed and slime on her exposed hull. She had probably been at sea for weeks, months. Maybe she would have been on her way home by now but for her commander's determination. The sight of two helpless, ungainly targets.

Almost distantly he asked, `Is Number One coping?'

'Yessir.' Dancy's voice was shaking with emotion or barely suppressed excitement. `But one man has been killed, sir. Twenty more wounded by splinters or burns.'

`Very well. Make a signal to Demodocus and request they send the doc to us as soon as possible.'

He turned and looked through a quarter scuttle. The black ammunition ship looked even darker now against the shadows. But she had stayed to watch the fight, even though she would have been blown to hell if Benbecula's tactics had failed.

There was a yell, `There she goes!' And from the upper deck Lindsay heard more shouts and then wild cheering as the submarine began to slide under the surface. For just a few more seconds she hung with her raked stem pointing straight at the sky, holding the last tip of sunlight from the horizon, as if burning from within. Then she vanished.

The cheering faltered and died, and Lindsay saw some of the seamen lining the guardrails to watch in silence as a patch of oil continued to spread across the water, making an even greater darkness, like the shadow of some solitary cloud. `Slow ahead both engines.'

He let the glasses drop against his chest. He could almost feel what those men were thinking, their confusion and uncertainty. This was their first victory, probably one of the few occasions in which a ship built for peace had destroyed one created for war. Now it had happened, their emotions were lost in shock and disbelief.

Stannard said, `Light's almost gone, sir.' He watched Lindsay's impassive face, waiting for a reaction.

Ritchie called, `Motor boat from the ammo ship approachin', sir!'

`Very well. Pass the word to Number One's people to assist the doctor aboard.'

Lindsay walked slowly to the open door and stared at the shattered gyro repeater. There was a scorched black scar on the plating. The shell had been that near. Twenty feet and it would have exploded inside the wheelhouse. He thought of Stannard and Dancy, Ritchie and all the others who would have died with him.

Stannard joined him by the screen. `Stop engines, sir?'

Lindsay watched the dark shape of a power boat chugging towards the side. `Yes.' He knew Stannard was still there. Waiting. He added. shortly, 'Put a party of our people in the-boat and send it to pick up survivors. If there are any.'

He gripped the rail until the pain steadied him. He heard the telegraphs clang again, the sigh of water against the hull as the ship began to slow down. They had been made to steam past sinking ships. Men like themselves crying out and dying while they and other ships in convoy had obeyed the signal. Keep closed up. Don't look back.

Now there was time, and for a while anyway they were safe from further attack. So they would obey the code. Play out the game. Except that this time the survivors would be German and not their own.

Goss came up to the bridge and said, Fire's out, sir.' He sounded incredibly tired. Beaten.The pumps are holding the intake in the hold but the marines' messdeck has been destroyed. God, it looks like a pepperpot on the starboard side!'

Ritchie called from .the wheelhouse, `Ammo ship 'as just called us on R/T, sir. That one shell the Jerry slung-at 'er seems to 'ave put 'er shaft out of line. 'Er chief says 'e don't reckon on bein' able to get even steerage way now.'

Lindsay removed his cap and turned to face the cool evening breeze. After all that, they would have to leave the other ship. Abandon her.

Aloud he said, `If I'd known that before, I'd....'

Goss said, You'd have let those ferries drown, sir?' Lindsay looked at him, trying to control his aching mind.I think I would.'

Goss watched the motor boat as it started back for the Benbecula's tall side. Not many of 'em left anyway.' He turned towards Lindsay.The bastards!'

Ritchie asked quietly, `Any reply for the ammo ship, sir?'

Goss said, Could we stand by her till morning, sir?'Yes.' Lindsay replaced his cap. `It would be safer than

trying to transfer her crew in the dark.'

I wasn't thinking of that.' Goss sounded strangely calm.We could take her in tow.'

Lindsay stared at him. `Do you mean that?'

'I know we're not rigged for it. The old Becky was built for better things.' He spoke very quickly, as if he had made up his mind despite doubts and inner arguments. `But with some good hands I could work all night an' lay out a towing cable. There's not much aft to help secure it, but I thought-'

`The twelve-pounder gun?'

'Yessir. It'll probably never fire again, but it'd make a damn fine towing bollard.'

Lindsay turned his face away. `As far as I know it never has fired.'

There was so much to do. Plans to make and the damage to be inspected and contained. The wounded, too. And the men who had died.

But all he could think of now was Goss's voice and his obvious conviction. It was even more than that. It was the first time since he had taken command that Goss had openly shared their mutual responsibility.

He nodded. Then we'll do it. At least we'll have a damn good try.' He beckoned to Stannard.Tell Demodocus we will standby until first light. Explain what we are going toattempt.' He checked him. `No, tell them what we are going to do!'

Goss shrugged his shoulders inside his heavy watchcoat. There may be fresh escorts coming for us tomorrow. But I expect they'll be sent from Freetown. Probably never find us anyway.' He tugged down the peak of his cap and stared at the promenade deck.Now I'll go and see what C.P.O. bloody Archer really knows about seamanship!'

