Von Steiger eyed her calmly. ‘He was a fool, Frau Brett! I read right through his papers, and was amazed that he could delude others as well as himself, apparently, with such rubbish!’ His eyes followed her as she rose from the table and moved quickly towards the sideboard. ‘His theories were fine, but they were only theories. I felt that when he composed his opinions he was thinking more of his own advancement. Believe me, I would not say this to you so soon after his death, but for my anxiety for you!’

  She turned towards him, and he was able to see that her eyes were filled with tears.

  ‘What do you want, Captain? Was Gelb right, after all? Were you the man he spoke of?’ Her voice trembled. ‘Why do you try to tell me these things about my own husband? Surely I knew him better than you.’ She passed the back of her hand across her forehead. ‘I failed him in many ways I know, but I understood him, too!’

  Von Steiger shrugged. ‘I cannot think of you as failing anyone who needed you.’

  She stared at him in surprise, the tears shining unheeded on her face. ‘What a curious man you are!’

  He stood up. ‘I shall leave you now. If you need anything, let me know. And if anyone tries to molest you in any way, send a message with my steward.’

  She watched him play uncertainly with the peak of his cap, and felt the loneliness close in towards her with each step he took towards the door. Yet she knew she must be on her own to recover her self-esteem. It had been inevitable that she should stand up against von Steiger, just as Arthur’s death was unavoidable. She could not place her racing thoughts in order, nor could she bring herself to realise the finality of her position.

  She heard him ask in that same level, polite voice, ‘Are your parents waiting in England?’

  She shook her head, and the completeness of her isolation had moved in one more pace. He stared at her from across the full length of the cabin. With each quiet question he seemed to strip her of her defences, and she felt she could no longer fight him. ‘No, they are in India. They did not approve of Arthur, you see.’

  He nodded gravely. ‘Try to get some sleep. I shall put you aboard the first neutral ship I can find. I think you have seen enough of this war!’

  She swallowed, and wanted to scream at him: What do you know about me? You are playing with me because you, too, are alone and need someone to impress, and to be near you when you are empty inside. You think I am afraid because I am your prisoner, but you are wrong. It is because we are so much alike that I am afraid. Not only of you, but of myself!

  She watched the door close and sank wearily on to the settee. For a long while she stared at the pigskin briefcase containing Arthur’s precious papers, her fingers moving restlessly over the gold initials. She wanted to cry, but the tears would not return. She searched her heart for grief, but was horrified to find that there was only guilt.

  * * * * *

  Max Damrosch quietly closed the sliding door of his small cabin behind him and stood momentarily staring at his neat bunk, inviting beneath the intimate glow of his reading lamp. As the chill of the wind drained from his glowing cheeks, and the cabin’s snug warmth enfolded him in what seemed like an embrace, he forced himself away from the door and began to peel off his clothes. A few minutes past midnight, and after four hours of strain and concentration on the First Watch this was the greatest pleasure of the day. The almost sensual feeling of luxury and well-being as he removed his oilskin and bridge-coat, and with difficulty tugged off his long leather boots. The heavy motion of the ship played with his tired legs, so that he swayed slowly across the tiny carpet, the effort of removing the rest of his uniform making him revolve in a grotesque dance. He sipped at the mug of coffee he had carefully carried down from the night galley, and peered at his dim reflection in the mirror. His cheeks looked hollow, he thought, and his hair seemed long and unkempt. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and stood naked before the mirror, his face critical yet pleased with his firm body. At first he had been worried about the stories he had heard of sea sores and salt-water boils, of scurvy and unaccountable swellings, which were said to be caused by tinned food and rancid vegetables. He grinned at himself and sat heavily on the prickly blanket of his bunk. He wondered what his mother would say if she could see her son now. His smile faded as he tried to remember how she had looked. He tried to recapture the peace and serenity of his home, but could not form a clear picture. He saw the dark wood of old furniture, and through the wide glass doors beyond his father’s library the nodding beauty of the flowers and green lawn. He felt his eyelids droop, and lifted his bare knees to his chin.

