The ship moved easily over the short, wind-ruffled waves, and heeled slightly in response to the rudder. Lehr, the Coxswain, watched the swinging compass, and forced his shoulders to remain relaxed as the bridge lookouts reported that they had seen the ship through their powerful glasses.

  Von Steiger waited in silence, his own glasses resting against the polished woodwork of the signal locker. Another ship at last. Probably making her way up from the south to rendezvous with a convoy. She might even be trying to make the journey on her own. For the last four days the Vulkan had steamed slowly southwards, and had now reached a point some two hundred miles north-north-east of the Azores. Beneath him the ship staggered slightly as a larger group of waves surged defiantly against the ship’s side. He frowned. She was riding too lightly, he thought, and the empty hold forward was making quite an impression. It was amazing to think that it had once been jammed tightly with coal. Now, only a few piles of black dust remained. They had started on the second hold now, and after that the main bunkers would have to be tapped. A lot of coal for little result. In his mind’s eye he pictured the pencilled lines of their course so far. Three weeks ago to a day they had sailed from Kiel. Up the Norwegian Coast, across the Arctic Circle and around Iceland, and then down into the Atlantic. Every minute of every one of those twenty-one days the giant screw had pounded at varying speeds but with steady and continuous demand, and the level of coal had rapidly fallen. He sighed and blinked briefly to clear his vision. He watched calmly as the strange ship hovered and then settled in the lenses of his binoculars. Another freighter. Almost certainly British. There was no mistaking that single black funnel, and the air of shabby efficiency which they all seemed to bear. Behind him he heard the signalmen preparing their lamps, and heard Heuss passing instructions through voice-pipes and telephones to the distant men who waited at their stations throughout the ship. Men who waited with hope or fear, and others who stared with patient indifference at their hidden weapons.

  There was a sharp metallic clatter from the fo’c’sle, and he imagined the gunners slipping away the last catches which held the steel shutters across their charges. He eyed the other ship, and tried to see her as a mere target and not as a big, helpless fellow creature of the sea. About six thousand tons, and well laden. No armaments visible, as far as he could see.

  Near enough. ‘Make a signal. Ask her name!’

  The light began to chatter, and after what seemed an age of waiting a light began to flicker back across the white-capped waves.

  ‘Rockleaze. Outward bound from Bridgetown.’ Von Steiger nodded slowly. From Barbados. Mixed cargo, quite likely. The light still flashed in short, intermittent bursts. ‘Have not seen another ship for days. Do you read me?’

  Heuss gestured to the signals petty officer, but von Steiger shook his head. ‘This one is talking too much. He might be playing for time. I don’t like it.’ He pressed the button at his elbow and added. ‘Carry on, Heuss.’

  The German ensign soared up to the gaff like a newly released bird of prey, and Vulkan made her own signal.

  ‘German cruiser here. Stop your engines. Abandon ship.’

  To sharpen the commands, one of the forward guns roared out, and a tall waterspout rose remorsely less than a cable’s length from the freighter’s bows.

  The light blinked again. ‘I have stopped.’ Already von Steiger could see the lifeboats being swung out.

  Von Steiger heard Heuss sigh. Was it because another ship was to be destroyed? he wondered. Or perhaps he was just relieved because the other vessel was not putting up any resistance. Heuss was a strange person. Von Steiger wanted to like him, and yet he found himself constantly criticising him and looking for faults and flaws in his cynical façade.

  He watched the way fall off the other ship, and waited until Heuss had ordered a reduction of speed also. In silence the two ships drifted closer together, and von Steiger saw first one lifeboat and then another shove off from the deeply laden vessel and begin to pull towards the Vulkan.

  ‘More guests for you, Heuss! About thirty by the look of it.’ He kept his tone friendly, and wondered if Heuss was thinking about those other lifeboats, as he was.

  ‘Yes, sir. They will eat us hollow at this rate.’

  ‘I hope to get rid of them as soon as I can,’ von Steiger continued thoughtfully. ‘An opportunity may come along quite soon now.’

