Good God above, man, what are you doing here?" He was shocked at Vallery's appearance. "Brooks !"
Why in heaven's name
"Suppose you try talking to him?" Brooks growled wrathfully. He slammed the gate shut behind him, stalked stiffly off the bridge.
"What's the matter with him?" Tyndall asked of no one in particular. "What the hell am I supposed to have done?"
"Nothing, sir," Vallery pacified him. "It's all my fault, disobeying doctor's orders and what have you.
You were saying, ?"
"Ah, yes.
Trouble, I'm afraid, Captain."
Vallery smiled secretly as he saw the satisfaction, the pleased anticipation creep back into the Admiral's face.
"Radar reports a surface vessel approaching, big, fast, more or less on interception course for us.".
"And not ours, of course?" Vallery murmured.
He looked up suddenly. "By jove, sir, it couldn't be, ?"
"The Tirpitz!" Tyndall finished for him.
He shook his head in decision. "My first thought, too, but no.
Admiralty and Air Force are watching her like a broody hen over her eggs.
If she moves a foot, we'll know... Probably some heavy cruiser."
"Closing. Closing.
Course unaltered." Bowden's voice, clipped, easy, was vaguely reminiscent of a cricket commentator's. "Estimated speed 24, repeat 24 knots."
His voice crackled into silence as the W.T. speaker came to life.
"W.T., bridge.
W.T., bridge.
Signal from convoy: Stirling, Admiral.
Understood.
Wilco. Out."
"Excellent, excellent!
From Jeffries," Tyndall explained. "I sent him a signal ordering the convoy to alter course to NNW.
That should take 'em well clear of our approaching friend."
Vallery nodded.
"How far ahead is the convoy, sir?"
"Pilot!" Tyndall called and leaned back expectantly.
"Six, six and a half miles." The Kapok Kid's face was expressionless.
"He's slipping," Tyndall said mournfully. "The strain's telling.
A couple of days ago he'd have given us the distance to the nearest yard.
Six miles, far enough, Captain.
He'll never pick 'em up.
Bowden says he hasn't even picked us up yet, that the intersection of courses must be pure coincidence...
I gather Lieutenant Bowden has a poor opinion of German radar."
"I know.
I hope he's right.
For the first time the question is of rather more than academic interest." Vallery gazed to the South, his binoculars to his eyes: there was only the sea, the thinning snow. "Anyway, this came at a good time."
Tyndall arched a bushy eyebrow.
"It was strange, down there on the poop." Vallery was hesitant. "There was something weird, uncanny in the air.
I didn't like it, sir.
It was desperately, well, almost frightening.
The snow, the silence, the dead men, thirteen dead men, I can only guess how the men felt, about Etherton, about anything.
But it wasn't good, don't know how it would have ended-----"
"Five miles," the loudspeaker cut in. "Repeat, five miles.
Course, speed, constant."
"Five miles," Tyndall repeated in relief. Intangibles bothered him. "Time to trail our coats a little, Captain.
We'll soon be in what Bowden reckons is his radar range.