Haley said quietly, ‘All right, sir? Not too rough on you, was he?’

  Colquhoun sighed. ‘I just don’t understand him. He changes like the weather.’

  Haley frowned. ‘No call for poking that bloke with his pistol. I think the woman was his wife. I’d act the same way if some bloody matelot dropped out of the sky and started pawing her about!’

  Wolfe’s voice echoed along the deck, ‘Come on then! Stop chattering like a pack of old crows and search this boat. Any weapons can be dumped overboard.’ He adjusted his belt. ‘I’ll be in the wheelhouse if you need me, Sub.’

  They heard the wheelhouse door slam shut, and then Haley said, ‘I’m a bit worried, sir. Suppose the Temeraire doesn’t come back for us?’ He added quickly, ‘But what am I spouting about? The admiral will have something to say about that, eh? He’ll not want his own son left to find his way home in this scow!’

  Colquhoun turned his face away. ‘That’s a great comfort, Haley.’

  The tall leading seaman tapped his pipe in his palm and chuckled. ‘Well, I’d better arrange the watches, sir. Must have things done navy-style!’

  Cowley, a big, square-jawed stoker, came up rubbing his hands. ‘She’s got an old diesel engine, sir,’ He stared dourly at the black water. ‘Vintage nineteen ’undred, I should think. Still, it seems to go fair enough.’

  Having searched the boat and found nothing more warlike than a rusty shotgun, the Temeraire’s boarding party settled down for the night. After a hasty sandwich and a cup of lukewarm tea from a leaking Thermos, Colquhoun made himself comfortable inside the submarine’s dinghy abaft the wheel-house. For a long while he lay staring at the unmoving clouds and listening to each strange and unexplained sound. He heard Nettle, the signalman, whistling softly, and from below decks the sound of a woman’s voice. She was either crooning a strange song or sobbing. Colquhoun could not be sure. He kept seeing her face in his thoughts, and the look of fury on Wolfe’s features as he had stormed below to search her.

  He fell asleep, his head lolling in time to the boat’s gentle roll.

  Then he felt a hand shaking his arm and he sat bolt upright, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness. Lightfoot was bending over him. ‘Time to get up, sir.’ The boy sounded nervous. ‘The first lieutenant’s been yelling for you.’

  Colquhoun threw his legs on to the deck and winced. ‘For God’s sake, what time is it?’

  ‘Nearly one o’clock, sir.’ He gestured towards the sea. ‘Number One says it’s time for the American to come up.’

  Together they walked towards the bows. The others were already there, staring at the unbroken water, each apparently wrapped in thought.

  Wolfe was hatless and leaning against the stumpy foremast. ‘Ah, Sub! Slept well, I hope? Sorry I couldn’t arrange tea and toast!’ He laughed loudly. ‘Well, it won’t be long now!’

  Haley asked cautiously, ‘Do you reckon they’ll make it, sir?’

  ‘Not very likely.’ Wolfe grinned in the darkness. ‘You know what the Yanks are like! It’s funny when you think of it. Us stuck up here, and the Pyramus somewhere down there. While our own boat is God knows where, getting the hell out of it!’

  Colquhoun sensed the apprehension as it transmitted itself amongst the other men, and said quietly, ‘They’ll be back for us, Number One.’

  Wolfe sighed. ‘Oh well, if you want to believe in fairy tales!’

  There was a sullen rumble deep down in the water and a dull, metallic clatter. It was a feeling more than a sound, and the fishing boat seemed to quiver as if caught in a whirlpool.

  Someone shouted, ‘There she is! She’s blowing to the top now!’

  They all stood transfixed as the dark water changed into a beaten maelstrom of seething foam and bursting air bubbles. Then with a mighty roar the streaming bulk of the submarine lifted itself into view. This was no gentle or stealthy surfacing, this was a final desperate lunge to life and freedom. Even in the poor light they could see the jagged outline of the fin with its great gaping holes and shattered plates. Part of the casing was twisted like soft lead, and one of the diving planes looked as if it had been gnawed by some giant shark.

  They heard the clang of hatches, and imagined the sick and gasping crew sucking in the air and listening to the sea’s noises like men back from the grave. A generator kicked over, and the sour smell of diesel floated between the two craft.

