`Good,’ Curtis answered vaguely. `Now for God’s sake let’s have a look at those poor devils below!’

  Two seamen rolled back the hatch, their eyes on Duncan, and Curtis bent carefully over the high coaming, a feeling of nausea rising within him as the stench of closely packed bodies, sweat, and something worse hit him across the face.

  The light in the hold was poor, but good enough to see in an instant the twin lines of crumpled figures which ran along both sides of the hold. Some of the soldiers lay on pieces of sacking in positions of sleep or even death, while others dragged themselves aimlessly between the lines muttering encouragement, or cursing each other as either a wounded limb or a careless boot started off another frenzied convulsion of pain.

  Duncan followed close behind him, two lanterns adding to the picture of misery. His face was a mask, but the cold light in his eyes dimmed as he stared over Curtis’s shoulder.

  One of the soldiers rolled wildly on to his back, his fingers hooked into his sacking. `Water! Fer God’s sake give me a drink!’ A chorus of cracked voices joined his plea in a terrible cry, whilst from the far end of the hold Curtis saw the redfaced sergeant stagger to his feet, his good eye darting around his men. `Easy there, lads. Be all right soon.’ He sounded tired, and his voice was no longer jaunty.

  He peered down the dim hold, watching the two figures on the ladder. `Come on, lads,’ he pleaded. `Don’t let the bloody Eye-ties see you’re done in!’

  A lump filled Curtis’s throat, and he gripped the ladder fiercely. `For Christ’s sake,’ he groaned, `they’d have died down here ! Look at them!’ He swayed, and Duncan gripped his arm savagely.

  His voice, close against Curtis’s ear, was steady and very quiet. `Come on, Ralph! Give ‘em the shock of their lives!’ He squeezed more insistently. `You can do it! You know you can!’

  Curtis tore his eyes from the hold and met Duncan’s stare. The awful strength from the man’s eyes seemed to run through his blood like brandy, and he bit his lip with sudden determination.

  He stepped slowly down into the hold, his hands at his sides, and the light glittering and swaying across his fair hair and the tarnished gold lace on his shoulders.

  He halted, praying that his voice would not let him down. He need not have worried, his words, amplified by the sides of the hold, and cutting through the sudden silence, were clear, and full of confidence.

  `All right, you lazy lot! The convalescence is over!’ He paused, his hands on his hips, his unshaven chin jutting forward. `The Navy’s here!’ He stopped, unable to continue, and stared blindly back at Duncan, who nodded his huge head and grinned.

  The effect of his words was instantaneous and electric.

  The sergeant ran towards him, his arm-sling jerking and bobbing, as with his other groping hand he prodded the startled men and shouted with wild excitement.

  `Hear that, Ginger? It’s the bloody Navy ! What did I tell you, Bert? It’s them! It’s all right!’

  Curtis was stunned by the shouts and the pathetic capers of the sergeant, and could only stand in the middle of the whooping, hopping soldiers.

  The blinded soldier sat bolt upright on the pile of rags in one corner, shaking urgently at the arm of the man next to him. His mouth moved in a white crescent beneath his bandages. `Wake up, Ralph! We’ve been rescued!’ He stopped tugging, and sat back, suddenly lost and silent, his fingers still holding on to his friend’s tunic.

  The soldier, Ralph, lay where he was, unmoved and indifferent, his glazed, unblinking eyes staring at the deckhead.

  Curtis watched, suddenly cold. It was not only the feeling of loss which he seemed to share with the blind soldier; it was also that the dead man had been called Ralph.

  He pointed desperately, and calmed the sergeant’s excited shouts. `Help him, Steve,’ he called, `and get some of the sailors down here quickly!’

  The sergeant was speaking again, his boots together with something like his old smartness. ‘Sarnt Dunwoody, sir! First Battalion, Middlesex Light Infantry!’

  He stared at Curtis as if still unable to believe what he saw. `By God, sir, I don’t know ‘ow you got ‘ere, but by heaven it’s a bleedin’ miracle!’ His red. face seemed to crumple, and he fidgeted with his sling. `I don’t think we coulda managed much longer!’

  Curtis nodded dumbly, aware that Duncan and three of the more able soldiers were passing round great mugs of fresh water.

