Fires in the after mess-deck still not under control... Yes, boy, what is it?"
"'Y' magazine, sir," the seaman said uncertainly.
"They want to speak to the gunnery officer." "Tell them he's not available," Vallery said shortly. "We haven't time..." He broke off, looked up sharply. "Did you say 'Y' magazine?
Here, let me have that phone."
He took the receiver, pushed back the hood of his duffel coat.
"Captain speaking, 'Y' magazine.
What is it?...
What?
Speak up man, I can't hear you... Oh, damn!" He swung round on the bridge L.T.O. "Can you switch this receiver on to the relay amplifier? I can't hear a... Ah, that's better."
The amplifier above the chart-house crackled into life-a peculiarly throaty, husky life, doubly difficult to understand under the heavy overlay of a slurred Glasgow accent. j
"Can ye hear me now?" the speaker boomed. !
"I can hear you." Vallery's own voice echoed loudly over the amplifier. "McQuater, isn't it?"
"Aye, it's me, sir.
How did ye ken?" Even through the 'speaker the surprise was unmistakable.
Shocked and exhausted though he was, Vallery found himself smiling.
"Never mind that now, McQuater.
Who's in charge down : there-Gardiner, isn't it?" !
"Yes, sir.
Gardiner."
"Put him on, will you?"
There was a pause. "Ah canna, sir.
Gardiner's deid."
"Dead!" Vallery was incredulous. "Did you say' dead,' McQuater?"
"Aye, and he's no' the only one." The voice was almost truculent, but Vallery's ear caught the faint tremor below. "Ah was knocked oot masel', but Ah'm fine now."
Vallery paused, waited for the boy's bout of hoarse, harsh coughing to pass.
"But-but-what happened?"
"How should Ah know-Ah mean, Ah dinna ken-Ah don't know, sir.
A helluva bang and then-ach, Ah'm no' sure whit happened... Gardiner's mooth's all blood."
"How-how many of you are left?"
"Just Barker, Williamson and masel', sir.
Naebody else, just us."
"And-and they're all right, McQuater?"
"Ach, they're fine.
But Barker thinks he's deein'.
He's in a gey bad wey.
Ah think he's gone clean aff his trolley, 'sir."
"He's what!"
"Loony, sir," McQuater explained patiently. "Daft.
Some bluidy nonsense aboot goin' to meet his Maker, and him wi' naething behind him but a lifetime o' swindlin' his fellow-man."
Vallery heard Turner's sudden chuckle, remembered that Barker was the canteen manager.
"Williamson's busy shovin' cartridges back into the racks-floor's littered with the bluidy things."
"McQuater!" Vallery's voice was sharp, automatic in reproof.
"Aye, Ah'm sorry, sir.
Ah clean forgot... Whit's to be done, sir?"
"Done about what?" Vallery demanded impatiently.
"This place, sir. 'Y' magazine.
Is the boat on fire oot-side?
It's bilin' in here-hotter than the hinges o' hell!"
"What!
What did you say?" Vallery shouted. This time he forgot to reprimand McQuater. "Hot, did you say?