Resumption
by
Christopher Nicole


Born in the West Indies, British author Christopher Nicole's historical
fiction includes the best selling, 5volume Canbee series.

His extraordinary naval knowledge was the source of his popular,
six-part McGann Saga, ending with The Passion And The Glory and most
recently Days of Wine And Roses?

and The Titans.

BLACK MAJESTY BOOK 1

BLACK MAJESTY BOOK 2

CARIBEE

DAYS OF WINE AND ROSES?

IRON SHIPS IRON MEN

THE PASSION AND THE GLORY

QUEEN OF PARIS

THE SEA AND THE SAND

SHIP WITH NO NAME

SUN AND THE DRAGON

THE SUN ON FIRE

THE TITANS

WIND OF DESTINY

RESUMPTION

A Novel by

CHRISTOPHER NICOLE

This first world edition published in Great Britain 1992 by SEVERN
HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of 35 Manor Road, Wellington, Surrey SM6 OBW First
published in the U.S.A. 1993 by SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS INC of 475
Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Copyright Christopher Nicole 1992 All
situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to
living persons is purely coincidental British Library Cataloguing in
Publication Data Nicole, Christopher Resumption.

I. Title

823.914 [F]

ISBN 0-7278-4398-2

Typeset by Hewer Text Composition Services, Edinburgh Printed and bound
in Great Britain by Dotesios Limited, Trowbridge, Wiltshire

CONTENTS

PART ONE

THE WIND FROM THE

EAST.

The River.

The Wind.

The Sceptered Isle.

Cousins.

Dreams.

The Ship.

The Shadow.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

PART TWO

THE WIND BECOMES A

STORM.

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

The Storm-Tossed Line.  201 The Paradise Club.  230 Those Who Were
Friends.  257 Leviathan.  284 Where East meets West.  312 The End of
the Beginning.  338

This is a novel.

The characters are invented, except where they can be identified
historically, and while most of the ships mentioned and described are
real, and the sea battles are as factual as the story allows, events
and characters on board the vessels may have been invented for the
purposes of the novel.

There is no good in arguing with the inevitable.  The only argument
available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat.

James Russell Lowell

PART ONE

The Wind from the East

CHAPTER 1

The River "All present and correct?"  Commander Broughton walked
briskly up and down before the three officers standing on the
quarterdeck of HMS Goliath, as it lay at anchor out of the mainstream
of the Yangste-Kiang River, beneath the walls of the city of Nanking in
Central China.

"Must make a good show, eh?"

Commander Broughton was a little man, who bristled with energy, almost
entirely directed to "making a good show".

No doubt he felt frustrated at having as his first command a river
gunboat.  Goliath was a complete misnomer for the hundred and sixty
foot long, shallow draft craft with its two three-inch high angle guns,
and its crew of fifty-five;

in front of him was the entire complement of officers:

Chief Engineer Evans, Surgeon-Lieutenant Davies, and Lieutenant Dawson.
Like their commanding officer, Evans and Davies were both somewhat
short and slight.  Jack Dawson, the executive officer, stood out like a
mountain with his six feet four inches of height and his heavy build.

But he was immaculately dressed, as were the others, his white tropical
uniform with shell jacket and long trousers they had been invited to an
evening reception pristinely pressed, his sword hanging at his side.

Broughton looked at him longer than the others.  He always did.  Jack
Dawson had an impeccable pedigree as a naval officer.  Or did he?
Certainly his grandfather and his great-grandfather had both been
admirals, while his father had won the Victoria Cross for gallantry at
the Battle of Jutland, before being killed in action against a U-boat
in 1918.  But that father, however much of a hero at the end, had once
been cashiered for treason, and had had to work his way back up from
Ordinary Seaman to commissioned rank.  Few people in the Navy knew the
truth of that unhappy business; all were curious.

Jack Dawson never talked about his father.  His own career had been
entirely orthodox.  He had gone to Dartmouth, been commissioned, and
now in this December of 1937, at twenty-two was a full lieutenant; he
had quickly revealed the talent which obviously coursed in his veins.

Yet it was difficult for a commanding officer not to wonder what else
might be coursing there, some day to be revealed.

Not tonight, at any rate.

"Very good, gentlemen," Broughton said, and descended the brief
boarding ladder to the waiting pinnace Goliath's main deck was only a
few inches above the river level while the boatswain blew his pipe.

Evans and Davies followed; Jack Dawson brought up the rear, lingering,
as he always did, to look up the long sweep of the river, at the sun
drooping into the huge plain to the west.  Jack Dawson had only been in
China two months, but he thought he might well be falling in love with
the place, if not necessarily the Chinese.  But it was the river which
dominated his concept of the country.

The Yangste rose in the mountains of Tibet, and from thence tumbled to
the east, cascading down steep slopes, until it reached the city of
Chungking.  Here it was still high in the mountains, and below
Chungking it passed through a series of gorges, said to be breathtaking
in their majesty, and brought to perfection by the hurrying waters.
Jack Dawson had never been to Chungking, or seen the gorges, but it was
one of his great ambitions to do so.

A few hundred miles further on the Yangste descended on to the plain,
slowing now as it wound its way through the foothills close to the
Tungking Lake, until it reached the great Arsenal of Han-Yang, above
the twin cities, facing each other across the stream, of Wu-chau and
Hankow.

Here it was joined by the Han Kiang, to become the mighty
Yangste-Kiang, mother of waters.

Below Hankow the river flowed majestically through the great plain of
China, past such cities as Wusu and Wuhu, before it reached the ancient
capital of Nanking, off which Goliath, in company with several other
British and American gunboats, was presently anchored.

Below Nanking the river curved, ever-widening now, past the southern
entrance of the Grand Canal and the city of Chin-Kiang, thence past
Yungchau, to debouch into the sea just beyond the seaport of Wu-Sun.

Wu-Sun lay on the banks of the Yangste's final tributary, the
Whang-poo, and some miles up the Whang-poo was situated the huge city
of Shanghai, outside whose walls was the International Concession.

Jack Dawson had been told a great deal about Shanghai, by old China
hands, before he had ever sailed to the East.  By the time he had got
there, few of those tales were any longer true.  The great walled city
still rose beside the Whang-poo, the many national flags still
fluttered above the International Concession, there had still been
horse-racing at the track, bridge parties and cocktail parties every
night, the river itself had been filled with shipping, and with
warships, too.  But above them all had flown the Rising Sun ensign of
Imperial Japan.

The rivalry between Japan and China had simmered, often bloodily, since
1929.  But it was only six months previously, in the summer of 1937,
that the military government which had obtained power in the island
kingdom had determined on all-out war against their huge mainland
neighbour.  Some said they had been forced to it by the uneasy
rumblings of their domestic politics, others that they had realised
this might be their last opportunity before the Chinese leader, Marshal
Chiang Kai-shek, finally eliminated the Communist rebels against whom
he had been fighting for so long, and was able to turn the full might
of his six hundred million strong nation against the impudent
islanders.

Whatever the truth, the Japanese had gone to war with swift and
ruthless efficiency.  China had been invaded in several places.  It had
been supposed that Shanghai would fall easily enough, due to the
presence of several thousand Japanese "guards" in the International
Concession.  But the city had resisted tenaciously, for week after
week, causing a full scale expeditionary force to be sent against it.
The surrender had come only the week before Jack Dawson's arrival the
mopping up had still been going on, and a pall of smoke had lain across
the second city of China.

The Japanese had been scrupulously polite to the Europeans with whom
they shared the Concession, had taken great care to avoid damaging the
British and American ships anchored in the river; towards the Chinese
their policy had been one of extermination where immediate surrender
had not been forthcoming.

The fighting around Shanghai had been completed soon after Jack's
arrival; the only evidence of it was to be seen in the buildings in the
city which had been destroyed by aerial bombardment and remained burned
out wrecks, by the huge numbers of Japanese troops cantoned on both
sides of the river, and by the somewhat frenetic calm of the Europeans
in the Concession.  The diplomats had been caught with their pants
down.  As long ago as 1933, a commission of the League of Nations,
headed by the Englishman Lord Lytton, had condemned the Japanese
seizure of Manchuria as an act of unwarranted aggression.  Japan's
reply to the Lytton report had been to leave the League.

Since then it had been optimistically supposed that while the
conversion of the Chinese province of Manchuria into the Japanese
controlled Kingdom of Manchukuo, complete with a one-time Manchu
Emperor as its king, was a fait accompli which had to be accepted,
world condemnation would restrain the Japanese from any further
"adventures" on the mainland.  Now they had been proved frighteningly
wrong.  But no one had any idea what to do about it.

"Then what exactly is our duty, sir?"  Jack had asked Commander
Broughton, when he had reported on board Goliath.

"Our duty, number one, is the same as it has always been in these
waters.  We patrol the Yangste-Kiang, showing the flag and protecting
our nationals."

"And the Japanese, sir?"

"We don't interfere with them, unless they interfere with us.  Remember
that."

British gunboats, and American, had first appeared on the Yangste some
seventy years before, ever since the treaties forced upon the
collapsing Ching Dynasty of the Manchus had enabled European merchants,
and European missionaries, to penetrate the interior of the country. 
They had needed protecting, and the river was the main highway through
central China.  The gunboats had patrolled the river, ceaselessly,
through summer drought and winter flood, through peasant uprising and
civil war, only occasionally forced to go into action themselves; the
Chinese who lived along the Yangste-Kiang had a wholesome respect for
European and British power, as displayed on more than one occasion
within living memory.

But here again, tradition and memory were being overturned.  Goliath
had steamed upriver between two armies at war.  Her crew had watched
shells bursting both north and south of the river, and heard the rumble
of the guns.  They had seen actual fighting along the riverbank, and
they had watched bloated bodies, of women and children and animals as
well as men and soldiers, floating past them or lying rotting on the
sandbanks which littered the river.

The Yangste had always stank.  Now the stench was increased.

And always overhead they had heard and watched the Japanese planes,
darting to and fro, and every so often ' wailing towards the earth to
shatter a Chinese position with their deadly accurate bombs.

There were planes overhead now, wheeling and circling, but these were
reconnaissance machines.  The Japanese advance up the river had been
held, for the moment, and this far from the fighting lines even the
sound of gunfire was absent.  It was indeed quite remarkable how the
people of

Nanking seemed to be going about their business, as if there were not a
war on at all.

From time to time in the past, Nanking had been the capital of the
Chinese empire, and it remained, as a city, inferior only to Shanghai
and Peking itself, a huge, sprawling township which had long overflowed
the high walls of antiquity, drawing its wealth from the thousands of
square miles of rice-bearing plain which surrounded it.  Typically
Chinese, it was a place of splendid mandarin al palaces and luxuriant
parks, surrounded by abject hovels packed wall to wall.  Its humanity
varied from wealthy members of the Kuo-min-tang, the ruling political
party, who wore western clothes, the men in silk hats and the women in
high heels, calf-length frocks, lipsticks and permanent waves, to
ragged beggars lurking on street corners.  The odours encountered on
the crowded streets varied from the nostril-tingling scent of frying
pork to the repellent stench of human excreta.  It was possible to
while away an afternoon by watching a public execution, or anticipate a
very private pleasure by buying a young girl, or boy, offered for sale
on street corners by parents too poor to feed them.

And, like all Chinese cities close to water, Nanking had spawned
another city on the river itself.  As the pinnace nosed in to the dock,
its wake set this city to tossing gently, a huge accumulation of
sampans, moored together in rafts, and eventually to the bank.  On
these small boats people lived and died, married and were born,
quarrelled and loved, offered themselves and their goods for sale ..
.

it was a teeming world within the teeming world that was China.  It was
a world Jack Dawson hoped to explore, if he remained in Nanking long
enough.

Goliath had now been moored off the city for a fortnight, as had most
of the other gunboats.  Clearly there was a very good reason for this;
the British and American governments were still hoping to deter the
Japanese from any large-scale advance up the river.  If there was no
hope of half a dozen small ships resisting the might of Imperial Japan,
it was presumed that the Japanese commanders would recoil from the
possibility of a confrontation with either of the Anglo-Saxon powers.

Their presence was certainly welcomed by the Anglo American community
in Nanking, which remained considerable.  Warnings had been issued, by
both the Japanese themselves and the relevant consular offices, that
all foreign nationals who could should leave China, but very few people
had paid much attention.  The crews, and more especially the officers,
of the gunboats had been the recipients of unceasing invitations.  This
evening's reception at the house of John Mowlam, one of the leading
English merchants in Nanking, was the fourth to which Goliath's
officers had been invited this week.

They were landed at one of the water gates.  So common was the sight of
the British officers either landing or embarking that they attracted
almost no attention, save from a few small boys anxious to lead them to
either food or entertainment of a more specialised variety.  These were
shooed away, and the officers strode up the cobbled street, waving
aside the eager ricksha drivers as well; Commander Broughton believed
in walking, and besides, the Mowlam residence was not far from the
river front.

The house, three upper storeys rising out of an arcaded ground floor,
was a blaze of light.  It was set back from the street and the officers
made their way through a luxuriant garden towards soft music beneath
strings of Chinese lanterns, while white-jacketed menservants came out
to greet them with torches.  The party was already in progress, with
several officers from other ships present, together with some Chinese
merchants and officials, and a large selection of the British and
American community.

Men outnumbered women by two to one, as if they had in the main decided
to remain themselves and look after their interests, the
Anglo-Americans had mostly sent their womenfolk to safety.  But the
Mowlam women had refused to go.  Janet Mowlam, tall and strongly built,
a glitter of pearls on bare shoulders, greeted her guests as they came
in, standing beside her no less dominating husband.  Their daughters
were also tall, and if not beautiful, were certainly striking, with
their yellow hair and plunging decolletages, their strong figures and
pale skins and smiling blue eyes.

"Mr.  Dawson."  Marjorie, the eldest girl, took his arm; he was the
only one of the new arrivals taller than herself.

"You'll have some champagne?"

She had flirted with him from the moment of their first meeting this
was their fourth.  It was difficult to decide what she wanted.  Just a
flirtation?  Or had she chosen him as a conquest?

Jack Dawson knew very little about the social graces.  He had no
memories of his father, who had been killed before he was three.  As a
small boy in the early nineteen-twenties, there had been only Mother,
but Mother had always seemed a somewhat remote figure, and in those
days she had had some difficulty in making ends meet, had had to go out
to work, leaving him in care of a rather sexless nanny, whose attention
he had had to share with several other children from families also
disrupted by the war.

His father had come, apparently, from a reasonably wealthy background,
and from time to time there had been visits to Silver Streams, the
family home.  But even the Dawsons had come on hard time after the War,
with taxes and the cost of living rising together.  At Silver Streams
he had met his grandmother, briefly, before she died, and his Aunt
Mary.  Mary Young's husband had also died in the war, but she had
married again, an American naval officer named Krantz, and spent most
of her time in the States, especially since the death of her mother.

The only surviving male Dawson of that generation was Uncle Giles, who
had been a submariner of distinction, another to win the VC, and was
now a Rear-Admiral.

Uncle Giles had married an American woman, remarkably, the sister of
Captain Krantz.  Lorraine Dawson had always made her nephew-in-law
welcome at Silver Streams,

but Jack had increasingly become aware of a slight atmosphere, which
had been put in perspective by his cousin Georgina, Giles and
Lorraine's eldest daughter.

"You're the rightful owner of Silver Streams," Georgina had told him.

"You're the only son of the eldest son.  Daddy is an usurper."

Georgina had been ten and Jack had been seventeen, on holiday from
Dartmouth, when she had told him that;

Georgina, like the aunt after whom she had been named, was setting up
to be a rebel.  But Jack had asked his mother about what she had
said.

"I suppose it's true, legally," Denise Dawson had agreed.

"But I waived all my rights to Silver Streams years ago.  I hope you
won't make a fuss about it now."

He hadn't, but had rather tended to avoid Georgina and her sister
Elizabeth after that, just as he tended to avoid Aunt Mary's children;
Joanna Young he remembered as being several years older than he, a
supercilious girl with the Dawson height and an abiding interest in
dogs, but she had spent the last dozen years in America with her mother
and he had not seen her during that time, while Mark, who was also
older if only by a year, had been his senior at Dartmouth and never let
him forget it.  Mark was serving as a watch keeping officer on HMS
Hood, and equally never let anyone, much less his young cousin, forget
that Hood was the greatest and finest warship in the world, even if she
was officially classed as a battle cruiser

As for the other young women who occasionally visited Silver Streams to
play with their Dawson and Young school friends Jack had always kept as
far away from them as possible.

But there was no keeping away from Marjorie Mowlam, as, having procured
them each a glass of champagne from a waiter's tray, she backed him
into a corner.

"Daddy says there's talk about the gunboats being withdrawn.  Is that
true, Jack?"

"I've heard nothing of it.  But then, I would be the last to know."

"You're second-in-command of Goliath," she pointed out.

"You have to see all the top secret stuff, don't you?"

"If it's top secret, then it's .. . top secret," he grinned.

"We will be going sometime, you know."

She turned away and wandered towards one of the archways leading out
into the garden.  Here in Nanking, December could be a chilly month
snow was not unknown along the Yangste in a severe winter but tonight
was warm and humid.  Jack had no alternative than to follow her.

"I don't want you to go."  She spoke with the authority of someone who
had seldom had a desire un realised

"And I would very much like to stay," he said politely.

"Would you?"  She stopped strolling beneath the arches and turned, so
suddenly that he ran into her; champagne leapt from his glass and
splashed into her decolletage.

"Oh, my God!  I'm sorry, Marjorie."

"You can dry me, if you like.  Don't you have a handkerchief?"

Jack licked his lips, nervously, and she smiled.

"There's nobody about."

He looked over his shoulder, but she was right; she had carefully
steered them out of sight of even a lurking servant.  He took his
handkerchief from his hip pocket, and cautiously dabbed at the soft
flesh, which rose and fell beneath his touch.

"Some's dribbled down," she complained.

"Oh.  Well .. ."

To his relief she took the handkerchief from his hand and herself
inserted it into the stiff bodice of her gown, moving it up and down
several times.

"That's better."  She gave him back the handkerchief; it was scented
with both her perfume and champagne, a heady mixture.

"Tell me why you want to stay?"

"In China?  There's so much I want to see, so many places I want to
explore.  I'd like to go up the river.  Broughton says when we leave
here we may well go up to Hankow for a spell.

I'd like that.  But we can't go any further because there isn't enough
water.  I'd like to go up above Hankow and see the gorges, maybe get to
Chungking.  Not that I suppose I ever shall."

"There's quite a lot worth exploring in and around Nanking," Marjorie
reminded him, enigmatically.

"Well, yes, I know."

"Do you ever get any time off?"

"Well ... I suppose so."

"Jennie and I often picnic with some of the other officers.

We're planning one for tomorrow.  Would you like to come?"

"Well ..."

"We'll go on horseback, through the paddies, to an old temple.  It's
very romantic.  And such fun."  She frowned.

"You do ride?"

"Not very well."

"We'll find you a hack.  I know the very one.  Do say you'll come, and
I'll forgive you for pouring champagne all over me."

It was your fault, he thought, but decided against saying so.

"I'd love to come, if I can wangle it."

"Gentlemen, be seated."

Rear-Admiral Naguchi sat down himself, in a highbacked chair at the end
of the wardroom of the Imperial Japanese Ship Akagi, and surveyed the
row of eager faces before him.

Naguchi was a proud man, to be commander-in-chief of the naval task
force assigned to the invasion of central China, and to have as his
flagship this most powerful aircraft-carrier in the Imperial Navy. Laid
down as a battle cruiser to equal the British Hood just after the Great
War, Akagi had been one of the capital ships doomed to destruction
under the limiting agreements of the Washington Naval Treaties of 1922.
But she had been saved from the scrap yard because the treaty makers
at Washington, so anxious to limit the number and tonnage of
battleships each nation could possess, had never considered
aircraft-carriers at all.

Akagi had been rebuilt with a flush flight deck, and more recently,
reconstructed again.  She now displaced well over forty thousand tons,
deep loaded, and her hangars contained ninety-one combat aircraft.
Traditionalists might still count naval power in terms of battleships
and battle cruisers as far as Naguchi was concerned, he commanded one
of the most powerful vessels in the world.

Equally was the Admiral proud to command so many expert, eager, and
above all, dedicated pilots.  They sat absolutely still, making not a
sound, their dark blue uniform jackets buttoned to the neck, their caps
placed on their knees, their backs straight and their shoulders square.
He had only to direct them, and they would obey, even were he to point
at the mouth of hell itself, he knew.

But their assignment was going to be much easier than that.

"Gentlemen," he said.

"As you are no doubt aware, the Chinese resistance west of the Grand
Canal is proving stronger than we had anticipated.  The country is of
little use for our tanks and artillery, and they have so much more
manpower than ourselves.  The High Command has therefore determined
that they must be dislodged, whatever the cost.

"It has been decided, after due consideration, that the best way of
accomplishing this is to destroy their headquarters, which is also the
marshalling yard for their supplies.  The Chinese soldier may be able
to live off the country, but he cannot replace his bullets in a paddy
field.

"It is therefore the decision of the High Command that the capture of
Nanking must have the highest possible priority.  The enemy is
defending the approaches to the city with great tenacity; a frontal
assault would be extremely costly in men and materiel.  It is our
business to destroy his morale and force him to fall back and abandon
the city.  Our instructions are to launch such an aerial bombardment of
Nanking that it will become indefensible, both by reason of physical
damage and by reason of the collapse of civilian, and hopefully,
military morale."

Again he looked over the grim young faces in front of him.

"I understand your feelings on this matter; you did not join the Navy
to make war upon civilians.  But war is a matter of nations, not
individuals.  The Great War proved that.  The Chinese army before
Nanking has been summoned to surrender or face the consequences.

It has refused to surrender.  Now it, and its supportive population,
must accept those consequences.  Your objective is the city.  It is to
inflict the maximum damage and destruction of which you are capable.
You will carry out your assignments as Japanese officers.  I will take
questions."

There was a brief silence, then Commander Hamaguchi, who would lead the
assault, stood up.

"There are British and American warships off Nanking, honourable
Admiral."

"Gunboats.  They have no adequate anti-aircraft protection."

"I meant, sir, what if they are hit?"

Naguchi spread his hands.

"It will be a regrettable accident.  But they can be in no doubt that
we mean to attack Nanking.  We have said this more than once.  It is
their business to withdraw their gunboats further up the river, or send
them down to Shanghai under safe conduct.

We have advised them, repeatedly, to do this.  They have no part in
this struggle."

"There are also British and French nationals in Nanking, honourable
Admiral," said Lieutenant-Commander Hirada.

Naguchi's large head turned slowly to regard the young man.  Hirada
Tanawa was an important part of his command, not because of his rank,
achieved at an unusually early age, but because he was the younger son
of one of Japan's wealthiest and most respected families: Hirada
Industries supplied a great proportion of the Japanese war machine.
Having one of the heirs to a fortune serving under him had been a
feather in Naguchi's cap, and the youthful lieutenant-commander he was
only twenty-five

was also a brilliant pilot and a popular man.  There could be no doubt
that he would be an admiral himself one day.

But he was in a position to ask awkward questions.

"I am aware of this, Commander Hirada," the Admiral said.

"It is extremely regrettable.  We have issued several warnings, to
European nationals, not only in Nanking but in any city which may be
involved in this war.  We have pointed out time and again that, unlike
Shanghai, there is no International Concession outside Nanking, where
Europeans may take shelter in safety.  As far as I know, the majority
of Europeans in Nanking have heeded our warnings, and have left the
city.  Those who have not ... we cannot be dissuaded from pursuing our
legitimate war aims by the presence of neutral nationals."  His gaze
swept the faces, but there were no more questions.

"Very good, gentlemen.  I need hardly remind you that what you have
been told here this afternoon is top secret.

The mission takes off at zero two zero zero the day after tomorrow.
Dismissed."

The officers filed out of the room, and split up, muttering to each
other.  Commander Hamaguchi made sure he was beside Hirada; he regarded
the young man as something of his prottgt, and now guided him out on to
the huge sweep of the flight deck, where they could speak freely
without being overheard.

"Naguchi was quite right, you know," he said.

"I am not sure it is ever right to attack civilians."

"We are not attacking civilians.  We are attacking a military
establishment.  That it happens to contain a few civilians is the fault
of the Chinese, not us."

"A few?  With respect, honourable Commander, more than a million."

"That again is a Chinese matter.  They are sheltering behind their
civilian population.  They must take the responsibility.  But in any
event, tell the truth, you are more concerned about the British."

He knew that before joining the Navy Hirada Tanawa had made a sort of
Grand Tour of Europe, and had spent six months in England; indeed, he
spoke the language fluently.

