He's been following me around all night, never let me out of his sight, not once.
Now I know why."
It took much to disturb the First Lieutenant's iron equanimity, but now he shook his head in slow disbelief.
"I knew there was bad blood!" he murmured. "But that it should come to this!
What the Captain will say to this I just------"
"Why tell him?" Ralston said indifferently. "Why tell anyone?
Perhaps Carslake had relations.
What good will it do to hurt them, to hurt anyone.
Let anyone think what they like." He laughed shortly. "Let them think he died a hero's death fire-fighting, fell over the side, anything." He looked down into the dark, rushing water, then shivered suddenly. '
For a long second Carrington, too, stared down over the side, looked back at the tall boy before him.
Then he clapped his arm, nodded slowly and turned away.
Turner heard the clanging of the gate, lowered the binoculars to find Carrington standing by his side, gazing wordlessly at the burning cruiser.
Just then Vallery moaned softly, and Carrington looked down quickly at the prone figure at his feet.
"My God!
The Old Man!
Is he hurt badly, sir?"
"I don't know, Number One.
If not, it's a bloody miracle," he added bitterly.
He stooped down, raised the dazed Captain to a sitting position.
"Are you all right, sir?" he asked anxiously. "Do you? have you been hit?"
Vallery shuddered in a long, exhausting paroxysm of coughing, then shook his head feebly.
"I'm all right," he whispered weakly.
He tried to grin, a pitiful, ghastly travesty of a smile in the reflected light from the burning Aldis. "I dived for the deck, but I think the binnacle got in my way." He rubbed his forehead, already bruised and discoloured. "How's the ship, Commander?"
"To hell with the ship!" Turner said roughly.
He passed an arm round Vallery, raised him carefully to his feet.
"How are things aft, Number One?"
"Under control.
Still burning, but under control.
I left Hartley in charge." He made no mention of Carslake.
"Good!
Take over.
Radio Stirling, Sirrus, see how they are.
Come on, sir.
Shelter for you!"
Vallery protested feebly, a token protest only, for he was too weak to stand.
He checked involuntarily as he saw the snow falling whitely through the barred beam of the Aldis, slowly followed the beam back to its source.
"Bentley?" he whispered. "Don't tell me..." He barely caught the Commander's wordless nod, turned heavily away.
They passed by the dead man stretched outside the gate, then stopped at the Asdic cabinet.
A sobbing figure was crouched into the angle between the shelter and the jammed and shattered door of the hut, head pillowed on the forearm resting high against the door.
Vallery laid a hand on the shaking shoulder, peered into the averted face.
"What is it?
Oh, it's you, boy." The white face had been lifted towards him. "What's the matter, Chrysler?"
"The door, sir!" Chrysler's voice was muffled, quivering. "The door, I can't open it."
For the first time, Vallery looked at the cabinet, at the gashed and torn metal.
His mind was still dazed, exhausted, and it was almost by a process of association that he suddenly, horrifyingly thought of the gashed and mangled operator that must lie behind that locked door.
"Yes," he said quietly. "The door's buckled... There's nothing anyone can do, Chrysler." He looked more closely at the grief dulled eyes. "Come on, my boy, there's no need-----"
"My brother's in there, sir." The words, the hopeless despair, struck Vallery like a blow. Dear God!
He had forgotten... Of course Leading Asdic Operator Chrysler... He stared down at the dead man at his feet, already covered with a thin layer of snow.
"Have that Aldis unplugged, Commander, will you?" he asked absently. "And Chrysler?"
"Yes, sir." A flat monotone.