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      ‘No. Yes. Well, not really. It’s difficult, I’m not very good at those things. I heard about your family this morning. Just before we came up. I’m sorry, I am terribly sorry.’

      ‘Janet?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘It’s no secret.’

      ‘It was a German bomber pilot who killed them.’ She looked at him for a long moment, then shook her head. ‘Along comes another German bomber pilot, again attacking innocent civilians, and you’re the first person to come to his defence.’

      ‘Don’t go pinning any haloes or wings on me. Besides, I’m not so sure that’s a compliment. What did you expect me to do? Lash out in revenge at an innocent man?’

      ‘You? Don’t be silly. Well, no, maybe I was silly to say it, but you know very well what I mean. I also heard Petty Officer McKinnon, BEM, DSM and goodness knows what else was in a Malta hospital with a broken back when he heard the news. An Italian Air Force bomber got your submarine. You seem to have an affinity for enemy bombers.’

      ‘Janet didn’t know that.’

      She smiled. ‘Captain Bowen and I have become quite friendly.’

      ‘Captain Bowen,’ McKinnon said without heat, ‘is a gossipy old woman.’

      ‘Captain Bowen is a gossipy old woman. Mr Kennet is a gossipy old woman. Mr Patterson is a gossipy old woman. Mr Jamieson is a gossipy old woman. They’re all gossipy old women.’

      ‘Goodness me! That’s a very serious allegation, Sister. Sorry. Margaret.’

      ‘Gossipy old women speak in low voices or whispers. Whenever any two of them or three of them or indeed all four are together they speak in low voices or whispers. You can feel the tension, almost smell the fear – well, no, that’s the wrong word, apprehension, I should say. Why do they whisper?’

      ‘Maybe they’ve got secrets.’

      ‘I deserve better than that.’

      ‘We’ve got saboteurs aboard.’

      ‘I know that. We all know that. The whisperers know that we all know that.’ She gave him a long, steady look. ‘I still deserve better than that. Don’t you trust me?’

      ‘I trust you. We’re being hunted. Somebody aboard the San Andreas has a transmitter radio that is sending out a continuous location signal. The Luftwaffe, the U-boats know exactly where we are. Somebody wants us. Somebody wants to take over the San Andreas.’

      For long moments she looked at his eyes as if searching for an answer to a question she couldn’t formulate. McKinnon shook his head and said: ‘I’m sorry. That’s all I know. You must believe me.’

      ‘I do believe you. Who could be sending out this signal?’

      ‘Anybody. My guess is that it is a member of our own crew. Could be a survivor from the Argos. Could be any of the sick men we picked up in Murmansk. Each idea is quite ridiculous but one has to be less ridiculous than the others. Which, I have no idea.’

      ‘Why would anyone want us?’

      ‘If I knew that, I’d know the answer to a lot of things. Once again, I have no idea.’

      ‘How would they take us over?’

      ‘Submarine. U-boat. No other way. They have no surface ships and an aircraft is out of the question. Praying, that’s what your whisperers are probably at – praying. Praying that the snow will never end. Our only hope lies in concealment. Praying, as the old divines used to say, that we will not be abandoned by fortune.’

      ‘And if we are?’

      ‘Then that’s it.’

      ‘You’re not going to do anything?’ She seemed more than faintly incredulous. ‘You’re not even going to try to do anything?’

      It was quite some hours since McKinnon had made up his mind where his course of action would lie but it seemed hardly the time or the place to elaborate on his decision. ‘What on earth do you expect me to do? Send them to the bottom with a salvo of stale bread and old potatoes? You forget this is a hospital ship. Sick, wounded and all civilians.’

      ‘Surely there’s something you can do.’ There was a strange note in her voice, one almost of desperation. She went on bitterly: ‘The much-bemedalled Petty Officer McKinnon.’

      ‘The much-bemedalled Petty Officer McKinnon,’ he said mildly, ‘would live to fight another day.’

      ‘Fight them now!’ Her voice had a break in it. ‘Fight them! Fight them! Fight them!’ She buried her face in her hands.

      McKinnon put his arm round her shaking shoulders and regarded her with total astonishment. A man of almost infinite resource and more than capable of dealing with anything that came his way, he was at an utter loss to account for her weird conduct. He sought for words of comfort and consolation but as he didn’t know what he was supposed to be comforting or consoling about he found none. Nor did repeating phrases like ‘Now, now, then’ seem to meet the case either, so he finally contented himself with saying: ‘I’ll get Trent up and take you below.’

      When they had arrived below, after a particularly harrowing trip across the upper deck between superstructure and hospital – they had to battle their way against the great wind and the driving blizzard – he led her to the little lounge and went in search of Janet Magnusson. When he found her he said: ‘I think you’d better go and see your pal, Maggie. She’s very upset.’ He raised a hand. ‘No, Janet, not guilty. I did not upset her.’

      She said accusingly: ‘But you were with her when she became upset.’

      ‘She’s disappointed with me, that’s all.’

      ‘Disappointed?’

      ‘She wants me to commit suicide. I don’t see it her way.’

      She tapped her head. ‘One of you is touched. I don’t much doubt who it is.’ McKinnon sat down on a stool by a mess table while she went into the lounge. She emerged some five minutes later and sat down opposite him. Her face was troubled.

      ‘Sorry, Archie. Not guilty. And neither of you is touched. She’s got this ambivalent feeling towards the Germans.’

      ‘Ambi what?’

      ‘Mixed up. It doesn’t help that her mother is German. She’s had rather a bad time. A very rough time. Oh, I know you have, too, but you’re different.’

      ‘Of course I’m different. I have no finer feelings.’

      ‘Oh, do be quiet. You weren’t to know – in fact, I think I’m the only person who does know. About five months ago she lost both her only brother and her fiancé. Both died over Hamburg. Not in the same plane, not even in the same raid. But within weeks of each other.’

      ‘Oh Jesus.’ McKinnon shook his head slowly and was silent for some moments. ‘Poor bloody kid. Explains a lot.’ He rose, crossed to Dr Singh’s private source of supplies and returned with a glass. ‘The legendary McKinnon willpower. You were with Maggie when this happened, Janet?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘You knew her before then?’

      ‘Of course. We’ve been friends for years.’

      ‘So you must have known those two boys?’ She said nothing. ‘Known them well, I mean?’ Still she said nothing, just sat there with her flaxen head bowed, apparently gazing down at her clasped hands on the table. As much in exasperation as anything McKinnon reached out, took one of her wrists and shook it gently. ‘Janet.’

      She looked up. ‘Yes, Archie?’ Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

      ‘Oh dear, oh dear.’ McKinnon sighed. ‘You,

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