Gelb moved towards his own bunk. ‘Call me Simon, everyone else does,’ he said affably.

  * * * * *

  Petty Officer Brandt ducked under the heavy canvas curtain which covered the entrance to the fo’c’sle and stood shaking the rain from his oilskin. He cursed as a small stream of water ran from his tilted cap and splashed across his unprotected neck. Middle Watch rounds were a waste of time, he thought savagely. The watch on deck were too scared to fall asleep at their posts, and too uncomfortable, in any case. And those below were all snoring their heads off by now. He eased the weight of his pistol on his hip, and listened to the wind howling across the deck outside. The ship was driving into a head sea, and the motion was not bad for the Atlantic in winter, he thought.

  I would like to get my hands on whoever it was got me drafted to this ship. Must have been someone of influence whose poor little son I handled a bit roughly in the barracks. His lip curled contemptuously. They make me spew! Treat the Navy like dirt in peacetime, but come whining for victory as soon as things get bad. Seamen! These pampered civilian trash aren’t ever likely to be that, but I’ll make them see what a real man is like!’

  He stiffened, his alert ears detecting a small sound beneath his feet. He frowned, trying to trace the direction and substance of the sound. There it was again, like the movement of swilling water. He moved forward like a cat, his fingers feeling for the ladder which led to the deck below. Somebody was using the seamen’s bath-space. They could not use fresh water, because it was turned off at the feed pump, but that was not the point. Nobody should be hanging about at this hour. He began to feel a bit better at the prospect of catching a man out, and he moved swiftly down the steel rungs and along the darkened passageway. A shaft of light shone from beneath the door at the far end, and he could hear the sound of a hose quite clearly now.

  Brandt always found it easy to work himself into a rage. He could do it at any time and without effort, like giving a command, or shouting out a man’s name. His face hardened as he flung open the door and glared with narrowed eyes at the single figure which stood transfixed on the tiled deck, a hose playing into a bucket containing a sodden piece of clothing.

  Pieck stood quite still, his face, ashen as he stared at the petty officer. He could feel the water from the hose splashing against his foot, yet seemed powerless to move.

  Brandt walked slowly round him without speaking. His quick eyes noted the coal scum in the water and the precious soap which the boy was using so freely to wash what appeared to be a seaman’s working smock. He halted in front of him, his face without expression. Only his mouth moved, like the opening and closing of a tight trap.

  ‘Well, Pieck? And what do you think you are doing here?’ His voice was deceptively mild, almost caressing.

  Pieck held his body rigid, his eyes trained at the top of Brandt’s cap. ‘Trying to clean this smock. I could not get the coal-dust out of it.’

  ‘Don’t you lie to me!’ His voice was louder, and a small vein began to throb on his forehead. ‘You were skulking away somewhere when the hands were cleaning ship and were too lazy to clean even yourself, isn’t that it?’ As Pieck began to reply, Brandt closed his eyes and screamed: ‘Don’t answer back! I have been watching you since you arrived from that detention barracks! I knew you for what you are, even if you did manage to deceive the officers! You are a useless, lazy, spoilt and lying little swine! Do you hear me?’ Another thought came to him. ‘And why were you wearing a smock when you were coaling ship? Afraid you might catch cold in your precious little body? Answer me!’ he roared.

  ‘Yes, sir. I—I mean, no, sir!’ He flinched as Brandt lifted his hand, but he was only readjusting his cap, and smiled sadistically to see Pieck’s movement.

  ‘It is time you stopped lying, Pieck! I have the rest of the Middle Watch, and longer, if necessary, to get at the truth.’

  ‘I don’t understand, sir!’

  ‘You don’t? Well, let me make myself clear. You are using the bath-space after lights-out, making a filthy mess, and you still persist in being insolent! Isn’t that enough?’

  Brandt was disappointed. Although the men were not expected to use this place after lights-out, as far as he knew there was no regulation in the ship’s Standing Orders which made it a definite offence. But there was more to it. This shivering creature was hiding something more, he was sure of it. Shivering. . . . He smiled lazily.

  ‘Take off your jacket, Pieck. Let me see if your body is still dirty as well! There is a regulation about personal cleanliness, you know. Or perhaps in your family they didn’t wash at all!’

