Heuss watched him move on to the open bridge-wing and saw his shoulders quiver beneath the savage onslaught of the rain. He stood still for a moment in the downpour and allowed it to bounce off his back and stream down his face and beard. Then with a little secret shrug of his shoulders he vanished down the ladder.

  Heuss sighed. The Captain was a strange one, true enough. He groped for his old pipe and groaned when he found that the pipe-stem had snapped during his rough handling from the Court Barber. He leaned on the streaming glass window and watched the distorted shapes beyond. Instead of being cooler, the rain seemed to have shut out the remaining air, so that the ship felt humid and devoid of energy.

  It was right what von Steiger had said, he considered ruefully. In spite of all my ideas and self-styled defences, I have been unable to avoid my responsibilities. Dehler wanted power so badly that his breakdown had been all the more devastating when he had realised his inadequacy. I have always shied away from it, and have sneered at those who thought promotion and rank were the ladder to heaven. Perhaps we were all right in part, but von Steiger has shown me what really matters. He has shown me how to discriminate between loyalty and duty, between personal honour and self-respect.

  * * * * *

  Von Steiger passed the pantry where Reeder snored behind a locked door, and walked along the dim passageway towards the armed sentry and his own quarters. He nodded as the man banged his rifle-butt sharply on the deck and pulled in his stomach. His features were rigid and expressionless, but as the Captain opened the door by his side, his eyes blinked in surprise. The man had hardly ever seen his captain away from the bridge at sea. It was almost like seeing a complete stranger, he thought.

  Von Steiger knocked at the inner door and coughed loudly. The driving force which had suddenly decided him to act and come to see Caryl Brett lost some of its compulsion, and he again felt unsure of himself. He caught sight of his reflection in a narrow bulkhead mirror, and paused to consider what he saw. A too-serious face, he thought. His uniform, freshly laundered, was mottled with rain, and the dress sword at his side looked rather theatrical. He started as she called, ‘Is that you, Lieutenant?’ He pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the wide cabin.

  She was sitting on the arm of the big chair, and had apparently been watching the long fingers of rain against the sealed scuttle. She was wearing the long dressing-gown which Reeder always carried for him aboard every ship, and beneath its heavy skirt he could see her small feet, bare on the carpet. Her hair was loose and flowed down across her shoulders, rich and dark against her pale features. Her eyes seemed to fill her face as she stared across at him with surprise.

  He grinned awkwardly. ‘I am sorry, perhaps I should have warned you.’ He glanced quickly around the cabin. ‘I just wanted to make sure that you are all right.’

  She still seemed unable to realise that he was there in the cabin, and one of her hands moved nervously to her hair. ‘I was surprised to see you, Captain. But now that you are here, please be seated.’

  Von Steiger remained standing. ‘I have been so busy. I should have come earlier.’ He played vaguely with the tassel on his sword. ‘I will fetch another officer, if you wish.’

  Her face relaxed slightly, and her steady eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement. ‘You are very formal, Captain! I think that with you a chaperon is unnecessary!’

  Von Steiger felt some of the tension draining out of him. He even laughed as he unclipped the irritating sword and threw it down on a chair. He moved slowly across the cabin, conscious of her eyes following his nervous movements.

  ‘I hear that some of the prisoners have been trying to insult you.’ He spoke casually, but noticed her sharp intake of breath. He continued evenly: ‘That is very stupid of them. I shall see that you are not disturbed again. Believe me, there is no need for you to worry. When you are free of this ship you will be a heroine if you so choose, and can tell your friends how you alone had the nerve and the strength to stand up to your captors!’

  ‘Are you laughing at me, Captain?’

  He swung round, his face immediately concerned. ‘I am sorry if I give you that impression! I would not hurt you any more for the whole world. You have suffered too much because of me, and yet I am selfish enough to thank God for your presence here!’ He broke off, aware of her wide eyes and the slight quiver of her lower lip. He shrugged helplessly. ‘You see? I cannot even explain that properly!’

  ‘You have been very considerate, Captain,’ she answered him quietly, as if afraid to break the spell.

