Am investigating extent of damage.
Will report soon.'"
Tyndall took the signal from him and read it slowly.
Then he looked over his shoulder and smiled faintly.
"You were dead right, my boy, it seems.
Please accept an old curmudgeon's apologies."
Carpenter murmured something and turned away, brick-red again with embarrassment.
Tyndall grinned faintly at the Captain, then became thoughtful.
"I think we'd better talk to him personally, Captain.
Barlow, isn't it?
Make a signal."
They climbed down two decks to the Fighter Direction room.
Westcliffe vacated his chair for the Admiral.
"Captain Barlow?" Tyndall spoke into the hand-piece.
"Speaking." The sound came from the loudspeaker above his head.
"Admiral here, Captain.
How are things?"
"We'll manage, sir.
Lost most of our bows, I'm afraid.
Several casualties.
Oil fires, but under control.
W.T. doors all holding, and engineers and damage control parties are shoring up the cross-bulkheads."
"Can you go ahead at all, Captain?"
"Could do, sir, but risky-in this, anyway."
"Think you could make it back to base?"
"With this wind and sea behind us, yes.
Still take three-four days."
"Right-o, then," Tyndall's voice was gruff. "Off you go.
You're no good to us without bows!
Damned hard luck, Captain Barlow.
My commiserations.
And oh!
I'm giving you the Baliol and Nairn as escorts and radioing for an ocean-going tug to come out to meet you-just in case."
"Thank you, sir.
We appreciate that.
One last thing, permission to empty starboard squadron fuel tanks.
We've taken a lot of water, can't get rid of it all, only way to recover our trim."
Tyndall sighed. "Yes, I was expecting that.
Can't be helped and we can't take it off you in this weather.
Good luck, Captain.
Good-bye."
"Thank you very much, sir.
Good-bye."
Twenty minutes later, the Ulysses was back on station in the squadron.
Shortly afterwards, they saw the Invader, not listing quite so heavily now, head slowly round to the southeast, the little Hunt class destroyer and the frigate, one on either side, rolling wickedly as they came round with her.
In another ten minutes, watchers on the Ulysses had lost sight of them, buried in a flurrying snow squall.
Three gone and eleven left behind; but it was the eleven who now felt so strangely alone.
CHAPTER FIVE
TUESDAY
THE Invader and her troubles were soon forgotten.