  I wonder if I am becoming a good officer. I did not turn away this morning when the Englishman, Brett, was smashed between the ships. Was it because it was so sudden and I did not have the agony of waiting, like that nightmare with the lifeboat? Or was it simply that I am getting matured by the hardness of my companions? As a young cadet he had formed many pictures of the war at sea and of life in the Imperial Navy. In the training ship and at the barracks he had been taught everything about tradition and naval history, of how to treat the men of the lower deck, and the finer points of discipline and obedience. In the spartan, almost sadistic, existence of those days he had learned a lot, but at no time was he ever told that any sort of personal life went on aboard any warship, let alone in the dangerous routine of a commerce raider. It was as if the ship and crew should have been as one, with only a godlike captain who could show opinion or understanding. Even a captain should be too dedicated, too perfect, to be swayed by either prejudice or personal beliefs. He drank the last of the lukewarm coffee, and listened to the pounding of the engine.

  Inside this hull, he thought, there are men like myself. Not just a soulless crew without thoughts or fears, but men of all sorts. Right now, as I sit on my bunk, savouring the moment of sleep, they are all around me, Dreaming, or thinking worried thoughts. Arguing, maybe even discussing me, or playing cards. Others are stoking the boilers and just holding on to the picture of sleep and rest. It is strange I have never thought of them all as people before. Just officers and crew.

  There was a sudden thud against the door, and as he looked up it scraped to one side to reveal Heuss, a bottle in either hand. Without speaking, he lurched into the cabin and kicked the door closed with his foot. He stood blinking at the light and peering uncomprehendingly at Damrosch’s nakedness. He was quite drunk.

  ‘I have come to share my drinks with you, Max!’ He placed the bottles on the table with exaggerated caution and rummaged in the locker for glasses. Over his shoulder he added vaguely: ‘Must drink with somebody. Go mad staring at the blasted cabin walls!’

  Damrosch slithered hurriedly between the blankets, his astonished eyes fixed on the other man’s stooped shoulders. It was incredible to see Heuss like this. He was muttering to himself and holding the glasses up to the light with unsteady concentration.

  ‘Got to be clean, Max! Most important! Too damned good to waste!’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be on watch, Emil?’ Damrosch was cautious. He could not imagine what had made Heuss act like this. ‘You always have the Middle Watch. What’s got into you?’

  Heuss chuckled. ‘Our Captain, overcome with remorse no doubt, said I could leave the watch to poor Karl Ebert and to him.’ He belched, and stared down at Damrosch, as if seeing him for the first time. ‘God, you sleep like a heathen! What it is to be young and fit!’

  ‘Seriously, Emil, did the Captain really say he would stand your watch?’

  ‘I would not lie to you!’ He frowned with sudden severity. ‘He thought I had done enough last night aboard the collier and needed a rest! And I imagine he has thoughts on his mind tonight, too!’ He swore savagely as he lost his balance and sat heavily on the bunk. He was still wearing his bridge-coat, and his face looked lined with weariness. He poured a full measure into each glass and handed one to Damrosch. ‘Here, try some of this, my friend.’ He gave a conspiratorial wink. ‘The real stuff!’

  Damrosch sipped and then coughed violently, feeling the neat spirit burn his unprepared throat. He peered round Heuss’s slumped shoulders. ‘What was that?’

  ‘White Horse whisky!’ He gave an unsteady laugh. ‘Got four more bottles off that Britisher, so drink up and let’s console each other!’ In another, strange, voice he added half to himself: ‘Drink deep. Drink away the stain, the bloody stain!’

  ‘I think you had better go to bed, Emil. You’re worn out. You don’t know what you’re saying!’ He tried to grin. ‘I’m damn’ tired, if you’re not!’

  Heuss turned his face towards him and Damrosch was shocked to see the deep maniacal gleam in the brown eyes.

  ‘If you send me away, Max, I shall drink all the whisky myself! All of it, do you hear?’

  ‘Here, calm down! The whole ship will hear you in a minute!’ He smiled ruefully and held out his glass. ‘All right, Emil. If I must get drunk for the first time, it might as well be in bed!’

  Heuss studied him seriously and then laughed. ‘Spoken like a true Prussian! Just think, all that whisky, and the war’s been on for four years! The Tommies must be rolling in the stuff!’