  ‘All of them, sir?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ He had detected a sharpness in the other man’s question, and eyed him gravely. ‘I usually hold on to captains and chief engineers, but let the others free, or put them on a prize ship. As we have not caught a suitable prize yet’—he shrugged— ‘I do not have much alternative.’

  The first lifeboat grated alongside, and vaguely they heard the First Lieutenant barking commands. Von Steiger sighed again. ‘For them the war is over, Heuss. Perhaps we have done them a favour.’

  ‘What about the woman, sir?’

  So that was it. He studied Heuss’s mask-like features, and for once the other man was unable to meet his eyes.

  ‘The woman? She will have to go, I think. Unless you have any reason for her staying here?’ He had seen the girl only once since she had been brought aboard. She had come on deck for one brief moment wrapped in her stained fur coat. Very slowly, and a little unsteadily, she had walked along the side of the boatdeck, her hair shining like deep chestnut in the morning sunlight. From his lofty position on the bridge he had followed her progress, and watched her shadow move below him on the salt-caked planking. Small, defenceless, yet so completely defiant. It was almost as if she had sensed his eyes upon her, for she had stopped and looked up at him. Separated by the length of the boatdeck and the height of the bridge, they had challenged each other, or so it had seemed to him. What a hell the war had made of both of their lives, he thought. He had watched the line of her neck and the movement of her hair in the wind, and felt the knife turn in his chest once more. From that distance it might have been Freda standing there. Even as the thought had come to him, she turned deliberately away and disappeared below. Heuss must see a lot of her when he watched over the prisoners. He toyed with the idea of taking him off the duty completely, but instantly dismissed it. He could not be sure whether it was because of the feeling of unreasoning jealousy, or because of the taut anxiety on Heuss’s face which made him change his mind. Keeping his voice level he said: ‘I am not sure it will be a good thing to keep her in a ship such as this. In addition, I think she hates us too much for what has happened. She might make trouble in some way.’

  ‘If you released her, sir,’ Heuss was speaking faster than usual, his hands moving expressively, ‘she might make more trouble.’

  Von Steiger smiled wryly. ‘You think we should keep her just to educate her? I thought that husband of hers was the educational expert!’

  ‘I am quite serious, sir. I think that if we could show her what we are really doing, and how we do it, it might help considerably.’

  A voice-pipe squeaked and Heuss bent his head to listen.

  ‘All lifeboats cleared and scuttled.’ It was Dehler’s voice. ‘But the Captain is still aboard his ship!’

  He sounded uneasy, and Heuss repeated the message to von Steiger. ‘I don’t see what he hopes to gain by staying over there, sir . . .’ He looked up startled as the signals petty officer thrust his face round the door of the radio-room.

  ‘She’s sending an S O S, sir! Someone’s still aboard!’

  Von Steiger pushed past Heuss, his eyes blazing. The damned idiot! The poor brave fool! He had seen that his crew were safe and had then stayed behind to show his defiance.

  ‘Tell Elbert to open fire on her bridge!’ He ignored the shouted orders and spoke sharply into the red voice-pipe at the rear of the bridge. ‘Lieutenant Kohler! One torpedo, and be damned quick! Your life may depend on it!’

  He snapped down the cover on the tube and walked slowly to the side of the bridge. He forced himself to stay still, a small hard core in a centre of anxious confusion. That shipmaster had played his last card well. He had known that the raider would relax after the departure of his crew in the boats.

  There was a muffled thud beneath his feet, and through its protective canvas screen the lithe shape of the torpedo flashed over the rail and landed in the tossing water with hardly a ripple. There was a brief flutter of spray as its small propellors whirred into action, and then it was streaking away towards the other ship, which stood tall and dark against the dying sun. Even in the frenzied whitecaps the watchers could see the straight hard line of the torpedo’s course. A few seconds later it struck home. Through the water they felt a dull metallic clang, like the slamming of a great iron door, and then with a shattering detonation the side of the ship erupted in a great towering column of orange flame. Like a thunderclap the sound-wave rolled back across the water, and von Steiger felt the hot, foul breath of the explosion against his face.