Lindsay stood on the gratings to watch the motor boat, riding on the swell against the ship's rough plates.

`Number One.'

`Sir?' Goss paused, his foot in mid-air.

`Tell doc to make some arrangements for the German survivors. His sickbay must be getting rather crowded.'

`I'll lay it on.' He waited, knowing Lindsay had something more to say.

`And thanks, Number One.'

Goss swivelled around on the top of the ladder, squinting at Lindsay's silhouette dark against the sky. Then without another word he clattered down the ladder and vanished into the gathering darkness.

Lindsay took out his pipe and tapped it against the damp steel. Goss had his pride. It was unshakable, like his faith in this old ship. Just for a few seconds he had almost overcome it. But not quite.

He sighed and walked into the wheelhouse. `Slow ahead both engines. Take the con, Pilot, until we can work out the drift. We don't want to ram the poor old Demodocus after getting this far.'

Stannard smiled gravely and walked to the compass.

He had heard most that had been said on the scorched starboard wing. He knew what it had cost Goss to make his suggestion about towing. He could have remained silent, and Lindsay would have abandoned the other ship. God knows, he's done enough for all of us, he thought, without that.

But Goss loved this ship more than life itself, and if he had to tow that bloody hulk with his bare hands to prove what his Becky could do, then Stannard had no doubt he would attempt that, too. .

A telephone buzzed and the -bosun's mate said, 'Sickbay, sir. The doctor says there's one Jerry lieutenant amongst the survivors. E sends 'is thanks for us pickin' 'im up.' He waited.Any reply, sir?'

Stannard looked at Lindsay. `Sir?',

Just tell doc to do what he can for them.' He walked towards the chart room.But keep that bastard lieutenant off my bridge, understood?

As the seaman spoke rapidly into the telephone Lindsay added from the doorway, What do they expect? A handshake? All pals again now that it's over for them?' His voice was quiet but in the sudden stillness it was like a whip.Well, not for me, Pilot. But if you happen to bump into this polite little German lieutenant on your rounds, you may tell him from me that I only picked them up for one reason. And that was to see what they looked like.'

`And now, sir?'

Now?' He laughed bitterly.Now, I don't care. I don't give a damn.'

He seemed to realise they were all staring at him and added curtly, `We will remain at action stations, but make sure the watchkeepers and lookouts are relieved as often as possible. Gun crews can sleep at their stations. And see what you can do about some hot food and have it sent around. There could be another U-boat about, although I doubt it.'

Stannard replied quietly, I'll do that, sir.' He watched Lindsay stagger against the open door, feeling for him, imagining what the strain was doing to him. He hesitated,And congratulations, sir. That was a bloody fine piece of work!'

Lindsay remained in the doorway, his face in shadow. You did well, Pilot.' He looked slowly around the darkened bridge.You all did.'- Then he was gone.

Dancy moved to Stannard's side and said softly, `I thought we'd had it.'

Stannard watched the pale arrowhead of foam riding back from the bows. `Me, too. Now that we're still alive I don't really know if I'm on my arse or my elbow!'

Dancy nodded and ran his fingers along the smooth teak rail beside Lindsay's chair. It was impossible to understand. To grasp. In convoy he had been hard put to keep his fear from showing itself. Every minute had been an eternity. When on one occasion the ship's company had stood down from action stations he had been unable to go to his cabin, when moments earlier it had seemed the most important, the most vital goal in his existence. Sheer terror had prevented his going. He had found himself thinking of the- brief Admiralty signals. Instead of six U-boats in the convoy's vicinity he had begun to think of the men inside them.` Six submarines. That meant a total of some four hundred men. Four hundred Germans somewhere out there in the pitiless ocean, waiting, preparing to kill. To kill him. Even as he had crouched, sweating and wideawake below the bridge, he had imagined a torpedo already on its way. Silent and invisible, like those four hundred Germans.

The sudden action with the surfaced U-boat had, changed all that, although he could not explain why or how. It was as if he had been pushed beyond some old protective barrier into another world. A no-man's-land. What was it the captain had called it? A killing ground. Sense, hope and reason were unimportant out here. Just the men near you. The ship around all of them. Nothing else counted.

Stannard said, `Go and check around the messdecks,

Sub. Make sure we're not showing any lights.'

Dancy replied, `I could send someone.'

Stannard shook his head. `You go. Walkabout for a bit. It'll do more good than standing up here thinking. You can think too much.'

Jupp came into the wheelhouse. `I've brought some sandwiches for the cap'n, sir.'

Stannard strode to the chart room and pulled open the door. Lindsay was sprawled across one of the lockers, one hand still reaching for a folio, his cap lying where it had fallen on the deck. He closed the door gently.

`Leave them, Jupp. I'll see he gets them later.'

Jupp nodded. 'Yessir.' Like Dancy, he did not seem to want to go.

Stannard said, `Let him rest while he can. Christ knows, he's earned it.'