  Von Steiger forced himself to sit down opposite her. That affair in Corata. for instance. It was my fault. I should have guessed that something like that would happen.’

  She smiled sadly. ‘You could not have known that my own countrymen would take me as a hostage against their enemy!’

  ‘You must not think that way. That man Gelb would take his own mother hostage if he could further his own ends. It was a moment of madness, and I am grateful that nobody was seriously hurt.’

  She said to herself: ‘They tied me up. Like a common thief, or a traitor!’

  She moved her hands, and von Steiger saw the red marks on her wrists. He stood up and moved to her chair.

  ‘Show me.’

  Like a child she held out her arms, and he took her wrists in his hands. They were slender and very smooth, and he was painfully aware of her nearness as he examined the bruises with great concentration.

  I must leave here immediately. It was sheer madness to come. Another voice said: They have called you a pirate, why not act like one? Show her that you can do anything you like!

  She sat tensed like a spring on the arm of the chair, watching his bowed head and trying to control the thoughts which raced across her mind. She had to press her knees together to control their trembling, and the heat in the cabin seemed to be choking her. His hands felt strong and hard, but his grip was gentle.

  All her stored emotions, the strain which she had endured since her rescue from the lifeboat and even before that, surged through her like a great flood. If I fall on his shoulder and let the tears follow, he will despise me. That is not the way. I must resist. Resist. She bit her lip until the pain made her eyes sting, but she could not move.

  Von Steiger lifted his eyes and watched her face. ‘As we are the two loneliest people on board, I suppose this was inevitable?’ He tried to smile, but she could sense the strain behind his words.

  She felt the trembling grow stronger in her limbs, and she was almost afraid to speak in case he should see her thoughts and desires laid bare.

  ‘Inevitable?’ Her voice was small and faint. ‘You think of me now like those others do?’

  The grip on her wrists tightened. ‘Never! You must not torture yourself with such ideas!’ We are just saying senseless things, he thought dazedly, anything to control our reason. His voice was level, almost grave, as he added: ‘We will not have long together now. I have a feeling that this cruise is almost done.’ He shook his head as she opened her mouth to question him. ‘Maybe it is for the best. We are living here in an unreal existence. We do not know what the next hour may bring.’ He smiled suddenly, his face boyish. ‘But I will not speak of that now. I came to you because I need you. I cannot tell you why, and I do not know how it is that I am sure of you. You might have laughed at me, cursed me or rekindled your hatred which you once had of me. I would not have blamed you for any of these things. But I had to know!’

  There was a long silence, and somewhere in the ship a bell chimed the half-hour. The rain had passed on, but the air was still heavy and damp.

  As von Steiger stood holding the girl’s wrists he could feel the yearning in her body as much as his own, and saw the desperate, half-drugged expression in her eyes.

  He released her hands and stood up. His throat was completely dry. ‘I must go. There are several things which must be done before nightfall.’

  She stood up also and watched him move reluctantly to the door. When she spoke it was with a breathless rush, as if she was afraid that strength would be denied to her if she waited longer.

  ‘I shall be waiting for you!’

  They both stood quite still, listening to the echo of her promise.

  He reached for the door, hating the world beyond it. ‘I shall come,’ he answered simply.

  * * * * *

  Before the friendly darkness had come to cover the ship the masthead lookout reported another vessel, dead on the raider’s port beam. The minutes dragged by, and after several more reports, each more definite than the last, von Steiger was left in no doubt. The other ship was a warship. As the Vulkan altered course away from the newcomer he moved to the chart which quivered on the table like a live thing as the ship increased speed.

  Heuss watched his face and the deft movements of the parallel rulers.

  ‘We shall have to make quite a detour, Heuss,’ he said at length. ‘That fellow is too close for my liking!’

  ‘I don’t understand, sir. How could that cruiser have worked round us like that?’

  ‘It did not. That is another cruiser, Heuss!’ He watched the grim tightening of the man’s mouth. ‘It may be only a coincidence, but I do not like it.’

  Heuss adjusted himself to the new situation and said thoughtfully: ‘That would explain some of the wireless signals we have picked up. There must be two or more ships patrolling this area in a long line. Each in touch with the other by short, coded signals, and all able to congregate at a given place should one of their number make a sighting report!’ He gave a forced grin. ‘That makes me feel quite important!’

