‘The hospital staff?’ Jamieson shook his head. ‘The hospital staff. Sister Morrison as a seagoing Mata Hari? I have as much imagination as the next man, Bo’sun, but not that kind of imagination.’
‘Neither have I. We’d both go to court for them, too. But it has to be someone who was aboard this ship when we left Halifax. When we retire, Mr Jamieson, I think we’d better not be applying for a job with Scotland Yard’s CID. Then there’s the possibility that whoever it is may be in cahoots with someone from the Argos or one of the nine invalids we picked up in Murmansk.’
‘About all of whom we know absolutely nothing, which is a great help.’
‘As far as the crew of the Argos is concerned, that’s true. As for the invalids, we have, of course, their names, ranks and numbers. One of the TB cases, man by the name of Hartley, is an ERA – Engine-Room Artificer. He would know about electrics. Another, Simons, a mental breakdown case, or an alleged mental breakdown case, is an LTO -Leading Torpedo Operator. He would know about explosives.’
Too obvious, Bo’sun.’
‘Far too obvious. Maybe we’re meant to overlook the far too obvious.’
‘Have you seen those two? Spoken to them, I mean?’
‘Yes. I should imagine you also have. They’re the two with the red hair.’
‘Ah. Those two. Bluff, honest sailormen. Don’t look like criminal types at all. But then, I suppose, the best criminals never do. Look that way, I mean.’ He sighed. ‘I agree, with you, Bo’sun. The CID are in no danger from us.’
‘No, indeed.’ McKinnon rose. ‘I think I’ll go and rescue Sister Morrison from Lieutenant Ulbricht’s clutches.’
Sister Morrison was not in the Lieutenant’s clutches nor did she show any signs of wanting to be rescued. ‘Time to go?’ she said.
‘Of course not. Just to let you know I’ll be on the bridge when you want me.’ He looked at Ulbricht, then at Sister Morrison. ‘You managed to save him, then?’
Compared to what it had been only a few hours previously the starboard wing of the bridge was now almost a haven of peace and quiet. The wind had dropped to not more than Force four and the seas, while far from being a millpond, had quietened to the extent that the San Andreas rarely rolled more than a few degrees when it did at all. That was on the credit side. On the debit side was the fact that the; snow had thinned to the extent that McKinnon had no difficulty in making out the arc-lit shape of the red cross on the foredeck reflecting palely under its sheathing of ice. He went back inside the bridge and called up Patterson in the engine-room.
‘Bo’sun here, sir. Snow’s lightening. Looks as if it’s going to stop altogether pretty soon. I’d like permission to switch off all exterior lights. Seas are still too high for any U-boat to see us from periscope depth, but if it’s on the surface, if the snow has stopped and we still have the Red Cross lights on, we can be seen miles away from its conning-tower.’
‘We wouldn’t want that, would we. No lights.’
‘One other thing. Could you have some men clear a pathway – sledges, crowbars, whatever – in the ice between the hospital and the superstructure. Two feet should be wide enough.’
‘Consider it done.’
Fifteen minutes later, still without any sign of Margaret Morrison, the Bo’sun moved out on the wing again. The,, snow had stopped completely. There were isolated patches of clear sky above and some stars shone, although the Pole Star was hidden. The darkness was still pretty complete, McKinnon couldn’t even see as far as the fo’c’s’le with the deck lights extinguished. He returned inside and went below to the Captain’s cabin.
‘The snow’s stopped, Lieutenant, and there are a few stars around, not many, and certainly not at the moment the Pole, but a few. I don’t know how long those conditions might last so I thought you might like to have a look now. I assume that Sister Morrison has staunched the flow of blood.’
‘There never was any flow of blood,’ she said. ‘As you know perfectly well, Mr McKinnon.’
‘Yes, Sister.’
She winced, then smiled. ‘Archie McKinnon.’
‘Wind’s dropped a lot,’ McKinnon said. He helped Ulbricht on with outer clothing. ‘But those are just as necessary as they were before. The temperature is still below zero.’
‘Fahrenheit?’
‘Sorry. You don’t use that. It’s about twenty degrees below, Centigrade.’