"Yes, I am concerned about the British," Hirada admitted.

"It is not a matter of right or wrong.  I understand that civilians who
get in the way of a war are liable to be hurt.  It is the warships
which concern me most.  Will not the British be very angry if any of
their ships are hit?"

Hamaguchi shrugged.

"Their ships should not be there, any more than their civilians.  As
for being angry, what can they do?  The British do not have a single
capital ship in the Pacific."

Hirada frowned.

"You speak as if you are prepared to fight them?"

"Yes, Commander.  I believe it may be necessary to fight them.  They
wish to control the earth.  All we want is to control a small part of
it.  If they try too hard to stop us doing that, we shall have to fight
them."

"And the Americans?  We would go to war with the two most powerful
fleets in the world?"

Hamaguchi tapped his nose.

"The Americans will never go to war, except perhaps in defence of
America.  They are too concerned with making money.  They certainly
will never go to war as allies of the British.  They want nothing to do
with Europe, or wars.  As for possessing the two most powerful fleets
in the world, I did not say we would go to war with them tomorrow, or
even next year.  But in a few years time .  who knows."

"And until then?"

"Until then, Commander, we click our heels and bow and say, so sorry."
He smiled.

"It is what they expect us to say, is it not?"

Jack Dawson had no riding gear, and there was much hilarity at the
Mowlam household as they tried to fit him out.  But it was impossible,
and eventually he was mounted on a docile horse in the same corduroy
pants and canvas shoes in which he had gone ashore.

There were five others in the party.  Marjorie and Jennifer Mowlam had
been joined by another young woman, Emma Perkins.  All three of them
were flawlessly dressed in jodhpurs and silk shirts, brown riding boots
and wide-brimmed hats strapped beneath their chins.  One of the men, a
civilian named Barton, was also correctly dressed, but the other, an
American naval officer, Paul Schwartz, was as incongruously fitted out
as Jack.

"Stay away from brush," Marjorie told Barton, who was apparently their
guide.

"Or it'll tear their pants."

They walked their horses out of the city, passing through the landward
gate and the huge shanty town that had grown up beyond it, picking
their way through the hordes of half-naked little boys and girls who
clustered round begging for chocolate.  Once they reached the open
country they broke into a canter.  Accompanying them were half a dozen
Chinese servants, also mounted, and these rode on ahead;

apparently they knew where they were going.

"Isn't it marvelous?"  Marjorie cried, riding beside Jack, as they
followed a dam between flooded rice paddies, the city now well behind
them.

It certainly was a splendid December day, with hardly a cloud in the
sky, and the sun deliriously warm without any of the searing heat of
midsummer.

"Just look at those bastards," Schwartz commented, pointing at the
reconnaissance machines, which kept wheeling over the city and the
river.

"Doesn't Chiang Kai-shek have any planes of his own?"

"Just the Flying Tigers," Barton said.

"And they have more important things to do than chase away
nuisances."

"I am making a rule, as of now," Marjorie declared.

"There is to be no more talk of war.  There is not even to be a thought
of it.  We are here to enjoy ourselves.  There!"

They had reached the banks of a fast-flowing rivulet, hurrying beside
the dam on its way to find the Yangste.

Ahead of them the flat countryside was broken by a small wood, and they
could make out, amidst the trees, the ruins of some kind of building.

"This was once a Christian mission," Barton explained to the two male
guests; the Mowlam girls and Emma had obviously been here before.

"Built by the Portuguese, oh, back in the time of the Ming Dynasty,
four hundred years ago."

"Why is it derelict?"  Schwartz asked.

"Well, the Portuguese were welcomed at first, because of their
knowledge of mathematics and astronomy.  But they were Jesuits,
committed to proseletysing, and they couldn't stop themselves.  So
gradually the Emperor got the idea that they were trying to encourage
his people to rebel against him, and he determined that the Jesuits
should be exterminated.

Which the Chinese did with their usual efficiency when it comes to
killing people.  Some of them were crucified upside down."

"Ugh!"  Emma Perkins commented.

They had now ridden right up to the trees.

"So this mission has stayed derelict ever since.  The local people
won't come near it, because they think it's haunted."

"That's why we like it," Marjorie said.

"We're certain of complete privacy."

She walked her mount between the trees, and the others followed.  They
dismounted, secured the reins to branches, loosely so that the horses
could graze, and went up the crumbling stone steps to the facade of
what had probably once been the mission house: the ruined church stood
some distance away.  The Chinese servants had already unpacked their
saddlebags in what had been a courtyard;

a fire was burning and delicious smells were coming from the various
saucepans in use, as well as a rather unusual one, sickly sweet.

"Spooky," Schwartz commented.

The trees clustered around and above the ruin, shutting out most of the
sun, leaving the atmosphere cool and gloomy.

"Are there snakes?"  Jack asked.

"Never saw one," Barton reassured him.

"Let's all sit in a circle," Marjorie said.

Emma giggled, obviously anticipating what was going to happen next.
Schwartz looked at Jack, and shrugged; they were here for an
adventure.

They sat down, Jack on Marjorie's left, then Emma, then Barton, then
Jennie, then Schwartz.

"We're ready, Chan," Marjorie said.

From one of the pots the servant took a pipe, and presented it to
her.

Marjorie smiled at her companions.

"This is what it's all about," she said, placed the stem of the pipe
between her lips, and inhaled.

"Say, isn't that illegal?"  Schwartz asked.

"Everything worth doing is illegal," Jennie pointed out.

Marjorie's eyes were closed, but her expression was one of utter bliss.
While the penny dropped for Jack.  And now she was passing him the
pipe.

He took it gingerly.  I don't want to do this, he thought.

But they'd laugh if he refused.  He put the stem in his mouth, tasted
her lipstick, and took a short breath, which immediately started him
coughing.

"You'll get used to it," Barton told him.

Jack gave the pipe to Emma, who gazed at him, and then at it for
several seconds before smoking, apparently attempting to inst il some
intimacy into the ceremony.

Well, he supposed there was an intimacy of different lips all touching
the same pipe stem.  He was surprised at how little reaction he had
had, apart from a burning sensation at the back of his throat, but that
was probably because he had never even smoked a cigarette before.

Marjorie smiled at him.

"Good, eh?"

"Well .. ."

The pipe had come back to her, and she gave another deep suck on it.

"The second one is better."

This time he managed it without choking, keeping his eyes shut.  And
was again surprised, when he opened them again, to see how bright the
morning had become.  But not as bright as Marjorie's smile.

He was surrounded by laughter and chatter, discovered he was laughing
and chattering himself.  He wasn't sure how many times the pipe went
round before Marjorie got up and held out her hand.

He scrambled to his feet, took the proffered fingers, and was led away
from the others, to stand at the foot of a rotting staircase.

"I've always wanted to go up there," she said.

"Do you think it's safe?"

"Definitely not.  It could come down any moment."  He pointed up at the
floor above them, which had great holes and sagging timbers.

"I don't think we're safe even standing here."

"Spoilsport," she grumbled.

"Oh, well .. ."  she made another of her abrupt turns, and fell into
his arms.  Hastily he set her back on her feet.

"Aren't you ever going to kiss me?"  she asked softly.

"Here?"

"The others won't mind."

He looked back at the others.  Barton and Emma were kissing, Barton's
hand inside Emma's sweater.  Jennie and Schartz had their arms round
each other.

"That's what opium is all about," Marjorie said.

"It relaxes you.  Makes you forget about silly old inhibitions.  Oh,
very well, if you're shy ..."  still holding his hand she led him
through another doorway and into what might once have been a room but
was now open to the trees, the walls having crumbled away.

"No one can see us here."

"They'll know what we're doing."

"Well, of course they will, silly."  She faced him, and to his
consternation lifted her jumper over her head and let it fall to the
earth.

"And we'll know what they're doing,

too.  Why do you think we come out here?  It's to neck in private."

He didn't know what to say; he kept thinking that she'd done this
before, with someone else.  Somehow that took away all of the
romance.

"You're very old-fashioned," she said.

"But I think that's rather nice."  She put her arms round his neck and
pressed her body against his.

"Kiss me, Jack."

He did so, and had his mouth forced open by her tongue.

She gave a little moan of pleasure, and he could feel her breasts
against his chest through the silk shirt.

"Mmm," she said in his ear.

"You do that quite well."

She pulled her head back.

"Do you like me, Jack?"

"Well, of course," he said uneasily.

"I mean, do you like me very much?"

"Yes," he said, more uneasily yet.

"Because I like you too.  Would you like to put your hand inside my
shirt?"

He had just been wondering how inane a conversation could get.  Now he
gulped.  But he couldn't stop himself looking down.  He hadn't really
wanted to look too closely at her before, because since she had taken
off her jumper he had realised that she was wearing nothing beneath the
shirt.

Now he could see her nipples through the thin material.

"Don't you want to?"  she asked.

"Well, yes, of course I do.  But ..."

"You're afraid I'll tell everyone and you'll have to marry me."

He licked his lips.  He had actually been wondering what kind of girl,
so apparently well brought up, would invite a man to touch her breasts.
But the other possibility was far more serious.

She smiled, and kissed him again.

"I won't.  Promise.  I mean, I'd love to marry you.  But only if you
want to marry me."

She unbuttoned her shirt, pulled it back to her shoulders.

Her breasts were high and large, as he had expected, the nipples pink
and hard.

"If you don't, now," she said.

"I shall slap your face."

Jack Dawson had never held a woman's breasts before.

His sexual experience had been limited to the obligatory visit to a
brothel when he had first been commissioned, arranged and supervised by
his fellow officers.  He had done as little as possible, either in bed
or out of it.  Now he knew a tremendous surge of desire as he cupped
his hands over the surprisingly cool mounds, felt the nipples tickle
his palms.

"Oh, Jack," Marjorie whispered.

"Oh, Jack!"  She put her arms round him to hold him close, so that his
hands were crushed against the soft flesh.

"Squeeze them.  Make me feel."

Did she really want him to hurt her?  He extricated his hands, slid
them round her back, and then down to the bottom of her jodhpurs. There
he could squeeze to his hearts's content, surely.

She gave a little moan and squirmed against him, and then seemed to
lose her balance.  She fell backwards, and he went with her.  He
managed to keep himself from crushing her when they hit the ground, but
had to stay with her as her arms were still round his neck, and she was
hugging him ever closer, moaning now, wriggling against him.

"Oh, Jack," she whispered.

"Make me feel, Jack.  Make me feel."

He knew a surging desire, swept on by the opium fumes swirling around
his brain.  He reached down to fumble at her jodhpurs, found the
waistband and released it, began to slide it down her thighs, past silk
knickers .  and she thumped him on the chest so hard that he fell
over.

"Jack!"  she shouted.

"Stop it."

He rose to his knees, brain spinning.

"Just what do you take me for?"  Marjorie demanded, still lying down,
but dragging her shirt into place and fumbling with the buttons.

"I .. he was trying to think, difficult because his mind was so
confused, and .. .

"Why Marge?  And Jack?  Whatever are you doing?"

The other four were peering at them from the doorway, almost on cue,
Jack thought.

"I think maybe we'd better leave them alone," Schwartz said with a
grin.

"You know what they say, two's company, six is a mob."

"No," Marjorie said.

"Don't go."  She scrambled to her feet, pulled up her jodhpurs,
finished buttoning her now earth-stained shirt.

"Jack just got carried away.  Didn't you, Jack."

"I ..."  he was in a situation he had never supposed possible.  And he
was an officer and a gentleman.  That had been drilled into him
virtually from the moment of his birth;

Mother had never let him forget it for a moment.  No matter that the
more he thought of this young woman the less he liked her.  He simply
had to do something to justify what had happened.

"I've just asked Marjorie to marry me," he explained.

"Well, I don't know what to say," James Mowlam remarked, gazing across
his desk at the young man.  Jack still wore his riding clothes, was hot
and sweaty and dirt-stained, and made more so by being very nervous.
His head was also still swinging from the effects of the opium, even if
it was some hours since he had smoked it.  One part of his brain was
telling him that he was a victim, and should go home and sleep it off
before taking any decision quite so momentous as choosing a wife
neither of the other two men had apparently found it necessary to take
such an extreme step, but then, he didn't know what had gone on between
the others; he was quite sure neither Barton nor Schwartz had tried to
get inside their partners' jodhpurs.  What had possessed him?  It could
only have been the opium.  But whatever the cause, the other half
merely kept insisting that it was impossible to find himself in a
position like that with a woman who was also a lady and not marry
her.

He wished he had an older friend with whom he could discuss the
situation, but there was no one; far from being a possible friend, he
didn't even think Commander Broughton liked him.

But he could tell that his prospective father-in-law was decidedly
pleased.  And relieved, he estimated, if the man knew anything about
his daughter.

"I must ask you this, Dawson," Mowlam went on.

"Have you any private income to support your service pay?"

"I'm afraid not, sir."

"Hm.  I thought the Dawsons of Silver Streams were quite well off."

"I believe they are, sir.  But I do not have any share in that."

"I see.  Odd.  Dashed odd.  Well, then, we shall have to see about
getting you out of the Navy, eh?"

"Sir?"

"My dear boy, obviously you cannot hope to provide for Marjorie on a
lieutenant's pay.  I think your best course would be to come and work
for me.  Yes, that would be ideal.  Then Marjorie wouldn't have to be
separated from her mother, and you'd be making a proper life for
yourself.

You like China?"

"Very much, sir.  But ..."

"Good.  Then that's all settled.  Now, the ladies are waiting to hear
that we have reached a conclusion suitable to them.

They'll want to know when to announce the engagement and all that sort
of thing, who to invite to the party ..."

"But, sir ..."

"Don't worry about Commander Broughton.  I'll have a chat with him
tomorrow."

"With respect, sir, I cannot leave the Navy."

"Eh?  Cannot?  What's to stop you?"

"My name is Jack Dawson, sir.  My father, my grandfather, and my
great-grandfather were in the Navy.  My father and my uncle died in the
Navy.  My only living uncle is in the Navy.  My cousin is in the Navy.
I have to be in the Navy, sir."

Mowlam gazed at him.

"I admire your sentiments,

Dawson.  They are the epitome of patriotism and family loyalty.  But
they are also quite unrealistic, in the circumstances.  I am offering
to more than double your pay, with a lot more to follow.  We operate a
profit-sharing scheme at Mowlam's, and I may say, that as my
son-in-law, you'll find the ladder to managerial status very easy to
climb.  So let's hear no more talk about staying in the Navy."  He
leaned back in his chair, expansively.

"I am sorry, sir," Jack said stubbornly.

"But I shall not leave the Navy."

Mowlam frowned at him, but Jack would not lower his gaze.

"How old are you?"  Mowlam asked.

"Twenty-two, sir."

"Are you?"  Mowlam was surprised, and Jack realised he had never sought
to discover Marjorie's age; she was certainly older than twenty-two.

"Hm," Mowlam commented.

"You do realise that, as I understand the Navy, you cannot marry at
such an early age without the permission of your commanding officer?"

"Yes, sir.  It may be necessary to have a lengthy engagement."

Mowlam raised his eyebrows.

"Are you serious about wishing to marry my daughter, Dawson?"

"Of course I am, sir," Jack protested.

"But I cannot compromise my career in the Navy."

"I see.  Have you made this position clear to Marjorie?"

"Well, no, sir.  We haven't really discussed details.  Why, do you
think ..."  was there a faint ray of hope that she might refuse to
marry him?

"If Marjorie has said she will marry you," Mowlam said.

"It is because that is what she wishes to do, and I do not suppose
outside factors will change her mind.  You will have to leave the
matter with me.  I will speak with Commander Broughton."

"Sir?"

"I will inform him that I will settle a private income ..."

"I could not possibly accept that, sir."

"Perhaps you could let me finish, Dawson.  I will settle an income on
my daughter sufficient to enable her to live in the manner in which she
is accustomed, and wherever she chooses as well, presuming that you
will not remain on the China Station for the rest of your, ah,
career.

Now .. ."  he pointed.

"If you refuse that offer, Dawson, which takes care of every possible
objection either to your marriage or to your remaining in the Navy, I
shall be forced to assume that you are merely toying with Marjorie's
affections, and will so brand you from here to London."

"Oh, Jack, I am so happy," Marjorie murmured, nestling against him as
she sipped champagne, while the other Mowlam ladies beamed at him.

"So am I," he lied.

"Time to go," Mowlam declared.

"Mustn't let the grass grow under our feet, eh?"

Now that the matter was settled, he was again in a high good humour.

"But we have to make plans," Marjorie said.

"The announcement, the party ..."

"The date of the wedding!"  Jennie exclaimed, eyes shining.

"The dresses.  The .. ."

"First things first," Mowlam insisted.

"Commander Broughton comes first."

He went on to the porch, and Jack followed.  Marjorie clung to his
arm.

"Will you be able to come back tonight?"

she asked.

"I doubt it.  Your father will tell you Broughton's reaction.

I'll be ashore again as soon as I can."

"Make it soon," she whispered, and kissed his cheek.

"Sit down, Dawson," Broughton said.

He had just returned to his cabin on Goliath's upper deck,

after seeing James Mowlam into the pinnace which would take him
ashore.

Jack sat down.

"I'm not sure whether you're a damned fool," Broughton said, "or a
young fellow with his eye on the main chance."

"Sir?"  The more he considered the matter, Jack had no doubt at all
that he was a damned fool.

"Mowlam is a very wealthy man.  He tells me he offered to buy you
out."

"Well, sir ..."

"And you refused.  Well, that's to your credit.  But it looks as if
you'll have to marry the girl, in view of the compromising situation in
which you were discovered .. . and the fact that you have actually
proposed.  If I were to refuse permission, he has too many friends at
fleet headquarters."

"Sir, I wish to marry Miss Mowlam."

Broughton's somewhat sleepy eyes played over him.

"You'll forgive me for saying that I think you've made rather a mess of
your career, number one.  But it's not my place to discuss the matter.
You've my permission and that's that.  You can have shore leave again
tomorrow."

Jack stood up.

"Thank you, sir."

Evans and Davies were waiting to congratulate him and at the same time
pull his leg.

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer fellow," Davies said.

Jack was feeling a trifle aggressive.

"Just what do you mean by that?"  he demanded.

"Not a thing, old man.  Tell me, did you smoke a pipe on your
picnic?"

Jack frowned at him.

"How do you know about that?"

"Ah .. ."  Davies looked at Evans, embarrassed.

"Big mouth," Evans grunted.

"You have either said too much, or too little," Jack told him.

Davies hesitated, then shrugged; he was several years older than the
other two.

"Of course I have; Marjorie Mowlam's opium parties are pretty well
known along the river.

Jack stared at him.

"Sorry, old man, but you did ask," Davies said.

"All right," Evans said.

"They're modern girls.  I'm sure she'll make you a perfect wife,
Jack."

Jack went to bed.

There was a fresh wind in the China Sea, causing the small armada of
ships anchored in the estuary of the Yangste to bob to their anchor
chains.

The movement merely made the off-duty crews sleep the more soundly.
Hirada Tanawa awoke from a deep slumber when his orderly touched him on
the shoulder.

"What time is it, Takahita?"

"Zero one-thirty, honourable Commander."

Hirada rolled out of his bunk.  Takahita had his shaving things ready,
and he was fully dressed in fifteen minutes.

Then Takahita stepped outside in the corridor, leaving the officer
alone.

Hirada knelt before the small shrine in the corner of his cabin.  Here
he did honour to his father and mother, to his brothers and sisters he
had two of each and to his more distant ancestors.  He did not suppose
what he was about to do involved any great danger to his own life.  But
he was about to take life, even if he would never set eyes upon his
victims, and that was a serious business.

When he was finished praying, Hirada wrapped his white scarf round his
neck, tucking it into his flying jacket, then tied a strip of white
cloth round his forehead before putting on his flying helmet.  His
preparations completed, he went up to the flight deck, where the crews
were already assembled.  It was very dark; the December dawn was still
several hours away.  And on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier the
breeze coming off the land was chill;

men buttoned up their flying jackets and slapped gloved hands
together.

Commander Hamaguchi shook hands with his second-in command

"Good hunting.  We shall be back for breakfast, our mission
accomplished."

Jack slept heavily at first, awoke with a start, and looked at his
watch.  A quarter to three.  Man's lowest ebb.

He rolled on his back, gazed into the darkness.  There is something
peculiarly soothing about being securely moored in a river.  The swish
of water past the hull is constant, as is the movement of the ship;
there is an aura of great safety.

The night was not quiet; no Chinese night ever is.  Apart from the
occasional movement of the anchor watch, there was a constant bubble of
noise from Nanking itself, firecrackers exploding, dogs barking.  But
he had got used to these; they had not awakened him.

He was engaged to be married, to a young woman who .  what was the old
fashioned term which would be employed by his mother, should she ever
knew the truth?

No better than she should be?  Just how many times had she been to that
old church and smoked opium?  Just how many men had she taken into that
secluded room and for a necking session which had artificially got out
of hand?  But none of his predecessors had asked her to marry him.

He had fallen into her clutches like the most innocent of schoolboys.
Well, in her terms, he was the most innocent of schoolboys.

And there was damn all he could do about it.  The edition of the
Nanking Times carrying the announcement of his engagement was no doubt
already rolling off the presses.

How they must be congratulating themselves at the Mowlam household.
What matter if he was a year or two younger than his bride and had no
money?  Mowlam could take care of the one, and for the rest, Jack
Dawson bore a famous name and would, as Marjorie had been told, one day
certainly be an admiral.

To break the engagement the day after it was announced would damn him
from Singapore to Portsmouth, especially as there was no way he could
give any adequate reason for doing so ... save to damn himself all over
again.

He sat up, dangled his legs over the side of the bunk, shoulders
hunched.  Obviously he was not going to sleep again tonight.

And tomorrow he must go ashore and buy the ring, and lunch with the
family, and smile and be proud of his fiancee .  and write Mother to
give her the good news.

He made himself lie down, close his eyes, lie there on his back,
absolutely still, and heard a noise.  For a moment he couldn't place
it, then he recognised it as the drone of aircraft.  Reconnaissance
machines in the middle of the night?

He sat up again as the noise came closer, and without warning the
sounds of the firecrackers exploding increased in intensity.

CHAPTER 2

The Wind Jack Dawson left his bunk and pulled on his clothes even as
the alarm bells jangled.  He reached the upper deck together with
Broughton, Evans and Davies, while the crew fell in below them.

Together they gazed at fires which had already started in the city.
Initially they could not spot the aircraft, for although there were a
few searchlight batteries situated around Nanking, they were not being
very well handled.

"There's one!"  Evans pointed, and they saw a faint glow hurtling earth
wards  As they watched the plane pulled out of the dive, while below it
there was a flash and a few moments later the rumble of an explosion as
flames shot into the sky.

"Those aren't military targets," Broughton said.

"They're bombing indiscriminately."

"What are we going to do?"  Jack asked.

Broughton glanced at him, then across the water at the other gunboats,
all now alerted.

"It's not our business to get involved in this war," he said.

"We're here to protect the lives and property of British citizens."

"Aren't there British lives and property in that city, sir?"

"My God!"  Evans muttered.

"The Mowlams!"

Broughton bit his lip.

"We'd have to concert action with the others," Davies said.

"By the time we do that it'd be too late," Evans said.

"If we start firing, they'll chip in."

Jack waited, looking at Broughton, while the planes continued to wheel
overhead and scream earth wards with their deadly cargoes.

"Shit!  Look there!"  Evans shouted.

A bomb had been dropped in the centre of the boat city, exploding as it
hit a sampan.  In the fierce rush of light they could see bodies and
pieces of timber being thrown into the air.

"Signal from Commodore, sir," said the telegraphist, appearing on the
bridge.

"All ships are to withdraw up the river to Wuhu, and await further
orders."

"He can't be serious," Evans said.

"He wants us out of trouble," Davies said.

"Well .. ."

"You'll prepare to raise anchors, number one," Broughton said, clearly
relieved.

"I am very sorry, but we must obey orders."

Jack turned away, his mind raging, but quite uncertain about what he
wanted to do.  He had never envisaged a situation like this.  But of
course the Mowlams were in no danger; they had cellars in which they
would take shelter, even if their home was destroyed.  And as the
Captain had said, they had received a direct order.

He moved towards the tannoy to issue the commands to prepare for
departure, while Davies hurried down the ladders to the engine room ..
. and then the screaming was back, louder than before.

"My God!"  Broughton shouted, seconds before the explosion.  Jack was
picked up by a giant hand and hurled forward, through the bridge screen
and on to the deck below.  Amazingly he never lost consciousness, was
aware only of flying through space and then a shattering thud.