  The bow and the stern rose together, pivoting on the ship’s broken keel, and as the water surged hungrily into the exploding boilers and tearing metal, another internal convulsion threw the complete bridge and funnel high into the air. He strained his eyes, as if half expecting to see that brave and fanatical captain appear on the dismembered superstructure before it crashed into the sea. A long wall of brown smoke rolled slowly across the space between them, and when the wind had cleared it away only a few pieces of flotsam remained.

  ‘Secure the guns and get under way, Heuss. I shall be altering course shortly, so have the log ready.’

  Heuss turned his back to the pall of smoke, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘By God, that was unexpected, sir!’

  Von Steiger could hear the squeak of bogeys as Kohler’s men reloaded the torpedo-tube.

  ‘Do you think your lady prisoner would learn by that, Heuss? Or is our cause so weak that we must justify our every move, even to those who would hate us even if we were fighting for them?’

  Heuss turned away. ‘I will pass your orders to the engine-room, sir.’ He looked tired and empty. ‘Then when I am relieved I shall go and see to the new prisoners. I am sorry you do not agree with me, sir, but I merely thought it might help our cause.’

  ‘Do not try to think too much, Heuss. You might build up something which, when it falls, will destroy you also.’ He turned towards the chart-table and was momentarily aware of Heuss’s expression of surprise.

  He bent over the table and felt the deck begin to quiver once again. The men near him relaxed slightly, and on the wing of the bridge a man laughed noisily. He stared at the chart framed between his two hands and felt his heart thumping. I must be losing my grip. To allow the enemy to use a ruse like that. He kept his eyes on the chart, but his mind was so busy with the S O S message. It was not possible to tell how much had been sent off, or if in fact any of it was received by another ship. Rockleaze had said in her signal to Vulkan, that she had not seen any other ship, but that, too, may have been a lie. It would be well to have the prisoners searched and interrogated as soon as possible.

  ‘Heuss, when you go below take Damrosch with you, and question every seaman and officer from that ship. I want you to search them thoroughly, too. Perhaps one of them might have a scrap of newspaper on him which might tell us something. The Barbados papers probably do not care quite so much about security, and we may learn something about ship movements, particularly warship movements.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Heuss kept his voice non-committal.

  Lieutenant Dehler moved noisily into the wheelhouse. ‘All secure, Captain. Prisoners below under guard and awaiting orders. A pretty quick kill, I thought, Captain.’

  ‘Quite. What information did you get about cargo?’

  Dehler laid his notebook on the table. ‘It’s all in there. She was carrying cotton, sugar and rum. Pity we couldn’t get some of that liquor. It would be something to sweat out after a battle, eh?’ He laughed harshly and glared at Heuss’s impassive face. ‘Are you still moping, then?’

  ‘I was merely thinking.’

  ‘Huh, I’ve had a bellyful of thinkers! You keep to your duties!’

  Von Steiger watched the two men looking at each other with angry eyes, and grunted: ‘Carry on below, Heuss. I will keep the remainder of your watch. Have a good look at those prisoners now.’

  ‘The male ones!’ Dehler called after him, and laughed.

  Von Steiger dropped his voice. ‘Leave him alone. Dehler, he’s more sensitive than you are!’

  Dehler snorted. ‘Why should he interrogate the prisoners? He’s too soft! I could do it much better.’

  ‘For one thing he speaks perfect English, which you do not, and another, he’s not easily angered. You are a good seaman, Dehler, but inclined to be nasty in more personal matters. Do I make myself plain?’

  Dehler breathed noisily, his cheeks flushing brick-red. ‘There are a lot of things which I don’t agree with, Captain! It’s only fair that as second in command I should be allowed to have my say!’

  Von Steiger looked up at him with interest. The man was obviously so jealous of Heuss that it shocked him to remember that he, too, had felt that same feeling. ‘Don’t be a fool, Dehler. I need you to run this ship efficiently. But if you question my orders again it will be the last time!’

