"Pilot!
Haven't I seen gauntlets hanging in your chart-house?"
"Yes, sir.
Right away!" The Kapok Kid hurried off the bridge.
Turner looked up at the Admiral again.
"Your head, sir-you've nothing on.
Wouldn't you like a duffel coat, a hood, sir?"
"A hood?" Tyndall was amused. "What in the world for?
I'm not cold.... If you'll excuse me, Commander?" He turned the binoculars full into the glare of the blazing Vytura.
Turner looked at him again, looked at Vallery, hesitated, then walked aft.
Carpenter was on his way back with the gloves when the W.T. loudspeaker clicked on.
"W.T.-bridge.
W.T.-bridge.
Signal from Viking;
'Lost contact.
Am continuing search."
"Lost contact!" Vallery exclaimed. Lost contact-the worst possible thing that could have happened!
A U-boat out there, loose, unmarked, and the whole of FR77 lit up like a fairground.
A fairground, he thought bitterly, clay pipes in a shooting gallery and with about as much chance of hitting back once contact had been lost.
Any second now... He wheeled round, clutched at the binnacle for support.
He had forgotten how weak he was, how the tilting of the shattered bridge affected balance.
"Bentley!
No reply from the Vytura yet?"
"No, sir," Bentley was as concerned as the Captain, as aware of the desperate need for speed. "Maybe his power's gone-no, no, no, there he is now, sir!"
"Captain, sir."
Vallery looked round. "Yes, Commander, what is it?
Not more bad news, I hope?"
"'Fraid so, sir.
Starboard tubes won't train-jammed solid."
"Won't train," Vallery snapped irritably. "That's nothing new, surely.
Ice, frozen snow.
Chip it off, use boiling water, blowlamps, any old------"
"Sorry, sir." Turner shook his head regretfully. "Not that.
Rack and turntable buckled.
Must have been either the shell that got the bosun's store or Number 3 Low Power Room-immediately below.
Anyway-kaput!"
"Very well, then!" Vallery was impatient. "It'll have to be the port tubes."
"No bridge control left, sir," Turner objected. "Unless we fire by local control?"
"No reason why not, is there?" Vallery demanded. "After all, that's what torpedo crews are trained for.
Get on to the port tubes-I assume the communication line there is still intact-tell them to stand by."
"Yes, sir."
"And Turner?"
"Sir?"
"I'm sorry." He smiled crookedly. "As old Giles used to say of himself, I'm just a crusty old curmudgeon.
Bear with me, will you?"
Turner grinned sympathetically, then sobered quickly.
He jerked his head forward. "How is he, sir?"
Vallery looked at the Commander for a long second, shook his head, almost imperceptibly.
Turner nodded heavily and was gone.
"Well, Bentley?