  Colquhoun took a deep breath and felt strangely moved. Then he asked, ‘Shall we signal them, Number One?’

  Wolfe had been staring at the submarine’s dark outline as if he was too shocked to move. Colquhoun’s question seemed to break the trance, and he answered thickly, ‘Do what the hell you like!’ Then he marched back towards the wheelhouse.

  Haley looked after him and then muttered, ‘We could go back home in the Pyramus, sir. It might be easier.’

  Colquhoun shook his head. ‘Our orders are to stay here until we’re picked up. If some warships turn up here after all, we might still be able to call up help on the boat’s radio.’

  Cowley said, ‘She’s goin’ ahead, sir! Look, she’s under way again!’

  Very slowly, like a wounded whale, the Pyramus nudged her bows into the lapping water, and as they strained their eyes to watch, her outline became more indistinct and merged with the night sky.

  Haley insisted, ‘I’m not questioning the orders, sir.’ He seemed to make a decision. ‘But I didn’t join the Service just to die out here, in a place nobody’s ever heard of!’

  Colquhoun felt very tired. ‘You must make your complaints to the first lieutenant. You should know that, Haley!’

  ‘That’s just it, sir.’ Haley sounded desperate. ‘With all due respect, I think the first lieutenant’s past caring.’

  ‘What the hell do you mean, Haley?’

  The man stared down at the deck. ‘When I went to get him from the wheelhouse just now he was halfway down a bottle of hooch, sir. In my opinion he’s hitting it pretty hard!’

  Colquhoun felt the fear moving through him like a cold wind. He stared quickly over the bulwark, but the damaged submarine had already vanished. It should have been a moment of triumph for all of them. They had found Pyramus, and with any luck, and Temeraire acting as bait, she should limp back to base and safety.

  But all Colquhoun could feel was despair and the unfairness which had left him once more with impossible decisions to face. He thought of Haley’s words and what they must have cost this disciplined seaman’s pride to make. ‘I didn’t join the Service just to die out here!’

  Just thinking about the words made him sick with apprehension. In daylight they would see the hostile coastline and the completeness of their own isolation.

  He stammered some vague reply and walked quickly to the opposite side of the deck.

  Cowley spat over the side. ‘ ’E’ll be a lot of ’elp, I must say!’

  ‘That’s enough of that!’ Haley’s voice was sharp, if only to try and restore his own confidence. ‘When the time comes he’ll do well enough!’

  The stoker laughed bitterly. ‘Like ’e did for Archer? That I can live without, mate!’

  Neither of them saw Lightfoot move away to stand silendy beside Colquhoun. Not even Colquhoun noticed him or saw the misery on his face, as like the others he stared at the empty sea.

  *  *  *

  Down periscope! Dive to two hundred feet!’

  Jermain stepped back, rubbing his eyes as the men around him relaxed and waited for fresh orders.

  Drew’s face split into a broad grin. ‘I take it that our side has successfully captured the fishing boat?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jermain moved his shoulders to ease away the stiffness. ‘It’s up to us now,’

  He stared thoughtfully at the chart and said, ‘Alter course to one three zero. That should bring us into contact with the enemy so that we can draw them away from the Pyramus.’

  ‘You still believe that she’ll make it to the surface, sir?’ Mayo looked up from his calculations.

  ‘I’m sure of it.’ Jermain was still thinking about the probing search party with which he intended to make contact. He had openly referred to them as the enemy. So, in spite of everything, he was already dropping into the part he had been trained for. He added quickly, ‘When you’ve got as far as Commander Hurtzig and his crew towards the edge of the grave, you don’t allow a few more risks to get in your way.’

  Twine called, ‘Steady on one three zero, Captain. Depth two hundred feet.’

  ‘Very good. You can fall out from action stations. Get the men fed as soon as possible. Whatever they have to face now will be better if they’ve a full belly per man!’ Jermain saw some of the men grinning. Just simple, meaningless words, yet they hung to them like liferafts.

  A few minutes later Lieutenant Oxley emerged from his cramped compartment stretching and yawning hugely.

  Jermain said, ‘Although you should be taking over from Number One, I want you to continue with the sonar. Right now you’re just about the most vital member of the crew.’