For the moment there was no pain, but a total sense of unreality.  His
head was spinning and he felt that the ship was turning circles.
Because it was!  There was water lapping at his legs, and the deck was
at a crazy angle.  He pushed himself up, saw that the bomb had struck
just aft of the bridge, and penetrated down to the engine room before
exploding.  Goliath had been blown into two halves, and the stern had
already disappeared beneath the waters of the Yangste.

The bow was also sinking, but more slowly.  Jack looked left and right,
to see if anyone else had survived the blast, and saw no one.  There
were men already in the water, however, shouting at each other.  His
men.  He must go to them.

He scrambled to his feet, was aware of an agonising pain, and fell to
the deck again.  He had either been hit in the leg or he had broken it.
Before he could recover he was in the water, the bow section sliding
away from him beneath the waves.

He gasped for breath, and struck out for the shore, using his arms
only.  It was really a matter of keeping afloat and letting the current
do the work; even had he been unhurt, he could not swim upstream
against the Yangste-Kiang.  He tried shouting, to tell the crew where
he was, but he could not make any useful sound while gasping for breath
and against the tremendous noise all around him.

He ran out of breath and turned on his back in an attempt to float,
looked at the huge flames and the pall of smoke, visible even in the
pre-dawn darkness, which rose above Nanking.  He watched lights
flashing on the water and listened to sirens as the gunboats got under
way.  Several pinnaces had been put down to go to the help of the crew
of Goliath, but he was too far away from them.  And he was much too
tired to wait for them.  It would be ridiculous to drown after having
survived the bombing.

Voices, close at hand.  He looked over his shoulder, and saw a sampan
not twenty feet away.  The crew had obviously seen him and were leaning
over the side to help him.  He reached up for their hands, and was
dragged into the boat, hardly able to stop himself from screaming with
the pain of his broken leg.

The crew chattered at him, presumably in Chinese; he couldn't
understand a word of it.

"Ship," he said.

They chattered some more, and examined his leg.  They caused
considerable pain, although he understood they were trying to help. But
the pain was increasing every minute, as the shock wore off.  He needed
help, quickly, searched his brain for something they might
understand.

"Mowlam," he said.

"Mowlam!"

The chattering grew, and Jack fainted.

More pain.  Jack screamed in agony, as he was jolted to and fro.  He
was in a ricksha which was bouncing over cobbled streets.  It was still
dark, although light enough from the flames which leapt skywards in
every direction; it was also very hot, and the air was filled with an
even greater stench than usual.

Thoughts tumbled through his mind, distorted by the pain which was
surging through his entire body.  Goliath was sunk.

She had gone down without firing a shot.  He felt that was an insult to
the White Ensign.  And how many men had gone down with her?  They were
his responsibility.  Any survivors were even more his responsibility.
He had to go to them .. .

He listened to people shouting, some of them screaming.

The ricksha came to a halt, and people began heaving stones about.  He
realised he was at the front gate to the Mowlam residence, but the gate
arch had collapsed.

He'd forgotten he'd indicated the Mowlams as somewhere to take him.

"Listen," he said.

"I must go to the ships."

They didn't understand him, and a few minutes later a way was cleared
and he was being wheeled up the drive, through the garden.  There were
no coloured lanterns tonight, and a bomb had landed just to the right
of the drive, causing a huge crater.

Through pain-tear-filled eyes he blinked at the house;

that seemed undamaged, save that there was glass everywhere.  People
appeared, shouting.  Dimly Jack heard James Mowlam's voice, and tried
to sit up.  Then he heard Marjorie.

"Jack!  Oh, my God, Jack!"  She leaned into the ricksha to throw both
arms round his neck, and he gasped as she touched his leg.

"Are you badly hurt?"

"My leg," he panted.

She rose off him, saw the twisted limb.

"Daddy!"

Mowlam appeared beside her.

"What happened?"

"Goliath was hit by a bomb.  Went down like a stone.  My leg .. ."

"We need a doctor," Janet Mowlam also appeared.

"Where do you think we'll find one tonight?"  her husband demanded.

"Bring him in."

The servants lifted Jack from the ricksha, and he twisted and moaned
with pain.

"For God's sake be careful," Marjorie shouted.

He caught her hand as she walked beside him.

"Opium," he said.

"Opium."

Marjorie gulped and looked at her father, walking on the other side.

"He's right," Mowlam said.

"Wong Li, prepare a pipe."

The butler hurried off.

"The billiards room," Mowlam said.

Jack was laid on the green baize cloth.

"Now, Jack," Mowlam said.

"I am going to have to set your leg."

"Oh, Pa, can you?"  That was Jennie's voice.

"I can try.  Someone has to.  Wong Li, where the devil is that pipe?"

"It is here, sir."

"Smoke this, Jack," Mowlam said.

"Well, you've done it before, haven't you?"

Jack didn't know whether he was being accused or welcomed into the
family circle.  But the pipe was placed in his mouth and he took
several sucks.  Immediately the pain lessened, and he hardly felt his
pants being removed, but then it returned again as Mowlam seized his
leg and began manipulating it.  He sucked so hard the pipe all but went
down his throat, and Marjorie had to clutch it.

Whatever her faults she seemed genuinely upset; she was weeping.

Home-made splints were applied, and he was lifted off the table and up
some stairs.

"The house," he muttered.

"The bombs ..."

"No direct hits," Marjorie told him.

"Although there has been an awful amount of damage."

Neither she, her sister nor her mother seemed particularly frightened
by what had happened.

Jack was laid on a bed, and a sheet pulled over him.  Janet Mowlam was
at his side with a tumbler of liquid.

"It's a sedative," she said.

"It'll make you sleep."

"The ship," he said drowsily.

"My men.  I must go to them."

"You can't go anywhere right now," she told him.

"We'll find out about your men."

Jack slept.

Jack awoke to bright sunlight, but although the bedroom sash window was
closed, several panes were broken, and the room still held the tang of
burning wood; beyond the glass he could see columns of smoke climbing
into the clear sky.

There was a maid in his room, but as soon as he moved she opened the
door and began calling.  Marjorie appeared, and then her mother.

"Oh, Jack, how do you feel?"  Marjorie sat on the bed beside him, then
got up again as he winced.

"A lot better."  Which was true enough.  His leg was still in
considerable pain, but the discomfort was less than last night.

"James is trying to get a doctor to attend you," Mrs.  Mowlam said.

"Meanwhile, Captain Gowrie is here.  Will you see him?"

"Of course.  I must get up .. ."

"You'll do no such thing," Marjorie said, pushing him back on to the
pillows.

"You must lie still."

He didn't argue.  Just the effort of trying to move had started the
serious pain again.

Gowrie came in.  He was the commander of the gunboat squadron, a thin
man, with very sharp features; Jack had only met him once, briefly,
when he had first arrived in Shanghai.

This morning he looked even more grim than usual.

"I'm told you have a broken leg."

"Yes, sir."

"How did that happen?"

"I was blown off the bridge, sir."

"When the bomb hit, eh?  The bastards.  You were lucky.

Broughton didn't make it."

"I'm sorry."

"You were number one.  Can't use you with a broken leg."

"Evans ..."

Gowrie nodded.

"Evans is all right.  We haven't found any trace of Davies.  Must've
gone down with the ship."

Of course, Jack thought.  Davies would already have been in the
engine-room, when the bomb struck.

"The men .. .?"

"There are twenty-seven survivors.  That's quite a death toll.  I'm
making a full report, of course, and there'll be an inquiry.  The Japs
will have to pay.  But that's for the future.

Right now, I've pulled my ships upriver, and we're going to base on
Wuhu until we see how things work out.  I'm leaving you here."

"Here, sir?"

"I'm told it would be tricky trying to get you downriver to Shanghai
right now, and I have no facilities on board my ship for a badly hurt
officer.  Mr.  and Mrs.  Mowlam have offered to take care of you until
the situation stabilises."  He lowered his voice.

"You realise, of course, that the bombardment was almost certainly a
prelude to a Japanese advance upriver?"

"Yes, sir."

"The Mowlams understand that too, and don't seem alarmed.  They intend
to keep the Union Jack flying.  But in all the circumstances, even
wounded, I think it's no bad thing for you to be here with your
fiancee.  You are a British officer, and have to be treated with
respect.  You understand me, Dawson?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, good luck.  I'll be in touch as soon as you can be moved."

"Don't you think you should send Mrs.  Mowlam and the girls out of the
city, sir?"  Jack asked Mowlam, when the merchant came to visit him.

"I think that would be a grave mistake," Mowlam said.

"In Nanking, they are protected by the Union Jack.  Out in the country
they'd be at the mercy of any marauding Jap."

"I was thinking of sending them up-river to Wuhu, where the gunboats
are.  The Union Jack didn't help much when it came to protecting
Goliath, sir."

"That was in the dark.  It was obviously an accident.

The Japs don't want to take on the British Empire.  They wouldn't dare.
But as you say, the Union Jack didn't protect your ship."

"There could be another accident when their artillery start to bombard
the city," Jack argued.

"If they do, we'll retire to the cellars.  We were there last night.
Perfectly safe down there.  Anyway, they'll never leave now.  Not with
you here.  Now, I've managed to get Dr.  Lin Sing here to see you. He's
a busy man right this minute, as you can imagine.  But he'll do what he
can."

Jack prepared himself for an ordeal, with good reason.  The doctor had
the splints taken off and manipulated the leg, causing a good deal of
pain.

"This must be set again," he declared.

"Surely not," Mowlam protested.

"You did a good job, Mr.  Mowram.  But it is not perfectly straight. If
it is not set again, the gentleman will walk with a crooked leg for the
rest of his life."

"And you can guarantee that I'll walk with a straight leg?"

Jack asked.

"Of course, Lieutenant Dawson."  , "Well, then .. he looked across the
room at Marfbrie, standing by the door.

"At least this time there'll be a proper anaesthetic, I hope."

"Gentlemen."  Admiral Naguchi smiled at his officers.

"The bombing raid on Nanking was an unqualified success.  Several fires
are still raging, quite out of control, and the railway and marshalling
yards are wrecked.  It is reported that the civilian population is in a
state of panic, and that people are fleeing from the city, hampering
troop movements."  He paused to give a slight cough.

"Unfortunately, it is also reported that one of our HE bombs struck a
British gunboat, and destroyed it."  He looked from face to face.

"I am not going to ask which pilot dropped that bomb, and you should
not ask it either, even of yourselves.  It is a regrettable accident,
and will be represented as such to the British Government.  There will
of course be a protest, but we may leave that to our superiors in Tokyo
to handle: the British certainly received ample warnings of our
intention to take Nanking by force if necessary.  On the credit side,
it has got to be reassuring that a single bomb could so utterly destroy
a warship, even a small warship.  Well, gentlemen, our task is now
over.  Any further bombardment of the city will be tactical and will be
handled by the Army.  But we shall remain in reserve for a few days
yet, certainly until after the fall of the city.  My congratulations.
Dismissed."

Hirada Tanawa followed Commander Hamaguchi from the wardroom.

"Will the British take action, do you suppose?"

"Oh, they will take diplomatic action, certainly.  But they are welcome
to that.  As the Admiral said, it is the destruction caused by that one
bomb that is interesting."

"And all the other bombs," Hirada said thoughtfully.

"Honourable Commander, if we are going to remain on station until
Nanking falls, I would like to request leave."

Hamaguchi frowned.

"Leave?  You wish to return home?"

"No, sir.  I wish to attach myself to the army.  I wish to go to
Nanking.  I would like to see for myself the effects of our bombs."

Hamaguchi stroked his chin.

"It is an interesting idea.

Do you know, I think I may come with you.  Yes.  First hand observation
of the effects of aerial bombardment.  I will speak with the Admiral,
and see if we can be spared."

The second operation was indeed carried out under a form of
anaesthetic, but there wasn't that much ether left in Nanking, and Lin
Sing had virtually to steal some from his own hospital in order to
oblige his friend James Mowlam.  Jack was dimly aware of what was
happening, of being held down as he writhed in pain, and awoke to
considerable more discomfort than the first time.

But Lin Sing was beaming.

"Now the leg is straight.

Mind," he raised his finger.

"Absolute rest, for three weeks, is essential.  And then you must take
it very easy for another three weeks.  But at the end of it, why, you
could play football if you wished."

Lin Sing had been educated at Edinburgh University.

Absolute peace, Jack thought, staring at the ceiling after the medical
team had departed.  The man had to be a humourist.  All around him was
the gigantic rustle of a city in torment.  Fires still raged in every
direction, dogs barked desperately as they were abandoned by their
owners, people shouted their despair as they tried to leave and were
prevented by the influx of soldiers .. . and all the while the low
grumble of gunfire to the east grew louder.

"I don't suppose you'll be able to sleep," Marjorie said, taking the
chair beside his bed.

"As long as I lie still.  What's happening?"

"God knows.  The Chinese are preparing to defend the city.  They say,
Nanking will not fall, and look very fierce.

But it is well known that the Japanese have sent a message to say that
if the city is not surrendered it will be subjected to a sack.  That's
positively medieval."

"I suppose in many ways this is a medieval war.  Are you scared?"

"Me?  Mumsy says there's nothing to be scared of.  We are British
citizens and we have white skins.  This is a yellow man's war."  She
frowned, as he did not reply.

"Don't you agree with her?"

"I'm sure your mother is right," Jack said.

"I was just wondering why, logically, the colour of a man's skin should
have anything to do with it."

Marjone considered that, but decided not to pursue the matter.  Instead
she said, "Jack?  Would you like to get married, now?"

"Eh?"

"Well ..."  her cheeks were pink as she played with her nails.

"Obviously all the fun of being engaged, the parties and the
congratulations, are out.  If Nanking falls, and Pa thinks it is bound
to, they'll be out for the foreseeable future.  It won't be possible to
have many parties under a Japanese military occupation.  Will it?"

Jack in turn preferred not to reply to that.  The crassness of a young
woman who could be bothered by an absence of parties at a time like
this was beyond consideration.

"And you've been given permission to marry," Marjorie went on.

"Both by poor Commander Broughton and by Captain Gowrie.  Pa spoke to
the Captain especially about it."

"I know."

"Well, shall we?  There's a Chinese Anglican priest who would perform
the ceremony."

"I wouldn't be much good to you," Jack pointed out.

"Not for several weeks yet."

"Oh .. . who cares about that.  I'd be your wife."  She held his
hand.

"I do love you, Jack."

"Do you, Marge?"

"Of course I do.  Why do you suppose I accepted your offer of
marriage?"

He was still suffering from a mixture of opium, pain, and misery.

"I thought it was because I asked you."

She stared at him, for a moment about to take offence, then changed her
mind.

"Silly boy.  I'll speak to Mother."

Jack didn't protest.  He supposed he was still largely suffering from
shock.  The concept that a single bomb, probably roughly the same size
as a rugby football, could come hurtling unseen out of the night sky
and destroy his ship, and the lives of some thirty men, was hard to
accept.

There had been much theoretical investigation of the effects of
plunging shot at Dartmouth.  But it had been plunging shot as delivered
by other ships, and the consensus had remained on the side of
tradition, that a warship needed to be stronger on her sides than on
her decks, as most of the really dangerous projectiles would continue
to be fired from the decks of enemy ships at considerable ranges, and
would therefore be travelling in a parabola roughly parallel to the
surface of the sea.

Presumably all their instructors had read The Command of the Air, by
the Italian Giulio Douhet.  But the concept that ships could be
destroyed by aircraft had been simple for the traditionalists to
dismiss as rubbish.  The theory, they said, took no account of two very
important facts: firstly, that the ship under attack would not be
stationary, but would be weaving to and fro at full speed, presenting
an almost impossible target to hit, and secondly, that the attacking
aircraft would have to approach through an impenetreble barrage of
anti-aircraft fire.

Jack, who had certainly read Douhet, had accepted that point of view
entirely.  Not to would have made the entire concept of the existence
of navies within reach of enemy aircraft untenable.  He still believed
the traditionalists were right.  Goliath had been both stationary and
not offering any resistance.  That did not make her sudden
disintegration any more palatable.

But in many ways the destruction of the gunboat was symbolic of the
catastrophe with which he had been surrounded since his arrival in
China.  He had been unprepared for it.  The England of his youth and
Dartmouth, of his first commission in the Channel Fleet, had been a
country of ordered law, in every sense.  It might lie in the grip of
the deepest depression men could remember, but it continued on its way
in the certain confidence that life was a series of corners to be
turned, and that for every unpleasant shock there would be several
progressive steps upwards.

Criminals were dealt with firmly by the judiciary.  Those whom society
had decided were unfit any longer to partake in the benefits of
civilisation were, after due consideration and wherever necessary due
reference to a Court of Appeal, executed by due process of law.  Those
who committed lesser crimes were locked away for varying periods, which
might or might not include hard labour.  People were protected.

No man felt the need to be armed he was content to trust in an unarmed
police force.  No woman feared to walk abroad by herself, even at
night.  Considerable sections of the population might be desperately
poor, but none actually died of starvation.  A majority might never
read a book, but all could read: elementary education was open to
all.

Above all, every man and woman had the right to expect to die in his
bed, in some comfort and dignity.

There appeared to be no such essential ground rules in this vast and
populous land.  Jack had landed in the middle of a war.  He had been
told, and read, sufficient tales of the horrors of the Great War.  His
father had died in that struggle.  But he had no memory of his father,
as other than a legend.  The War had not touched him personally.

Nor had its grim hand swept across England.  Until his arrival in
Shanghai he had never seen a dead body in the flesh.

He had seen a great many since.  China at war was unlike anything he
had ever dreamed of in his most horrific nightmares.  But he was
beginning to suspect that China at peace had been very little
different, or would be very little different in the future.  He had
never suspected such filth and squalor to exist.  He had never imagined
that human life could be held so cheap.  For all his education to be,
if necessary, a taker of life, he had never understood that war could
be so ruthless.  Needed to be so ruthless?  Such as the indiscriminate
bombing of a virtually undefended city?

What was hardest of all to accept was the indifference with which the
people regarded the suffering amongst them, and most of all, with which
the Europeans contemplated the sufferings of the Chinese.  He had
caught a glimpse of it in the International Concession outside
Shanghai, and been prepared to rationalise those people were bravely
keeping their national flags flying, maintaining their way of life, in
the face of Japanese aggression, determined to emphasize the values of
their own civilisations.

But here in Nanking the world had definitely gone mad.

The Europeans, and more particularly the English, within the city had
mentally divorced themselves from the people amongst whom they lived
and with whom they came into daily contact.  That they should have
continued with their parties and their picnics in the country while all
around them raged a war had been amazing enough; the war had at least
then been some hundred miles away from them.

That they should shrug off the bombing of the city, of their homes and
offices and warehouses, as just one of those curses the Westerner had
to bear if he would do business in these heathen countries might be
accepted as inordinate courage, however much it might be based on an
unreal arrogance.  Therefore, he supposed, that they should seriously
contemplate a marriage while the hand of war was steadily closing
around them was not something to cause surprise.  And as he, willy
nilly, had been forced to become a part of this surrealistic scene, he
might as well lie back and enjoy it.  As far as he could.

Marriage!  He had been snared, of course.  In cold terms, as morals
were understood in this year of 1937 English morals at the least
Marjorie Mowlam had been husband-hunting .  and had almost certainly
been doing so for some time.

No doubt her sister was doing the same, even if Marjorie, as the
eldest, was allowed first pick.  Then what of her parents, who he was
certain knew the true situation.  They were just glad, desperate, to
get rid of their eldest daughter.  A junior naval officer without
private means might not be the catch of the century, but junior naval
officers, who might one day become admirals and even KCBs, were at
least socially acceptable.

As for Marjorie's peculiar proclivities, well, she would have to
abandon opium smoking once he was returned to England, as he suspected
was going to happen very shortly even had he still had a ship he did
not see that there was a future for British gunboats on the
Yangste-Kiang.

They were married three days later, by a very nervous Chinese priest.
Jack had by now recovered to some extent from the shock and the drugs.
His uniform had been washed and pressed, and his torn trousers
repaired.

With the Mowlams' co-operation, he sent a telegram to his mother in
England, informing her of what had happened and asking her blessing.

"I'm afraid I can't promise it'll get there," Mowlam told him.

The Japanese were very close; the rumble of the guns was continuous,
and there had been several more air raids; the guests, assembled in the
Mowlams' drawing room whence Jack had been carried on a stretcher and
placed in a chair with his splinted leg thrust out in front of him,
only half listened to the service as they also sought the first sound
of returning aircraft.

Outside, the city was in a bedlam.  Wounded soldiers kept returning
from the front, their drab khaki uniforms stained with blood, their
eyes wild and staring.  People continued to flee to the west,
commandeered ricks has and donkey carts, masses of humanity carrying on
their backs all the worldly possessions they could move.  All services
had broken down, there was no electricity and the only water was from a
well in the Mowlams' garden.  Garbage piled high in the streets;

bodies lay where they had fallen after being burned to death or hit by
bomb fragments.  Food was impossible to come by, but most of the
wealthy, such as the Mowlams, had been hoarding for weeks.  Bands of
brigands mostly deserters reinforced by the teenage hoodlum element
roamed the city, looting stores and raping women.  Mowlam having sealed
his warehouses and offices locked his gates, armed his servants, and
told them to shoot anyone who attemped to get into the grounds; this
was necessary soon enough, but the sight of two of their numbers shot
dead seemed to discourage the would-be looters.

Yet quite a few guests, however armed and nervous, attended the
wedding.  Even Gowrie was there, having come down river to discover
what was going on.

"They've bombed Wuhu," he told Jack.

"And sunk another gunboat, an American, this time.  By accident, of
course."  He snorted.

"In broad daylight."

"What are you going to do, sir?"

"Our immediate orders are to withdraw to Hankow.  But I believe
negotiations are being undertaken with the Japs to allow us out, as
soon as Nanking falls.  Look, if it is possible, and we are definitely
being allowed down to Shanghai, I'm going to stop here and pick you up.
And Mrs.  Dawson, of course.  God, it makes me so angry to have to wait
on permission from these yellow devils.  We'll settle them, one of
these fine days.  We'll settle them, Dawson."

Jack hoped he was right, although he found it difficult to hate the
Japanese.  They were undoubtedly the aggressors, and they were waging
war in the most savage fashion, but this was a savage country, and they
had at their disposal weapons with fire power which had only been on
the drawing board in 1918.  While as for wanting the war, it did seem
they were in an expand or die situation, and in any event, they had not
experienced the blood bath of 1914-18, except from the wings, as it
were.  Maybe this experience would have moderated their outlook.

James Mowlam made a speech, while Marjorie sat beside Jack and held his
hand.  It too was full of patriotic sentiments, about the greatest
fighting force in the world, the Royal Navy, to which his daughter now
proudly belonged.  And about the necessity for everyone present, at
least those who were British, to keep their upper lips stiff and show
these people that they did not care a damn about their bombs and
bullets.

It was difficult to accept that anyone believed him.  The guests
circulated, chatting to each other, taking turns at coming up to Jack's
chair to have a word, even though nearly all of them were complete
strangers to him.  They asked him questions about the war and what was
going to happen next, as though he was an expert, and frowned when he
told them he thought Nanking was bound to fall.

"Then you think China is beaten," someone remarked.

"Militarily, yes, at this moment.  Having said that, I do not believe
it is possible for Japan to conquer China.  How can one hundred million
conquer five hundred million?  England tried it against roughly the
same odds in the Hundred Years' War with France, and lost in the
end."

He didn't think any of them believed him, either.

"It's so exciting," confided Emma Perkins, drawing up a chair to sit
beside him.

"I mean, for you to be marrying Marge with the enemy at the gate."

"Not our enemy," he reminded her.

"Aren't they?"  She gave a little shiver.

"Daddy says we must be very careful when they take the city, or we
shall all be raped."

"Well, I agree that you should stay close to home.  But rape .. . these
are regular soldiers."

"They're Japanese."  She gave another shiver.

"Can you imagine, being raped by a Japanese?"

He felt she was rather looking forward, at least to the possibility of
it.

"Stay close to home," he recommended again.

Further festivities were interrupted by a bombardment, and this was not
by aircraft; the Japanese howitzers were within range.  There were huge
explosions from the far side of the city, and a tremendous outbreak of
noise.

"Are they that close?"  someone asked.

"I was told they were still fifty miles away, this morning."

"I think we had better be off," said someone else, grabbing his wife by
the arm.

"We don't want to be on the street when they arrive."

People began to leave very hurriedly.  The Mowlams made little attempt
to stop them; they were too concerned with their own situation.  The
explosions were still some distance away obviously the Japanese were
concentrating on the eastern wall of the city but no one could tell
when they would start throwing their shells further afield.

"That's that," Mowlam said when the last guest had gone.

"It's down to the cellars for you girls.  And you, Jack."

"Oh, Pa," Marjorie pouted.

