is in
English. Something about an eagle.”
“An eagle?”
“Yes sir,
but I think it’s something about a ship—they say it’s the fifth of the war now,
at least I was able to hear that much. Then the signal cut loose and I lost it
again.”
Fedorov
thought hard for a moment. An eagle…a ship…the fifth of the war… Then his mind
suddenly joined the three odd clues and he knew like a thunderclap what it was
about, and where they were!
“Keep
listening, Mister Nikolin. I’ll be on the bridge again shortly.”
Fedorov’s
mind reeled with the sudden realization that had come to him. How could he be
sure? How could he get confirmation?
“More bad
news?” asked Zolkin as he tossed his soiled medical apron into a hamper. “You
look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Here, why don’t you sit down for a moment,
Fedorov.”
“No time, Doctor.
I’ve got too much on my back just now.”
Zolkin gave
him an understanding look, and clasped him by the shoulder. “Yes, I can feel
it,” he said with a wry smile. “Take your time, young Captain Lieutenant. Catch
your breath and give yourself a moment. You’ve been under the spotlight all
these last days in your new post, and that’s enough to unsettle most any man.”
“Thank you,
Doctor,” Fedorov nodded, and then lowered his voice. “I think something has
slipped again. That was Nikolin with a fragment of radio traffic. I think I may
know what has happened—where we are—and it gives me no cause for comfort. How
soon before the Admiral might recover?”
“Hard to
say. He’ll need at least a day before I allow you to pile your load on to his
belly again. I’m afraid you’ll have to carry things for a while longer. Go and
see to your business on the bridge, and if you can manage to get some sleep,
that would be good as well. I see we have an unaccountable day, and my night’s
sleep is gone as well, but I take it to have something to do with all the other
scenes in this nightmare we’ve been living these last weeks. Come back when you
know more and we’ll all have a chance to sort it through—you, me and the
Admiral.”
“Probably
best,” said Fedorov. “I’ll get up to the bridge then—oh yes—do you remember
that book I brought with me and gave to the Admiral? The Chronology of the War
at Sea?”
“Need to do
some more reading? What are you fishing out now, Fedorov?”
“I need to
check some dates and times.”
Zolkin folded
his arms, rubbing his thick beard as he thought. “Well I think the Admiral had
that book in his quarters. After this Karpov business was finished it kept him
up reading a good many nights.”
“Thank you,
Doctor. I’ll be off now.” He looked at the three men lying under those sheets.
“What should we do about them? I suppose a burial at sea would be appropriate.”
“I’ll handle
that,” said Zolkin. “You’ve enough to worry about as things stand now. Go and
find your book.”
Fedorov
tipped his hat with grim nod as he left, and Zolkin shook his head after him.
Yes, there
was a great deal on his shoulders now, thought Fedorov. More than he had ever
tried to carry in his life. He wondered if it would break his back, or if his
legs would give out from under him in a crucial moment that would cost them all
much more than the lives of those three men.
As he walked
on down the long corridor to the ship’s officer’s quarters a fragment of a poem
came to him when he thought about the men he had seen there in sick bay.
No heroes death for those who die
in boats where none can see.
no wreaths, no flags, no bugle calls -
just peace, beneath the sea…
Part II
The Operation
"It will be necessary to make
another attempt to run a convoy into Malta. The fate of the island is at stake,
and if the effort to relieve it is worth making, it is worth making on a great
scale. Strong battleship escort capable of fighting the Italian battle squadron
and strong Aircraft Carrier support
English. Something about an eagle.”
“An eagle?”
“Yes sir,
but I think it’s something about a ship—they say it’s the fifth of the war now,
at least I was able to hear that much. Then the signal cut loose and I lost it
again.”
Fedorov
thought hard for a moment. An eagle…a ship…the fifth of the war… Then his mind
suddenly joined the three odd clues and he knew like a thunderclap what it was
about, and where they were!
“Keep
listening, Mister Nikolin. I’ll be on the bridge again shortly.”
Fedorov’s
mind reeled with the sudden realization that had come to him. How could he be
sure? How could he get confirmation?
“More bad
news?” asked Zolkin as he tossed his soiled medical apron into a hamper. “You
look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Here, why don’t you sit down for a moment,
Fedorov.”
“No time, Doctor.
I’ve got too much on my back just now.”
Zolkin gave
him an understanding look, and clasped him by the shoulder. “Yes, I can feel
it,” he said with a wry smile. “Take your time, young Captain Lieutenant. Catch
your breath and give yourself a moment. You’ve been under the spotlight all
these last days in your new post, and that’s enough to unsettle most any man.”
“Thank you,
Doctor,” Fedorov nodded, and then lowered his voice. “I think something has
slipped again. That was Nikolin with a fragment of radio traffic. I think I may
know what has happened—where we are—and it gives me no cause for comfort. How
soon before the Admiral might recover?”
“Hard to
say. He’ll need at least a day before I allow you to pile your load on to his
belly again. I’m afraid you’ll have to carry things for a while longer. Go and
see to your business on the bridge, and if you can manage to get some sleep,
that would be good as well. I see we have an unaccountable day, and my night’s
sleep is gone as well, but I take it to have something to do with all the other
scenes in this nightmare we’ve been living these last weeks. Come back when you
know more and we’ll all have a chance to sort it through—you, me and the
Admiral.”
“Probably
best,” said Fedorov. “I’ll get up to the bridge then—oh yes—do you remember
that book I brought with me and gave to the Admiral? The Chronology of the War
at Sea?”
“Need to do
some more reading? What are you fishing out now, Fedorov?”
“I need to
check some dates and times.”
Zolkin folded
his arms, rubbing his thick beard as he thought. “Well I think the Admiral had
that book in his quarters. After this Karpov business was finished it kept him
up reading a good many nights.”
“Thank you,
Doctor. I’ll be off now.” He looked at the three men lying under those sheets.
“What should we do about them? I suppose a burial at sea would be appropriate.”
“I’ll handle
that,” said Zolkin. “You’ve enough to worry about as things stand now. Go and
find your book.”
Fedorov
tipped his hat with grim nod as he left, and Zolkin shook his head after him.
Yes, there
was a great deal on his shoulders now, thought Fedorov. More than he had ever
tried to carry in his life. He wondered if it would break his back, or if his
legs would give out from under him in a crucial moment that would cost them all
much more than the lives of those three men.
As he walked
on down the long corridor to the ship’s officer’s quarters a fragment of a poem
came to him when he thought about the men he had seen there in sick bay.
No heroes death for those who die
in boats where none can see.
no wreaths, no flags, no bugle calls -
just peace, beneath the sea…
Part II
The Operation
"It will be necessary to make
another attempt to run a convoy into Malta. The fate of the island is at stake,
and if the effort to relieve it is worth making, it is worth making on a great
scale. Strong battleship escort capable of fighting the Italian battle squadron
and strong Aircraft Carrier support
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