Steel scraped on steel and he heard Goss's resonant voice "roaring along the promenade deck. He was at it already. Wires and strops, cable and jacks, it was something Goss had been doing all his life.

Stannard walked unsteadily across the gratings, massaging the ache in his limbs.. He must have been standing as stiffly and rigid as one of de Chair's marines, he thought vaguely. You did well, Pilot. The words seemed to linger in his mind. Yet he could hardly-remember moving throughout the action, giving an order, anything. Once he had thought of the girl in London, had tried to see her face.

He sighed. There was still a long, long way to go before they reached Trincomalee in Ceylon. And after that, where?

A signalman said, `Ammo ship on the starboard bow, sir.'

Stannard shook his weariness away and hurried to the screen. Time enough to worry about a future when this lot was finished.

`Port ten.' He rubbed his eyes. 'Midships.'

The watch continued, and in the dimly lit chart room Lindsay slept undisturbed either by dreams or memory, his outflung arm moving regularly to the motion of his

ship.

At first light the next day the business of passing a towline was started. It took all morning and most of the forenoon, with motor boats plying back and forth between the ships to keep an eye on the proceedings. It took hours of backbreaking work and endless patience, and while Lindsay conned his ship as close as he dared to the drifting Demodocus, Goss strode about the poop yelling instructions until his voice was almost a whisper. Twice the tow parted even as Benbecula's engines began to take the strain, and each time the whole affair had to be started from scratch.

• The after well deck and poop were scarred and littered by wires and heavy cable, and the twelve-pounder gun mounting soon took on the appearance of something which had been squeezed in a giant vice.

But the third time it worked.

Ritchie said, `Signal, sir. Tow secured.' He sounded doubtful.

`Slow ahead together.'

Once more the increasing vibration while very slowly the great length of towing cable accepted the strain.

Lindsay watched the other ship's massive bulk through his glasses, his eyes on an officer in her bows who was holding the bright flag above his head. Seconds, then minutes passed, with the Demodocus still apparently immobile in the shallow troughs, as if gauging the exact moment to break free again.

Quite suddenly her angle began to alter, and Lindsay saw the bright flag start to move above the officer's head in a small circle. Reluctantly the other vessel swung ponderously into the Benbecula's small wake, her siren giving a loud toot as a mark of approval.

The tow did not part again, and when two destroyers found them on the following day both ships were still on course, the cable intact.

The senior destroyer made:°a complete. circle around the two ships and then cruised closer to use a loud-hailer.

`Jolly glad we found you! It looks as if you've had a bad time!'

Lindsay raised his megaphone. `Have you a tug on way?'

Yes!' The other captain brought his ship even closer, and Lindsay saw the seamen lining her guardrails to look at the jagged splinter holes along Benbecula's side. He added,You're damn lucky to be afloat! There was a report of a surfaced U-boat shadowing the convoy. But we'll take care of the bugger if she comes this way!'

Lindsay said quietly, `Bring them on deck, Sub.'

He did not speak again until the German seamen and their lieutenant had been hurried on to the forecastle and lined up in the bright sunlight. He waited just a few more seconds and then called, We met up with her.' He saw their heads turn to stare at the small group on the forecastle.But thanks for the offer.'

Another day passed before a salvage tug appeared to take the crippled Demodocus in tow. They had made use of the time by ferrying ten badly wounded men to one of the destroyers. In Freetown they could get better attention, although it seemed to Lindsay as he watched them being lowered into the boats alongside that those who were conscious did not want to leave.

And when the tow was released he had that same feeling. He had still not met the ammunition ship's master and probably never would. But as she wallowed slowly abeam while the tug's massive hawser brought her under control Lindsay saw him standing on his bridge, his hand raised in salute. Along the upper deck his men waved and cheered or just watched the strange ship with a list to starboard and her dazzle paint pitted with splinter holes until she was lost in a`sea haze.

Goss came on. to the bridge, his hands filthy, his uniform covered in oil and rust. He shaded his eyes to watch the little procession as it turned eastward and then said gruffly, `Well, that showed 'em.'

Stannard and' Dancy were beside Lindsay, while the new lieutenant, Paget, was hovering nervously some feet away. But they all saw it. Even Jolliffe, who had been on the wheel with hardly a break, feeling the strain, nursing his helm against the tremendous weight of the tow.

Goss turned to face Lindsay and said, 'I don't reckon you could have done better, even if you'd been. in the company.' Then he held out his hand. `If you wouldn't mind, sir.'

Lindsay took it. He 'could see the faces around him, blurred and out of focus, just as he could feel the power of Goss's big fist. But he could not speak. Try as he might, nothing would come.

Goss added slowly, We've had differences, I'll not deny it. She should have been my ship by rights.' He stared up at the masthead pendant.But that was in peace. Now I reckon the old girl needs both of us.'

Lindsay looked away. `Thank you for. that.' He cleared

.his throat. `Thank you very much.' Then he strode into the wheelhouse and they heard his feet on the ladder to his cabin below.