"It's my wedding night.  You can't expect me to spend it in some smelly
old cellar?"

"It's all arranged," Mowlam assured her.

"We knew it might come to this.  Off you go.  Wong Li, fetch some
people to carry Lieutenant Dawson."

"Your people are very faithful," Jack suggested.

Mowlam gave a grim smile.

"Not in the least.  They know they're safer here than anywhere else."

"Aren't you coming down?"

"The moment everything is locked up.  There really is nothing you can
do to help, old man.  And you have a wife to look after, now."

The servants lifted Jack on to his stretcher and carried him down the
stairs.  The cellars were an extensive area beneath the house, and
here, in addition to wine racks, there were cooking facilities and
already a large number of servants, hard at work to make the family as
comfortable as possible.

Janet Mowlam waited at the foot of the stairs to direct people.

"You go through to the back of number three, Jack," she said.

"Marjorie is waiting for you."

Jack was carried down a corridor between two of the large rooms to a
third.  Here several screens had been erected around one of the
corners, and beyond them was a miniature bedroom, complete with double
bed, washstand with china ewer and basin, vases with flowers, and even
a rocking chair.  Marjorie, still wearing her wedding dress a plain,
short white frock, as there had been no time to have anything elaborate
made up stood just beyond the screens.

"You be safe here, missy," Wong Li told her.

"No Japanese come here."

"I should think not," she agreed.

"Put the master on the bed."

Rather as if I were a sack of coal, Jack thought.

But she obviously meant well, sat beside him when the servants had
withdrawn, put her arms round him and kissed him.

"At least we'll never forget our wedding night," she said.

"Absolutely."

"Do you suppose .. . well ..."

"I don't know," he said.

"Does your leg hurt terribly?"

"Just a dull throb, at the moment."

"Well, I shall undress you .. . no," she decided.

"First I shall undress myself.  Would you like that?"

"Yes," he said.  She was his wife, and she was a handsome girl.

Far more handsome, indeed, that he had hoped or expected, he realised,
as she stepped out of her camiknickers.  There was real beauty in the
full breasts and the long, muscular legs, the tumbling brown hair which
she released on to her naked shoulders, the well-formed vee at her
groin.  If only he could get rid of the idea that he was just the luck
of the draw.

She gathered her hair in her hands and lifted it on to her head, and
stood beside the bed; the upwards movement of her arms carried her
breasts higher, as she obviously knew.

"Do I please you, my lord?"  she asked.

He caught her thighs and brought her down to him, burying his face in
her breasts to kiss and suck them, while she murmured her pleasure and
put her hand down to hold him.

"I think you're going to be able," she said.

"Only on my back."

She smiled, and kissed him.

"I think I'll like that best."

She undressed him with great care and reassuring inexperience, easing
his pants over the splints.  She had more trouble with his drawers, but
by then it did not seem to matter whether they got right off or not.
Here was passion, and desire.  When she sat astride him and he looked
at her, hair flopping across her face now, mouth sagging open as he
entered her, body a glisten of sweat, he cared nothing for any tricks
she might have played to obtain him.

They got dressed to have supper with the family, the servants as before
lifting Jack along the various corridors in a stretcher.  Marjorie's
radiant smile left her mother and father and sister in no doubt that
despite all the marriage had been consummated, and Mowlam had broken
into some more of his champagne.

"May as well drink it," he said.

"Before it's all destroyed."

Now the sound of the bombardment was very close, and every so often the
house shook as a shell landed close by.

"What are your plans for afterwards, sir?"  Jack asked, as they smoked
cigars following the meal.

"After what?"

"After the Japanese have taken the city?"

"Make my number with their commander, I suppose, and see about getting
business going again.  The Japs will want trade to flow as much as
anyone else.  Oh, there'll be an enormous amount of clearing up and
repairing to do, but nothing we haven't had to do before, after the
Yangste has flooded and broken its banks."

Once again Jack had to be amazed at the phlegm with which this man, and
his family, faced up to the disaster which was rushing at them; he
could only presume that Mowlam's profits were so great that he could
afford to write off perhaps an entire year to rebuilding, and equally,
that he was prepared to risk his wife and daughters, and himself, in
order to maintain his position.

"I think we should get you back to bed," Marjorie announced.

"God knows how much sleep any of us are going to have tonight."

"Good idea," Mowlam agreed.

"We'll see you in ... what is it, Wong Li?"

The butler was hovering in the doorway.

"Colonel Sen Jung is here, Mr.  Mowram."

"Colonel Sen Jung?"  Mowlam frowned.

"At this hour?

What does he want?"

"He demands that he and his men be allowed to enter, Mr.  Mowram."

"Enter my home?  Whatever for?"

"This is a strongly built house, Mr.  Mowram," the Colonel said from
the foot of the cellars stairs.

"It must be used for defence."

Mowlam leapt to his feet, as did the women; even Jack attemped to force
himself up from his chair, painfully.  The Colonel was a small man, and
might even, in happier times, have been described as dapper.  Now his
uniform was filthy and torn in places, his steel helmet had a dent on
the side, and he was unshaven and looked exhausted.

But he saluted smartly.

"This house is English property," Mowlam protested.

"It flies the Union Jack."

Sen Jung nodded.

"We will take down the flag.  But the enemy are at the gate.  The city
must be fought for, taking advantage of every strongpoint.  This is
such a position."

"My house will be destroyed if it is defended," Mowlam shouted.

"Should that be the case, sir, my government will pay you compensation,
when the war is won."

Mowlam was speechless.

"And what of us?"  Janet Mowlam demanded.

"You will remain in these cellars, where you will be safe."

"Until the Japanese break in."

"The Japanese will not break in.  Now, please, I have wasted too much
time.  You will retire.  Good evening to you."

He saluted again and turned away.

"I will protest most strongly," Mowlam shouted.

"You will be cashiered and shot."

The Colonel hesitated for just a moment, then continued on his way.
Jack reckoned he knew he was going to be shot, anyway.

Mowlam glared after him, hands opening and shutting.

"Come on, James," Janet said.

"There's no use working up a coronary.  We just have to sit this one
out."

"We'll go to bed," Marjorie said.

"Wong Li!"

"I wish there was something I could do," Jack told Mowlam.

"There's nothing any of us can do, right now," Mowlam said bitterly.

"But by God, when this is over ..."

"James," his wife warned.

Mowlam gave Jack a loaded revolver.

"Just in case."

Wong Li and his assistants carried Jack back to the makeshift bedroom.
He did not suppose all this being hefted around was the complete rest
Dr.  Lin Sing had recommended,

but he also knew he was going to be lucky not to have to move a lot
more violently than this over the next few hours.

"Do you think we should undress?"  Marjorie asked.

"No.  But I think you should change into something more practical. Less
provocative."

"They'd never dare touch a white woman."

"If they bust in here in a battle crazy mood ..."

"You'll have to shoot them."

"Six of them.  Or do I keep the last bullet for you in the best
tradition?"

Suddenly, and for the first time, she looked frightened.

"Could it come to that, Jack?  Could it?"

He took her into his arms.

"No, it won't come to that.

But you change from that frock."

She changed into slacks and a blouse, and they lay down.

Jack actually nodded off, although his leg was quite painful, but he
was awakened sharply as the house shook and the sound of firing came
very close, the rattle of machine guns being punctuated by the deeper
cracks of rifles and revolvers.

"What time is it?"  Marjorie asked.

He looked at the luminous dial of his watch.

"Just gone midnight."

She sat up, flicked the light switch, and nothing happened.

"Oh, heck, the electrics have gone."

"I'm surprised they stayed on as long as they did."

"I've a couple of candles."

"Well, don't light them right now.  We may well need them later on."

She lay down again, but any question of further sleep was obviously
impossible.  The noise was continuous now, and some of the firing was
very close at hand.  Jack felt a sense of unreality.  Here he was, a
serving officer in the Royal Navy, wearing, indeed, uniform, and lying
in bed while a war raged above his head.  Because it wasn't his war! He
had to keep reminding himself of that.

There could be no doubt that the fighting was now either in the garden
or on the street outside the gate.

"Oh, Jack, I'm frightened," Marjorie whispered.

A few minutes later the screens were thrust aside, by a hand holding a
flashlight.

"Marge!  Jack!  Are you there?"

"Jennie!"

The younger sister crawled into the bed with them.

"I'm so scared!"  She was wearing pyjamas and dressing gown.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He went up to have a look.  He hasn't come back.  Oh, Jack ..."

Jack put his arm round her as well.  Then she uttered a shriek as there
was a terrifing crash from close at hand, and they heard the chatter of
a machine gun very oviously inside the house itself.  Now they heard
screams as well, some of them from women.

"Mumsy!"  Marjorie snapped.

"I must go to her."

"You can't!"  Jack said.

"You must stay here."

"I'll be back in a sec."  She got out of bed.

"Take the light," Jennie said.

Marjorie snatched the torch and disappeared into the darkness.

Jennie squirmed against Jack.

"Oh, Jack!  What are they going to do to us?  I'm a virgin, Jack."

He wondered if she was suggesting that he correct that misfortune,
there and then; there was certainly a lot of her, pressed against
him.

"No one's going to harm you, Jennie," he promised, more in hope than
certainty, as he listened to more gunfire, and more screams, and then
to high-pitched voices speaking a language he did not understand, and
coming closer, into the cellars.

Hirada Tanawa and Commander Hamaguchi travelled up-river by motor
launch, in the company of several Army staff officers.  The soldiers
were busily making notes of what they saw on the river banks, and the
sailors were left to themselves.  But they too were making at least
mental notes.

The final push for Nanking had clearly been a great success.  On either
bank columns of smoke denoted Chinese positions overrun, and ahead of
them was the much greater pall of smoke that indicated Nanking
itself.

They landed some miles east of the town, and joined a battery of
howitzers, firing continually.  The noise was tremendous, and Hamaguchi
led Hirada away from the guns to a slight rise, where the spotters
were, and from where they could actually see the city, and watch the
dull grey clouds rising as each shell landed.  Some were striking the
wall itself, demolishing huge segments, and others were plunging into
the city.

"That is indiscriminate," Hirada said.

"Like the bombing."

"It is modern war," Hamaguchi reminded him.

Through their binoculars they could see flashes from the Chinese guns,
but where the shot was falling was difficult to determine, and indeed,
there seemed very little resistance at all.  This fact had also been
realised by the Army Commander, for now they saw waves of infantry
moving out of their entrenchments before the city, to advance on the
walls.

"It is medieval," Hirada remarked.

"It is poor tank country," the battery commander pointed out.

"All these paddy fields and dykes."

"We must get up there and observe what is happening."

"Are you sufficiently armed?"  The battery commander looked at their
revolvers; although like every Japanese officer they wore swords, he
knew that in modern warfare these were strictly ceremonial.

"Our people have rifles," Hamaguchi pointed out.

"Be careful.  Some of these Chinese are fanatics."

"Would not you be, if your country was being overrun?"

They commandeered a staff car and drove up to the entrenchments.  Here
there were the forward dressing stations, and these were already hard
at work, as the first casualties came back from the assault.  The
pre-dawn darkness was now intense, for all the continuous flashes and
streams of tracer bullets which cascaded through the night.

"You cannot take the car any closer," a major told them.

"The ground is too broken up."

"So we get mud on our boots," Hirada said.

"Be careful," the major warned.

"There is still considerable fighting."

Hamaguchi nodded, and led the way forward, their servants at their
shoulders, carrying the officers' swords now as well as their rifles,
so they would not be encumbered.

"Do you know," Hamaguchi said, "that this will be the first time I have
ever been under fire?  One can hardly call the other night an
action."

"Yes," Hirada said.

"It is the first time for me, also."

He picked his way over the dams and through the rice paddies, often
knee deep in water, drawn always onwards by the horrendous sounds from
in front of them.  As they approached the cataclysm, they came across
wounded men, assisting each other back to the dressing station; it
was growing light, and the soldiers gaped at the naval uniforms, too
surprised even to salute.

Then they saw their first dead man, lying on his face in muddy water,
but he soon became insignificant, as they reached what had been a gate
into the city.  Here there were large numbers of men, and a command
post had been set up, although there was no fighting in the immediate
vicinity.

"Who the devil are you?"  demanded a Colonel, peering at them.

"Commander Hamaguchi, Lieutenant-Commander Hirada," Hamaguchi replied,
bowing briefly from the waist.

"Of the Imperial Japanese Navy.  We are here as observers."  He did not
specify who had sent them.

"We wish to go into the city, honourable colonel," Hirada said.

"You are fools.  There are still pockets of resistance in there."

"We wish to see for ourselves, honourable colonel."

The colonel shrugged.

"Then go.  But I take no responsibility for you."

Hamaguchi and Hirada saluted, and led their servants, rifles unslung
and ready now, towards the breach.  Because the gate had been utterly
destroyed, the walls to either side had collapsed after being struck by
the howitzer shells.  Here there were dead men scattered on either
side, Chinese as well as Japanese; living soldiers were picking through
the remains.

Hirada's first impression on entering the city was one of heat; there
were fires everywhere.  The second was of Japanese soldiers appearing
out of the gloom and the smoke like devils from hell, some carrying
booty, most laughing and chattering excitedly, all stained with dust
and blood.

Initially there were no Chinese to be seen, but as they penetrated
further into the city they saw a woman lying in a doorway.  She was
alive, but was moaning and seemed oblivious of their presence.  Her
pantaloons had been torn off and she was naked and bloodstained from
the waist down;

it was easy to see that she had been brutally raped.

Round the corner they came upon a group of Chinese men, herded together
by a platoon of Japanese soldiers, led by a lieutenant.  The prisoners
had been forced to squat with their hands clasped on their heads, and
looked intensely uncomfortable.

None wore any visible uniform.

"Are these soldiers?"

Hirada asked the lieutenant.

"I do not know, sir.  Probably not."

"If they are civilians, why are they being treated like this?"

Hamaguchi inquired.

"Our orders are that all males over the age of twelve are to be rounded
up and shot," the lieutenant said.

"You are going to shoot these men in cold blood?"  Hirada was aghast.

"Those are our orders, sir."

"Who gave you such orders?"

The lieutenant looked bewildered at the interrogation.

"My colonel, sir."

"We must do something about this, sir," Hirada muttered.

"Yes," Hamaguchi agreed, but he was looking uncertain.

He did not possess the rank to counter-command a full colonel.

"You will not shoot these men until you have referred back to your
commanding officer," he told the lieutenant.

The lieutenant gulped; but Hamaguchi was his superior.

He bowed.

"Do you think that will save their lives?"  Hirada asked, as the two
officers continued on their way.

"Probably not.  But who would give such orders?  Or are the Army
fighting a war of extermination?"

There were certainly horrors enough to be seen as they went further
into the city.  Women and girls, mutilated and bayoneted to death after
having been raped; babies just bayoneted.  Whole families lying in
clusters where they had been machine-gunned .. . the bomb damage they
had come to see became insignificant beside the growing evidence of
massacre.  While everywhere there were victorious troops, some of them
drunk, shouting and hallooing, firing their rifles at anything which
moved, looting and burning the few houses which had survived the
bombardment.

"They have gone mad," Hirada declared.

"Is nobody attempting to put a stop to this?"

They came to a square, and here some kind of headquarters had been set
up.

"A colonel," Hirada said thankfully, and they hurried forward.

This colonel didn't look any more pleased to see the naval officers
than the first.

"What is it you wish?"  he demanded.

"We are here as observers, to report on the effectiveness of our aerial
bombing," Hamaguchi told him.

The colonel pointed to the huge craters in the road, the wrought-iron
fence protecting the property on the far side of the street, which had
been ripped apart as though it had been made of cardboard, the fallen
trees within the garden beyond.

"It was effective."

"Some of that damage was surely caused by the howitzers, honourable
colonel," Hirada said.

"Some.  And some by our men when they stormed that house."  The colonel
frowned.

"You are Hirada Akabuchi's son, are you not?"

Hirada bowed.

"I am that fortunate, honourable colonel."

"You are a well-travelled man.  Do you speak English?"

"I do, honourable colonel."

"There is good fortune.  That house behind the railing belongs to an
English merchant.  He is still there, with his family.  The Chinese
troops commandeered the building and defended it, so there has been a
great deal of damage, and as you may know, my troops were ordered to
sack the city, so there has been some mistreatment of civilians."

Some?  Hirada thought, but he kept his opinion to himself.

"Amongst these civilians were this man Mowlam's servants, and in
addition his house has been almost destroyed.

Well, that is the fault of the Chinese for attempting to defend it, but
he is making a great deal of fuss, and I gather he is an important man
around here.  I would be much obliged if you would go in and speak with
him, try to convince him that whatever we have done has been forced
upon us by the necessity of war."

"Including the sack of the city, honourable colonel?"

The colonel gazed at him for several seconds, before replying.

"Yes, Commander, it was necessary to make an example of Nanking, in
order that other cities will surrender on demand and avoid a
repetition.  Will you speak with this Englishman?"

Hirada bowed.

Hamaguchi went with him, as they crossed the road and entered the
grounds of the Mowlam residence.  Here there were several dead Japanese
soldiers, being laid out in a row by their comrades.

"This must once have been a fine garden," Hamaguchi remarked as they
walked up the bullet and shell-pitted drive.

"And a fine house," Hirada said, as they rounded the bend and came in
sight of the building.  Here too there was enormous damage, the upper
storey windows merely gaping holes, without glass or drapes, and the
colonnaded patio half collapsed.  And here too there were Japanese
soldiers removing the dead, in this case dragging them out of the
building by arms and legs and piling them on the grassy verge: they
were all Chinese.  But not all of them were wearing uniform, and three
were women.

The men paused to salute the naval officers, and their sergeant stepped
forward.

"We are to see the English people'" Hirada said.

"Yes, sir.  If you will come this way."  The sergeant led the way
through the rubble, casting anxious glances at the cracked ceilings,
which in places were sagging dangerously.

"This place is not safe," he told them.

Hirada looked at the ruins of what must once have been a very
comfortable and expensively furnished drawing room.

Then there was a breakfast room, also virtually destroyed, a
glass-topped table lying in splinters in a corner, the carpets covered
in ugly brown stains as well as a great deal of dust and rubble.

The sergeant led them out what had been a glass door at the back of the
breakfast room and was now also just a mass of splinters and into what
must once have been a pleasant inner garden.  This too was scarred and
trampled, but to one side there sat a group of five people: a
middle-aged man and his wife, two very obvious daughters, and a younger
man, who lay on the grass, clearly hurt..  . and who wore British naval
uniform.

The other people were fully dressed, except for the younger girl, who
was in pyjamas and a dressing gown, but they were covered in dust, the
men unshaven, and all looked shocked and angry.

Hamaguchi glanced at Hirada; it was time for his junior to take over.

Hirada stepped forward and cleared his throat; it was over a year since
he had spoken English.

"Mr.  Mowlam?"

he asked.

Mowlam stood up.

"Who are you?"

"Lieutenant-Commander Hirada of the Imperial Japanese Navy.  This is
Commander Hamaguchi.  We are in Nanking as observers."

"Observers, eh?  By God, what will you say of this?"

"That war is a terrible business, Mr.  Mowlam.  But I have been
specifically asked by Colonel Taiko to speak with you, and find out
your requirements."

"My requirements?"  Mowlam shouted.

"I have been imprisoned in my own house, forced to watch it destroyed,
my servants raped and then butchered before the eyes of my wife and
daughters, my property no doubt looted by your..  .

your thugs, and you ask me what are my requirements?"

Hirada kept cool.

"Right now, Mr.  Mowlam, I am sure you will agree that it is the health
of your family and yourself, and this gentleman .. he looked at Jack
Dawson, "which is most important.  It is necessary for you to leave
Nanking.

Transport will be arranged for you, downriver to Shanghai, whence you
may take ship for Hong Kong."

"Hong Kong?  Do you think I am abandoning my business to you thugs?"

"Well, sir, that is up to you.  But surely your wife and daughters
would like to leave?"

"Yes," Janet Mowlam said.

"Yes, we would like to leave.

With Lieutenant Dawson.  My son-in-law."

"Of course."

"Lieutenant Dawson needs special care," Marjorie said.

"He is badly hurt.  His ship was sunk by your bombers."

"You were on the ship that was sunk, Lieutenant?"

Hirada asked.

"Yes," Jack answered, remembering to add, "sir."

"I am sorry to hear that.  And your name is Dawson.  My father knew an
English naval officer named Dawson."

"Did he?"  Jack was astonished.

"My father was an officer on board Mikasa, Admiral Togo's flagship, at
the Battle of Tsushima in 1905.  One of the foreign naval attaches with
the ship was a Lieutenant Dawson."

"My father!"  Jack cried.

"Then it is a small world, and I am pleased to be able to help you. But
.. ."  he checked what he was going to say.

"My father was cashiered for treason," Jack said.

"What?"  Marjorie cried, while the rest of her family looked equally
startled.

"But he was cleared and re-instated after his death," Hirada said.

"And highly decorated."

"Why, so he was.  I didn't know you people would be interested in
something like that."

"The Imperial Japanese Navy is interested in everything that happens,
in every navy in the world," Hirada told him.

"And my father was of course especially interested in what happened to
Lieutenant Dawson."

"And is the Imperial Japanese Navy also interested in bombing
defenceless cities?"  Mowlam demanded.

Hirada gave a stiff bow.

"The Imperial Japanese Navy obeys orders, Mr.  Mowlam.  However much we
may regret them.  Commander Hamaguchi led that raid.  And I was his
second-in-command."  He turned back to Jack.

"I am sorry about your ship, Lieutenant.  I will now arrange for your
safe passage down the river."

CHAPTER 3

The Sceptered Isle "Oh, to be in England, now that spring is here,"
Marjorie Dawson said, clinging to Jack's arm as they stood at the rail
of the 55 Queen of India and saw the white cliffs of the Isle of Wight
rising out of the Channel mist.

They had been four months on the journey, and it was now April, and
chilly; they both wore heavy coats.

It had been in every way a difficult time.  It had begun with the
traumatic voyage downriver from Nanking in a Japanese motorboat, which
had taken them to Shanghai;

accompanying them had been another dozen English people, amongst them
Emma Perkins, in a state of complete collapse:

her widower father had been killed by a Japanese shell when the city
had been stormed.

James Mowlam's mood had grown more and more bitter with every mile.
Well, Jack supposed he had cause.  Unless he could obtain compensation
from some government or other, or unless the Japanese would allow him
to restart his trading business, he was ruined.  And the Japanese did
not seem interested in doing that; they were opening China in order to
corner that lucrative trade themselves, not farm it out to
Englishmen.

They had also been accompanied to Shanghai by the two rather pleasant
Japanese naval officers whom they had met in Nanking, and Hirada Tanawa
had spent some time sitting with Jack, discussing the situation.

"I know that you, the Americans and the European world, will condemn us
for the way this war is being fought," Hirada had said.

"This is because it is difficult for Europeans and

Americans to see life except in their terms.  When you were fighting
Germany, only twenty years ago, Dawson, you British, what do you say?
Pulled out all the stops?

But you cannot conceive of us needing to pull out all the stops in
order to defeat China.  Yet for example, we have not used poison gas in
this war.  While Mussolini is using it in Abbysinia."

"I hold no brief for Mussolini, sir," Jack had replied.

"And I admit we, as you say, pulled out all the stops against the
Germans, but it was against the German army, not the German civilian
population."

"But is that not because the war was not actually fought in Germany?
Can you put your hand on your heart and say that if the war had
continued into 1919, and the Germans had retreated into their own land,
and gone on fighting desperately, you would not have bombed their
cities and taken them by assault?"

Jack couldn't reply to that, and Hirada gave one of his gentle
smiles.

"I don't know which of our bombs sank your gunboat.  It may even have
been my own.

But I would like to think that as we belong to the same service, and in
each case a very great and powerful aspect of that service, we can be
friends."  He had held out his hand, and after a momentary hesitation
Jack had taken it.

"I don't see how you can even be civil to such a thug," Marjorie had
grumbled.

Jack had ignored her comment, to gaze at the Japanese fleet lying at
anchor off the port, and more importantly, the aircraft carrier Akagi,
strange to any orthodox seaman's eyes, because of her flush upper deck.
Now there were only two larger carriers in the world, the American
ships Lexington and Saratoga; even Britain's latest, Ark Royal,
recently commissioned, was less than thirty thousand tons.

"My ship," Hirada said proudly.

"Well, Commander, Lieutenant-Commander."  Admiral Naguchi received them
in his day cabin on board Akagi.

"Was your investigation of Nanking satisfactory?"

"In some ways, honourable admiral," Hamaguchi said.

The Admiral raised his eyebrows.

"The effects of the bombing were, frankly, less serious than we had
supposed they would be," Hamaguchi continued.

