"Remember that chat we had with him yesterday? About the air-scrubbing plant? He didn't sound no expert then, did he?"
"That's true." Shepherd looked thoughtful. "You know, that jammed steering could have been sabotage. What's more, when I look round our lot I don't have to think too hard who it might be."
The coxswain winked. "Sheppy's on to Kyle again."
"Of course I am. And for good reason."
"Think 'e's a Commie, Sheppy?"
"I don't know. But he hates the boat and everybody in her. Got a permanent grudge against life. It's people like that who do senseless things like sabotaging machinery."
There was a discreet cough in the doorway. Mr. Buddington stood there blinking, a black leather box containing thermometers and hygrometers slung over his shoulder. "May I come in, gentlemen? I'd like to read the temperatures and humidities."
All the chairs in the wardroom were now occupied.
The first lieutenant looked at Allistair and repeated the question. "But what did you make of the noise?"
"Same as the skipper. It's easy now to explain it. Wasn't then."
The doctor put down his book. "Skipper's very quick on this sabotage stuff, isn't he?"
"Got an obsession about it," said Allistair. "I've an aunt like that. Gets a headache and says she's got a tumor on the brain."
"They say," Symington said, yawning, "that one attracts the things one fears."
The doctor lit a cigarette. "Steward says the skipper's in a hell of a mood."
"Something gnawing at his vitals," said Symington.
Weddy was lying on the settee. He turned to the doctor. "What causes this gloom and depression act?"
O'Shea shook his head. "It's no act. No fun for him, you know." He turned to Allistair. "Was he always like this?"
Allistair shrugged. "Always been pretty rigid. But very just, really. He does seem to have changed in the last few months. Gayer and more talkative at times than he used to be. But also gloomier and more irritable."
Symington yawned again. "I've been in this boat for four months. Seems like four years. When Number One introduced me the day I joined you'd think it was Hamlet meeting the ghost. Since then it's been mostly gloom and anger."
"He's unutterable," Keely said. "I'm bloody glad he's going."
"Keely," Cavan said abruptly. "Pipe down! I won't have the captain discussed like that."
Keely bridled. "Sorry, sir, I was only saying what I thought."
"Well, don't. You're one of his officers. Pretty junior one, too. Discipline and loyalty are both involved."
Symington sighed. "Don't you think Shadde tries them rather hard, Number One?"
As Symington said it, the door of the captain's cabin slid open and Shadde walked in. The officers stood up in embarrassed silence. Shadde searched each face with his intense stare, ending on Symington. "What is it I try rather hard, Symington?" The captain's voice was ice cold.
Symington looked him in the eye, but said nothing. Shadde moved forward a few paces. The atmosphere was electric. "Come, come, Symington. You're not usually lost for words. Let's have it."
Symington's face was ashen. "It was a private discussion, sir."
"Surely it wasn't so private that I can't hear it? After all, it was about me."
"I'd prefer not to repeat it, sir."
Shadde stood quite still, his eyes fixed on Symington. Then he looked slowly from one officer to the other until he came to Cavan. "My first lieutenant," he said sardonically. "I might have known." He turned and walked off into the control room.
As soon as Shadde got to the bridge the submarine's speed was increased to sixteen knots. Half an hour later they entered the Sound and began the passage to the south.
Symington went to the bridge when they were off Landskrona. Ahead and to port the forts of Middelgrunden and Flak stood out of the sea, and beyond them lay Copenhagen, a forest of spires and roofs glittering in the morning sun. To Symington's surprise Shadde was talkative and affable, for all the world as if the scene in the wardroom had never taken place. The man was utterly unpredictable. Symington hoped the new captain would be an improvement.
Shortly before two o'clock Retaliate was secured to a buoy in Yderhavn. Over on Langelinie the lilacs were in bloom, and below them Hans Christian Andersen's Little Mermaid sat on her rock gazing serenely at the water. A naval launch brought off the Danish officer of the guard, the British Naval Attache, a representative of the mayor, two port officials, and a Danish naval postman with the mail. The official visit to Copenhagen had begun.
The postbag for Retaliate brought no letter from Elizabeth. Might this mean indecision? Shadde was filled with fresh hope. Perhaps his Oslo letter had caused a change of heart? But it did bring one from Flag Officer Submarines:
My dear Shadde,
You will have had the Second Sea Lord's signal about your appointment to my staff. It is now imperative to have you here where your experience of the Missile boats will be invaluable. I had intended to bring you ashore in September, but recent events make it advisable to do so now.
Straker has completed a month in Deterrent, so your turnover should be possible within forty-eight hours of Retaliate's return to Portsmouth.
I look forward to having you on my staff, to which you will be a most valuable addition.
Yours sincerely, Tom Bannering
Mr. Buddington received a communication he had expected. It came in a large brown envelope labeled "plans," with the seal of the Department of Naval Construction. In fact, it was from the office of the Director of Naval Intelligence. In the envelope were the leave records of certain members of the crew and some additional background information about them.
There was also a letter for Engineering Mechanic Kyle. It was from his mother, saying she had "busted" some of her savings on a new hat and other "glad rags" for the trip to London. If before he had been depressed, now he gave way to a hopeless rage.
There were also letters for Chief Shepherd from Dora, his wife, and Win, his sister-in-law, married to his wife's stepbrother, Arthur Hindle. The Shepherds and Hindles lived near each other, and there was much going and coming between the two households. But Dora Shepherd didn't really like Win Hindle. Win was too anxious to tell you how to put the world to rights and always throwing it in Dora's face that she was a poor churchgoer. She regarded herself as superior to the Shepherds because she'd had a university education, and besides was a schoolmistress and a leading light on the local ban-the-bomb committee.
Most of all Dora mistrusted Win's friendship with Tom Shepherd ; Tom had a strong religious interest, too, and the fact that he and Win and Arthur went off to church together every Sunday while she had to mind two small children was gall to Dora. She was jealous of Win's influence on Tom and also afraid of it.
Tom Shepherd, for his part, thought a great deal of Win. He liked the way she talked about world affairs, the Bible and the Will of God. She'd shown him ways in which he could carry out the behests of the Almighty in a practical down-to-earth manner. Religion was not just a series of personal "don'ts and mustn'ts," she said. "It's the sum total of good and evil, the broad onward sweep of the human race." Often they sat talking into the late hours. And always for every doubt of Tom's Win had an answer. Now, as he folded her letter, he thought of seeing Win during his leave. He had much to tell her. As always, thinking of Win evoked mixed feelings of religious piety and physical anticipation, and left him with a nagging sense of insecurity.
The fact that Shadde couldn't stand cocktail parties didn't absolve him from going to them. This one at the British Embassy had been laid on in honor of Retaliate''s visit. Shadde's mood wasn't helped by overhearing Dwight Gallagher saying with a laugh, "That little tick certainly had the captain worried!" And, of course, his Danish listeners had to laugh too.