Goss was looking at his grimy fist, and then saw Paget staring at him with something like awe.

What the bloody hell are you gaping at, Mr Paget?' He bustled towards the ladder muttering,Amateurs. No damn use the whole lot of 'em!'

Stannard looked at Dancy and then said quietly, `They always said there was something about this ship, in the company.' He glanced around him as if seeing her for the first time. 'Well, now I believe it. By God, I believe it!'

Then he looked forward and added, `Now get those bloody Jerries below decks. I'd forgotten all about them!'

As Dancy hurried away he heard Stannard murmur, `A will of her own, they used to say. And by God, I've just seen her use it!'

15

The dinner party

L indsay stood on the gratings of the starboard bridge's wing and watched .the seething activity along the jetty below him. There seemed to be hundreds of coloured dockyard workers running in every direction at once, although from his high position Lindsay could see the purpose as well as the apparent chaos.

Heaving lines snaked ashore, seized by a dozen brown hands, all apparently indifferent to the hoarse cries from Benbecula's petty officers, as very slowly the hull touched against the massive piles which protected it from the uneven stonework.

,The lines were followed by heavy mooring wires, the eyes of which were cheerfully dropped on to huge bollards along the jetty, with no small relief from the officers on the forecastle. and poop, as with tired dignity Benbecula nudged a few more feet before tautening springs halted her progress altogether.

A-messenger called, Back spring secured, sir.' He was staring at the shimmering white building beyond the jetty and harbour sheds, handset pressed against his ear.Head spring secure, sir.'

Lindsay saw Goss waving from the forecastle, his bulk even more ungainly in white shirt and shorts.

`All secure fore an' aft, sir.'

`Very Well.'

Lindsay leaned still further over the screen, feeling the sun across his neck as he watched the mooring wires slackening and tautening in the gentle swell.

Out breast ropes. Then tell the buffer to rig the brow.' He could see other white uniforms on the jetty amidst the busy workers, faces raised to watch as. Benbecula handed over her safety to the land once again.Ring off main engines.'

He heard the telegraphs clang, the dials below swinging to Finished with Engines, where no doubt Fraser and his men would give a combined sigh of relief.

It had been a slow passage to the jetty. The whole of Trincomalee seemed to be packed with shipping of every description, so that even the two tugs which had been sent to assist had not found the last few cables very easy. Warships and supply vessels. Troopers, their rigging adorned with soldiers' washing like .uneven khaki bunting, harbour craft and lighters, as well' as an overwhelming mass of local vessels of every kind. Dhows and sampans, schooners and ancient coasters. which looked as if they had been born in the first days of steam.

The gratings gave one last quiver and then lay still beneath him.

Ritchie said, One of the troopers is the Cambrian, sir.'Yes.'

Lindsay did not turn. Perhaps, like himself, the yeoman wass thinking back to those first days out from Liverpool, with, the commodore's ship leading the starboard line. Remembering the explosions and fires flickering across the dark water. The wasted effort, and the cost.

He heard Stannard speaking into a voicepipe and tried to imagine what he was thinking.

And at one time it had at last seemed that everything was going to be all right. A change of luck, if you could, call it that.

After leaving the ammunition ship they had continued into a kinder climate, with something like a holiday atmosphere pervading the ship for the first time. Eighteen days out of Liverpool they had crossed the Equator and all work had stopped for the usual boisterous ceremony of Crossing the Line. He could see it now. Jolliffe as Neptune in a cardboard crown and carrying a deadlylooking trident, his heavy jowls hidden in a realistic beard made of spunyarn. His queen had been one of Boase's S.B.A.'s, a girlish-looking youth whose sex, it had often been said, was very much in doubt anyway.

Sunshine and blue skies, bodies already showing a growing tan, and an extra tot of rum to complete the ceremony. It had seemed a sure sign for the better.

They had paused in Simonstown to replenish the fuel bunkers, and the ship's company had swarmed ashore to see the sights and gather all the usual clutter of souvenirs which would eventually find their way to mantelpieces and shelves the length and breadth of Britain.

Barker had arranged for buses to take libertymen on to Cape Town in a manner born. For just that one day he had not been the supply officer to an armed merchant cruiser. He was a ship's purser, and took as many pains to make the short trips and tours successful as if every man had been a first class passenger.

Then they were at sea again, and Lindsay could recall exactly the moment Stannard had come to his cabin. Benbecula had rounded the Cape and was steaming north-east into the Indian Ocean for the last long haul of her voyage.

All at once their own small world had been changed. The outside events, the war, all that went with it had come crowding in once more.

The Japanese had not been halted. That strip of water between Singapore Island and the mainland was not an English Channel as everyone had claimed it to be. The enemy had crossed it and were already advancing into the island itself. It was impossible but it was happening.

Stannard had stood in the sunlit cabin watching Lindsay as he had read the signal.

`What d'you think, sir? Will they pull our lads out?'