  Oxley spread his hands. ‘I never doubted it, sir.’

  ‘Your conceit does you credit!’ Jermain felt better in spite of his nagging worries. Oxley’s casual acceptance of everything was like a tonic.

  ‘I hope Number One is managing all right, sir.’ Oxley looked dubious. ‘Not a very comfortable job for anyone.’

  ‘I know.’ Jermain turned it over again in his mind. He kept thinking of Sarah’s words, of his own attitude towards Wolfe. Maybe he had allowed himself to become biased after all. It should be enough to take a man at face value without becoming personally involved.

  He said abruptly, ‘I’m going to see the admiral. I suggest you have a quick meal.’

  Oxley looked at Mayo. ‘Shall we dine. Pilot? Nothing like a few overripe kippers to strengthen the soul!’

  Mayo groaned. ‘Not Spithead Pheasants again surely. Does Luard get everything out of tins for God’s sake?’

  Jermain found the admiral standing alone in the wardroom staring at the picture of the Fighting Temeraire. He said slowly, ‘We’ve altered course, sir. All being well we can draw the A/S boats off without too much danger.’

  When Sir John Colquhoun turned Jermain was shocked to see the change which had come over him. He looked shrunken, a mere caricature of the brisk, confident man who had stepped aboard.

  The admiral nodded. ‘I see. Well, I suppose we can only wait now.’

  Jermain waited for the outburst, or some fresh criticism. When nothing happened he added, ‘The first lieutenant will be able to keep an eye on the Pyramus when she surfaces, sir. Then if other hostile craft show up in spite of our own efforts he can flash a signal for air cover. It might be of little use, but it is a last resort.’

  ‘You’ve known Wolfe a long time.’ The admiral seemed unsure, and it showed in the restlessness of his pale eyes. ‘I—I hope he keeps his head.’

  ‘He’s been in a lot of domestic trouble, sir. But then you know all about that. But when the chips are down he has always been a very level-headed officer.’

  ‘Yes. I see.’ The admiral toyed with the buttons of his jacket. ‘I hope he’s not worried about this promotion business.’

  Jermain shook his head. ‘We must just think of this one job now, sir.’ He stopped as the chill of realisation crept over him. ‘You didn’t say anything to him about it, did you, sir?’

  The admiral looked away and made a quick, angry gesture with his hand. ‘Not exactly! Naturally when he asked me point-blank I had to say something.’ He met Jermain’s steady eyes with a flash of his old vigour. ‘Yes, I may have mentioned something of the sort!’

  Jermain eyed him coldly. ‘Look, sir, I must know. There are men aboard that fishing boat who are relying on his judgement. It may even go further than that.’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know that, Jermain?’ His face was lined with anxiety. ‘My son is back there too, remember that! And you sent him, Jermain! You sent him!’

  A steward entered the wardroom, faltered at the sound of the raised voices and hurriedly withdrew.

  ‘Yes, I did, sir. Because he is a good officer in many ways. But he has to regain his confidence.’ His tone hardened. ‘You were his age when you first went into submarines. You must have known this could happen.’

  ‘It was different then.’ The admiral moved round the ward-room, his steps slow and unsteady. ‘There was a war on. They were a different sort of men then.’

  Jermain pushed the pity to the back of his mind. ‘I expect your senior officers said that about you, sir. But men don’t change. Only the situations and the methods become more complex!’

  He wanted to get away, to find the privacy of his cabin for just a few moments. He had to think, to drag upon his inner resources to combat this new danger. But was he really worried about what Wolfe might do? Or was he just concerned because the admiral had revealed what he should have told Wolfe himself?

  He said flatly, ‘We shall just have to hope for the best, sir.’ He made to leave the wardroom but the admiral blocked his path.

  ‘I spoke to my son. He treated me like a stranger!’ There was stark misery in his eyes.

  ‘Perhaps he had his own reasons.’ Jermain checked the condemnation which nearly slipped from his mouth.

  The admiral stared at him wildly and then shouted, ‘What the hell do you know about it? You don’t understand a thing about tradition and continuity! You’re like all the rest of the new breed of naval officer! It’s just a job to you!’