‘May his nurse come with him? After all, Dr Sinclair went with him last time.’
‘Of course. Wouldn’t advise you to come on the wing bridge, though.’ McKinnon gathered up sextant and chronometer and accompanied them up to the bridge. This time Ulbricht made it unaided. He went out on both wing bridges in turn and chose the starboard from which to make his observations. It took him longer than it had on the previous occasion, for he found it necessary to take more sights, presumably because the Pole Star was hidden. He came back inside, worked on the chart for some time and finally looked up.
‘Satisfactory. In the circumstances, very satisfactory. Not my navigation. The course we’ve been holding. No idea if we’ve been holding it all the time, of course, and that doesn’t matter. We’re “south of the Arctic Circle now, near enough 66.20 north, 4.20 east. Course 213, which seems to indicate that the wind’s backed only five degrees in the past twelve hours. We’re fine as we are, Mr McKinnon. Keeping the sea and the wind to the stern should see us through the night and even if we do wander off course we’re not going to bump into anything. This time tomorrow morning we’ll lay off a more southerly course.’
‘Thank you very much, Lieutenant,’ McKinnon said. ‘As the saying goes, you’ve earned your supper. Incidentally, I’ll have that sent up inside half an hour. You’ve also earned a good night’s sleep – I won’t be troubling you any more tonight.’
‘Haven’t I earned something else, too? It was mighty cold out there, Mr McKinnon.’
‘I’m sure the Captain would approve. As he said, so long as you’re navigating.’ He turned to the girl. ‘You coming below?’
‘Yes, yes, of course she must,’ Ulbricht said. ‘I’ve been most remiss, most.’ If remorse were gnawing it didn’t show too much. ‘All your other patients – ‘
‘All my other patients are fine. Sister Maria is looking after them. I’m off duty.’
‘Off duty! That makes me feel even worse. You should'”, be resting, my dear girl, that or sleeping.’
‘I’m wide awake, thank you. Are_you coming below? It’s no trouble now, ship’s like a rock and you’ve just been told you won’t be required any more tonight.’
‘Well, now.’ Ulbricht paused judiciously. ‘On balance, I think I should remain. Unforeseeable emergencies, you understand.’
‘Luftwaffe officers shouldn’t tell fibs. Of course I understand. I understand that the only foreseeable emergency is that you run short of supplies and the only reason you’re not coming below is that we don’t serve malt whisky with ward dinners.’
The Lieutenant shook his head in sadness. ‘I am deeply wounded.’
‘Wounded!’ she said. They had returned to the hospital mess deck. ‘Wounded.’
‘I think he is.’ McKinnon looked at her in speculative amusement. ‘And you, too.’
‘Me? Oh, really!’
‘Yes. Really. You’re hurt because you think he prefers Scotch to your company. Isn’t that so?’ She made no reply. ‘If you believe that, then you’ve got a very low opinion of both yourself and the Lieutenant. You were with him for about an hour tonight. What did he drink in that time?’
‘Nothing.’ Her voice was quiet.
‘Nothing. He’s not a drinker and he’s a sensitive lad. He’s sensitive because he’s an enemy, because he’s a captive, a prisoner of war and, of course, he’s sensitive above all because he’s now got to live all his life with the knowledge that he killed fifteen innocent people. You asked him if he was coming down. He didn’t want to be asked ‘if. He wanted to be persuaded, even ordered. ‘It implies indifference and the way he’s feeling it could be taken for a rejection. So what happens? The ward sister tells her feminine sympathy and intuition to take a holiday and delivers herself of some cutting remarks that Margaret Morrison would never have made. A mistake, but easy enough to put right/
‘How?’ The question was a tacit admission that a mistake had indeed been made.
‘Ninny. You take his hand and say sorry. Or are you too proud?’
‘Too proud?’ She seemed uncertain, confused. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Too proud because he’s a German? Look, I know about your fiance and brother and I’m terribly sorry but that doesn’t – ‘
‘Janet shouldn’t have told you.’
‘Don’t be daft. You didn’t object to her telling you about my family.’