"There were a great number of civilian casualties, simply because the
civilians had no means of sheltering from the explosives, but the
larger, more solidly built buildings were not destroyed, and where they
were badly damaged, this had been as a result of the howitzer
bombardment by the army."

"Hm."  Naguchi stroked his chin.

"How do you account for this, Commander?"

"Simply that our bombs were not heavy enough, sir.  This is something
that needs attention, and quickly."

"I shall make a note of it.  Lieutenant-Commander Hirada, what were
your observations?"

"The same as those of Commander Hamaguchi, honourable Admiral.  I
should also like to record, however, that the sack of the city was an
unwarranted act of terrorism by the Army.  It was quite bestial."

"Hm," Naguchi commented.

"You say you wish this to be recorded?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"I would advise against it.  But if you insist ..."  he paused.

"I do insist, honourable Admiral."

"Then it will be done.  However, I think it might be as well for you to
absent yourself from Japan for a few months, perhaps a year.  I have
already been in touch with the Commander-in-Chief, about the sinking of
Goliath, and the American, Panay.  He is of the opinion that we should
make every effort at this time to convince the British and the
Americans that these misfortunes were indeed accidents, and is sending
naval missions to each of those countries to accomplish this purpose. I
am going to recommend,

Lieutenant-Commander Hirada, that you accompany the mission to
England."

"Leave this ship, sir?  Because of an observation which may be resented
by the Army?"

"At this moment, Lieutenant-Commander, the Army is all powerful in our
country.  Should some hotheads of lieutenants take it upon themselves
to seek you out and assassinate you, they would probably go unpunished.
We must hope for more sensible times.  And you are ideally suited for
what is a most important mission.  You have visited England before. You
speak the language fluently.

You know the people and the country.  You will accompany this mission,
Lieutenant-Commander Hirada, sure in your mind that you will be
accomplishing far more for your country than remaining here off
Shanghai ..."  he gave one of his grim smiles.

"Dropping bombs which do not seem to have the desired effect."

Hirada bowed.

In Hong Kong Mowlam had called on the Governor, and been assured that
HM Government would do everything it could to help, but that these
things took time.  Christmas was a very dismal affair, and the New
Year, the high spot of the Hong Kong social calendar it was the Chinese
New Year that was celebrated, which fell in January this year little
better, for the refugees.

Jack had called on the Admiral, limping on crutches.

"A bad show," Admiral Leigh ton remarked.  He was a big man whose head
seemed to droop between outsize shoulders, giving him the suggestion of
a large, tired hound.

"You know we still have several gunboats up the river?"

"Yes, sir.  I spoke with Captain Gowrie shortly before Nanking fell. He
told me then that there was some hope of getting them out.  I was
wondering how I can get in touch with the survivors from Goliath.  They
are my responsibility."

"Not any more.  They've been parcelled out amongst the other ships.  As
for getting them out, the Japs would be very happy to have them come
downriver.  It's Whitehall which is the sticking point.  They still
feel we should maintain a presence on the Yangste.  Traditional British
trading area and that sort of thing.  Well, of course, in principle
they are absolutely right.  But there's not much point in maintaining a
presence which the Japs can brush aside or destroy whenever they
wish."

"Would they dare risk that, sir?"

Leighton got up from his desk and strolled to the window, while his
flag-lieutenant waggled his eyebrows at Jack.  Obviously the Admiral
was about to say something profound.

"There can be no doubt that in addition to overrunning Shantung, and
moving up the Yellow River, and their advance up the Yangste, the Japs
are also preparing an attack on Canton.  They have already launched
several bombing raids; we have seen the planes passing overhead.  Now,
in view of what they have accomplished elsewhere, we must expect them
to succeed in Canton as well.  That will give them the entire seaboard
of China, and will leave Hong Kong and Macao, not to mention the
International Concession, sticking out like sore thumbs in a
Jap-dominated area.  No one knows what is going to happen then.  There
is already talk that Europeans are being 'encouraged' to leave
Shanghai.  Are they going to 'encourage' us to abandon Hong Kong as
well?"

"Surely we would never do that, sir?"

"Of course we will never do that, Dawson.  But that supposes an
eventual confrontation between London and Tokyo.  It is interesting to
consider what might happen then."

"We'd lick them silly."

"I'm sure you're right," Leighton agreed, smiling as he returned to his
desk.

"But as they have got into the habit of ignoring world opinion over the
past few years, they may well continue to do so.  Because 'licking them
silly' may not be quite so easy to accomplish, in the short term.  They
know the main strength of the Royal Navy is a long way away.  It may
occur to their odd little oriental minds that we can be browbeaten, and
that to sink a couple more of our gunboats would be the ideal way to
accomplish this.  It would put us in a difficult position, because
although they would of course again cry accident, we would have to
remember what Oscar Wilde said about parents: to lose one may be an
accident, but to lose both suggests carelessness."

"Wouldn't the Americans come in on our side, sir?

Captain Gowrie told me one of their ships was sunk, off Wuhu."

"Indeed, yes.  And like HM Government, Washington is protesting
vigorously, and being met with bland assurances that it won't happen
again.  But the Americans, Dawson, go their own way and pursue their
own ends.  They regard Great Britain as every bit as much an
imperialistic power as Japan is turning out to be.  I don't think we
can possibly consider them as allies in any Far Eastern showdown.  Nor
would we wish to: I don't believe they are worth a damn.  No, this is
one we must see through on our own.  Dawson, I have been talking quite
freely to you this morning.  What I have said is confidential, until
you get to the Admiralty.  It's not something I want to put in a
report, even in cypher.  But it is a point of view I would like to get
across to the powers that be, and I think you are the man to do that
for me.  You have been here.  You have seen the Japanese at work at
first hand.  One might almost say you have felt the Japanese at work at
first hand.  And now you are on your way home.  Can I trust you to
repeat, in confidence, what I have told you here today to Sir Ewan
Chatfield?  I will give you a letter of introduction."

"Yes, sir."  Jack felt elated.  He was being trusted with affairs of
state.

"What exactly is it you require, sir?"

"What I require are positive instructions in the event things go the
way I have just suggested they might.  What I would like is to see two
battleships and an aircraft carrier, with a proper escort, anchored in
that harbour out there.  That would make our Japanese friends sit up
and take notice.

And I have a feeling, make them think again."

Then at the end of January it had been farewells, tearful and bitter.
James Mowlam was remaining in Hong Kong, at least for a while, still
hoping to salvage something from the wreck of his Yangste Trading
Concern; apparently, for all his apparent wealth, he had only been
Managing Director, not even principal shareholder, and had very little
put aside.

Janet of course was staying with him, and after some reflection, Jennie
also decided to stay.  Jack was relieved about that; he could not
forget that brief squirm they had shared in bed the night the Japanese
had assaulted the city and he suspected, from the way she looked at him
when she felt no one was watching her, that Jennie hadn't forgotten it
either.

For a brief while it had almost been possible to suppose Marjorie would
opt to stay as well.  The family had never been broken up before.  But
... "Of course you must accompany your husband," Janet had told her
daughter.

"What happens if he's sent straight back out here?"

"If Jack comes back out, presumably you will come too.

Isn't that so, Jack?"

"Ah ... if she does, it will have to be privately.  I mean, the Royal
Navy does not fund the wives of junior officers to foreign stations."

Janet had gazed at him, eyebrows arched, and then looked at her
husband.  He had cleared his throat.

Marjorie had burst into tears, and had been weeping on and off ever
since.

"What is to become of them?"  she moaned, as the ship had sailed out of
Victoria.

"Daddy is just about broke.  Daddy!  I can't believe it.  Oh, I hate
the Japanese.  I hope the Chinese smash them!"

Jack wondered when she would realise that she now had to exist on a
lieutenant's pay.

He was also extremely put out to discover that accompanying them to
England would be Emma Perkins; she had no relatives left in the Far
East and was being shipped home to an elderly aunt.  She continued to
be in a fairly hysterical state, which was off-putting in any event,
but Jack also felt that she would be a bad influence on Marjorie, if
only as a constant reminder of the gilt-edged and opium-impregnated
past they had both left behind.

The ship took them to Singapore, where they disembarked and waited a
fortnight for the Empress of India to arrive.

As he was an officer on sick leave they were provided with
accomodation, which Marjorie insisted upon sharing with Emma, who, like
her, was all but destitute; there had been a whip round in Hong Kong to
pay her passage home, but not much was left over.

Jack had a camp bed made up in their small hotel room, and slept on
that while the girls shared the bed.  His leg, agitated by the constant
moving, was in any event too painful for any thoughts of sex, but by
the time they left he felt he was married to both of them .. . and a
thorough nuisance to both of them as well, even if he was their meal
ticket for the time being.

At least on the ship Emma was given a cabin of her own;

she had to share it with another woman travelling alone,

and it was two decks down from the stateroom occupied by Marjorie and
Jack.

"Thank God for that," he commented, as he was deposited on his bunk by
the two stewards who had helped him down the stairs.

"Now, maybe we can attempt to have a honeymoon."

"You don't like her," Marjorie snapped.

"She is my oldest friend."

"There is a time and a place for friends, and a time and a place for
husbands," Jack pointed out.

"You are my wife, you know."

"Oh, Jack!  Of course I am."  She threw herself on top of him and burst
into tears, a habit she had developed quite alarmingly since the fall
of Nanking.

"But I can't desert my friend.  I'll just go downstairs and see how
she's settling in."

Downstairs!  he thought.  It was going to take a great deal to make
Marjorie into a Navy wife.  And was it going to be worth it?

From Singapore they steamed to Calcutta, and then Bombay, Aden and up
the Red Sea to Port Said, thence across the Mediterranean to Naples and
Gibraltar, before the final stretch up the Portuguese coast, across
Biscay and into the Channel.  It had been a long four months since
leaving Nanking, especially as the news seemed to go from bad to worse,
with the situation in Europe becoming more and more serious.

"Depend upon it," said Captain Marchbanks, "We shall be at war with
Germany by the autumn.  There is simply no way we and the French are
going to stand by and watch Hitler overrun Czechoslovakia."

That made what was happening in China utterly irrelevant, but it
brought home to Jack even more forcibly that while the world was
rushing towards Armageddon, he was at sea on a luxury liner nursing a
broken leg.  However, even the darkest cloud can have a silver lining;
by the time the ship reached Gibraltar, and despite the buffeting it
had received from time to time, the leg had healed perfectly, and was,
as Dr.  Ling Sing had promised, as straight as it had ever been.

Jack wondered if Ling Sing had survived the sack of Nanking, and if he
had, where he was now?

Unfortunately, the long voyage had brought him no nearer to falling in
love with his wife.

The relationship had got off to a stormy start.  Jack had done his best
to understand that Marjorie had had a traumatic experience, but then so
had he.  Her feelings might be heightened by the collapse of that
barricade of family wealth and apparent power which had enabled her to
live her life in her own way, but at least she had suffered no physical
injuries.  There was also that matter of money.  In Singapore it had
been very difficult to keep her out of the shops, and they had had
several rows as he had tried to explain he simply could not afford to
buy her a new dress whenever she saw one which took her fancy.  Her
wardrobe had been mostly destroyed with the Nanking house, and equally
she moaned about being forced to look like a scarecrow.

While every time he attempted to have a serious discussion with her
about their finances, and indeed, their future life together, she went
off in a huff to commisserate with Emma.

However, as she began to realise that as a survivor of the Nanking
massacre, she was of great interest to all the other first-class
passengers.  They were prepared to sympathise with her and her "war
hero" of a husband simply because his ship had been sunk and himself
injured and were in the circumstances quite prepared to overlook her
lack of adequate clothes.  She began to enjoy herself.  Marjorie could
be most stimulating company.  She also proved a most willing and
dedicated nurse to Jack, and there were times when he felt that she was
genuinely fond of him.

If only he could rid his mind of the memory of the abandoned temple,
and of the other times she must have gone there, which went
hand-in-hand with the certainty that she had tried that ploy many times
before with marriage in mind, and he had been the first poor fool to
fall for it.

But it was not possible to spend what was in effect a four months
honeymoon without becoming at least physically fond of her.  However
irritating the cloying presence of Emma, they were hardly ever out of
each other's sight, either lying in deck chairs or in their cabin.  She
wanted to know all about the mystery surrounding his father, and he
told her what he could no one, not even his mother, he felt, knew the
whole story.  When Marjorie heard that the first Jack Dawson had won
the Victoria Cross for gallantry in the Great War she was prepared to
forgive him everything.

One of her most attractive characteristics, to Jack, was her
insecurity, now that she had lost the aura of being James Mowlam's
daughter.  She worried about her family, of course, but she worried
even more about her reception in England.  She had an uncle, but
apparently Janet Mowlam's brother had never been very successful, and
the family had treated him with some contempt: it was difficult to
suppose she was going to find much of a welcome there now that she was
penniless.

Jack of course assured her that the Dawson clan would take her to their
hearts in Hong Kong he had sent a telegram to his mother to back up the
one she had apparently never received from Nanking.  Denise had replied
with guarded congratulations, her concern about his marriage at such an
early stage in his career to someone she had never even heard of much
less met, being overlaid with her concern over his wound and narrow
escape from death, as had been reported in the British newspapers.  But
he was sure she would welcome her daughter-in-law, unless Marjorie were
to kick over the traces, and she gave no evidence of wishing to do that
on the voyage.  Perhaps she had, after all, been doing no more than
husband-hunting, and having found her man, was now content.

Thus she huddled against him as the liner proceeded along the south
coast of the Isle of Wight before turning up for the Spit forts and the
eastern entrance to the Solent and thence Southampton.

"What is going to happen to us, Jack?"

"Well, I suppose I'll be given a new appointment."

"And have to go to sea, again."

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh, Jack, I've been so happy these last few months.  I don't ever want
to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," he promised her.

"But we are going to have to be separated from time to time.  Just for
a while."

Denise Dawson was waiting on the dockside, together with Aunt Lorraine
and her youngest daughter, Elizabeth.

Denise was a small woman, often lost in the midst of the very tall
Dawsons.  She was now in her late forties, but retained her dark hair
and with her clipped features and elegant clothes remained most
attractive.  Certainly Marjorie was taken aback as, all of Jack's
belongings including his photographs having gone down with Goliath, she
had never even seen a photograph of her mother-in-law.

"Marjorie!"  Denise held her hands and kissed her on each cheek.

"How lovely to meet you at last.  This is Lorraine."

Lorraine Dawson was some years younger, and a complete contrast in
appearance, for she was tall and had put on a great deal of weight,
over the years and two children.

"And Lizzie, of course."

Elizabeth squealed and gave her new cousin-in-law an impulsive hug; she
was just fourteen and inclined to plumpness.

Denise held Jack in her arms.

"Oh, my darling," she said.

"I was so worried.  Are you sure you're all right?"

"Absolutely."

She gazed into his eyes.

"And you're happy."

"Happier than ever before in my life."

Denise frowned.  Jack had never been able to lie to his mother.  She
glanced at Marjorie, and then at the other young woman, who was
standing behind her daughter-in-law, looking forlorn.

"This is our friend, Emma Perkins," Marjorie explained.

"She was with us in Nanking.  Wasn't someone coming to meet you,
Emma?"

"I thought they were."  Emma started to cry.

"You can't stay here all alone," Marjorie said.

"Can she, Mrs.  Dawson?"  She looked from one Mrs.  Dawson to
another.

"Of course she can't," Lorraine agreed.

Lorraine had a motor car, a Rolls Royce which she drove herself, to
Marjorie's surprise.  It was a big thing, and they were all able to fit
in, especially as there was little luggage.

"We'll fit you out," Denise told her.

"When we get home."

She glanced at Emma.

"Both of you."

Marjorie huddled against Jack, happily.

They stopped at Silver Streams first.  Jack had of course told Marjorie
about the ancestral home, but she was still in raptures over the
rambling house and the barking Labrador retrievers and the garden
sloping down the hill to the stream at the rear.

"It must have been great, to grow up here," she said.

"Jack didn't," Elizabeth pointed out before Jack could reply.

"I live in Bath," Denise told her.

"That's where you'll be coming, to stay with me when Jack is away."

"Oh," Marjorie commented, disappointed.

The Bath house was set in a terrace not far from the Crescent.  It
didn't have a large garden, there was a cat instead of dogs, and there
was none of the total quiet of Silver Streams, but it was comfortable
and homely, if a trifle small.

"We will have a place of our own, won't we?"  Marjorie asked Jack, as
they looked at each other across the small spare bedroom.

"As soon as we can afford it.  But it's plenty big enough for you and
Mother, unless you start sprogging."

"You're making it sound as if you're not going to be here."

"Well, I'm not, some of the time.  Like tomorrow I have to go up to
London."

"London!  Oh, Jack, can I come with you?  It's years since I was in
London."

"Sorry.  This is a business trip.  I have to report to the Admiralty. I
shall probably be there all day, and then it's straight back down here
the next."

"I don't mind.  I could go to the shops.  And then we could take in the
theatre tomorrow night."

"Not possible," he told her.

"We simply cannot afford it."

She went to bed in a sulk, as in Singapore, with Emma;

Jack slept on the settee in the living room.

Denise stayed up for a nightcap.

"God, to have you back," she said.

"And to think of what happened ... are you sure your leg is all
right?"

"There's hardly a scar," She sat with her arms round him.

"What do you think of Marjorie?"  he asked.

"She seems very nice," Denise said cautiously.

"Have you known her very long?"

"Not really."

"Love at first sight?  Or the pressures of war?"

"Ah .. ."  it was his turn to be cautious.

"I suppose a bit of both."

"Will you tell me about it, Jack?  Or do you want to go to sleep?"

"I've done nothing but sleep for the past four months."

He told her about the Mowlams, their house and their ambience; he did
not tell her of the opium or the parties at the abandoned church.  Then
he told her of the bombardment and what had followed.

"But you had already asked Marjorie to marry you," she commented.

"Ah .. . yes."

"And you are happy, Jack?"

"Ah .. . yes."

She raised her head from his shoulder to look at him.

"Where does this girl Emma come in?"  she asked.

He told her.

"How terrible for her," Denise commented.

"But why wasn't her aunt at Southampton to meet her?"

"I have no idea."

"Hm.  I think you should take her up to London with you, tomorrow.  I
mean, she's welcome to stay here for as long as she likes ..."

"Is she?"

Denise bit her lip, and they both grinned; she wasn't a very good liar
either.

"I'd like the opportunity to get to know Marjorie.  And I don't think
that's going to be very easy with Miss Perkins around.  Anyway, she'll
want to get in touch with her aunt just as soon as she can.  You take
her.

When will you be coming back?"

"I'll spend the night and come back on Thursday."

"Right.  That would be ideal.  You'll never guess who's living in
London right now."

"No, I probably would never guess."

"Joanna."

"Joanna?"

"Your cousin, silly.  Mary's daughter by Geoffrey Young."

"Good heavens.  Joanna!  She must be .. ."

"Twenty-six this year."

"Ah."

"So she's a few years older than you."

"And brought up in America."

"Well, that's not exactly a crime, you know.  She's over here studying
art.  I know she'd love to see you.  Why don't you give her dinner
tomorrow night?"

"Well ..."

"I'll ring her first thing in the morning, and tell her to expect
you."

Jack got the message: his mother did not want him alone in London with
Emma Perkins first cousins were safer.

Marjorie was still resentful next morning, but Emma was excited at the
prospect of travelling up to London with the handsome young naval
lieutenant.

"I think it's absurd," Marjorie grumbled.

"If I came with you, we could all go out tomorrow night, together."

"Jack has a dinner engagement, dear," Denise said.

"With whom?"  She was instantly suspicious.

"An important relative," Denise explained blandly.

"Oh."  But Marjorie didn't ask any more questions; clearly she supposed
there might be some family advantage in the meeting.

Jack was very glad to be able to get away from her, be on his own.
Because of his background, he had spent so much of his life alone, at
least mentally, had kept to himself even when in the crowded quarters
of a warship.  Four months in the continuous company of a woman he was
not even sure he liked had been an immense strain.

But more even than that, he was anxious to get on with his career.
Every minute since the disastrous second when the bomb had struck
Goliath had seemed wasted.  There was so much happening in the world,
so much he wanted to be a part of, and he had been sidelined for four
months.

The only problem was Emma.  They caught the early train,

and their compartment was empty throughout the journey.

Emma began with several heavy sighs, and then began to stare at him.

"You are so lucky," she remarked.

"Am I?"

"Well, to have Marge.  And a mother, and a home.  And a career."  She
gave a sniff.

"I have nothing."

"I know it's been rotten for you, Emma," he said.

"But things will get better.  You'll see."

"How?"

"Ah ..."

"I have no money," she said.

"No parents .. ."

"You have your aunt," he pointed out.

"And you'll soon get a job."

"What as?"  she demanded.

"I'm not trained for any work."

There didn't seem an adequate reply to that.  He supposed he was
actually lucky that she didn't get around to remembering their forced
intimacy in Singapore or if she did, had no idea how to take advantage
of it.  They sat in silence until the train got to King's Cross, at
eleven.  There he found her a taxi, gave the driver her aunt's address,
and paid the anticipated fare.

She clung to him.

"Can't we see each other again, when you've done your business?"

"Now you know we can't," he said.

"I have to go and see this ageing relative."

"Jack, when we were dressing and undressing in the same room .. .
didn't you go for me at all?"

Thank God they were on a crowded platform.

"You're a very pretty girl, Emma.  But I happen to be married to your
best friend."

She started to weep, and he waved her goodbye, then took a taxi
himself, direct to the Admiralty, gazing in amazement at the sandbags
piled around the various government buildings in Whitehall, and
becoming increasingly aware, as he watched other service personnel on
the street, that his uniform was very shabby.  This was noticed by the
marine sergeant on the desk, who was extremely supercilious,

but had to take notice of the letter written by Admiral Leighton.  To
his obvious pleasure, however, after making a telephone call, he was
able to inform the upstart lieutenant that Admiral Sir Ewan Chatfield,
First Sea Lord and thus overall Commander-in-Chief of the entire Royal
Navy, was in a conference, and would be unable to receive Lieutenant
Dawson until that afternoon.

"Right," Jack said.

"What time, sergeant?"

"Three o'clock, sir.  Sharp."

"I'll be here."

Jack went off, had a light lunch, and phoned his club to see if there
were any rooms available.  To his relief there were;

they would be a fraction the price of any hotel.

At three he again reported to the Admiralty.  Now there was a different
sergeant on the desk, and he was requested to wait while his name was
sent up.  A few minutes later he was directed to the appropriate lift,
and at the top was greeted by a Lieutenant-Commander.

"Dawson, is it?"  said this gentleman, even more superciliously than
the sergeant.

"Lieutenant-Commander Hamilton.  I'm told you have despatches from
Admiral Leighton."

"No, sir.  I have a verbal message from Admiral Leighton, to be given
to Admiral Chatfield."

"A message?  Well, give it to me."

"It is to be given to Admiral Chatfield, sir."

The Lieutenant-Commander gazed at him for several seconds.

"Is that the best uniform you have available, Dawson?"

"I'm afraid so, sir.  My gear went down with Goliath, and I have not
had the time to replace it as yet; I considered it important to come
here immediately upon disembarking.

Admiral Leighton regards the situation in the Far East as urgent."

Another long look.

"Then you'd better come along with me, Lieutenant."

Hamilton led Jack down a side corridor, and showed him into an
antechamber.

"You'll wait here."

He went through another doorway, which he closed behind him.  Jack
gazed at the portraits of past admirals on the walls, of paintings of
famous naval actions from history.  He had never been in this room
before, nor had he ever spoken with a First Sea Lord.  He felt the
adrenalin pumping in his arteries.

The door opened.

"Sir Ewan will see you now, Lieutenant Dawson," the
Lieutenant-Commander said.  He sounded faintly surprised, Jack stood
up, placed his cap on his head, and marched into the inner office.  He
was taken aback by its size, and the amount of light and air that
flowed in through the open windows together with a distinct cooling of
the temperature.

There were three officers in the room, including the
Lieutenant-Commander, and all senior to himself.  But he faced the
somewhat cadaverous man behind the desk, and saluted.

He knew that Sir Ewan Chatfield was on the verge of retirement, being
sixty-five years old.  But he also knew that the First Sea Lord had had
a most distinguished career, mainly as Flag-Captain to Sir David Beatty
in the Great War, when he had been in command of Lion at Heligoland
Bight, Dogger and Jutland.  As protege of Britain's most famous
fighting admiral he had gone from strength to strength, having
commanded both the Atlantic and Mediterranean squadrons before becoming
First Sea Lord in 1933.