Looking back to that moment it was hard to remember what he had really believed. Not another retreat, surely? For this time there could be no Dunkirk with friendly white cliffs within reach of those brave or foolhardy enough to try for them. No sane man would write off the whole garrison. Not an army. It was inconceivable, just as now, standing on the sunlit bridge he could see it had been inevitable.

There had been a security clampdown on signals and little more was heard of that other war. Benbecula had continued across the Indian Ocean, enjoying perhaps the waters which had once- been so familiar to her well-worn keel. They had passed several convoys heading in the opposite direction. Meat and grain from Australia and New Zealand-, oil from the Gulf. The very stuff of survival for the people who waited in England for those ships to arrive,

The Benbecula's people had watched them pass. Had waved and, laughed at the usual exchange of crude or witty signals. Inwardly they had thought of that other ocean which still lay awaiting those convoys. Which they had endured and somehow survived to get this far.

Lindsay had watched Stannard going about his duties with growing concern. And he was not the only one with Singapore on his mind. Several men had brothers and friends there. Some even had fathers and uncles on the island, so great were the demands of war.

Then, just a week ago, while Benbecula had been passing within visual distance of the Seychelles, the news had broken. Singapore had fallen. The Gibraltar of the Far East, as it had been so often described by the press, had surrendered. And with it, every man who had been unable to escape on the few vessels left afloat by Japanese bombers.

Commodore Kemp's fast convoy, or the remains of it, still lay in Trincomalee with many other ships which had been expecting to go to Singapore's aid. Many a soldier would be thanking God right now that they had not arrived in time to be sacrificed for nothing.

Stannard came out to the wing and saluted. He was wearing sun-glasses- and it was impossible to read his expression.

`All secure, sir. Permission to clear the bridge?'

Carry on.' He hesitated and then said quietly,Look, . Pilot, it may not mean your brother is still out there. He might have been one of the lucky ones.'

Stannard looked down at the milling figures which were struggling to assist Archer's seamen with securing the brow.

I don't know whether I wish him dead or a prisoner. You've heard what the Japs have been doing to prisoners.' He added with sudden bitterness,And it seems to me the chance of our ever retaking Singapore, or any other bloody place for that matter, is pretty remote.'

`I know how you must feel.'

Stannard turned. Yes. I know how I feel, too. It's Jason I'm thinking about. Never been out of Aussie in his life. He's not like us. He's just a kid.' He saluted.I'll carry on then, sir.' Then he swung round and hurried into the wheelhouse.

Goss had appeared on the wing, his red face running. with sweat. `What's up with him then?'

'His brother.'

Goss nodded. Yes. I forgot.' He sighed.I reckon the dockyard people will be aboard to see about the damage, sir.' He glared at the crowded jetty below. `We'll have to screw everything down to stop those bloody wogs from stealing it!'

`You deal with it.'

Lindsay watched him wearily. Goss had'withdrawn into his old shell. Or partly. But there was a difference now. An unspoken understanding. One which had been sealed with a handshake. Lindsay knew he did not have to ask. It was unbreakable. Like the man.

Aye.' Goss jerked his thumb vaguely.What'll they do with all these troopships and the squaddies?'

Lindsay watched some uniformed figures starting towards the brow. The first visitors. Questions and reports. Assessments and promises.

`Who knows? India maybe. South to Australia if the Japs look like getting that far.'

Goss scowled. `It's all getting too big for me.' He too was watching the white figures at the brow.

I'll go an' see 'em aboard, sir.' He showed his teeth. It was almost a grin. Then he pointed to the tall funnel where a grey submarine had been painted with a swastika below it.Reckon that'll take some of the starch out of their breeches!'

Maxwell climbed to the bridge and saluted. In his shorts and gleaming white shirt he looked- as thin as a stick. A ramrod.

`I'm O.O.D., sir. The, ambulances are arriving for our wounded. And an escort for the Jerries.' 'Good.'

Lindsay watched him march away. He had changed, too. He still made a lot of noise but was withdrawn and seemed to avoid the other officers whenever possible.

He had expected to hear of Maxwell's boasting about the accuracy of his guns and the sinking of a U-boat. Also that for once, the marines had been left out of it.

When he had congratulated Maxwell he had replied curtly, `What I was trained for, sir. Given time, you can even teach a block of wood to shoot straight.' And that was all he had said.

Lindsay looked up at the painted U-boat and wondered why he had kept the prisoners aboard. He could have dropped them at Simonstown or passed them to the destroyers which had came to search for him and the Demodocus. He had seen them once or twice as they were exercised on the after well deck. A dozen in all, including the lieutenant who took his walks alone but for an escort He had even used his binoculars to study them without knowing why. What had he expected to see? Some sign of a; master race? Superior beings which in captivity could still display their arrogance? For the most part they had looked very ordinary.

So perhaps-he was getting like Goss and his submarine painted on the funnel. He wanted to show the.Germans off like trophies. Heads taken in battle. Scalps.

He ran his hand over his neck and shuddered. The sun must be hotter than he had realised.