  Pieck bit his lip until the skin broke and let the jacket fall from his bare shoulders. He tried to keep his back hidden from the petty officer, but had reckoned without the mirror behind him.

  ‘Turn about! Quick, turn about!’ Brandt stepped forward and stared incredulously at Pieck’s pale skin. Across the shoulders and waist were six or more thin red weals. He could see the boy trembling now, and felt an excitement rising within him. Keeping his voice even he said: ‘What are these? How did you get them?’

  ‘I fell over, sir. I fell in the hold this morning.’

  This time Brandt did hit him. With the edge of his glove he slashed him sharply across the most recent of the marks. ‘Where did you get them?’ He was shouting now. Already he knew or guessed that these marks were something to do with Lieutenant Kohler, and were indirectly connected with that incident when Alder had frightened the woman prisoner. He shouted again: ‘This is the last time, Pieck! Who gave you those marks?’

  There was a long silence, and Pieck stood swaying in the puddle of water, his jacket lying unheeded on the deck.

  Brandt was breathing heavily. Suppose he took Pieck to the officer-of-the-watch? He rejected the idea immediately. It would finish Kohler, of course, but the Officer Corps would never forgive him. He would be a marked man for bringing discredit upon one of the Kaiser’s élite. No, there was a better way, surely. If Kohler knew that he knew all about his affair with this boy, and was made to understand that he could, nevertheless, keep a secret, that would be much more beneficial. He smiled.

  ‘Follow me, Pieck!’ He marched out into the passageway and flashed his lamp until he found another small hatch leading to the deck below. He had to find out everything. But it might be a mistake to mark the boy unnecessarily. He listened to Pieck’s dragging footsteps behind him and quickened his pace. The next prize ship that was taken would need a crew. Officers were short, but it was not unknown for a petty officer to be promoted at sea as prizemaster. That promotion, plus what he might find in the captured ship, would settle him on his course for good.

  He halted in front of a huge wooden door, which ran with moisture and gleamed white in the glare of his lamp.

  ‘Do you know what this is, Pieck?’ He watched his eyes widen with fright.

  ‘Cold-storage room, sir!’ His voice was a mere quaver.

  Brandt rested his hand on the door lever, his tone almost conversational. ‘When they designed this ship for carrying fruit they certainly knew a thing or two. Refrigeration ships are scarce. We were lucky to get one of them.’ He flung up the lever and pulled the great door open. The blue emergency light within gleamed on stored carcasses and wooden crates rimmed with ice, and the cold air which blasted from the silent interior made Pieck’s half-naked body quiver uncontrollably. ‘Get inside! Now!’ He reached out and pulled him against the edge of the door.

  ‘Either you tell me everything, and I mean the whole truth, or you stay in there until you do!’ With a jerk he thrust him skidding across the iced floor, and, as he cried out in terror, slammed the door in his face.

  As he leaned his back against it he could feel the boy pummelling against the foot-thick timber and steel. He grinned, and groped for a cigarette. A few minutes of that would loosen his tongue, and it would also warn him against any treachery in the future. He was thankful for his oilskin and thick watch-coat. Even outside the door of the cold storage the temperature was low enough to be uncomfortable.

  Above his head, his eyes shining like stones across the rim of the hatch, Alder watched him. He had followed them along the passage after hearing Brandt screaming Pieck’s name. He was the only one in the mess to hear, because he never slept. Now, as he peered down, he could see only the grinning petty officer. He closed his eyes as if in prayer, and tried to assemble his jumbled thoughts.

  10

  IT WAS ANOTHER grey morning, and the rain followed the ship along its course in long heavy squalls which moved across the sodden decks with playful force, bringing discomfort to the party of seamen who laboured at the small derricks and shifted the coal from one of the holds to the gaping mouth of a bunker. The Vulkan still faced the rolling mass of a head sea, and as she met each lazily curling crest, the high fo’c’sle seemed to hang for long seconds before the ship could stagger up the face of the steep water and then plunge headlong into the following trough. On either side the ranks of whitecaps surged past, giving the impression that the ship was moving at a tremendous pace. Only the feeble froth beneath her high counter showed the lie, and told of the sea’s immense resistance to the vessel’s bulk.