Jack also knew that the Admiral had a reputation for being an austere,
withdrawn personality, and as a fighting sailor, that he was a
wholehearted advocate of the big ship and the big gun; it was he who
had played an important part in getting Britain's new battleship
construction programme under way.  He was not going to be easy to
convince that there was anything to be afraid of in a fleet whose main
strength lay in aircraft-carriers.

"Lieutenant Dawson.  I knew your father, briefly," Chatfield returned
the salute and then shook hands.

"A fine man."

"Thank you, sir."

"You've met Lieutenant-Commander Hamilton.  This is Captain
Nicholas."

Jack again saluted and shook hands, "You have a message from Admiral
Leighton for me."

"Yes, sir."  Jack repeated what Leighton had told him.

Chatfield listened, then gestured Jack to a chair, and sat down
himself.  Jack obeyed, placing his cap on his lap, and the other
officers also seated themselves.

"It would of course be very nice to have a battleship squadron based on
Singapore or Hong Kong," Chatfield said.

"Unfortunately ... I suppose Leighton feels that we have such an
overwhelming superiority in big ships here in Europe that we can spare
a squadron whenever we choose.

Things are changing, Dawson.  Have you heard of Bismarck and Tirpitzt I
mean the ships, not the historical characters after whom they are
named."

"They are battleships the Germans are building in defiance of their
treaty obligations, sir."

Chatfield gave a brief, grim smile.

"I wish that were so.  The Germans have never been a party to the Naval
Treaties, and our government, in its wisdom, three years ago concluded
a pact with the Hitler regime, which gave Germany permission to build a
fleet up to a third of our strength.  That is one of those agreements
which is a matter of interpretation.  It is possible to say, what can
we possibly fear from a Germany which has a fleet only a third our
strength?

Equally, however, it is possible to say, that as the Germans had
virtually no fleet at all when that agreement was signed, if we
overlook their so-called pocket battleships which in actual fact are
merely heavy cruisers, that we gave them the right to build ships just
as fast and as big as they could for the next two or three years.  This
is exactly what they are doing.  Bismarck was laid down in July 1936,
and Tirpitz in October.  Our information is that they are both going to
be in the water by this time next year, and Bismarck will be in
commission in 1940.  That is only two years away."

"One battleship, sir?"  Jack ventured.

"When we have twelve, plus three battle cruisers

# "And five building," Chatfield agreed.

"Unfortunately, ten of our battleships date from the Great War.  Even
Nelson and Rodney are more than ten years old, and they were built
under the Washington Treaty restrictions.  Oh, they're fine ships. They
have sixteen-inch guns, and they displace more than forty-thousand
tons, deep-loaded.  But they are old, and they have a maximum speed of
twenty-three knots.  Hood is of course in a class of her own, both for
speed and hitting power, but she is still only a battle cruiser she was
never intended to take part in a line of battle.  And she is also
twenty years old.  Our five new ships, King George V, Prince of Wales,
Duke of York, Anson amd Howe, when we get them, may be new, but they
will be no bigger, and while they will have ten fourteen-inch guns,
they will still only make twenty-eight knots maximum.  Now, our
information is the Germans are trying to keep it as secret as possible,
naturally that Bismarck and Tirpitz are going to displace more than
fifty thousand tons, deep-loaded, and will be capable of speeds of
around thirty knots.  Granted that the Germans have settled for the old
eight fifteen-inch gun arrangement, we are still talking about the
largest, fastest, most powerful ships in the world.  This is the
situation with which we are faced.  I am making this point to you,
Lieutenant Dawson, because I wish you to understand that the Navy is
not in the business of sacrificing ships, and men, such as your own
ship and your own men, lightly.  What happened to Goliath is an
outrage, and one which will not go unremembered, I promise you.  Of
course in an ideal world we would have the ships to send to Hong Kong
and make it perfectly plain to the people in Tokyo that they cannot
carry on in this highhanded way without instant retribution.  But the
European situation must have priority over any injured feelings we may
have to sustain in the rest of the world."

"I understand this, sir, and I am grateful to you for taking the time
to instruct me," Jack said.

"But with respect..  ."  he glanced somewhat apprehensively at the
other officers in the room, well aware that he was by far the most
junior .. . but also that he was acting as Admiral Leighton's
mouthpiece.

"Admiral Leighton would contend that perhaps Japan poses the greater
threat to our maritime interests than even Nazi Germany."

"Japan has six battleships and four battle cruisers said Captain
Nicholas.

"The battleships are all Great War vintage.  The battle cruisers are
more recent, but not one of them can match Hood."

"I was thinking of the aircraft-carriers, sir.  From what I have seen,
they are surely at least as important as battleships.  We have seven
aircraft-carriers, and an eighth, Ark Royal, in the water.  The Germans
have none.  The Japanese have five, with another three in the water,
and Admiral Leighton says there are another four on the drawing board,
each of which will be bigger and faster than even Ark Royal."  He
paused, amazed at his own temerity.

The senior officers exchanged glances, and half smiles.

"You are well-informed, Lieutenant Dawson," Chatfield said.

"And we understand your feelings about such ships, as they are
responsible for the destruction of your own.

However, I suspect that attacking virtually unarmed gunboats and
bombarding undefended cities is about the limit of their usefulness.
There has never been any suggestion that aircraft-carriers could
attempt to oppose battleships;

that would be ludicrous."

"Sir, according to Admiral Douhet ..."

"Admiral Douhet, Lieutenant, is an Italian."  Chatfield's tone was
heavy with contempt.

"The Italians are great theoreticians, but their record as fighting
seamen is not one to be taken seriously.  Believe me, young man, in the
next war, as in the last, and in all the wars of which we have record,
it is the number of battleships, of ships of the line, of three-deckers
in the old days, that matters."

"And the spirit of the men who man them, sir," added
Lieutenant-Commander Hamilton.

"Oh, quite.  Which is another reason to discount the Japanese, in my
opinion."

"They beat the Russians, sir," Jack ventured.

"The Russians," Flag-Captain Nicholas said contemptuously.

"Anyway, that was more than thirty years ago, Lieutenant.  A different
breed."

"Gentlemen," Chatfield intervened, perhaps remembering that Jack
Dawson's father had belonged to that previous breed, and Nicholas had
not made it absolutely clear that he was speaking only of the
Japanese.

"I am sure the Japanese are good, and perhaps dangerous, seamen.  But
..."  he smiled.

"I have also made it clear that they will have to wait their turn.
Thank you for coming in, Lieutenant Dawson."

Jack rose, put on his cap, saluted.

"We must find Lieutenant Dawson a new ship," the Admiral remarked.

"I imagine you would like to move up to something larger than a
gunboat, eh, Dawson?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well... I think there is a vacancy on Warspite, is there not,
Nicholas?"

"Yes, sir."

"We'll see what we can do about that, Dawson.  Dismissed."

Jack left the room, his rebuff forgotten as he was hardly able to
believe his luck.  Warspite was one of the original five new
battleships ordered for the fleet just before the Great War.  That made
her an old ship, but in her day she had been one the finest battleships
ever constructed, and she and her sisters had been the first capital
ships to be oil-fired.  The extra speed and range that had given the
Queen Elizabeth Class, as it was known after the first to be completed,
together with their exceptional armament they had been amongst the
first to be armed with fifteen-inch guns had given them a considerable
margin of superiority over any German vessel.

She had fought at Jutland, and been badly damaged.  After the War she
had been brought up to date; Jack knew that she had only recently
completed her second total modern ising refit, and was now in the
Mediterranean.  There was an attractive thought, even if it would not
please Marjorie.

It was just gone four.  Jack returned to his club, had a bath, and
changed into the civilian blazer and bags he had bought in Singapore.
Five-fifteen.  He looked up the address Denise had given him, took the
Underground to get to Chelsea;

perhaps he and Joanna Young would take one look at each other and wish
to walk the other way.  Then he could have a night on the town.  He
rather felt like that: it was a long time since he had had a night out
in London and as a married man who was about to leave England again for
Malta it might be the last for a very long time.

He got to the block of flats just before six, checked the names on the
street door, pressed the bell marked Young, was surprised by the crisp
reply: "Yes?"

"Oh, hello," he said.

"My name is Jack Dawson.  I think my mother telephoned ..."

"That's right.  Cousin Jack.  Come up."

There was a click, and the door was released.  He stepped inside, and
climbed the stairs to the second floor.  He was still surprised, at the
absence of an American accent.  Joanna Young was of course English: her
father had been Captain Geoffrey Young, RN, who had died at the Battle
of Jutland.

But when Mary Dawson Young had married again, Captain Harry Krantz of
the USN, she had taken her family to the the States with her.  That had
been in 1922, sixteen years ago.

The flat door was open, and Joanna stood there.  She was tall, as he
had expected as she was half Dawson, and slim, and quite remarkably
lovely, her face a perfect heart in which was set a well-shaped nose,
wide mouth, and high forehead, the whole framed in wavy shoulder-length
golden hair.  Only her eyes spoiled the image; they were green, and
made him think of the word casual as if the world outside her brain
didn't really exist.

She wore a paint-covered apron which extended from her neck to her
ankles; her feet were bare.  And she was smiling.

"Cousin Jack," she said again.

"I think I remember you.

Come in."

He stepped through the doorway.

"Do you?"

"Sure.  1922, just before we left.  I was ten, and you were seven.
Don't you remember me?"

It had been on one of his rare visits to Silver Streams, and he had, as
usual, been totally overawed.

"There were so many ..."

She laughed.

"I guess there were.  For the rest of us, you were important: son of
the famous Jack Dawson, VC and bar."

She closed the door, and having walked into the centre of the neatly
furnished room, he turned while her back was still to him .. . and
gulped in consternation: he was looking at a perfectly shaped female
figure, naked beneath the apron.

"I ... ah ..."

Joanna walked past him and opened an inner door.

"You caught me working.  What do you think?"

He stood in the doorway, trying to avoid looking at the woman, who was
again turned away from him, and gazed at the portrait she had been
working on ... of herself!  Nude!

reclining on a settee the settee was in the far corner of the room.

He licked his lips.

"I'm afraid I don't know too much about art."

"Meaning you don't like it?"

"No, I think it's very good."

"Well, hell," she said.

"Rembrandt always painted himself.  And I'm better looking than him.
Wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, yes," he agreed fervently.

"So, maybe .. ."  she stood with her arms folded, frowning at the
painting.

Jack gazed at her back; he did not think he had ever seen such
delicious buttocks, small and tight.  He had to lick his lips again
before he could speak.

"I was going to take you out to dinner."

"That's right, your mom said something about that.  I have to have a
bath.  Come on in and tell me all about yourself."

Without waiting for an answer she led him into the larger bedroom, off
which opened the bathroom.  He stood in the doorway to watch her remove
the apron and hang it on a hook by the door, and then go into the
bathroom and turn on the taps.

"Would you believe they don't have showers in this place?"  She
straightened, and faced him.  She was even more attractive from the
front, with small but well-shaped breasts, thrusting straight away from
her chest, and a thick dark bush.

"Say, would you like a drink?  There's whisky in the cabinet out
there."

"Ah .. . yes.  Yes, I would, thank you."

"Pour one for me as well.  Go slow on the water."

He nearly ran into the lounge.  He had never before encountered such a
casual attitude to nudity.  Marjorie had deliberately played the
coquette, but had still drawn the line at nudity before marriage.  But
this woman .. .

and she was ten times more beautiful than Marjorie.  His cousin!

He poured the two drinks, listened to a faint splash, stood in the
bedroom doorway.

"Let's have it," she commanded.

He crossed the bedroom, went into the bathroom.  She sat in the tub,
soaping, held out her hand for the glass and drank deeply.

"Mmm.  I never drink when working," she said.

"But sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't.  Might give me a new
perspective."

"Yes," he said, and turned away.

"Don't go," she said.

"You were going to tell me about yourself.  You can sit on the John."

Cautiously Jack sat beside her.

"You have seen a naked woman before?"  Joanna asked.

"For Christ's sake, you're married!"

"Yes," Jack said.

"That is exactly it."

"Oh, Jesus, don't tell me you're one of these middle-class freaks who
reckons because he's married he mustn't ever look at another woman?
They all get over it, y'know."

"I'm sure they do."

"But you're still a new boy.  I got married, once."

"Did you?"  No one had told him about that.

"I was eighteen, he was nineteen.  He wanted to.  Hell, it wasn't as if
I was a virgin or something.  But he was a nice kid.  Didn't last."

"What did Aunt Mary say?"

Joanna laughed, put away the soap, and sank into the water to soak.

"She didn't know about it until it was done.

Then she blew her top; there was talk about annulment because I was
under age.  So we ran away."

"Good Lord!"  And he thought he had led an adventurous life.

"Well, I went home after Bill and me broke up.  But it wasn't the same.
Mom and I aren't really on the same wavelength.  And Harry .. . they're
obsessed with pre-War values.  You know what I mean?"

"Ah .. he had an uneasy feeling she would class him as being obsessed
with pre-war values, too.

"So, I split, for good.  They gave me an allowance to let me study art,
and I had a little place in New York.  Then I sold a couple of studies,
and thought I'd expand a little."

"You've sold some paintings?  That's marvelous."

"Studies of myself."  Joanna stood up, reached for her towel, stepped
out of the bath, and began to dry herself, inches from his nose; water
scattered across him.

"Oh."

"You got it.  There are always some guys who want beautiful naked women
hanging on their walls."

"You don't think that's, well .. . degrading yourself?"

"What the hell?  If some guy wants to jerk himself off looking at my
cunt he's welcome.  The more the merrier.  I reckon it gives me a kind
of immortality.  I knew a guy in New York, a painter of nudes, like me.
He had a favourite study, a real beauty.  But he'd painted her
twenty-five years before.

And then lost touch with her.  He'd say, she'd be mid-forties now,
probably fat and married and with kids and tits hanging half-way to the
floor.  But she'll live forever in that portrait.

Fact!  I feel the same way."

She threw the towel cross the rail, went into the bedroom, turned down
the covers, and lay down, on her side, one leg up, gazing at him as he
followed her.

"Now tell me, you want to fuck now, or when we come back from
dinner?"

CHAPTER 4

Cousins Jack got home at eleven, sat on his bed in the club and stared
at the door.

He thought the most disconcerting part of the evening was Joanna's
refusal to be annoyed, or even mildly put out, by his refusal to sleep
with her.  She had merely shrugged, and gone on to talk of other
things; his stammered excuses about morality and marriage vows might
never have been made.

Apparently, in the morals of her peculiar world, when one went out with
"a guy", even if he happened to be a recently married man or a first
cousin, one slept with him.  He wondered just how often she went out to
dinner, anyway?  She hadn't even expressed any great desire to meet
Marjorie!

And did Joanna's behaviour make Marjorie's acceptable?

Was he just entirely out of touch with modern woman?  His only
experience of them had been his cousins.  But Joanna was his cousin.

Anyway, there was a world of difference between the two.  Marjorie had
acted with cold-blooded and experienced determination.  She had not
wanted sex; she had wanted a husband.  And after several tries he still
wished he knew how many she had found a poor fool to get entangled in
her spider's web.  Joanna had sought nothing save physical enjoyment.
There was nothing else she could have sought, from her cousin!

What was worst from his point of view was that he had wanted to, so
very badly.  Still wanted to.  She was one of the most sexually
attractive women he had ever met, and the thought that were he to
change his mind, and go back round to her apartment now, she would
welcome him, was almost unbearable.  But he was an officer and a
gentleman.

All his life he had had that drummed into him, first by his mother, and
then by the service itself.

That was why he was married!

He caught an early train for Bath, was home for lunch.

Marjorie greeted him as if they had been separated for months rather
than twenty-four hours; she did not appear the least interested in what
he had done in London.

Denise was interested, and clapped her hands with pleasure when Jack
told her he had a chance of being appointed to Warspite.

"What's WarspiteT' Marjorie wanted to know.

"One of our finest battleships," Denise told her.

"She's in the Med," Jack explained, enthusiastically .. .

and tactlessly.

Marjorie's mouth formed an O. "Where in the Med?"

"Alexandria, mostly, I think.  Sometimes Valetta."

"Where would I live?"

"Well ..."  he looked at his mother.

"You'll remain here, until you have a place of your own," Denise
said.

"Here?  You mean in England?  Why can't I go to the Mediterranean,
too?"

"Well, you can, if you can afford it.  But it wouldn't be well received
by the other officers.  Anyway," Denise added brightly, "we can't
afford it.  I'm afraid that is the lot of seamen's wives.  Do you know,
in our entire married life, Jack senior and I spent less than six
months together and three of those were when he was convalescing from
wounds and exposure after Jutland.  But ... we managed to snatch a
little happiness."

Marjorie's face puckered up.

"You'd better reassure her," Denise said, somewhat sharply, and left
the room.

"Don't misunderstand me," she told Jack when he was able to join her
later, Marjorie having retired with a headache.

"I think Marjorie is a sweet girl.  But she doesn't seem to have much
grasp of the realities of life."

"Because she's lived a very sheltered life.  Up the Yangste, queen of
all she surveyed, servants waiting on her hand and foot ..."

"But that's all behind her now," Denise reminded him.

"She just has to come back down to earth, and be one of us."

"She will be one of us," he promised.

Denise picked up her sewing.

"How did you get on with Joanna?"  she asked, not looking at him.

"Ah ..."

"You did go to visit her?  You were supposed to take her out to
dinner."

"Well, I did.  She's very attractive."

"Yes," Denise said, and waited.

"We had a lot to talk about," Jack volunteered.

"What did you think of her?"

"Well .. . unusual?"

"Yes," Denise agreed again.

"She is a constant source of embarrassment to her mother.  And her
brother."

"In what way?"  Jack couldn't believe Joanna's family knew about her
sleeping habits.

"Oh, the way she behaves.  She ran off and got married, illegally, at
the age of eighteen.  Did she tell about that?"

"Yes."

"The marriage broke up, of course, but then she quarrelled with her
parents and went off to New York, to paint.  Mary visited her several
times, trying to get her to come home, but she always refused.  Mary
thinks she's, well..  . that she's had several affairs.  Now she's in
London, Mary wrote to me asking me to keep an eye on her, if I could.
Seems Joanna and Mark don't get on, and anyway, he's away with his ship
so much of the time.  Well..  . I visited her once, and..  well I
shouldn't think she showed you any of her work?"

"Yes, she did."

"My God!  She seems to be absolutely shameless."

"She's a very beautiful woman."

"Jack!"

"I'm sorry, Mother, but there it is."

"And you find nothing wrong in a young woman painting herself in the
nude and then selling the paintings?"

"I don't approve of it, myself," Jack said carefully.

"But if that's what she wants to do .. ."

"Oh, really, Jack!  It's this attitude of letting the young do whatever
they wish has got the world into the mess it's in.

Well, anyway, for God's sake keep your opinions to yourself when you
meet Mark."

"Am I going to meet Mark?"

"He's on leave.  You know Hood is in the Med?"

"No, I didn't."

"So you'll probably be seeing rather a lot of Mark over the next year
or so.  But first, on Sunday, we're all going over to Silver Streams
for lunch.  And he will be there."

By Sunday Marjorie had recovered her spirits.  This was in part because
Jack, his conscience riddled with guilt on his return from London, was
more determinedly attentive and loving than ever before, and partly
because on the Saturday he took her into Bath and bought her a new
dress.  It was a cream linen summer frock with a red and cream striped
bolero jacket, and matching red and white sandals.  He also bought her
a new leather handbag, in white cream, and a red and black striped
hat.

"My dear," Denise said, "you look absolutely splendid."

They had to take the train to King's Martin, which involved two changes
and was rather tiresome, but waiting at the station was the old Rolls
which had been in the Dawson family for twenty years, driven as usual
by Lorraine.  Elizabeth was with her, and also another girl.

"This is Georgina," Lorraine explained.

"My eldest."

Georgina was sixteen, golden-haired and very attractive,

but very shy; she mumbled her greeting where Elizabeth was shouting and
hugging them all.

"Guess what?"  Lorraine asked.

"Giles is home, too.  Isn't that fun?"  She winked.

"They've all come to.  see your Marjorie."

Marjorie giggled.  Jack swallowed; he had always been in considerable
awe of his Uncle Giles, the only one of the three Dawson brothers to
survive the Great War, and very much the senior member of the family.

Denise squeezed his hand.

The women crowded into the back of the car, Jack being accorded the
privilege of sitting in front beside his aunt-in-law.

"Giles is so looking forward to meeting you again, Jack," Lorraine
remarked.

"He wants to hear all about China, and the bombing of your ship."

"Jack was in London yesterday," Marjorie said, importantly.

"Seeing Sir Ewan Chatfield."

"Were you?"  Lorraine appeared impressed.

"High society!"

"He also visited your niece," Marjorie went on, proving that she hadn't
been as oblivious of Jack's activities as she pretended.

"Not Cousin Jo?"  Elizabeth shouted, and gave a shriek of laughter.

"Lizzie!"  Georgina snapped.

"Mom thinks she's a whore!"  Elizabeth announced.

"Lizzie!"  This time her mother did the condemning.

"That's what you said she was," Elizabeth declared, defensively.

"Well..."

"She struck me as a very talented artist," Jack said, also
defensively.

"Why, sure, she is that," Lorraine agree.

"I guess it's her lifestyle that upsets the family.  Here we are."
Relief was evident in her tones.

Labradors barked, servants bustled, and the two men in uniform standing
in the doorway hurried forward.  Mark

Young, who like Jack wore the insignia of a lieutenant, took after his
late father more than his mother or sister.  He was no more than medium
height and stockily built, with dark hair.  His features were regular
enough, but spoiled by a perpetually supercilious sneer; Jack wondered
what he thought of his sister's activities and decided he would disobey
his mother's instructions and ask him, the moment they found themselves
alone together: he had never liked Mark.

The older man was unmistakeably a Dawson, well over six feet in height,
powerfully built, and with yellow hair which was only just beginning to
streak with grey.  He wore the single thick stripe of a rear-admiral,
and now came forward, hand outstretched.

"Jack!  It is good to see you.

How's your leg?"

"Absolutely fine, sir."

"Well, that's splendid.  Denise!"  He kissed his sister-inlaw.

"And you'll be Marjorie."

"Yes," Marjorie said in a small voice, clearly overawed, but also
seeing a possible Jack in fifteen years time.

"No regrets for marrying into this madhouse?"  Giles asked her, kissing
her on the cheek.

"I think it's just lovely," she replied.

"Come along inside and we'll have an aperitif," Giles said.

"Mark's been learning some new cocktails.  Haven't you, Mark?"

"Pink Ladies.  The latest things," Mark agreed.

"I'll just check that cook has lunch under control."

Lorraine went towards the kitchen.

"Come and look at the horses," Elizabeth commanded Marjorie, holding
her hand and leading her off to towards the paddock, followed by
Georgina.

Marjorie gave Jack an imploring glance, but he was being ushered inside
by Giles.

"I'd like to have a chat," the Admiral said.

"Before Mark makes us all too happy with his Pink Ladies.  I gather
they're ninety-five per cent gin."

"Of course, sir."

"I'll see if Lorraine needs a hand," Denise volunteered,

guessing that it was going to be Navy talk.

Giles led Jack into the drawing room.

"Smoke?"

"No, thank you, sir.  I don't."

"Wise.  Your father never did."  Giles sat down, began filling his
pipe, gestured Jack to a chair.

"You know, I never laid eyes on your father after 1906.  My God,
thirty-two years ago.  But every time I see you I think, Jack!  Come
back to life."

"Thank you, sir."

"He wasn't very much older than you are, now, in 1906," Giles said
thoughtfully.

"It's odd, that after the estrangement, our paths never crossed again.
We were brothers and we were both in the same Navy.  But he was on top
of the waves and I was underneath, most of the time."  He drew on the
pipe for some time, thinking.  At last he asked, "Was it grim? GoliathT
"Only in retrospect.  It all happened so quickly I didn't begin to
understand it until later.  And then ..."

"You were in Nanking, and that was grim, I understand."

"Very, sir."

"And now you are wondering why we aren't doing something about it."

"No, sir, I've had that explained to me," Jack said.

"By Admiral Chatfield."

"Have you, now.  I assume Ewan told you we don't have the ships to send
a fleet to Hong Kong large enough to overawe the Japs."

"Yes, sir."

"Nor, sadly, do we appear to have the will, right this moment, to
become engaged in a shooting war, with anyone, much less someone at the
far end of the world.  The way we have let Hitler get away with
re-taking the Rhineland, and then Austria ... as for this Czech
business, God knows where it is going to end.  Chamberlain's policy
seems to be, peace at any price."

Jack said nothing.  He was out of touch with British Governmental
policy, and he wasn't sure it was his place to comment on it, anyway.

Giles grinned.