  Von Steiger nodded absently. ‘So it should!’ He still stared at the chart, but seemed to have difficulty in concentrating. ‘I only hope that we can get to the collier in comfort.’

  Heuss peered over his shoulder. ‘Amazing, isn’t it? All that ocean, thousands of square miles of nothing, and yet ships are drawn together like magnets!’

  ‘Send Damrosch around the lookouts and tell him to check that they all realise their importance at this time. Double them, treble them, if you think fit. During the daylight hours things might be very dangerous for us. I do not want to miss a target, but at the same time I want to be sure we do not become one ourselves!’

  ‘I shall warn the engine-room, too, sir. It is a pity we do not have some more powerful form of propulsion!’

  Von Steiger smiled grimly. ‘Fear is the best encouragement for them!’

  He glanced across the screen towards the darkening water and thought of the girl. How could she fit in with all this? he wondered. As he stared at the watchful lookouts, and listened to the powerful thunder of the engine, he wondered indeed if he had ever left the bridge at all. Perhaps it had been a dream, a culmination of all his tortured thoughts.

  I shall not go to her. I cannot throw away my principles and my reserve merely to satisfy a need.

  Dehler appeared at the top of the ladder, his face empty of expression. He waited until they had reduced speed and von Steiger had walked to the wing of the bridge before accepting the watch from Heuss. ‘I relieve you, Lieutenant,’ he said formally, and marched to the centre of the wheelhouse, his chin sunk on his chest. He seemed indifferent to the bustle of men changing their watch and the metallic reports passing down the voice-pipes around him.

  Heuss said quietly. ‘Feel better now?’

  Dehler answered stiffly: ‘I feel like hell! But you had your chance to save yourself and the ship. You turned it down just for the chance of getting my job!’ He waved his beefy hand resignedly. ‘That’s all right by me! I would have probably done the same, in your shoes! But you’ll be sorry, my friend!’

  Heuss sighed. ‘Don’t be such a fool!’ Then as he stared at Dehler’s brooding face: ‘Oh, what is the use! You’re as twisted as a corkscrew inside, you can no longer see anything but the grave!’

  He slammed away down the ladder, his mind turning reluctantly to the duties he had to attend to before he could at last sit down.

  * * * * *

  Schiller sat on the damp planking outside the sick-bay door, his head resting on the cooling metal plates. He was drowsy and content, and listened with one ear to the small group which lounged around the open door.

  Erhard, serious as ever, rolled himself a crude cigarette, his sour face filled with concentration. ‘Another ship then, eh? A man-o’-war, too!’ He shook his head and licked the edge of the paper. ‘It is time we were getting away from here!’

  Hellwege straightened his back and grinned towards the boy on the bunk. ‘Hear that, Willi? Our religious comrade has doubts!’

  Pieck grinned happily, easily able to ignore the pain in his ribs and enjoy the casual banter of the men around him. He had strained his ears to listen to the Crossing-the-Line ceremony while Steuer, the Swiss, had relayed reports of what was happening outside.

  He had lain back exhausted and had stared emptily at the deckhead as the downpour had sluiced across the ship. Then, in twos and threes, the men from his mess had lounged into the sick-bay. Tough, casual and apparently there by accident. When Schiller had staggered drunkenly through the door, his cardboard crown flattened by the rain, and had pointed his trident at him with a bellow of rage, his joy had been complete.

  Schiller had bawled: ‘How did this little runt escape me, eh? Skulking in the sick-bay to avoid his just deserts, is he!’

  They had lathered his face in the bunk and shaved him with grinning indifference to Steuer’s protests. When the Swiss had protested about their behaviour and the mess they were making, they had cheerfully strapped him to a stretcher and lain him carefully on the rain-swept deck.

  Pieck relived each precious moment, and turned his head to watch Alder, who squatted quietly on another bunk, his face peaceful and blank. It was all too good to believe. His pain was worth it all. He could forget even the undreamed-of Iron Cross and the friendly touch of the Captain’s hand. This was more important than all those wonderful things. He was accepted at last. He was one of the crowd who now grumbled and cursed with easy satisfaction by his bunk. He blinked his eyes rapidly and wanted to shout for sheer joy.