  Jermain replied quietly, ‘That’s not true. I happen to believe that we can no longer abide by the old standards. It’s not only a question of nationality and insular pride. Surely these last few weeks would convince anyone of that fact?’ He added calmly, ‘I know that I do not have your experience, but it doesn’t alter my sense of duty, sir.’

  The admiral did not seem to have heard him. He muttered vaguely, ‘It was all different before. Then there was a code, even an understanding between enemies. You fought by the rules. It all had some meaning!’

  Jermain turned to leave. ‘It still has meaning, sir. But it isn’t just a game. There’s too much at stake to lose this fight.’

  He walked quickly to his cabin and sat down heavily on the bunk. For several minutes he stared emptily at the opposite bulkhead, his mind awhirl with words and meaningless thoughts.

  He tried to picture Wolfe aboard the captured boat, and wondered if his sense of purpose and possible danger had changed him towards young Colquhoun. He remembered too the expression on Wolfe’s face as the submarine had made ready to surface. ‘Give my love to Sarah.’ It had been like a taunt. Like an insult.

  Jermain found himself on his feet, his fists clenched at his sides. What was the point of worrying about it now? He could no longer afford the luxury of doubt. He had made the decisions. It was up to him how he played the next move.

  The intercom barked, ‘Captain in the control room!’

  He snatched his unlit pipe from the desk and ran swiftly along the passageway. As he approached the oval door he slowed his pace, and by the time he reached the familiar compartment his face was again calm, his voice steady and even, as he forced himself back into his set role.

  Drew said, ‘Faint H.E. on green three zero, sir. Fourteen thousand yards. Confused but regular. Must be the fishing fleet.’ He sounded breathless, as if he had been running.

  Jermain looked at the plot and said quietly, ‘Action stations. Bring her up to sixty feet and reduce speed to ten knots.’

  Drew swallowed hard. ‘That’s a bit slow for manoeuvring, sir.’

  Jermain made his voice patient. ‘We have to act out the whole part. They must think that we are crippled, otherwise they’ll soon guess there’s another submarine in their pond!’

  The alarm screamed through the hull, and Drew dragged his eyes from the scampering seamen. ‘Fourteen thousand, yards. That’s one hell of a range, sir. Maybe their sonar won’t reach us yet!’

  Mayo called, ‘Boat at Action Stations, sir!’

  He looked jumpy and Jermain said quickly, ‘How were the kippers, Pilot? Up to your expectations?’

  Mayo looked blank and then grinned. ‘Not like Mother used to give me!’

  Jermain relaxed slightly. This was the time. The waiting game. If there was open battle, or even a known danger, he could rely on all of them. But right now each man was as brittle as glass.

  ‘Sixty feet, sir.’

  He waited until the periscope had hissed from its well and then peered quickly through the lens. Just a few stars between the low clouds. It was very still, and strangely menacing.

  ‘Down periscope.’ He walked back to the plot table where a petty officer was staring fixedly at the winking lights. An empty cup stood on the table, and a small dog manufactured from pipe cleaners. Normal, familiar objects left by the watch-keepers.

  He glanced across at Drew. It was strange not to see Wolfe’s erect figure behind the helmsman. But then nothing was the same anymore.

  ‘H.E. closing, sir. Range twelve thousand yards.’ Oxle’s voice sounded tense.

  The admiral entered the control room but seemed unable to find anywhere to stand. Jermain watched him with sudden compassion. He must feel like a piece of extra cargo, he thought briefly. He had allowed his guard to drop in front of Jermain, and was no doubt still brooding about it.

  A messenger dropped a torch on the deck plates and Jelfers snarled, ‘For Chrissake watch what yer doin’, you useless bastard!’

  ‘Range eleven thousand yards, sir.’

  Twine stared at the ticking gyro and moved his wheel very slightly. Through his teeth he muttered, ‘Can’t hear anything yet!’

  Jeffers replied with a tight grin, ‘You wait, Swain. It’ll be like Piccadilly in the rush hour in a minute or two!’

  Mayo whispered, ‘Maybe they’ve called it off, sir?’

  Oxley’s voice came once more. ‘Faint sonar transmissions on same bearing, sir!’ A pause. ‘Range ten thousand yards. Bearing moving to green three five,’