  He leaned back against the hump of Damrosch’s knees and sighed. ‘I have been drinking this blessed nectar for twenty-four hours. Last night I tried to get drunk, but couldn’t. This morning I tried again, so that I could report to von Steiger that I was as sodden as a . . . as a . . .’ He groped vaguely for a word. ‘And tell him what I thought of him and the whole damn’ ship!’ He ruffled Damrosch’s hair with affection. ‘Except you, of course. You’re too young and innocent to be so damned awkward yet!’

  He slopped more whisky into the glasses, his face set with concentration. ‘But I simply could not get drunk. Just vacant, like a damned country bumpkin! What do you make of it all, Max?’ He did not wait for an answer. ‘We’re all changing, have you noticed?’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘All changing,’ he repeated, his voice growing thicker. ‘At first I thought the Captain was trying to escape from the war and the misery of losing his wife. We were the heroes, the glory-seekers!’ He laughed, as if seeing himself in his words. ‘Look at us now! All plotting and scheming amongst ourselves because we don’t like the war any more. People get hurt in war, and we don’t like it! Christ, what’s come over us!’ His voice rose to a despairing shout.

  ‘You are letting your imagination run away with you.’

  ‘I wish I could!’ He gripped his wrist. ‘Max, last night I killed a man!’

  Damrosch shifted beneath his powerful grip. ‘I know, Emil. I heard about it.’

  Heuss stared at him. ‘So what did you hear? That I just killed an enemy?’ He stood up and groped for the bottle. ‘A big, bald-headed man. I smashed his head in with a fire-axe!’ He shook with hysterical laughter, reliving the nightmare once more. ‘Can you imagine that, eh? Me, the centre of every wardroom scandal, the life and soul of the Navy’s genteel society, transformed in two seconds into a savage beast!’

  ‘You had to do it. It might have been you!’

  ‘By God, I wish it had!’ He hung on to an overhead pipe with his two hands, his eyes glazed and no longer focusing. ‘My life was bad enough before. It is double the hell now!’ He groped for his glass and downed it with one swallow. ‘Here’s to the Vulkan! That was your toast, wasn’t it? Well, here’s to it!’ His shadow danced across the cabin like a spectre. ‘Vulkan, God of Fire!’ He laughed, a short, bitter sound. ‘It should have been God of Lust!’

  Damrosch looked anxiously at the other full bottle. ‘Please go to bed, Emil. If anything happened now, Action Stations or something like that, what would you do?’

  ‘Do? I should go to sleep! Sleep, and tomorrow face von Steiger’s firing squad with nothing but White Horse whisky on my mind!’

  He sat down again, the strength gone from his legs. His voice was unexpectedly sober. ‘I am in real trouble, Max, and that is God’s truth!’

  Damrosch stiffened. What the hell was he talking about? What had he done now?

  ‘I have betrayed my trust, Max!’ He stared at Damrosch’s incredulous face. ‘My oath of allegiance!’ He rolled suddenly on to the floor, his head crashing against the table. Without changing his tone he continued: ‘I have fallen for that damned English girl! I am so crazy about her that I cannot think straight!’ He focused his eyes angrily towards the bunk above him. Damrosch had fallen back on his pillow, his face convulsed with laughter and relief.

  ‘Oh, Emil! You had me worried then!’ He gave another choking laugh. ‘I thought you had done something really serious!’

  Heuss ground his teeth. ‘Damn your eyes, it is serious!’

  ‘I am sorry I laughed. It was the whisky! But you really are imagining things. You have been away from intellectual companionship for so long that you are torturing yourself with fantasy!’

  ‘It’s not so. Don’t you think she is lovely?’ His angry red eyes were fixed with desperation on Damrosh’s face.

  ‘Of course. She is lovely. When I saw her in the lifeboat,’ his face became quiet and grave, ‘I thought even then that she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Against all that filth and carnage, she was still beautiful enough to be noticed as a woman.’ He swallowed with sudden embarrassment and tried to laugh. ‘But you would be in love with any girl who came aboard, Emil! Even if she was a negress, or as ugly as sin!’

  ‘No! This is real! I tell you I am going mad!’ He tried to lever himself up but slithered back on the deck. ‘Get me another drink, damn you!’

