So's Evans, his Colour-Sergeant." "So am I!" said Tyndall feelingly. He glared into space. The Officer of the Watch, who happened to be in his direct line of vision, shifted uncomfortably. "Wonder what old Socrates thinks of it all, now? Maybe only a pill-roller, but the wisest head we've got... Well, speak of the devil!"
The gate had just swung open, and a burly, unhappy-looking figure, duffel-coated, oilskinned and wearing a Russian beaverskin helmet, the total effect was of an elderly grizzly bear caught in a thunderstorm, shuffled across the duck boards of the bridge.
He brought up facing the Kent screen, an inset, circular sheet of glass which revolved at high speed and offered a clear view in all weather conditions, rain, hail, snow.
For half a minute he peered miserably through this and obviously didn't like what he saw.
He sniffed loudly and turned away, beating his arms against the cold.
"Ha!
A deck officer on the bridge of H.M. Cruisers.
The romance, the glamour! Hal" He hunched his oilskinned shoulders, and looked more miserable than ever. "No place this for a civilised man like myself.
But you know how it is, gentlemen, the clarion call of duty..."
Tyndall chuckled.
"Give him plenty of time, Captain.
Slow starters, these medics, you know, but------"
Brooks cut in, voice and face suddenly serious.
"Some more trouble, Captain.
Couldn't tell it over the phone.
Don't know how much it's worth."
"Trouble?" Vallery broke off, coughed harshly into his handkerchief. "Sorry," he apologised.
"Trouble?
There's nothing else, old chap.
Just had some ourselves."
"That bumptious young fool, Carslake?
Oh, I know all right.
My spies are everywhere.
Bloke's a bloody menace... However, my story.
Young Nicholls was doing some path, work late last night in the dispensary, on T.B. specimens.
Two, three hours in there.
Lights out in the bay, and the patients either didn't know or had forgotten he was there.
Heard Stoker Riley, a real trouble-maker, that Riley, and the others planning a locked door, sit-down strike in the boiler-room when they return to duty.
A sit-down strike in a boiler-room. Good lord, it's fantastic!
Anyway, Nicholls let it slide, pretended he hadn't heard."
"What!" Vallery's voice was sharp, edged with anger. "And Nicholls ignored it, didn't report it to me!
Happened last night, you say.
Why wasn't I told, immediately?
Get Nicholls up here, now.
No, never mind."
He reached out to pick up the bridge phone. "I'll get him myself."
Brooks laid a gauntieted hand on Vallery's arm. "I wouldn't do that, sir. Nicholls is a smart boy, very smart indeed.
He knew that if he let the men know they had been overheard, they would know that he must report it to you.
And then you'd have been bound to take action, and open provocation of trouble is the last thing you want.
You said so yourself in the wardroom last night."
Vallery hesitated. "Yes, yes, of course I said that, but, Well, Doc., this is different.
It could be a focal point for spreading the idea to------"
"I told you, sir," Brooks interrupted softly. "Johnny Nicholls is a very smart boy.
He's got a big notice, in huge red letters, outside the Sick Bay door:
'Keep clear: Suspected scarlet fever infection.'
Kills me to watch 'em.
Everybody avoids the place like the plague.
Not a hope of communicating with their pals in the Stokers' Mess."
Tyndall guffawed at him, and even Vallery smiled slightly.
"Sounds fine, Doc.