"If that remark became public I'd be placed on the retired list.  But I
didn't bring you in here to talk politics.  Not that sort of politics,
anyway.  I have, actually, a somewhat contradictory reason for speaking
with you.

Firstly, I want you to know that we are going to attempt to do
something about what is happening in China, if only as regards public
opinion.  The League of Nations is putting together a dossier on
Japanese atrocities, which, it is hoped, will line up the whole world
against them.  Whether that will actually happen remains to be seen.
But we must do what we can.  I thought you might like to give evidence
to the League investigators."

"Of course, sir.  I'd be happy to."

"Good man.  You must not, under any circumstances, attempt to embroider
or exaggerate, Jack.  You must state what you saw, without conclusions
or opinions.  Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"We hope to hit the Japanese with such a body of world opinion that
even they will have to take notice.  Now, as to the second matter ...
as I said, it is rather the reverse side of the coin.  It seems that
Tokyo, while not apparently much worried about what happened in
Nanking, is anxious to mend its fences, or should I say bridges, with
Britain and America because of the sinking of Panay and Goliath.

They are therefore sending high level naval missions to both Washington
and London, to explain that these were regrettable accidents, and even,
I suppose, to make the point that it was our fault for having had our
ships in a war zone in the first place.  Now it is felt that you, as
the senior surviving officer of Goliath, should meet with these people.
I assume you are not likely to lose your wool and assault any of
them?"

"I would hope not, sir."

"Even if they might have served on Akagi, and perhaps taken part in the
raid which sank your ship?"

"Again, I would hope not, sir.  As a matter of fact, I

have already met two officers from Akagi.  They came up to Nanking as
observers.  They quite openly admitted that it was their planes sank
Goliath.  They were very apologetic, and even more apologetic about
what had happened in the city.  I rather liked them, I'm afraid."

"Can you remember their names?"

"I'm afraid not, sir.  I'm not very good on Japanese names."

"Pity.  I have a list here of the members of the mission."  He took the
paper from his pocket.

"Recognise any of them?"

Jack scanned the names.

"Hirada," he said thoughtfully.

"Lieutenant-Commander Hirada.  That rings a bell.  If I'm right, he was
a most decent fellow.  Had visited England.

Spoke English, in fact, very well.  Came from a wealthy family."

"Of course, Hirada Industries.  Oh, indeed, that's the fellow.  I shall
mark him down as knowing you, and see that you are invited to at least
one of the receptions."

"Thank you, sir."

"All in the line of duty.  While we wish the world to condemn Japan for
its actions, we also wish to maintain friendly relations with her,
until we are in a position to do something about it."

"Isn't that rather underhand, sir?"  Jack protested "Shake hands with a
chap while preparing to hit him on the chin?"

Giles gave a grim smile.

"It's an underhand world we live in, Jack.  I want you to give this
Hirada a good time when he's in London.  Take him out.  Show him how
the other half lives."

"I'd say he already knows that."

"Then remind him.  Make sure he understands that Great Britain is not a
country he wants to go to war with."

"Yes, sir.  I'm afraid I should mention, that, what with getting
married ..."

"What on earth possessed you to do that, anyway?  Don't misunderstand
me.  Marjorie looks a delightful girl.  But at your age, Jack ... it
can't possibly do your career any good."

"Yes, sir.  The fact is, Captain Gowrie gave permission.

The circumstances were unusual."

"You mean you got yourself compromised.  She's not pregnant, is she?"

"No, sir.  But I was compromised.  And you see, when I got engaged,
well, Mr.  Mowlam was one of the wealthiest merchants in China.  It all
fell to pieces when the Japanese took Nanking, of course, but by then I
was an invalid guest in their house, and they wanted to press on with
the wedding, so .. ."  he sighed.

"There it is."

"And you don't love her."

"Well, sir ..."

"As I said earlier, every time I see you, you remind me more and more
of your father.  He had a weakness for getting himself into emotional
complications.  I can only add that he came out of them, and married
your mother, which was about the most sensible thing he ever did. Well,
Jack, we must hope that things turn out for you.  And they are only
going to do that if you please everybody all the time for awhile yet. 
So do your damndest with this Japanese lot."

"Yes, sir.  I was going to say that, what with having a wife, a
lieutenant's pay doesn't actually rise to a continuous round of
theatres and nightclubs in London."

Giles gave him an old-fashioned look.

"I'll see that you are given an adequate expense account.  By the way,
where are you posted?"

"Nowhere right this minute, sir.  Admiral Chatfield did mention
Warspite ..."

"Warspitel That's splendid news.  Let's hope it comes off.

Now, shall we ask the ladies to join us?"

"You are returning to England?"  Hirada Akabuchi glanced at his son as
they walked up the drive of his Tokyo home; the Daimler had been parked
in the garage, some distance away from the house, which was surrounded
by exquisite gardens, pools of water, splashing waterfalls, exotic
blooms, and little curved bridges.  It was a place of great peace and
tranquillity, to which Tanawa always delighted in returning, especially
after such a tour of duty as he had just experienced.

"If what I have been reading is correct, I cannot imagine we are very
popular there, at this time."

Tanawa smiled.

"It is my business, and those of the other members of the mission, to
restore our popularity, with the British."

His father considered this.

"Are we not going to have to go to war with them, eventually?"  he
asked.

"I sincerely hope not."

"It is a matter of economics," Hirada Akabuchi pointed out.

"We need the tin and rubber from Malaysia.  And we need the oil from
the Dutch East Indies.  That is most important of all."

"Cannot we obtain these things by trade?"

"It does not appear so.  Not while the Americans freeze our foreign
assets, and our leaders exacerbate the situation by destroying Chinese
women and children and British and American gunboats."

"Exactly.  That is the object of the mission, to convince the
Westerners that we are fighting for our existence, and that in such
circumstances, accidents will happen."

"It will not succeed," Hirada Akabuchi said gloomily.

"They are intent upon our destruction.  The Americans, anyway.  They
have been determined to achieve it ever since the end of the war with
Germany.  They ended our emigration to the United States, they limited
the size of our fleet, and they made Great Britain abandon their
alliance with us.  Now they seek to prevent our lawful expansion on to
the Asiatic mainland."

They had reached the door.  Tanawa stopped, and looked at his father.

"Can you honestly say that it is lawful to expand anywhere, at the
expense of someone else?"

Hirada Akabuchi frowned.

"And you are a member of the Imperial Navy?"

"I know.  It does not make me feel any the better."

"Where is your loyalty to the Emperor?"

"I am loyal to the Emperor, Father.  I am loyal to the homeland.  I
will die for her, should it become necessary.

As I would die for you.  That does not mean I must blindly endorse
every action you take, whether I approve of it or not."

The door before them was opened by a bowing maidservant.  Hirada
Akabuchi took a step towards it, and checked to look back at his son.

"You had better not proclaim any sentiments like that to your
superiors," he recommended.

"Now come and say goodbye to your mother and sister."

"I wish I could go to England," Hirada Suiko said, gazing at Tanawa
with shining eyes; the youngest member of the family, and the only
unmarried girl, she worshipped her handsome elder brother.

"Well, perhaps you shall," Tanawa said.

"When?  Oh, when, Tanawa?"

He smiled.

"When you are married.  You will persuade your husband to take you
there, on a visit."

"Ha," she commented.  She had no great desire to be married, and leave
her most comfortable home and loving parents, and her favourite
brother.

"I love Silver Streams," Marjorie said dreamily, as she and Jack lay
together in the small double bed in Denise's spare room.

"Will we ever own it?"

"I'm afraid not."

"But .. . your Uncle Giles doesn't have any sons, does he?"

"No."

"Well, then .. ."

"We're a bit past the age of strict masculine primogeniture, except
amongst the nobility," Jack pointed out.

She brooded on this for a while, then asked, "Will we ever have a place
like it?"

"You bet.  When I'm an admiral."

Another brood.

"But we will have a place of our own, soon?"

"I hope so."

"When?"

"Well..  . we'll have to work things out.  I'm not sure we can afford
one, right now."

She sat up.

"I don't want to stay here, Jack.  I really don't.

It's not that I don't think your mother is very sweet, and she is being
absolutely charming to me, but... we do have different points of view
on almost everything."

"Well .. . perhaps we could see if we can find a flat in London, or
Portsmouth."

"London," she said.

"I'd like to live in London.  Oh, Jack, when can we start looking?"

"Well .. if Uncle Giles was really going to give him a reasonable
expense account to entertain the Japanese, why shouldn't he entertain
his own wife at the same time?  He still felt very guilty about his
temptation with Joanna.

"I will have to go up to town on business, some time in the next couple
of weeks.  You can come too, if you like.  Then you could look at flats
while I'm working."

"That would be absolutely splendid."

"Mind you," he warned.

"If you're set on living in London, it'll have to be a very small
flat."

"I'll find something," she said, and threw herself down again, on top
of him.

"Oh, Jack, I do love you so.  We are going to be happy, aren't we?"

"Jack Dawson!"  Hirada Tanawa's face broke into a smile.

"Commander!"  Jack saluted, bowed, briefly, as he had been told to do,
then shook hands.

Around them the Admiralty reception buzzed with the tinkle of champagne
glasses and the chatter of conversation:

there were roughly a hundred people present, nearly all in uniform.

"I knew you had met before, of course."  Lieutenant Commander Alexander
Robbie, who had carefully brought the two together, beamed at them.

"I'm sure you have lots to talk about.  You'll excuse me, Commander."

Tanawa stood to attention.

"Thank you."  He watched the slight figure disappearing into the
throng.

"How strange, that he should know we had met."

"Not really," Jack explained.

"Commander Robbie is private secretary to my uncle, Admiral Giles
Dawson.  And I told Uncle Giles that I had met you in Nanking."

"It is good to have an admiral as an uncle."

"I won't say it doesn't have its uses," Jack agreed.

"But you are looking very well."  Jack was wearing his new uniform.

"Are you fully recovered from your injury?"

"Fully."

"I am very relieved about that.  What an amazing coincidence, that we
should meet at a reception like this, on the other side of the
world."

Jack grinned.

"The Royal Navy doesn't have coincidences, Commander.  I'm to look
after you while you're in London."

"Look after me?"

"Take you about, anywhere you'd like to go.  Don't worry, an officer
will have been told off to do the same for every member of your
party."

"Your Admiralty is being very generous, in all the circumstances?"

"We try to be decent hosts.  Doesn't mean we don't bear a grudge,
however."

The two men looked at each other, and Tanawa smiled.

"I am sure you can bear a grudge, Mr.  Dawson.  But I am glad that we
are to be friends, if only for a short while."

"Dinner?"  Marjorie was aghast.

"You have invited that Japanese murderer to dinner?"

She was not in a good mood anyway.  Her first day's exploration of the
London estate agents had convinced her there was simply nowhere
available within the three to five hundred pound price range allowed
her by Jack no place where she would want to live, anyway.

Giles Dawson had managed to arrange for them to have the use of this
flat, belonging to an officer who was presently on a foreign station.
With its two bedrooms and its modern kitchen and its fresh decor, she
thought it was just the sort of home she wanted but it was clearly way
out of Jack's reach.  So at the end of this week it looked as if it was
back to Bath for her.  It was enough to make her spit.

"I'm afraid it goes with the job.  My job, at the moment, is to
entertain Hirada," Jack explained.

"But what on earth can we talk about?"

"China, I suppose.  He really is an awfully nice fellow."

"We can't just have him alone," she grumbled.

"Agreed.  I thought about that.  We'll invite Joanna Young to make up
the foursome.  You know, my cousin from the States."

"Of whom no one approves!"

"She's an extremely pleasant, intelligent woman.  You'll like her.  And
if she has an effect on Hirada, or he on her, then it won't matter,
will it?"

"Our first dinner party," Marjorie said, suddenly becoming
enthusiastic.

"Oh, I am so excited."

Giles rang up on the morning of the party.

"Jack!  How are you getting on with our Japanese friend?"

"Very well, sir, so far.  We've done the National Gallery and the
Houses of Parliament ..."

"Is that what he really wants to do?"

"I don't know, sir.  He's very polite."

"All Japanese are very polite, Jack, even when they are about to chop
off your head.  But they are also reputed to be rather fond of the
fleshpots."

"Yes, sir.  Well, I shall sound him out on that.  He's coming to supper
with Marjorie and me, tonight."

"Oh, that's a good step.  I hope you've laid on an attractive date for
him?"

"Ah .. . yes, I think so, sir."  Presumably Uncle Giles knew all about
Cousin Joanna and would hardly approve.

"Well done.  Well look, Jack, I think you should invite him down to
Silver Streams for the weekend.  A very long weekend."

"Are you sure that would be a good idea, sir?"

"I think so.  Can't do any harm.  And we have to do something with
him."

"I thought that was my responsibility, sir?"

"Yes.  It was.  But you won't be here."

"Sir?"

"That is the real reason for my call.  You'll get the official
notification tomorrow.  You have been appointed a watch-keeping officer
on Warspite."

"Oh, that's tremendous, sir."

"Yes.  But you are to leave England on the 55 Drumbeat on Friday
morning."

"Sir?"

"I know it's rather sudden.  But the fact is, Jack, and this is in the
strictest confidence, this Czechoslovak business is getting out of
hand.  The Government intends to order the mobilisation of the Navy
next Monday, just to let Mr.  Hitler know we mean business.  That means
every man to his post.  You'll be in Malta in a week, ready to take up
your duties."

"I see, sir."  Thoughts whirled through Jack's brain.

"Is that why you want Hirada down at Silver Streams, next week?"

"Well, it might not be a bad idea.  Plans are afoot to disperse the
whole Japanese naval mission over the country next weekend, and see
they don't get back together to their embassy for a few days, while we
put our act together.  I'll leave the arrangements with you, Jack. Just
make sure no one knows what is happening.  And good luck in the Med;

I won't see you before you go."

Jack replaced the phone.  He had no doubt at all there was going to be
a scene when he told Marjorie he was leaving at the end of the week. It
was a matter of timing.  Joanna had sounded delighted to be asked to
supper.  He would seize his opportunity during the evening.

And for the time being Marjorie appeared utterly happy, as he gave her
a sizeable chunk of his expense allowance and let her prepare a lavish
meal, although she grumbled about having to do all the work herself.

He laid in a couple of bottles of good wine and a bottle of scotch.

"Good heavens," Joanna remarked, when she arrived a few minutes after
Hirada.

"You are Japanese, aren't you?"

Hirada wore his dark blue uniform with the almost invisible black
insignia, and was actually looking very handsome.  Nor was he about to
be put out, especially by Joanna, who looked stunning in a red cocktail
frock.

"And you are American," he remarked.

"Incorrect.  I am as British as the next woman.  I happen to have lived
in the States for some time."

"Ah," Hirada said, and turned to his hostess.

"Now we meet on your territory, Mrs.  Dawson.  I trust we may be
friends."

"That is entirely up to you, Mr.  Hirada."

"Drinks?"  Jack asked.

"I'm afraid I haven't any sake."

"I very seldom drink sake" Hirada assured him.

"I prefer whisky."

"Which is just what I do have."  Jack made them all drinks, sat down,
and smiled at them in turn.  Hirada and Joanna both looked utterly
relaxed; Marjorie remained watchful it was fairly obvious she hadn't
taken to Joanna.

"Now," Jack said.

"I had a telephone call from my uncle this morning."

"You never told me," Marjorie complained.

"Well, you were out, and I suppose it slipped my mind.

The point is, Commander, Uncle Giles was wondering if you'd like to go
down to Silver Streams this weekend, and spend a few days in the
country.  Silver Streams is his home in Dorset."

"That is extraordinarily kind of Admiral Dawson," Hirada said.

"I'm sure you'd enjoy it."

"Great place, Silver Streams," Joanna remarked.

"Will you be going down, Miss Young?"  Hirada asked.

"Now that is a question.  I am persona non grata, at the moment. Savvy?
 Blotted my copybook.  Oh .. ."

as Hirada continued to look puzzled.

"You tell him, Jack."

"My cousin has quarrelled with her aunt," Jack explained.

"That is a pity," Hirada observed.

"Perhaps if I were to put in a good word for you ..."

"Then you will go?"  Jack pressed.

"I can think of nothing better.  You will be there, of course?"

"Ah ..."

"I think that would be brilliant," Marjorie said.

"Surely we can go too, Jack?  I'm so fond of Silver Streams," she
confided to Joanna.

"I see no reason why you shouldn't go," Jack said.

"In fact, I'll arrange it.  Mother can go with you."

She frowned at him.

"Why won't you come?"

"I'm afraid I can't."  Jack drew a long breath and forced a smile.

"I'm leaving on Friday morning."

"Leaving?"  Marjorie's voice rose an octave.

"My appointment has come through.  To Warspite.  And you know what the
Navy is like.  Having kept me hanging around for weeks, now they've
posted me they want me there as quickly as possible.  So ... there's a
ship leaving for Valletta on Friday morning, and I'm to be on it."

Marjorie stared at him in consternation.

"I see your navy is exactly like ours," Tanawa observed.

Jack couldn't resist the obvious riposte.

"Isn't that because your navy was created by British officers?"

"Indeed," Tanawa agreed, easily.

"Although that was a long time ago."

"The Med," Joanna said.

"I envy you, I've never been there.  What's the name of the ship you're
travelling on?"

"55 Drumbeat."

"You mean you're not travelling by warship?"

"I'm afraid the Navy doesn't lay on warships to transport very junior
lieutenants from A to B. No, she's a freighter which carries a limited
number of passengers."

"Sounds rather jolly," Joanna said, thoughtfully.

"I will be sorry to lose your company, Jack," Hirada said.

"You'll have a good time down at Silver Streams.  Marjorie will show
you around."

"I think that went off rather well," Jack remarked, when he returned
upstairs from seeing their guests off.

"Even if Joanna and Tanawa didn't exactly appear to light a mutual
fire.  Do you know, he offered her a lift back to her flat in his taxi,
and she refused; said she'd rather take the tube."

"Probably she doesn't like Japanese men either," Marjorie said.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd been posted?  I know you didn't
forget."

"I was afraid it would upset you, and spoil your dinner party."

"Well, it did.  You're off to the Med, and I'm stuck here ..."

"With a lot of people who are anxious to be your friends, darling."

She did not appear to be reassured, but he did his best to make her
feel that he loved her, while his mind was already roaming to the
sunlit Mediterranean, and the huge ship on which he was going to live.
He had never served on a battleship before; his early days at sea had
been on a light cruiser.  But he knew that a battleship, with a
complement of over a thousand men, was a floating township, in which
every man knew that his life might depend on the efficiency of every
other.  Well, that had applied to life on Goliath as well.  The
difference was that if anyone tried to drop a bomb on War spite, they
would have the guns to blast the aggressor out of the sky.

He made all the arrangements, and on Thursday evening escorted Marjorie
to the station for the ride down to Bath, having telephoned Denise to
put her in the picture.  Marjorie was in a better mood; not only had
his love-making reassured her, but she had been formally invited to
Silver Streams for the week-end, and would be going across the
following evening.

By which time I shall be in Biscay, Jack thought happily.

He spent an early night, at his club, was up at five, and at the docks
just after six: Drumbeat was sailing from the Pool of London.

"Lieutenant Dawson, for Alexandria," the purser said, checking his
list.

"Four B, sir.  I've given your cousin the cabin opposite."

"My ..."  Jack raised his head and looked across the saloon at
Joanna.

A steward led him up to the cabin deck.  Joanna accompanied them.

"It's a very small ship," she remarked.

"Only has a dozen cabins.  And only four are singles.  I was lucky to
get one."

Jack tipped the steward, waited for the man to depart.

"May I ask what in the name of God you are playing at?"

Joanna raised her eyebrows.

"I'm going to Malta.  To paint."

"I see.  When did you make this decision?"

She smiled.

"Last Tuesday evening."

"Joanna .. ."

"Would you like me to shut the door?  If you're going to shout at
me."

"I would not like you to shut the door, and I do not propose to shout
at you," Jack snapped, keeping his voice down with an effort.

"Do you realise what the family are going to think, and say, when they
find out you are on this ship?"

"How can they find out, unless you tell them?  I haven't said a word to
a soul.  As for what they'd think or say, who cares?  I'm free, white
and twenty-six years old.  I like sea voyages.  And I like them better
with congenial company.

Right?"

"I just want to make it perfectly clear to you that I am not coming
into your cabin, and, after this minute, you are not coming into mine,
for the duration of the voyage."

Joanna shrugged.

"So you don't want to fuck.  I think you're crazy.  But, you're free,
white, and .. say, how old are you anyway?"

"Twenty-two," Jack told her.

"Is that a fact?  Well, then, you just remember I'm the senior partner
around here."

He supposed they both knew from the start that his vow of chastity was
going to be broken.  But Joanna was in no hurry.

There was no suggestion of impropriety in anything they said or did
whenever they encountered each other that first day.

The dozen passengers ate with the officers in the small dining salon,
and it turned out that there were only three women on board, the other
two being married and accompanying their businessmen husbands out to
Alexandria.  The unattached men were delighted to have such an
attractive young woman to flirt with, as were the officers, especially
when it was discovered that she was an artist.

"I must show you some of my work, some time," Joanna told them, while
Jack squirmed with anticipated embarrassment.

That he was her cousin obviously discounted him as competition, in the
eyes of her admirers, while the fact that she sought his company most
of the time was also perfectly acceptable it was assumed he was acting
as her chaperon, and as he was the only naval officer on board he was
treated with great respect.

Their passage through the Western Approaches was choppy, and when that
evening they were off Ushant and entering Biscay the seas were quite
big, pushed up from the south-west by a fresh breeze.  Drumbeat
plunged, tossing spray away from her bows, entering the troughs with
shuddering crashes and surging back up to the following crest with a
grinding of engines.  Only six of the passengers turned up for dinner,
but predictably Joanna was amongst them;

she did not seemed the least disturbed by the motion.

After the meal she and three of the men played a couple of hands of
contract bridge, and then she announced she was taking a walk before
retiring.

"Will you accompany me, Jack?"  she asked.

The others looked disappointed, but reflected that it was the first
night out, and she was clearly biding her time.

"You'll need a coat," Jack suggested, peering through the saloon door
at the evening.

"Let's get chilled," she decided.

"It's stuffy as hell in here."

He opened the bulkhead door for her, and instantly the wind caught at
them, sending her skirt flying.

"Wheee!"

she laughed, and hurried across the deck to the rail.  He had chosen
the port exit, and there was a slight lee, but still the wind reached
them.  The night was dramatic in the extreme, with clouds scudding
across a full moon, revealing the tumbling whitecaps racing by,
accentuating the shuddering thuds as the bows knifed into the
troughs.

"I love storms at sea," Joanna shouted.

He stood beside her, one arm round her, protectively.

"This is hardly a storm."

She turned, against his arm, her back to the rail now.

"I

suppose you've been in some big ones."

"One or two."

"You're right, the breeze is chilly."  She pressed against his arm, and
when he moved it, went past him, but not to the door.  Instead she
stood against the bulkhead, close to the ladder leading up to the boat
deck.

"Hug me, Jack.  Warm me up."

He stood against her, put his arms round her, still confident that he
could resist whatever she had in mind.

But then her face turned up: she was tall enough almost to match even
him.  She put her arms round him, and hugged him closer yet, and kissed
him on the mouth.

He made himself pull away, knowing he didn't want to.

"Jo!"

"Don't be a jerk," she said.

"I want you.  I wanted you the moment I saw you.  And you wanted me."

"Jo ..."  this time his tone was less certain.

"So we'd be breaking the law, or whatever.  Don't you want to live a
little, Jack?  For Christ's sake, think what I'm offering you.  With no
strings attached.  Not one."

He looked down at her, his eyes now accustomed to the gloom.  She
smiled up at him, and put out her tongue to touch his lips again.

"Walk me round the deck," she said.

He held her arm, and they walked briskly round the small promenade
deck.  On the more exposed starboard side of the ship they staggered as
the wind buffeted them, and Joanna had to grasp her skirts to stop them
flying over her head.

"Wheee!"  she laughed again as they arrived back at the bulkhead
door.

"How's my hair?"

"Everywhere."

She dragged strands from across her face.

"And I'm frozen stiff.  You're going to have to do something about
that.  Let's go in."

She opened the door and stepped into the instant warmth of the ship.
Two of the men were just leaving the saloon.

"You look pretty windswept, Miss Young," one remarked.

"It's tremendous.  But I'm for bed."  She turned back to Jack, and
kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks for the walk, cos," and whispered.

"Go to your cabin and wait for me."

She went down the companionway, and Jack returned to the saloon for a
nightcap.  The two men followed Joanna, but he didn't suppose they were
going to get anywhere; she was a most single-minded young woman.