He glanced briefly at the wheelhouse, deserted now and strangely peaceful. Then he ran lightly down the bridge ladder and then another to A deck where an entry port had been opened to receive the heavy wooden brow from the jetty. He passed groups of ratings who had been dismissed from duty, already on their way below to prepare for shore leave. They seemed cheerful, even jubilant, and he could guess that they were still reliving their small victory. But once ashore they might find it even smaller, he thought. Other events had already outweighed and outreached one sunken U-boat, no matter what the circumstances had been.

Further aft some marines were busy polishing boots, apparently determined to retain their usual smartness in spite of having their messdeck blasted to blackened fragments.

He paused and looked at the. smoke-grimed paintwork, the bright scars of deflected splinters, and was suddenly moved. After a destroyer, he had seen this ship as the end of the line. A limbo from which there was no return, and in which he could find no future.

Now he knew differently. And when the U-boat's last shell had shaken the bridge beneath his feet he had felt something more than anxiety. Affection, love, there was no proper word for it. But it was there all the same.

Maybe most of his officers had been appointed to her because they were not much use for anything better. The majority of the ratings had been untrained to the ways of war, so they too had been sent to make up the required numbers. His own appointment he understood well enough and had accepted it.

But somehow, back there over the hundreds of miles from the Arctic Circle to Ceylon, they had come together, and that was more than could be said for many ships.

Like Goss, Benbecula was all he had. Now, he needed her to go on living.

Goss was waiting by the entry port, an elegant lieutenant in white drill at his side.

The latter saluted smartly and announced, 'Commodore Kemp sends his compliments, sir, and would you join him at his residence for dinner?'

Lindsay nodded. `Very well.'

`The admiral would like to see you too, of course, sir. But he sends his regrets and is unable to do so until tomorrow. You will be informed of the time, of course, sir.'

Of course. `Thank you.'

The lieutenant gazed around at, the nearby splinter holes. The wires were fairly humming about your Uboat, sir.' He sighed.But we are rather involved with this other unhappy affair at present.'

Boots clumped on the planking as the German prisoners marched towards the entry port, some military policemen bringing up the rear. Lastly, their lieutenant, who had miraculously retained his cap after jumping from the sinking submarine and being hauled. into the motor boat, walked alone towards the sunlight.

Seeing Lindsay and the others he threw up a stiff salute which was returned with equal formality by Kemp's lieutenant.

The German made as if to speak but Lindsay turned away until he heard the footsteps recede down the brow.

He heard the lieutenant say testily, `That man over there! Don't you know you should stand to attention when an officer passes, enemy or not?'

That man there was unfortunately Fraser. Hatless, his -boiler suit almost black from a recent inspection in the bilges, he was leaning against a ventilator shaft, his slight body bowed with fatigue. He stood up very slowly and stared at the angryy lieutenant.

`One, I don't salute any bastard who's been trying to blow my backside off! And two, I don't take orders from some snotty-nosed little twit like you!'

Goss said gravely, `This, is Lieutenant-Commander Fraser. The chief engineer.'

The lieutenant blushed. `I-I'm sorry, sir. I didn't understand.'

Fraser stared at him calmly. `You wouldn't.'

The lieutenant turned desperately to Lindsay. I'll tell the commodore, sir.' He darted a frightened glance at Fraser.I have to go now.'

Goss looked down at Fraser and said, `Amazing. I'm surprised he didn't recognise a real gentleman when he saw you like that.'

Fraser eyed him with equal gravity. `In my book a gentleman is someone who gets out of his bath to have a pee.'

Goss turned to Lindsay. `Now you see why we used to try and keep the engineers away from the passengers in the company, sir? Their refinement might have made some of them feel inferior.' Then he turned and walked slowly towards the bridge.

Fraser gaped after him. `Well, I'll be damned! He made a joke! Not much of one maybe, but he made it!'

Lindsay smiled. `And you asked for it, Chief. If you insult another up-and-coming admiral I may not be able to save you.'

Fraser shrugged.When the likes of that upstart are admirals I'll either be tending my garden at home or six feet under it.' He chuckled. `But fancy old John Goss cracking a joke.' He was still chuckling as he walked towards his quarters.

Maxwell crossed the deck and saluted.

`I've assembled the dockyard people for you in the wardroom, sir.'

`Good idea. It never hurts to soften them up with a few drinks before asking their help.'

He paused by a screen door. `Is there anything wrong, Guns? Any way I can help?'

Maxwell stiffened. Wrong, sir? Why should there be?' He stared at a point above Lindsay's shoulder.All the starboard watch and second part of port watch for liberty this afternoon, sir?'

Lindsay studied him thoughtfully. `yes. Have it piped.'

He would have to keep an eye on axwell. He was so tensed up he might well become another Aikman. He smiled bitterly. Or Lindsay.

He straightened his shoulders and pushed open the wardroom door.

`Now, gentlemen, about these repairs.'