  * * * * *

  Simon Gelb sat uncomfortably on a bench, his body swaying to the motion of the ship, his large hairy hands resting on the scrubbed mess-table. He dragged his eyes from the sweating steel plates beyond the tiers of bunks, and tried not to think of the sea which surged persistently against them. When the raider’s torpedo had exploded a few moments earlier he had imagined in one terrible second of agony that the Vulkan herself had been struck the mortal blow. The whole of the hold’s dim interior had rocked and reverberated like the inside of an oil-drum, and the lights had flickered and slowly faded until the high, cheerless place was all but in darkness. They picked up again almost at once, and he found that he was staring now at the girl, who had jumped to her feet at the explosion, a silent scream on her parted lips.

  The engine revolutions had increased again, and in the confined, stagnant air of the hold Gelb could hear the painful sound of his own breathing. ‘Why should we worry? We are still alive, it seems!’

  Arthur Brett ran his fingers through his hair and peered upwards at the massive steel beams which supported the deck overhead. His lip trembled, and he groped vaguely for a cigarette. ‘Damn them! What wouldn’t I give for a smoke now!’

  ‘Did they take your cigarettes away from you?’ Her voice was even again, but shy, like a child amongst strangers.

  He turned towards her, his face bitter. ‘I suppose you’ve had every comfort in your new quarters? Must be quite an experience for you!’

  Her expression was pleading. ‘Please, Arthur! Can’t you stop attacking me? I don’t think I can stand much more!’ She waited, remembering his first greeting when she had been escorted into the hold.

  ‘What the hell do you want now? It would have been more to the point if you could have persuaded the Captain to allow me to leave this filthy place! It shouldn’t be too difficult for you!’

  He looked changed already by his new circumstances. Unshaven, and his expensive clothes creased and rumpled. This should have been the moment to make amends for everything, to allow him to place the blame for all mistakes on their present predicament and to take her to him without recriminations on either side. It seemed incredible that even this disaster, and what they had seen happen to others, had failed to alter his self-dedication, and indifference to her, either as a person of as a wife. How much longer could she delude herself? She wondered. It had never really been any different. Even when he had proposed to her he had given the impression that it was he who was doing her a favour. She had seen that only in retrospect, and even then had imagined that the failure of their union was her fault. She tore her eyes from his empty face and looked from Gelb to the hunched figure of the old captain, who sat brooding on one of the bunks. He neither looked up when the torpedo exploded nor showed any interest in what the others were saying.

  ‘God, what is the matter with us?’ She turned back to Gelb, who peered at her calmly. ‘We just sit here and argue!’

  ‘You’re doing all the talking. Caryl! What do you expect us to do?’ Her husband began to pace back and forth, his salt-stained shoes clicking on the riveted plates.

  ‘Do?’ she held out her hands in despair. ‘I don’t know! It’s just that I feel so small and helpless. It sickens me to be borne along in this ship while they do exactly what they like!’ She crossed quickly to Brett’s side and laid a hand on his arm. He paused in his pacing and stared down at her in surprise. ‘Please, Arthur. I need strength, don’t you see that? Why must we fight each other now?’

  ‘Why must you dramatise everything? It is bad enough to be here, without you trying to be heroic!’

  Gelb shook his head, and watched the girl’s hand fall from Brett’s arm. Amazing, he thought again. Why was it that these impotent males always procured the most beautiful wives? A strange but surely undeniable fact. I would have thought that it would only make his lack of passion the harder to bear. Me, I am as ugly as sin and always have been. But if I thought it possible I would take her on a bunk here and now, even with him and that senile old captain for onlookers.

  He cleared his throat and gestured with his head. ‘Come and sit here for a while, my dear.’ He watched with satisfaction as she slid on to the bench opposite him. See, he thought, she comes like a puppy. He has turned her away when she needs him, and she will come even to me. He studied her pale face and wide, listless eyes.

  ‘I guess they have sunk another ship,’ he said quietly. ‘That will mean more prisoners for the gallant German. And that will mean less space here and less food in the storeroom, eh?’ He reached out carefully and covered one of her hands with his huge paw. He was shocked to find it ice-cold, but she did not draw it away. ‘So perhaps it will not be long before they let us go? That officer, Heuss, thinks we will not be aboard too long, and I have heard some of the seamen speaking of the difficulties of finding coal for the ship. They say we might touch land somewhere. Who knows? You and I might be able to take some sort of revenge, that is if you are still interested, eh?’