  Lieutenant Heuss felt his feet grate on the wet coal-dust by the open bunker, and blinked vaguely at the scudding clouds. He allowed the needles of rain to cleanse his face and play around his aching eyes. He shook his head like a terrier and tried to clear away the tiredness and the fog left by the whisky. He wished now that he had gone for some breakfast, or coffee at least, but von Steiger’s summons to the bridge left him only time to clean himself and run the razor over his numbed cheeks.

  He sighed, and began to climb the exposed ladder to the boatdeck. As he watched the pitching deck fall away beneath him, he tried to assemble his thoughts and prepare himself for whatever von Steiger wanted of him. Perhaps Kohler or one of the others had reported him for drinking to such an extent that it left him useless for duty. He had probably been worse than he could remember, although he could not be sure. He had awakened on the floor of Damrosch’s cabin with the rain lashing against the scuttle and a bruise on his head which he could not account for. He licked his dry lips and grimly continued his climb. The whisky had done one thing. Coupled with his complete exhaustion, it had given him the first real rest for days. Well, damn them all, he thought. Von Steiger took over my watch for that reason. If I choose to relax like that it’s my own affair. He grinned at his fuddled reasoning, and, panting, reached the wing of the bridge. He stared hard at the crouching lookouts with their powerful glasses. Night and day, watching. Waiting for the sea to surrender its victims to the prowling wolf. He banged open the door of the wheelhouse and stopped, instantly on the alert. It seemed to be full of people, waiting in uncomfortable silence, and yet filled with expectancy.

  Damrosch, red-eyed and weary, stood stiffly by the helmsman, and flashed a quick glance of recognition and what seemed like relief as Heuss entered, and then turned back to his duties as second officer of the Forenoon Watch. Dehler stood restlessly beside Lieutenant Ebert, and on the other side of the wide bridge some petty officers and a bosun’s mate waited with obvious discomfort.

  Von Steiger put down a china mug and nodded. ‘Ah, Heuss. I am sorry to call you to the bridge, but I have just had something unpleasant reported to me.’

  Heuss steeled himself. It was worse than he feared. After all, the whisky might have made some of the others envious enough to make a serious charge against him. He kept his face impassive and met von Steiger’s cool eye.

  ‘Sir?’ He felt them all looking at him.

  ‘Yes. During the Middle Watch, when I relieved you, a man was lost overboard! And although it was not then your concern, I feel you should be informed of all that we discover, so that you can keep an eye on your own men in future.’

  ‘I see, sir.’ He did not see at all. It was a great pity for a man to be lost at sea, but it hardly warranted such a gathering on the bridge of a naval vessel on active service. He waited for the rest.

  ‘Right, I think we will start again, Dehler. Let us hear from the beginning what happened.’

  Dehler, caught unaware, tore his small eyes from Heuss and cleared his throat. ‘Er, Petty Officer Elmke was in charge of the Morning Watch, and should have taken over the rounds of the ship from Petty Officer Brandt. Brandt did not hand over to him, and upon investigation could not be found in the ship at all!’

  Heuss listened fixedly, aware of the tension in von Steiger’s gently tapping fingers as he watched Dehler ponderously making his report.

  Elmke was speaking now. He was a portly, red-faced man, whose pouting lips gave him the appearance of an angry pig.

  ‘I waited to see what was happening, sir. Brandt wasn’t the sort to make a mistake, if you understand me, sir.’ He swallowed hard, aware of the Captain’s eyes. ‘And when I couldn’t find him I called the bridge. Then we searched the whole ship, sir, and found this!’ He held out a blue cap, still sodden with the rain and spray, and somehow pathetic in his beefy hand.

  Von Steiger nodded with sudden impatience. ‘It was by the foremast, port side?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Nothing else at all!’ Elmke looked as if he could not imagine a man like Brandt being so unpunctual and careless.

  Lieutenant Kohler appeared from behind the quartermaster, his face aggrieved. ‘I had every man searching, Captain. When we found the cap I guessed what had happened and made a note in the log. I did not call you, sir, because there was nothing that you could do!’

  He watched von Steiger anxiously, but von Steiger stared instead at Petty Officer Bener, who, in his soiled white overalls and smelling of cooking fat, looked more out of place on the bridge than anyone else. He gestured with his hand, cutting across Dehler’s report. ‘Let us get to the point! Bener, what did you discover?’