Commodore Kemp's temporary residence was situated several miles from the naval base, and after the crowded, jostling streets, the seemingly endless numbers of servicemen, it gave an immediate impression of peaceful seclusion. A staff car, driven by a bearded Sikh corporal, had collected Lindsay at the jetty at the exact minute prescribed, and as it left him standing just inside the open gates Lindsay wondered how he had arrived without a fatal accident. The Sikh had driven with expressionless abandon, as if every street had been empty, using the car's horn as the sole form of survival.

It was a very attractive house, white-walled and fringed with palms. There was a colourful, well-tended garden, and he could imagine the number of servants required to keep it so.

A house-boy in white tunic and scarlet sash took his cap and ushered him into a cool, spacious room where the commodore was standing with his back to a large portrait. It depicted a bearded Victorian who was staring steadfastly into the distance, arms folded, and with one foot on a dead tiger.

Kemp waited for Lindsay to reach him and thenoffered his hand. Good to see you safe and well.' He snapped his fingers to the servant.You'll have a drink before dinner, I imagine.'

`Thank you, sir. Scotch.'

Kemp was smoking a cigar and gestured for Lindsay to sit in one of the tall gilt chairs.

`Nice place, eh? Belongs to a tea-planter. He stays up-country for most of the time. Just comes here to get away from it all.'

Lindsay tried to relax. The whisky was good. Very good. Kemp certainly appeared to be enjoying his new role. Relishing it, as if the house and all it entailed were his by right.

I was damn glad to hear about your U-boat.' Kemp's eyes followed the cigar smoke until it was plucked into a nearby fan.Merlin's captain was pretty sure he'd done for that one, otherwise I'd never have left you without another escort, naturally:'

Lindsay thought of the convoy receding over the horizon. The sense of isolation and danger.

`But your ships got through all right, sir.'

Kemp shrugged. `Lost the other freighter, I'm afraid. She had a bit of engine trouble. Her master signalled that

some of our depth-charges had exploded too close for comfort.' He poured himself another drink without calling for the servant. His hand was shaking. `But I knew

there was no real risk of more U-boats attacking us, so I pressed on. The convoy was vital, as you know. Anyway, there were more escorts on way from Freetown, plus two destroyers from the inshore squadron.'

Lindsay watched him over his glass. `You left him behind.'

Kemp looked uneasy. `It should have been safe enough. But the destroyers could find no trace of the poor chap. Must have had an explosion aboard. Anyway,

can't be helped. All water under the bridge, as they say.' Lindsay swallowed his drink and held the glass out to.

the impassive servant. Kemp had abandoned the freighter. Just like Benbecula and the ammunition ship. Didn't she send any distress signals, sir?'No.' Kemp sounded too casual. Nothing.'That's strange.'

Kemp stood up and walked to one of the wide windows. Well, there's damn all we can do about it now.' He turned, his face set in a smile again.Now, about you. I gather you've had the repair yard hopping like mad all day. They'll do what they can, of course, but I can't promise too much. It'll have to be a patch up job. I've been informed that your damage is largely superficial where the hull is concerned.'

`We'll manage, sir.' He tried to hide his bitterness.

Kemp nodded. `That's the spirit. Front-line ships are right at the top of the list, I'm afraid. But I don't have to tell you that.'

'I was wondering about the next assignment, sir' He saw the decanter hovering above Kemp's glass.

Well, we can't talk shop tonight, eh? This is a sort of celebration for you. A welcome back.' He became serious.Of course, with Singapore in the enemy's bag there's nothing for all these reinforcements. we brought out from U.K. I've seen the admiral and his Chief of Staff, and I gather we'll be expected to help in another convoy.' He sounded vague. `I daresay the troops will be a godsend elsewhere, anyway.' Things have been getting a bit grim in North Africa to all accounts.'

Lindsay watched him as he took another drink. You don't care. Don't give a damn about anyone but yourself.

Ships left without help, men dying, none of it counted. It was outside, beyond Kemp's vision, and interest too for that matter.

Kemp seemed to realise Lindsay was studying him and said with forced cheerfulness, But you shouldn't complain.' He wagged his glass.I'll not be surprised if you get a decoration for saving the ammunition ship and sinking the U-boat. Promotion too, I wouldn't wonder. Now that you've overcome your, er, past problems, I see no reason why you should not be given something better.'

There are several of my people I'd like to recommend for Kemp frowned.Well, we must wait and see. Nothing definite, you understand. Everything's in turmoil here, and it sounds as if the whole naval structure is being changed. Merlin's captain is being promoted and is to be given one of these new escort groups. Killer-groups, they're being called. Nice young chap. Should do well.'. He stared vaguely at Lindsay's glass. `But for your early setback I daresay you'd have been on the list for something of the sort, too.'

Lindsay replied calmly, I lost my ship, sir. I was blown up in another. May have suffered the same fate.' His voice hardenedMay were less fortunate.'

Kemp,seemed to have missed the point. He nodded gravely. `I know, Lindsay. We who face death and live to fight again rarely realise how narrow the margin can be.'