  Gottlieb breathed in and tugged a pack of cards from his belt. His china-blue eyes roved across their faces and he ruffled the cards with practised ease. ‘Any takers?’

  Schoningen grunted and wiped some pork-fat from his mouth with his wrist. ‘I’m on!’

  Schwartz tilted back his cap and plucked at the ends of his ragged beard. ‘Not for matches again, surely?’

  Hellwege belched. ‘Watch that beard of yours, friend! It’s taken long enough to grow, so you don’t want to talk too much, it might fall off!’

  ‘That’s enough, children!’ Schiller rolled a stub of cigar around his mouth and pushed the cardboard crown jauntily over one eye. ‘You deal, Gottlieb, we will play for our first week’s pay when we get home!’

  ‘Home? Some hopes you’ve got!’ Hellwege was scornful. ‘On and on for ever, that’s us!’

  Schwartz grabbed his cards eagerly. ‘Well, and why not? What is there at home for us, eh? It’s just a pipe-dream which all you barrack-room sailors carry around with you!’

  Schiller threw down a tattered card, his eyes on the others. ‘Quite right, mate! Rationing, moaning civilians and damned military police! That’s home for you!’

  Lukaschek cradled his stubby chin on his knees and watched the players with fixed attention. ‘When the war is over, things will be different, eh?’

  Schiller eyed him with disdain. ‘Yeh, a home fit for heroes to live in! With luck you might get work selling matches! And when Lieutenant cocky Kohler passes you in his carriage on his way to the Emperor’s banquet you will raise your stinking cap, and he might, he just might, throw you a cigar-butt in memory of your faithful service!’

  Hellwege frowned. ‘I wonder what will happen? We can’t go on fighting for ever!’

  ‘You can’t!’ Schwartz glared contemptuously. ‘But the admirals can! So could I if I had a nice big desk and a fat mistress waiting upstairs!’

  ‘That is dangerous talk!’ Gottlieb coloured as he remembered what had happened when he had voiced those sentiments before. He hurried on, ‘I mean, some of our lads mutinied at Kiel, and where did it get them?’

  Schiller threw back his head and roared, so that a sentry by the poop looked up from his drowsy vigil with alarm. ‘They got careless, that’s what! Poor goddamned Bolsheviks! Still, they had the right idea; after all, champagne tastes just as good from a cracked cup as it does from a crystal glass!’

  Dehler walked to the wing of the bridge and peered down into the velvet shadows which moved inwards across the ship. The laughter unnerved him, but he felt incapable of action and could not bring his mind to concentrate on such matters of discipline. Every sound jarred his mind like a saw, and several times he had snatched up his binoculars to investigate a shadow on the horizon which he had been sure was a ship overlooked by every lookout in the watch. He scowled angrily as Lieutenant Kohler’s tall figure moved restlessly back and forth across the maindeck. Von Steiger had released him from his cabin, and he paced the deck as if nothing had happened. If only I could be like him, he thought suddenly. To be sure of something once more; to have faith, even in the ship.

  Kohler was oblivious to the scrutiny from the bridge, and watched his own neat feet as he paced restlessly on the rain-dampened planks. Von Steiger had left him in little doubt of his opinion of him. His interview had been short and sharp.

  ‘I need officers badly, Kohler. But not that badly! I blame myself for not guessing what you are, so I shall not punish you further at this point!’ He had paused, his eyes cold and merciless. ‘But if you forget once more that you are wearing the uniform of an officer I will have you killed!’

  Kohler flinched at the memory. Not shot, or punished, but killed! It sounded like slaughtering a pig the way the Captain had spat it out.

  Kohler drew himself up and stared out at the dark water. A few stars twinkled through the parting clouds, and astern he could see the long unbroken line of the ship’s wake. He smiled. He needs me, that is why he threatens me. His smile broadened to a maniac grin. The whole ship needs me, because without my iron self-discipline, without my watching eye, they are all frail and empty!’