"Never mind." Vallery was impatient. "There's no time.
Bentley-to the master, Vytura:' Please abandon ship immediately : we are going to sink you.'"
Suddenly Vallery stumbled, caught hold of Turner's arm.
"Sorry," he apologised. "I'm afraid my legs are going.
Gone, rather." He smiled up wryly at the anxious faces. "No good pretending any longer, is there?
Not when your legs start a mutiny on their own.
Oh, dear God, I'm done!"
"And no bloody wonder!"
Turner swore. "I wouldn't treat a mad dog the way you treat yourself!
Come on, sir.
Admiral's chair for you-now.
If you don't, I'll get Petersen to you," he threatened, as Vallery made to protest.
The protest died in a smile, and Vallery meekly allowed himself to be helped into a chair.
He sighed deeply, relaxed into the God-sent support of the back and arms of the chair.
He felt ghastly, powerless, his wasted body a wide sea of pain, and deadly cold; all these things, but also proud and grateful, Turner had never even suggested that he go below.
He heard the gate crash behind him, the murmur of voices, then Turner was at his side.
"The Master-at-Arms, sir.
Did you send for him?"
"I certainly did." Vallery twisted in his chair, his face grim. "Come"here, Hastings!"
The Master-at-Arms stood at attention before him.
As always, his face was a mask, inscrutable, expressionless, almost inhuman in that fierce light.
"Listen carefully." Vallery had to raise his voice above the roar of the flames: the effort even to speak was exhausting. "I have no time to talk to you now.
I will see you in the morning.
Meantime, you will release Leading Seaman Ralston immediately.
You will then hand over your duties, your papers and your keys to Regulating Petty Officer Perrat.
Twice, now, you have overstepped the limits of your authority: that is insolence, but it can be overlooked.
But you have also kept a man locked in cells during Action Stations.
The prisoner would have died like a rat in a trap.
You are no longer Master-At-Arms of the Ulysses.
That is all."
For a couple of seconds Hastings stood rigidly in shocked unbelieving silence, then the iron discipline snapped.
He stepped forward, arms raised in appeal, the mask collapsed in contorted bewilderment.
"Relieved of my duties?
Relieved of my duties!
But, sir, you can't do that!
You can't..."
His voice broke off in a gasp of pain as Turner's iron grip closed over his elbow.
"Don't say' can't' to the Captain," he whispered silkily in his ear. "You heard him?
Get off the bridge!"
The gate clicked behind him.
Carrington said, conversationally :
"Somebody's using his head aboard the Vytura, fitted a red filter to his Aldis.
Couldn't see it otherwise."
Immediately the tension eased.
All eyes were on the winking red light, a hundred feet aft of the flames, and even then barely distinguishable.
Suddenly it stopped.
"What does he say, Bentley?" Vallery asked quickly.
Bentley coughed apologetically.
"Message reads:' Are you hell.
Try it and I will ram you.