Lindsay fixed his eyes on the portrait opposite his chair. His immediate anger at Kemp's words was already giving way to a new realisation. Not merely that Kemp was drunk but that he needed to be so. We who face death. Kemp had not been to sea in wartime before this last convoy. Had it really been the vital need of ships and men. for Singapore which had made him drive them without letup? Or was it his own fear, his new understanding that he had been left behind by war, of a role he only vaguely recognised?

Another house-boy appeared in the doorway. `Dinner served, sir.' He grinned from ear to ear.

Kemp lurched to his feet. `Impudent lot. Still, they have their uses. Mean well, I suppose.'

He paused beside the table and added abruptly, `When we meet the FOIC tomorrow, I'd be obliged if you'd not mention your ideas about commerce raiders and so forth. He's quite enough on his plate at the moment. He'll not thank you for wasting his time.'

`Even if it means saving ships and men, sir?'

Kemp seemed to have difficulty in holding him in focus. That last freighter sank by accident, Lindsay!' He was shouting.And that's all there is to it!'

Lindsay stood stockstill. He had not even been thinking about that unfortunate ship, except for the fact Kemp had left her unaided. But now it was out in the open and there was no avoiding the truth. Kemp actually believed what he had been telling him, yet was equally prepared to ignore it for his own survival. He needed things to stay as they were, like stopping the clock, just long enough for him to achieve some better appointment elsewhere.

As he followed Kemp's thickset figure across a marble floor to the dining room his mind was already working on this frightening possibility.

The Terrible news about Singapore. could be all it needed to make the Germans take full advantage of their ally's victory. For the next few months naval resources would be stretched far beyond safety limits as troops and supplies were re-deployed to meet the new dangers. The Japs might invade India and march on into the rich oil-fields of the Middle East. They could have it planned for months, even years with the Germans, so that an eventual link-up between their forces was made a brutal fact. One vast pair of steel pincers biting through Russia and the Middle East, to carve the world in halves.

Inside the tea-planter's cool house it all seemed so clear and starkly obvious he was almost unnerved. It must be just as plain to those in real authority. Unless.... He looked at Kemp's,plump shoulders. In past wars it had always taken several years to rid. authority of men like him. It was said that in the old battlefields of Flanders the ploughs were still churning up countless remains of the men thrown away by generals who had believed cavalry superior, to machine-guns and barbed wire. And admirals who had scoffed at the trivial consequences of submarine warfare.

He was surprised to find he was not the only guest for dinner. A bearded surgeon-commander from the admiral's staff, the commodore's aide who had wilted before Fraser's verbal barrage and an elderly major of artillery were already standing around a well-laid table. Midshipman Kemp was also present, standing apart from the others, and there was a dried-up little woman acting as hostess, introduced as the surgeoncommander's wife.

In spite of the fans it was very hot, and the ample helpings of varied curries did little to help matters. Beyond the shuttered windows Lindsay could see the last rays of bronze sunlight,, the palms very black against the sky.

There was a lot to drink. Too much. Lindsay was astonished at the way the commodore could put it away. Wine came and went with the soft-footed servants, while his voice grew louder and more slurred.

Beside Lindsay the midshipman ate his meal in silence, ,his eyes rarely leaving the table until his father suddenly said, `By God, Julian, don't pick at your food! Try and eat like a man, if nothing else!'

Lindsay recalled the boy's face-after the action. Tightlipped but strangely determined. Stannard had told him how the midshipman had worked with his plotting team. How he had been sick several times but had somehow managed to keep going. And all that time.he had probably been picturing his father speeding to safety with the heavy escort. Leaving him alone, as he had always done. -

Lindsay leaned back in his chair. He felt light-headed but no longer cared.

`Actually, sir, he did very well on this last trip.' He knew the boy was staring, at him, that the surgeon's wife had paused in her apparently insatiable appetite with a fork poised in the air.

The aide said swiftly, `Good show. I remember when I was at Dartmouth I...'

The commodore said flatly, Hold your noise!' To Lindsay he added,You don't know my son or you might think otherwise.'

He signalled for more wine, unaware of the sudden tension around the table.

`My son does not like the Service. He would rather sit on his, backside listening to highbrow music than do anything useful. When I think of my father and what he taught me, I want to weep.'

The army major dabbed his chin with a napkin. `Spare the rod, eh?' He laughed, the sound strangely, hollow in the quiet room.

I think he's old enough to know his own mind.' Lindsay could feel the anger returning.When the war's over he'll be able to make his choice.'

Is that what you think?' The commodore leaned forward, his eyes red-rimmed in the overhead lights.Well, I'm telling you, Commander Lindsay, that I will decide what he will or will not do! No son of mine is going to bring disgrace on my family, do you hear?'

Perfectly, sir.' He gripped his glass tightly to prevent his hand from shaking.But at present he is under my command, and I will assess his qualities accordingly.'

The commodore shifted in his chair and then snapped, `We will take our port in the next room.'

Lindsay stood up. `If you will excuse me, sir. I would like to be excused.'

The surgeon's wife said hastily, `You must be worn out, Commander. If half of what they're saying about you is true, then I think you should get some rest.'