  `The buggers wouldn’t give us anything to drink. Kep’ sayin’ we’d ‘ave to wait!’ continued the sergeant with abrupt fierceness, as he relived the whole nightmare over again. `Wait! After bein’ blown to ‘ell an’ then bein’ cut about in a Jerry dressin’ station, to say nothin’ of twenty-four hours in a bleedin’ lorry!’ He stared round at his men with something like paternal pride. `But they didn’t give in!’

  `You’ve been in charge all the time?’ The question was a mere whisper, but the sergeant smiled sadly.

  ‘Yessir. Y’see, our last officer died before we was patched up. ‘E was a good kid, too!’

  Curtis saw the campaign medals on the old soldier’s chest. A generation and another war apart.

  `I’ll see that you’re not forgotten either, Sergeant.’ He swung round to follow Duncan, afraid that the sergeant might see his face.

  Duncan’s voice seemed to come from every direction at once. `Come on, sport! Get this down you! It’s only water I’m afraid, but I’ve got those goddamned Eye-ties cookin’ a month’s rations up for you as fast as they can move their little selves!’

  He bent over the blind soldier. `Come on, young un, give me a hand with this water.’ The soldier shrank away, but Duncan pulled him to his feet and thrust the big water jug into his hands. Then leading him slowly between the men, he manoeuvred him away from the other silent figure.

  He caught Curtis’s dull stare and winked. `Think I’ll join the army, eh, Skipper?’

  Curtis smiled. It was the first time Duncan had avoided using his Christian name. So he had noticed, too.

  He caught sight of the stocky little soldier whom the sergeant had called Ginger. He was staring at the Italian seamen with undisguised hatred, his mouth quivering.

  `Here, you!’ Curtis beckoned across a prostrate soldier. `Come here a minute!’

  The man came quickly, his eyes feverish but alert.

  `Are you fairly_ fit?’ Curtis studied the man’s single bandage about his throat. `I mean, d’you feel you can give me a hand?’

  The soldier grinned, his whole expression changing to one of eagerness. `Sir! Just give me the word! I’m so keyed up, I think I’ll go off my head if I can’t do something!P

  ‘Well listen, er, Ginger, go on deck will you? There’s an officer there by the wheel dressed as a German. He’s guarding, among other things, a pile of pistols we’ve taken off the guards. I want you to gather them up and pass them to any one of your chaps you think is fit enough to keep an eye on things. O. K.?’

  ‘Yessir!’ The man was already halfway up the ladder, his

  nailed boots clattering on the wooden rungs.

  `And no reprisals!’ Curtis called after him.

  He halted, level with the deck. `They’re not worth a bullet, sir !‘

  Curtis took a deep breath and sought out the sergeant once more. `How are your men now?’

  Dunwoody sighed worriedly. `Not too bad considerin’, sir. Four dead and ten pretty grim.’ He brightened slightly. `But the other twelve seem to ‘ave taken new ‘eart since you

  arrived, sir!’ He glared admiringly. “Ow did you get ‘ere, sir?’

  Curtis eyed him glassily. `Too long a story for the moment. But I can tell you this, we’re not even half out of the wood yet!’ He forced a weak smile. `But if you can carry on here for a bit, I’ll be very grateful.’

  ‘Jus’ tell me what to do, sir.’ He, too, seemed to have taken on a fresh strength.

  `Any more N.C.O’s?’

  ‘Bert’s pretty good,’ he answered slowly. “Fad wound, an’ gets a bit dizzy, but ‘e’ll last out a bit longer, sir.’

  `Right, put him on deck behind the wheel. Let him sit on something, and see that he’s armed.’ The soldier, Ginger, reappeared with the guns, his face pale but determined. `He’s to watch the crew and see that there’s no funny business. You can carry on down here and serve out the food when it arrives. I’ll see if we can get a good hot drink too, if that’s possible!’

  The sergeant loosened his belt. `Leave it to us, sir.’

  Curtis climbed the ladder to the deck, pausing on the top rung to let the salt air sting his face. His weariness still closed in with relentless persistence, but stubbornly he forced himself on to the darkened deck.

  The moon had vanished altogether, and the weather was freshening. Overhead, the cloud banks scudded across the black sky like solid things, and the loose rigging moaned and creaked in monotonous liaison. A dim light flickered against the captain’s fat face as he leaned over the compass bowl, and Jervis’s white shape hurried to meet him.