  The Vulkan’s senior cook frowned worriedly and wiped his hands in his apron. He was obviously regretting his discovery, but was committed to make the best of it. ‘Well, sir, I went down to get a case of biscuits this morning. We’re running a bit short, and I said to my assistant only yesterday that if we go on like this we shall run out of . . .’

  ‘Get on with it, man!’

  ‘Yes, sir. Well, I got the case, and when I was down in the lower store I noticed that the cold-storage room there was unlocked.’

  Von Steiger waved him into silence. ‘Right, that is enough. Any useful comments from anybody?’

  Dehler groped for a suggestion. As senior officer he felt that the others were looking to him to clear up this matter. He could not understand what had got into the Captain. It was a pity about Brandt, but he was not indispensable. ‘It seems to me that he was a bit careless, sir. And that’s about the bones of the matter.’

  Von Steiger spoke as if he had not heard. ‘Now listen, we are all strained and tired. That cannot be helped. But the first hint of carelessness, and we could be done for.’ He dropped his voice so that the helmsman and lookouts could not hear, although they were obviously straining their ears. ‘Brandt is missing. Nobody saw him go, although he should have been visible from the bridge. Even if he was not, the deck is fairly sheltered there, and very little sea came aboard during the watch. I know, I was looking forward from the bridge the whole time.’

  Heuss licked his lips. Thank God I was drunk, he thought. Had I been on watch this would have fallen on my shoulders. As it was, he could not follow the Captain’s mind.

  ‘Secondly,’ the voice cut cleanly, like a surgeon’s knife, ‘the key of the cold-storage room is carried by the duty petty officer—at that particular time, Brandt! For some reason he unlocked that room in the middle of the night, then went on deck and fell overboard! No, Dehler, the bones of this affair are not even showing yet!’

  Slowly the realisation moved in on the small listening group, like an evil cloud of suspicion and fear.

  Heuss was now fully awake. Brandt had been below, and had then been thrown overboard. Or he had been killed on deck, and his key taken so that the store could be robbed.

  As if reading his mind, von Steiger added slowly: ‘Nothing is missing from the store. I have been down there with Bener. There are a few faint marks on the floor, like footmarks, but I am not sure.’ His eyes moved fleetingly along their faces. ‘I will say what is uppermost on my mind. I think Brandt was killed. At the moment I know nothing. But by treating this matter as settled, we might yet find the culprit or culprits. In the meantime, every officer and petty officer in this ship must be absolutely vigilant and on his guard!’ His eyes flashed with mounting anger. ‘Let this be a lesson to all of you!’

  They all drew themselves up to attention as von Steiger moved briskly towards the open door. They waited until he had reached his usual position by the weather rail and then dismissed themselves from the bridge.

  Von Steiger called suddenly to Heuss. He did not look round, and seemed to be staring fixedly at the blue-grey of the horizon.

  ‘Heuss, I want you to give the woman, Mrs. Brett, something to keep her occupied. We have a few sick men, and she might like to help in that direction. Ask her, anyway, and give her any assistance in the matter.’

  ‘I will, sir.’

  ‘Yes, I think it might be good for her.’ He was speaking half to himself, a slight frown between his eyes. ‘She must get very uneasy, and she has much on her mind. Her husband’s death, and other things.’ His voice seemed to hang on the last words, but he did not explain what he meant by them.

  Heuss waited, the rain bouncing on the shoulders of his coat. Von Steiger seemed to want to talk to him, and yet was unwilling to drop his guard.

  ‘This other matter, sir. Petty Officer Brandt. It could have been an accident, I suppose?’

  ‘Unlikely, Heuss. He was a bad petty officer, and a harsh man. He could have had many enemies in a ship like this.’

  He was leaning on the low rail, heedless of the rain throbbing across his bridge-coat, and Heuss could look down on his face from an unusual angle. From the side it looked strangely sensitive and youthful, and Heuss had to force himself to compare this man with the hard, aloof captain he usually saw. He had called Brandt harsh, and yet it was very unlikely that he would show any mercy for the culprit, if and when he was discovered.