"What's that?" Riley asked suspiciously.
"A dead end.
A no-decision fight... Tell me, Riley," he asked quietly. "What brought you here?"
"I told you!" Riley was aggrieved. "Grierson, Lieutenant Grierson sent me."
"What brought you here?" Dodson persisted. It was as if Riley had not spoken.
"That's my -----, business!" Riley answered savagely.
"'What brought you here?"
"Oh, for Christ's sake leave me alone!" Riley shouted.
His voice echoed loudly along the dark tunnel.
Suddenly he turned round full face, his mouth twisted bitterly. "You know bloody well why I came."
"To do me in, perhaps?"
Riley looked at him a long second, then turned away. His shoulders were hunched, his head held low.
"You're the only bastard in this ship that ever gave me a break," he muttered. "The only bastard I've ever known who ever gave me a chance," he amended slowly.
"Bastard," Dodson supposed, was Riley's accolade of friendship, and he felt suddenly ashamed of his last remark.
"If it wasn't for you," Riley went on softly, "I'd 'a' been in cells the first time, in a civvy jail the second.
Remember, sir?"
Dodson nodded. "You were rather foolish, Riley," he admitted.
"Why did you do it?" The big stoker was intense, worried. "God, everyone knows What I'm like------"
"Do they?
I wonder... I thought you had the makings of a better man than you ------"
"Don't give me that bull!" Riley scoffed. " know what I'm like.
I know what I am.
I'm no -----, good!
Everybody says I'm no -----, good!
And they're right..." He leaned forward. "Do you know somethin'?
I'm a Catholic.
Four hours from now..." He broke off. "I should be on my knees, shouldn't I?" he sneered. "Repentance, lookin' for, what do they call it?"
"Absolution?"
"Aye.
That's it.
Absolution.
And do you know what?" He spoke slowly, emphatically. "I don't give a single, solitary damn!"
"Maybe you don't have to," Dodson murmured. "For the last time, get back to that engine-room!"
"No!"
The Engineer-Commander sighed, picked up the Thermos.
"In that case, perhaps you would care to join me in a cup of coffee?"
Riley looked up, grinned, and when he spoke it was in a very creditable imitation of Colonel Chinstrap of the famous ITMA radio programme.
"Ectually, I don't mind if I do!"
Vallery rolled over on his side, his legs doubled up, his hand automatically reaching for the towel.
His emaciated body shook violently, and the sound of the harsh, retching cough beat back at him from the iron walls of his shelter.
God, he thought, oh, God, it's never been as bad as this before.
Funny, he thought, it doesn't hurt any more, not even a little bit.
The attack eased.
He looked at the crimson, sodden towel, flung it in sudden disgust and with what little feeble strength was left him into the darkest corner of the shelter.
"You carry this damned ship on your back!" Unbidden, old Socrates's phrase came into his mind and he smiled faintly.
Well, if ever they needed him, it was now.
And if he waited any longer, he knew he could never be able to go.
He sat up, sweating with the effort, swung his legs carefully over the side.
As his feet touched the deck, the Ulysses pitched suddenly, steeply, and he fell forward against a chair, sliding helplessly to the floor.
It took an eternity of time, an infinite effort to drag himself to his feet again: another effort like that, he knew, would surely kill him.