  ‘You haven’t told anyone else?’

  ‘Of course not!’ He was twisting his head to watch the bottle as Damrosch leaned out of the bunk to refill the glasses. ‘Do you think I want more trouble?’

  He grunted with frustrated anger as the spirit slopped over his chin. ‘I think about her all the time. I try to be rational and to ignore my thoughts, but it only gets worse!’

  ‘You might feel different tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow! I do not want any more shocks, Max. I have had my fill! Killing that man, and then finding out that von Steiger was about to slaughter me, that has been enough, I can tell you!’ He lay back, his eyes closed, and Damrosch thought he had passed out. But his lips moved. ‘Von Steiger is not human. I have never met anyone like him in my life, Max!’

  ‘I agree with you there. I had heard so much about him. You know the sort of things we were told. The Sea Wolf, or the Tiger of the Seas, and all those other things that are said about him. But he’s more than that.’

  Heuss groaned. ‘Enough! I cannot stand any more!’

  ‘No, really I He is just a man, and yet, because of his strange, remote manner, he seems all the more unreal!’

  ‘Unreal? You’ve hit it, my friend! He just stood there like a cadet in front of an instructor. Meek as you please. You should have seen him! She was defying him, goading him to destroy her like her husband, I think, and he just stood there and took it! He was almost humble for a moment.’

  ‘Well, that’s what I meant!’ The whisky was having its effect, and both their voices were thicker and louder.

  Heuss sounded despairing. ‘I wish I could go to her cabin now! Tell her what I think about her, and see what she says about that!’

  ‘Well, why don’t you? Apart from the fact that you’d be arrested by the officer-of-the-watch for attempted rape!’

  Heuss ignored him. ‘But if she turned on me like she did on von Steiger, I know I could not accept it. It would finish me completely!’

  There was a loud banging on the cabin partition, and Damrosch grinned sheepishly. Niklas, the chief Engineer, had been awakened by their voices. He rolled on his side to remonstrate with Heuss, but saw with relief that he had fallen asleep. He lay on the frayed carpet as if crucified, his face already relaxed.

  * * * * *

  Simon Gelb sat in the darkness of the prisoners’ quarters and watched the glow of a cigarette a few feet from his face. Captain Mason of the captured collier Nemesis, a lean, hard man, used to the authority needed to drive a native crew to any quarter of the globe in peace or war, grunted and propped himself on his elbows. He forced himself to listen to the tough, jaunty Londoner, who somehow seemed to have taken over command of the occupants in the locked hold. Around him the other prisoners tossed and groaned in their uneasy sleep, or lay like corpses in the tiered bunks.

  Gelb was saying: ‘Von Steiger must have made a series of rendezvous for the future, eh? Your old ship will be quite valuable, I expect?’

  Mason stirred angrily, the pain of losing his collier returning with each of Gelb’s words. ‘I expect so,’ he answered grudgingly.

  Gelb’s big hands glowed faintly in the light from a tiny blue lamp. ‘If we could find out those meeting places, or get Mrs Brett to find out something, we might get our own back on these ruddy squareheads.’

  Mason still frowned. ‘What the hell for?’

  Gelb controlled his impatience with mounting irritation. Mason was like all professional seamen, he thought. No time for anybody who earned his bread on dry land.

  ‘I have heard it said that the wounded and some of the prisoners, seamen and the like, will be landed, or maybe put in a neutral ship.’ He felt Mason stir with interest, and sighed. ‘If we get this information and pass it to one of those lucky men, it could be handed to the naval authorities or somebody like that, eh?’

  Mason sat upright. ‘By God, that’s a damned good idea! I’ve had my fill of the bloody Jerries lately! I’ve been torpedoed and mined by them, and that’s enough!’ He rubbed his hands. ‘So when von Steiger turns up to meet my old ship somewhere, he’ll find instead a bloody great cruiser!’ His voice showed his admiration. ‘You are a dark horse, Gelb, and no mistake!’

  Gelb smiled at the darkness. ‘Can we trust your mate to join our little secret?’

  ‘Jerry Cobb? Yes, he’s a good bloke right enough. He’d be glad to get his own back!’ He laughed quietly. ‘Yes, Gelb, you really surprise me!’