  `How are they, sir? Can I do anything?’

  `There’s a soldier coming to relieve you, Ian. I shall want-‘ He broke off as a thin corporal clambered unsteadily from the hold and peered at them from beneath his white bandages. He was wearing a khaki balaclava rolled over his dressing, and looked almost piratical. ‘Ah, here he is! Know what to do, Corporal?’

  ‘Yessir!’ The man scrambled across the heaving deck and planted himself firmly on the after hatchway behind the wheel. He rested a small pistol on his knee, and began to rock to and fro, -his arms folded in solemn concentration.

  `Now,’ continued Curtis, having seen that the captain had noted the new arrival, `I shall want you to get cracking on the chart, if there is such a thing aboard, and there’s a safe which might prove interesting, too.’

  He crossed to the captain and glanced at the compass. `Clear of the sandbanks?’

  ‘Si, signore, we are almost abreast of the headland I think.’ `Stay on course, due east until we’re well clear, and then I’ll give you a fresh one. Got that?’

  The man shrugged. `We will not get far, I think that-‘ Curtis bent closer, his eyes cold. ‘I don’t give a damn what you think. Just do as I tell you!’

  `Si, Tenente.’ His tone was subdued.

  `Do you ever get challenged when you pass the headland?’ ‘Not unless a patrol boat comes. Then we sometimes

  speak.’ He squared his thick shoulders with something like

  pride. `But they know that I, Fausto Macchia, am always

  reliable. I know this coast like my own mouth!P ‘Where are your charts?’

  ‘There are two in my cabin. I do not need such things on my trips.’

  `Our journey will be somewhat different, I think,’ said Curtis with cold irony. `I’m going to have a look at them now, so call me if you are worried about anything.’

  The captain laughed bitterly. `Worried? On such a fine night?’ He cursed silently as Curtis disappeared down the hatch.

  The mayor was sitting on the edge of the bunk, his eyes half closed. Curtis hardly spared him a glance, but hunted about the cabin until he found the charts beneath-a pile of old magazines. He swept the bottles from the table with the back of his hand, his impatience mounting when he saw the grease and various stains which almost covered the markings on the charts.

  He tossed one to one side and studied the other, his legs braced and his elbows planted on the edge of the table. He swore beneath his breath and pulled the lantern closer.

  `Out of date, not corrected, and not been properly used for years, I should think! Here, Ian, get cracking.’ He found

  an ordinary ruler in the desk and an old pencil. `Try and lay off a course from here.’ He tapped the chart with his finger. `That’s where I think we’ll be in about an hour. I want you to lay off a course to take us approximately east south east from that position. By daylight we should be well clear of the coast, and then I’ll decide what to do.’

  He looked at his watch and stared fascinated as the hands opened to one o’clock. Fantastic, he thought, only an hour, yet we’re at sea and away. He caught the mayor’s eyes flickering in the lamplight, and turned his back. A ship full of disabled men, and smouldering Italians. What were they thinking about? How long would it take them to realize and assess the position of their new masters?

  `Can you cope, Ian?’ he asked abruptly.

  `I’ll try, Skipper. It’s a bit of a mess.’ He rubbed his nose ruefully. `But I’ll have a go!’ He gestured towards the mayor. `He’ll be watching me!’ The boy grinned, and Curtis’s mouth tightened into a hard line.

  He held up his watch so that both could see. `In four or -five hours it’ll be daylight. He’d have been watching you then, no doubt, if we hadn’t got away!’

  He slammed the door behind him, and stood breathing heavily in the passageway. He was wrong to use the boy like that. What the hell was the matter with him? He half turned to re-enter the cabin, but a shaft of light fell across his arm as the other door opened quietly. She stood looking at him in silence, the edge of the door pressed against her breast. His eyes wavered, but he forced himself to remember how she had ensnared the sentry at the house.

  `Well, signorina?’ he asked levelly. `Can I help you?’

  ‘I was just wondering what was happening.’ Her voice was soft, and seemed to act as a caress on his burning brain. `Is it getting rougher?’

  ‘A little.’

  `You look like death, Lieutenant. It is a great strain for you.’

