Medusa

I nodded, the noise too great for conversation.

'They could just concentrate on the town, you know/ he yelled in my ear. 'Seize the town hall, take a crack at Military HQ and occupy the radio station. Wouldn't that be enough?'

I shrugged, unable to answer him, thinking ahead to my meeting with Gareth. I could imagine him asking me just those questions and what the hell would I say? We passed the quick-flashing red beacon close to the dig, Lennie cutting it so fine I could see the wheelbarrows still full of the rubble we had been shifting, and then the businesslike outline of Medusawas looming nearer. 'Which side?' he shouted in my ear.

'Starb'd,' I said, and he swung in a tight arc, passing so close under the bows I thought he would smash into the anchor cable. The engine slowed, then died with a cough as he brought the inflatable alongside where the accommodation ladder had been lifted clear of the water. By then I had Petra's big torch beamed on the bridge, flicking the switch on and off — three dots, three dashes, three dots — hoping that whoever was on watch would realise the SOS was to signify urgency, not just some drunk from the shore playing silly buggers. I could hear the hum of the ship's machinery now, sense the power of the organisation that was in her. 'Ahoy there, Medusa!'I was shouting for the Officer of the Day, the Captain, anyone, my voice raised high, desperate with the need to be got on board quickly.

A face under a sailor's hat leaned out above me. 'Wot you want?'

'The Captain,' I shouted up to him. 'Tell the Captain it's Mike Steele and it's urgent. Every minute counts.' A door slammed and a beam of light was directed straight at me, my eyes blinded, and a voice said, 'Good evening, sir. You come to return that beard we lent you?' It was young Davison, the officer-under-training, and he was grinning. The Captain!' I yelled at him again.

'The Captain's asleep, sir.'

'Well, wake him up. And get me on board. I have information for him that must be transmitted to London immediately.'

He stood there for a moment, mouth agape, gazing down at me. I could see his brain working, trying to decide whether this was a joke or something deadly serious. Fortunately the beard was in my pocket, where it had been for some time now, otherwise he might have thought I was fooling. 'Hurry, man! For God's sake hurry!' He nodded, suddenly seeming to pull himself together as he ordered a sailor to lower the ladder, then turned and ran to the bridge. He was back by the time I had scrambled up to the deck. 'This way, sir. Captain says to take you to his cabin.'

Gareth was in his dressing gown as I was shown in, his face pale, his hair tousled. Thank you, Davison. That'll do.' He turned to me. 'Now, what's this all about?'

I made it as short as possible, but before I had finished he had reached for the phone, flicking a switch. 'Captain. Call all hands. Lieutenant Commander Mault to my cabin immediately.' He had pulled out a notebook and was flicking through the pages. 'Anchored out here we're not on a land line, so we have to slot in to the telephone system through ship-to-shore. However, I can contact the Naval Base op UHF.' He was reaching for the phone again when Davison's voice broke in on the loudspeaker — 'Captain, sir. This is the bridge.' He sounded a bit nervous, very excited. 'There's what sounds like shots coming from the direction of La Mola — and, sir, we're just picking up bursts of machine-gun fire from the town now.'

'Very good, I'll be up.' Gareth turned to glance at the wall clock, picking up a comb and smoothing his hair. The second hand flicked to the vertical. It was exactly 03.31. 'From what you've told me, looks like the time of attack on all objectives was zero-three-thirty.' And he added, 'I've been expecting something like this.' He slipped out of his dressing gown and began pulling on trousers and white polo-necked sweater over his pyjamas. 'But not those logistic craft.' He had me describe in detail the scene on the quay at Addaia. 'You're certain it was Pat? He was on that fishing boat of yours and led them in?'

'Yes/ I said. 'And he was organising them ashore.'

'The whole thing — I mean, the men who came ashore from those LCTs as well as the locals? You're sure?'

'I think so.' It was obvious he didn't want to believe that the man was totally involved, but when I told him it was bright starlight and I had ten-magnification glasses on him, he sighed and said, 'I suppose I should have expected that.' He was buttoning up his jacket. 'Well, no good trying to alert Capitan Perez now. His boys can hear the shooting just as well as we can here. Let's go up to the bridge.' — Outside the cabin all was bustle as the ship came to readiness, men in various stages of dress hurrying to their posts, the bridge itself beginning to fill up. As soon as we reached it, we could hear the firing out on La Mola, for they had both wing doors open. We went out on to the starb'd wing and stood there looking at the black outline of the.peninsula sprawled against the stars. 'When do you reckon first light, Pilot?'

'With the sky as clear as this, sir, there should be a glimmer in the east within the hour.'

'An hour's darkness.' Gareth nodded, then turned to me. 'Nice timing, the whole thing highly organised.' And he added, 'That will be Pat. He's had a lot of experience Angola chiefly, Mozambique, with the Polisario, and Wade says they thought he had done a spell with the Contras, so he's had the benefit of American as well as South African training.'

Mault appeared at his elbow. 'I was ordered to report to your cabin, but you weren't there.'

'No, I'm here.' Gareth's voice was sharp. 'Have the launch brought alongside and go across to the Base. Try and see Capitan Perez personally. Offer him any assistance he needs. Oh, and tell him the entire force at the disposal of the insurgents at this moment in time is not more than two hundred. They are supported by professional troops landed from two small logistics craft at Addaia. I have an eye-witness of the landing here on board Medusa.'Mault hesitated, glancing at me. 'Wouldn't it be better if I took Mr Steele with me?'

'No.' Gareth's voice was even sharper. 'Tell the Jefehe can interview him here on board if he wants to.' And he added, 'Now hurry, man. Things are happening, and happening fast. Perez needs to know that the whole thing can be controlled and suppressed if he acts quickly enough.' He turned to Davison. 'Is somebody looking after that inflatable and the man who was with Mr Steele?'

'Yes, sir. He's been taken to the petty officers' mess for some coffee.'

'Good.' He turned back into the body of the bridge as the Yeoman of Signals appeared at his side with a piece of paper in his hand. 'A sit-rep, sir. The Communications Office were alerting the radar unit on top of the 'For o rock when the radio contact suddenly went dead, there's a small foreign outfit in Alayor, nobody knows yet what nationality but Arab by the look of them, and there's a ham of sorts broadcasting Independence Day messages from Ciudadela.'

Gareth glanced through the paper, nodded, dealt with the little queue of officers waiting to be briefed, then went over to the nearest mike, his voice stilling all conversation as it blared out over the ship's main broadcast: 'This is the Captain speaking. We have a situation ashore that was not wholly unexpected and is to some extent our reason for being here in Port Mahon..'And then he was outlining briefly what the firing was all about. He also indicated that there had been outside intervention… 'Whether by political sympathisers, mercenaries or some foreign power is not yet clear. I will keep you informed.'Just as he said that there was a flash, followed immediately by the rumble of a heavy explosion, the rumbling muffled as though it were underground, and suddenly the highest point of La Mola was lit by a pyrotechnic display that was so colourful and went on for so long it was more like fireworks than the destruction of a military target. 'Looks like they've got the garrison's ammunition dump.' Gareth had a pair of the bridge binoculars fixed on La Mola. Davison said something to him and he lowered the glasses, frowning. 'Funny! I should have thought he would have been glad of a coffee, even a drink…' He turned to me. 'That Australian of yours. Seems he was worried about something, so he's pushed off. Said he'd be at the dig when you wanted him. Yes, Yeo?'