  He still stared at her, his eyes heavy with fatigue. She looked lovely … and yet. He shook his head as if to clear it. Yet … there was something hidden behind her’wide eyes.

  `You capture the ship; you kill a man with your bare hands; and still you go on. You are a remarkable man!’ Her full lower lip glistened momentarily, as she smiled gently. `What makes you keep driving on?’

  Suddenly he wanted to forget the ship, and everyone in it, and just be able to bury his aching head on her breast. Just to stand together, and feel the protection of her soft warmth.

  He opened and shut his mouth, unable to find any more words.

  `My father admires you, you know.’ She tossed her head and sent the long black plait dancing across her shoulder. `I think you are fighting two wars, yes?’

  Duncan skidded down the ladder, followed by two soldiers. Curtis eyed him dully, and braced himself for another onslaught of questions. Duncan merely nodded calmly and glanced quickly from him to the girl. Then he jerked his thumb at the other men, who stood staring at the girl in dull surprise.

  `I’ve come to fix that safe, Ralph. I thought you’d like these two blokes to watch this end of the ship.’

  One soldier had both hands encased in huge dressings, but the other seemed complete-but for grotesque strips of adhesive plaster across his cheeks and neck. They both grinned selfconsciously and continued to look at the girl.

  `All right,’ said Curtis tonelessly. `Think you can manage it?’

  Duncan laughed and with over-elaborate courtesy he took the girl’s forearm and slid past her into the cabin.

  `This ain’t a safe, it’s a sardine tin.’ Duncan rubbed his hands. `Soon have the back off that.’ He looked up. `Some of those lads need fresh bandages quick, Ralph. I don’t like the look of a couple of them.’ He lowered his eyes. `They’ll not last till mornin’.’

  `I see.’ Curtis opened the cabin door behind him and looked at the soldiers. `Make yourselves comfortable in there. The food‘11 be down soon.’

  `I will go and help with the wounded soldiers.’ The girl stepped into the passage, so that the rolling of the vessel brought her shoulder against his chest. `I will be happy to

  serve them.’ Her eyes were dark and masked her thoughts from him.

  `Verywell.’ He pressed his palms against his legs. `Thank you.’

  `Good girl, Carla! They’ll sure get a kick out of that!’ Duncan dropped to one knee, his hand on the safe, and Curtis felt a stab of resentment at the casual use of her name.

  She smiled across at Duncan and then started up the ladder, her legs practically touching him.

  He stared after her, until he realized that he was still looking at the empty swaying hatchway.

  `We’ll split into two watches, Steve,’ he said vaguely. `You and George first, and then I’ll come on with Ian at dawn.’

  `Lie down, Ralph,’ commanded Duncan softly, `before you bloody well fall down!’ The safe dropped off its fastening, and Duncan examined the back intently. `Huh, just tin. I’ll soon fix that!’ In the same tone he added, `I can deal with things here, you’re worn to a splinter!’

  Curtis shook his head stubbornly. `Lot to do. Must hang on a bit longer.’

  `We’ll need you more when it’s daylight,’ answered Duncan soberly, `a whole lot more. Christ, man, we can manage now for a bit. What in hell’s name are you tryin’ to prove?’

  Jervis looked round the door, his eyes watching Curtis unsurely. `I’ve worked out the course, Skipper. What now?’

  ‘Leave it with me, Ian,’ Duncan said coolly. `You an’ the skipper are watch below for a bit.’

  The boy looked at Curtis for confirmation, and he shrugged heavily. `All right, Ian, hand over the watch. Get some sleep.’

  Duncan’s mouth twisted into a smile. `That’s it, Ian, get your head down while you’ve got the chance.’

  Curtis looked at them as if he was going to add something more, but instead he pushed open the door of the captain’s cabin, and blinked wearily at the small cluttered space, and at the two soldiers who squatted on the deck in one corner, one leafing through a tattered magazine, and the other leaning against the bulkhead, his eyes closed in sleep.

  The soldier with the magazine grinned cheerfully. ‘Everything O.K., sir, Jim here’s havin’ forty winks.’

  Curtis steadied himself against the table. `Let him sleep. Call me if you need anything.’

  Signor Zecchi was curled up in the one decent chair, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his grey suit, and his tie loosened across his chest. His heavy lids fluttered uneasily, and he watched Curtis stare at the empty bunk.