The steward poured him a brandy, and he sipped while staring out at the
night.  There was no use thinking about it, worrying about it: he knew
there was no way he was going to lock his stateroom door.  Joanna was
the sort of woman men dreamed about.  That she was his cousin and he
was married only made the fruit more tasty as she seemed to feel as
well.

So be damned, he thought, and the hell with it!

He finished his drink, nodded good night to the steward, went along the
corridor to the cabins.  The corridor was empty, and it was impossible
to hear anything that might be happening behind the various doors
because of the rumble of the engines, the screaming of the wind, and
the tumbling crashes of the waves and the ship in constant motion.

He gained his cabin, undressed, switched off the light, and lay down.
Wait for me, she had said.  He was suddenly anxious that she might not
have meant it.  Amongst her unending perversities could well be a cruel
sense of humour.

But he had not lain there five minutes when his door opened, gently,
and then closed again.

"Put on the light," she said.

Jack obeyed, gazed at her dressing gown-clad body.

She gave a little tinkle of laughter.

"I always wonder if I'm in the right room.  One day I'm sure to make a
mistake."

He sat up.

"You mean you do this sort of thing often?"

"Doesn't everyone?"  She locked the door, came towards him, taking off
her dressing gown as she did so.  She wore nothing underneath, and he
was left speechless as she pulled the sheet back and sat beside him.

"These bunks are awfully narrow," she said, and threw one leg across
his to straddle him, then slowly lowered herself on to his chest, to
kiss him on the mouth.

His arms went round her, slid down her back to her buttocks. Everything
about her was perfection.  And even the hair flopping into his face was
erotic.

"Shame my mother was your father's sister," she said.

"I

could go for you in a big way.  You into soixante-neuf?"

"Eh?"

"It's the only way we're going to have any fun in a bed this size," she
explained, and showed him what she meant.

"You use your mouth," she said over her shoulder.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world, with a woman like
Joanna.  To imagine himself being, literally, mounted by someone like
Marjorie was impossible.

The sensations coming from his groin were sheer delight, but he was not
apparently doing so well.

"You need a lot of practice," she said regretfully.

"There's time.  But not tonight.  Big boy is fit to burst."

She clambered off him, turned round again to face him, and sat on him
again, slowly, holding him in her hands to ease him into herself.

"Oh," she said.

"Oh, that feels goods.

Grab my tits, for God's sake."

He obeyed, realising that he was an absolute tyro at the art of love.
These were things he had never even dreamed of.  Nor had he ever
dreamed that a woman could exude so much passion.  After only a few
seconds of surging up and down she uttered a half moan, half howl, and
seemed to subside on him.  He came himself a moment later, and she lay
on his chest, panting.

"Do you think anyone heard?"  he asked.

"Not in this kind of weather.  Kiss me, Jack."

Again he obeyed, and she clung to him for several seconds, before
rolling off him and standing up.

"It'll be better tomorrow," she promised, picking up her dressing
gown.

He didn't see how it possibly could.

It seemed impossible that everyone on board the ship wouldn't know what
had happened.  Even if no one had heard the noise of her orgasm, surely
they had to recognise it in his eyes, his face every time he looked at
her.

But everyone seemed perfectly normal the next day, and as the wind
steadily dropped and the seas went down, more of the passengers
appeared on deck, while that evening they saw lights on their port
bow.

"La Corunna," Captain Moysey told them at dinner.

"It's held by the insurgents."

"Odd to think there's a war going on, right over there," Joanna
remarked.

"Yes.  We'll probably see some British and French warships, tomorrow.
There's a kind of loose blockade being maintained, intended to stop the
supply of arms, to either side.  Doesn't work, of course.  The Germans
and Italians send arms, as well as so-called volunteers, to Franco's
lot, and the Russians do the same with the Government.  It's a crazy
world."

"I'm glad we're not fighting a war," Joanna confided to Jack during
their after-dinner constitutional.

She came to him again that night, which was a Saturday.  By then he
could not have slept without having held her in his arms.  He had
fallen in love, at least physically, with his own first cousin!

He doubted Joanna loved him.  He was, as she told him, a good screw,
and she thoroughly enjoyed the illegality of incest.  She would, no
doubt, kiss him goodbye when they reached Valletta or perhaps even
before and never give him another thought.

He wasn't sure he could do that.

Sunday was a beautiful day, with every trace of bad weather
disappeared.  After church service, the passengers basked on the boat
deck and looked at the blue haze which was the Portuguese coast Captain
Moysey was staying some twenty miles offshore.

"When do we reach Gibraltar?"  someone asked.

"Dawn tomorrow," the First Officer replied.

"We're there for twenty-four hours, so you'll be able to stretch your
legs.

Feed an ape or two."

"I wonder how they're all getting on down at Silver Streams," Joanna
remarked.

"I don't even want to think about it," Jack confessed.

She regarded him thoughtfully for several seconds.

"I

worry about you," she said.

"I worry about myself."

"Do you want to skip it, tonight?"

He glanced at her, and then around, to make sure they weren't being
overheard.

"God, I want you," he muttered.

She grinned.

"Then let's have fun.  What the hell, we may both be dead tomorrow."

By now the other unattached males were beginning to be more attentive,
and Jack even found himself becoming jealous as Joanna flirted with all
of them.  But she never got herself alone with any one of them.  She
was faithful after her fashion.

On the other hand, she was so popular after dinner that he went to bed
before her for a change, and lay there, listening to the grind of the
engines and the swish of the gentle waves passing the hull.  She would
be coming, of course.  He kept telling himself this.  But she hadn't
yet appeared when, just after midnight, there was an enormous
explosion.

CHAPTER 5

Dreams Georgina was nervous, Elizabeth merely excited, as they waited
at the station on Friday afternoon.

"Is he really going to have yellow skin?"  she kept asking.

"I wish Giles were here," Lorraine grumbled.  But, having set up the
weekend, her husband had been delayed in Portsmouth, and had telephoned
to say he could not get home before tonight, Which left her having to
cope with a complete stranger, of a different race, for several
hours.

"And Lizzie, if you say one word about his colour ..."

"Now, Ma!  Would I do that?"

"The train," Georgina muttered.

The train pulled into King's Martin Station, and made its customary
two-minute stop.  Just long enough for the young man in the dark blue
uniform and cap to step down, carrying a small suitcase.

"He's handsome!"  Elizabeth breathed.

"Oh, I like him.

Don't you, Georgie?"

Georgina made no reply, just gazed at Tanawa as their mother hurried
forward.

"Commander Hirada."  Lorraine paused, uncertainly.

Giles had not actually said the man spoke English.

"Mrs.  Dawson," Tanawa said, giving a brief bow before taking her
hand.

"This is a great honour."

"My pleasure.  I'm just glad you managed to find us.  Giles won't be
here until this evening, I'm afraid.  But here are the girls. Georgina,
and Elizabeth."

Tanawa bowed again.

"Now you must come along home, and have a cup of tea," Lorraine said,
bustling down the station steps towards the waiting Rolls.

Tanawa hesitated, glanced at the two girls, and then followed.

"In Japan," Elizabeth whispered.

"Men always precede women.  Women are just slaves, in Japan.  I've read
about it."

Georgina said nothing.

"This is a delightful place, Mrs.  Dawson," Tanawa said, as Lorraine
served tea in the garden.

"So quiet."

"Are there no quiet places in Japan, Mr.  Hirada?"

Elizabeth asked.

"Indeed, Miss Dawson.  Up in the mountains, or on the lakes.  But where
there are people, in Japan, there are always too many people.  It is
very crowded."

Lorraine was fidgeting; she was finding it difficult to envisage a
continuing conversation.

"The girls will take you riding tomorrow morning," she suggested.

"Riding?  On a bicycle?"

"No, no.  On a horse."  She frowned at his expression.

"You do ride, Commander?"

"I have never ridden a horse, Mrs.  Dawson."

"Oh.  Ah ..."  Lorraine looked at her daughters in consternation.

"Then we'll ride bicycles," Georgina said quietly.

"Would you like that, Mr.  Hirada?"

"Very much, Miss Dawson."

"I think he's a charming fellow," Giles said in bed that night.

His arrival had saved the situation, as he had been to Tokyo, as well
as most other places, and was happy to talk about ships and the sea.
From a female point of view, in Lorraine's opinion, dinner had been a
bore.  But their guest had seemed to enjoy himself, and she could not
find a single blemish in his manners, which were the best she had ever
known.

And tomorrow Denise and Marjorie would be here.

"What do you think?"  Elizabeth asked, climbing into Georgina's bed, as
she liked to do whenever anything very interesting had happened.

"About what?"

"Mr.  Hirada, stupid.  You don't fool me, Georgie.  I saw you making
eyes at him."

"I was not making eyes at him," Georgina declared, sitting up and
sweeping yellow hair from her shoulders to hold on top of her head: it
was a warm night.

"He happened to smile at me, and I smiled back."

"Ha," Elizabeth commented.

"You want to remember what happened to Aunt Georgina.  You could wind
up just like her."

Georgina pushed her sister out of bed and turned off the light, then
lay on her back gazing into the darkness.  Aunt Georgina, the eldest of
the Dawson girls, had died several years before she had been born.  But
her shadow hung across the family, and Georgina had never been exactly
sure why she had been given the same name: as a warning, or as an act
of atonement?

The first Georgina Dawson had become involved with a German who had
turned out to be a spy.  She had thought he was in love with her, while
all the time he had been using her to get at naval secrets through her
brother Jack.  When she had found out the truth, Aunt Georgina had
drowned herself, but that had been too late for Uncle Jack, young
Jack's father: his clumsy attempts to protect his sister's and the
family's name had got him cashiered and landed him in prison.

It was all a very tragic episode, and the family had never really
recovered from the double blow, even if Jack senior had eventually
covered himself in glory.  To have a suicide in a family was in any
event shocking and disturbing, but in such additional circumstances ..
.

Georgina rolled restlessly.  From what she had been told, the first
Georgina had been a rebel, a suffragette who had revolted against the
terribly conservative attitudes of her parents and her brothers and
sisters.  Not Pa, of course.  Giles Dawson had been only a schoolboy
when the catastrophe had happened.  Maybe that was why he had given his
eldest daughter the name of his eldest sister; Ma had of course never
met her the Krantzs had only come into the Dawson orbit afterwards.

Although Uncle Harry Krantz, Ma's brother, had known Uncle Jack before
Georgina's death.  Strange to think they had been naval attaches
together at the Battle of Tsushima, and had actually known Tanawa
Hirada's father.

She reminded herself that in Japanese it was Hirada Tanawa.

Thus she would be Dawson Georgina.

Uncle Harry had always had the greatest respect for the Japanese, and
especially the Japanese navy.  He had told her that the victory at
Tsushima was one of the most decisive naval battles ever fought, quite
on a par with Trafalgar, and even more important for its effect on
world history: no one had doubted that Great Britain was a great power
before 1805, but the Japanese victory of 1905 had made them a great
power.  Georgina wondered what Uncle Harry thought of them now, when
everyone was saying that they were waging an unnecessary and brutal war
of aggression on China.  When they had sunk Cousin Jack's ship!

Born into such a family, Georgina had necessarily been force-fed on
naval history all of her life.  Not that she resented it for a moment;
she often wished she had been a boy so that she could take her place in
the great Dawson tradition.  Instead, she was determined to marry a
naval officer, as had both of her aunts, and as had her own mother.

There was not the slightest chance of her ever being a rebel like her
namesake!

Except that she supposed liking Commander Hirada was a bit of a
rebellion, if he was supposed to be a villain.

Tanawa was up early, stood at his south-facing bedroom window to look
out over the downs.  From somewhere downstairs he could hear the tinkle
of crockery, but apart from that the morning was still, and quiet.

He had not been paying an idle compliment the previous night when he
had praised this spot: it was quite unlike anything in Japan.  Even his
father, who was certainly far richer than any of these people or all of
them added together, he supposed if he was going to live within any
reasonable distance of the works, had to be surrounded by other houses
in his Tokyo suburb.  Hirada Akabuchi had been able to create a
property of sufficient size to keep those neighbours at bay, visually.
There was no way he could keep out their sounds and smells.  The idea
that one could walk out of the back gate of one's garden anywhere close
to civilisation and be immediately in an unending green pasture was
laughable.

But Tanawa could not help but wonder if the serenity he was so admiring
did not come from the total confidence of a people who had been at the
top for so long they did not know any other existence.

As a boy he had been told often enough that Japan and Britain were very
similar, both island kingdoms perched on the edge of a vast land mass,
both, with their sea power, poised to dominate those land masses.
Superficially, this had been quite true, and when he had been a boy,
Japan and Britain had also been allies, bound to come to each other's
aid if necessary.  It was only when he visited England on his world
tour that he had realised the two kingdoms had really little in common,
quite apart from the obvious differences of colour and religion.  Their
only shared bond was that neither had been conquered for nearly a
thousand years.  As far as the Japanese were concerned, they had never
been conquered; every Japanese schoolboy knew the story of the
kamikaze, the Divine Wind which had destroyed the invading fleet of the
Mongol Emperor Kublai Khan in the Thirteenth Century.  There was also a
Divine Wind in English history, but the English, certainly the English
Navy, would claim that the Spanish Armada had been defeated before the
storms had arrived to complete its destruction.

England had been conquered, of course, first by the Romans and then by
the Normans, but the English, with a sophistry that was almost Chinese,
argued firstly that the Romans had gone away again, and that the nation
they now were was an amalgam of Norman and Saxon, and that it was this
new nation that had never been invaded and defeated.

It had all been a long time ago.  It was the recent history of the two
peoples which had diverged so sharply.  Oddly, both had risen to true
greatness in the Sixteenth Christian Century, England under their
famous queen, Elizabeth, and Japan under the military adventurer
Hideyoshi.  But where England, soon to become Great Britain, had used
that sudden awareness of a national destiny to expand, over and over
again, until, despite the setback of losing her American colonies, she
now controlled a quarter of the globe, Japan, under the Tokugawa
Shoguns who had succeeded Hideyoshi, had turned her back upon the
outside world, forbidden any intercourse save on the most limited
scale, and, internationally, had hibernated for two centuries.

When the recurring visits of American and European naval squadrons
armed with modern weapons had finally forced the Japanese to realise
that they were those two centuries out of date, the reaction had been
violent.  The Shogunate had been overthrown.  The Emperor, in whose
name the Tokugawa Clan had ruled for so long, had resumed his
prerogatives, and Japan had been jerked, in a single generation, into
modernity.  Western observers had had nothing but praise for the manner
in which an army, a navy, a judicial system, and even a social system
had been created, all based upon European models.  Even the fact that
Japan had found it necessary to fight two brief wars, one with China
and the other with Tsarist Russia, had earned no condemnation, at the
time: China was up for grabs and Tsarist Russia had been widely
regarded as an intolerably despotic regime.

For another generation Japan had basked in international acclaim,
respect, and even admiration.

Only a very few men, in Japan, had understood, and feared, what was
happening.  It was as if a powerfully built Englishman in his early
twenties, after a lifetime of solitary confinement with nothing to read
but Malory's Morte D'Arthur, had suddenly had the doors of his cell
flung wide, a sword pressed into one hand and a revolver into the
other, and been told, the world is yours, go forth and conquer it!

Tanawa's father, in his youthful service with Admiral Togo's navy, had
been such a man.

For throughout the hermit centuries, the Japanese knightly class, the
samurai, had been fed on a mental diet of their own supremacy, a
supremacy based upon rigid laws, the concept of bushido.  Bushido
entailed that a man's destiny was in his own hands, so long as he never
failed himself or those who depended upon him.  If he did so, bushido
demanded that he take his own life, and not secretly in a locked room
by poison or hanging, but in the most public manner, before witnesses,
by slitting open his belly: seppuku, that which the Westerners
contemptuously called hari-kiri.  No one could argue with the nobility
of such a concept, save for a few extreme Christian moralists, even if
it could sometimes be felt that a useful life had been prematurely
ended because of a too rigid interpretation of failure.

But there was a dark side to bushido.  As no samurai could admit
failure by surrender, it followed that any man who did surrender to an
enemy was immediately an object of contempt, worthy only of a cruel
death, or, if permitted to live, of a hardly less cruel slavery.  His
family was equally disgraced, equally required to suffer.

This had been acceptable throughout Japanese history, for every
Japanese, man, woman and child, was aware of the laws of bushido, and
the consequences of breaking them.

But no other people in the world had lived by such rules, since,
perhaps, the days of King Arthur's knights.  To the Confucian Chinese,
it was proper for a man to fight if and when he had to, and for as long
as was seemly, and then to make peace, settle with his enemies however
humiliating the terms of surrender and get on with the business of
living.  As for the Christian Westerners, their whole ethical mores was
built around magnanimity to the weak and the fallen, generosity to the
beaten foe.  These concepts were totally alien, and indeed
contemptible, to the samurai.

In the early days of the regeneration of Japan, right down to the death
of the Meiji Emperor, Mutsuhito, these stark differences between
Japanese ethics and those of the rest of the world had been concealed.
One of Mutsuhito's first tasks had been officially to end the samurai
class.  The Japanese army and navy were to be recruited from all
sections of the population, not just the out-dated knights.  There had
been rebellions against such a revolutionary concept, and there had
been isolated incidences of violent brutality to beaten enemies in the
war with China, but these had been disavowed by the Emperor.  He had
been served by a coterie of utterly loyal, dedicated, and talented men,
who had harnessed the immense latent power of the Japanese people, and
during the unbroken twenty-odd years of success which had attended
Mutsuhito's arms, the old samurai spirit had sunk out of sight.

But it had still been there, and Mutsuhito and his friends had been
succeeded by lesser men.  The Emperor Yoshihito had actually been
mentally ill.  His successor, the present Emperor Hirihito, had come to
the throne while still a very young and inexperienced man, and had
remained ever since a victim of the military hotheads who dominated
Tokyo.  For since the deaths of heroes like Prince Oyama and Count
Nogi, the army had been controlled by men who remembered the glories of
bushido, and could not understand why they were not still to be allowed
to continue the policy of expansion, defying the world, if need be and
treating those who surrendered with all the severity of the Tokugawa
days.

It was the military men who had engineered the war with China, and it
had been they who had dictated that it should be fought with
unremitting ferocity.

The Imperial Japanese Navy had better preserved the ideals of the
Mutsuhito age.  Admiral Togo, the victor of Tsushima, had lived long
enough as a national hero, to make sure that his immediate successors
were men of his own type.  Besides, the Navy, created in the image of
the British Royal Navy, had had the advantage of continuous contact
with other countries, other mores.  Whereas the Army had only ever come
into contact with the Chinese, whose soldiers were in the main
ill-equipped conscripted peasants, or the Russians, equally conscript,
so reluctant to fight they had had to be made drunk on vodka before
every battle, or, more recently, with European Legation guards outside
Shanghai, where they saw only the sloppiness of the Americans compared
with Japanese drill standards and the pompous British in their absurd
tropical kit of shorts and knee-length stockings.

The Royal Navy officers and men also wore shorts and knee-length
stockings when on tropical station, but Tanawa had never doubted that
they remained the best fighting seamen in the world.  Or that they knew
it: they had protected Britain from invasion for a very long time.

Did he envy them?  He wasn't sure about that.  But he had a most uneasy
feeling that before very much longer he was going to have to fight
them, and he found that a daunting prospect.  The more daunting if it
could possibly mean that he would never stand at this window again, and
look out at a scene of such peace.

"Do you do a lot of bicycle riding in Japan?"  Georgina asked after
breakfast, as she wheeled the machines out from the shed and leaned
them against the house.

"When I am on leave, yes.  My sister and I bicycle together," Tanawa
said.

"Your sister?  Oh."

He smiled.

"You did not know I have a sister?  Actually, I have two.  And two
brothers.  But I am the fourth eldest in the family.  Only Suiko is
younger than me."

"It must be nice to belong to so large a family.  Pa's family used to
be large."  Georgina mounted her ladies' model and proceeded somewhat
uncertainly to the gate.

"Isn't Elizabeth coming?"  Tanawa asked.

"She decided not to."  Georgina slipped from the saddle and placed one
foot on the ground while she looked over her shoulder.

"Do you mind?"

"Not in the least."  He pedalled past her, and she hastily caught him
up.

"I'm afraid the country around here isn't ideal for cycling," she
panted, as they climbed the gentle slope.

"All ups and downs."

"It is better for horses," he suggested.

"Very much so."  They reached the top of the rise, and she took several
deep breaths.  Tanawa found her a most attractive picture, for she was
wearing trousers, as Suiko often did at home, and a sweater, which
Suiko would certainly not have worn, but which clung to her chest and
revealed the contours of her young breasts, presumably made larger and
more perfectly shaped by the brassiere the strap was clearly visible
against her back.

Another garment with which Suiko would be totally unfamiliar.

"It looks very easy from here," he remarked, gazing down the somewhat
steep hill.

"Except that, once we've gone down, we have to come back up," Georgina
pointed out.

"Ah.  What would you suggest?"

Georgina looked back down the hill behind them; the roof of Silver
Streams was just visible, but there was nothing else in sight.

"I think we'd do better to leave the bicycles here, and walk."

"What a good idea."  He propped them against a tree.

"They will not be stolen?"

"Good lord, no.  Not here."  Georgina led the way into the small wood
beside the road.

"You speak English terribly well, Mr.  Hirada.  I mean, I know you have
visited England before, but even so .. ."

"I am interested in all things English," he explained, watching her
climbing over a stile, and following her.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about Japan."  She waited for him to
catch her up, turned away from him, looking beyond the trees at the
downs.

"What would you like to know?"

She gave him a quick glance.

"I have seen pictures, and Pa has been there ... it seems such a
beautiful place."

"It is.  Would you like to visit it?"

"Is that possible?"

"Why not?  If my parents were to invite you to visit them, would you
accept?"

There were pink spots in her cheeks.

"I would have to ask Ma and Pa."

"Well, of course.  But I should consider it.  I have a notion that they
will invite you."

"They don't know I exist."

"I know you exist, Georgina."

He wondered what on earth he was at.  The girl was certainly
attractive, and the more so to him because, with her yellow hair and
almost translucent skin, she was as different to any Japanese as it was
possible to be.  But he had only met her the previous day, and he knew
nothing more about her than that she came from a naval family and that
he had very nearly killed her cousin, inadvertently.  He was not sure
he liked everything about the Dawsons.  That other cousin, the
voluptuous woman he had met in London, had had this colouring and
almost beautiful features but she had been utterly distasteful to him,
because of her obvious promiscuity.  This girl was all innocence and
... he had to be mad.

And yet, he wanted to preserve some little part of this idyllic
country, before it was gone forever.  It was like reaching out to catch
a small bird, because one knew its nest was about to be destroyed.

He wondered what Jack Dawson would say to that reflection?

He had embarrassed her.  She turned away and set off down the slope
into the pasture.  The grazing cattle did not seem to disturb her, so
he followed.

"When do you finish school?"  he asked.

"Next year."

"And then, you go to university?"

"I doubt it.  I'm not really university material."

"Then what do you wish to do with your life?"

"Same as everyone else, I suppose.  Get married, have..  ."

she increased her speed.

He ran behind her, laughing.

"You will run me out of breath.  Remember, I am only used to walking
the deck of a ship."

She had crossed the field, and reached another stile.  There she waited
for him, leaning against the embankment.  She was panting too, now,
and looking the more attractive for that.

He stood before her.

"If my parents invited you to Japan, Georgina, and your parents gave
their consent, would you come?"

"Yes," she said.

"Oh, yes."

Denise and Marjorie had arrived by the time they returned to the house.
Denise had been properly briefed, and was as charming as ever, but it
was obvious to Giles that she could only see Tanawa as the man whose
squadron had bombed her son's ship.  Marjorie however seemed much more
relaxed with him.

Other things were obvious to Giles as well.

"Georgina seems rather smitten," he ventured to Lorraine that night.

"It's the Jap who's smitten," Lorraine riposted.

"I don't think one should call him a Jap," Giles remonstrated mildly.

"He's a thug, isn't he?"  Lorraine inquired.

"He doesn't come across as a thug."

"By definition, anyone who bombs defenceless cities is a thug,"
Lorraine insisted.

"How long is he staying?"

"Until well into next week.  I did explain that."

"Well, he'd better not get fresh with Georgie.  Or Lizzie.

I just don't see how Marjorie can bear to look at him.  When you think
what he did to her family ..."

"He was obeying orders," Giles reminded her.

He honestly liked the chap.  He had always respected the fighting
qualities of the Japanese Navy, and he could remember how, during the
Great War, every British naval officer had been relieved that places
like Australia and New Zealand had been totally protected by the
already powerful Japanese fleet, allied to England.

The Americans had ended all of that in 1922, and had not in any way
replaced it.  Again, in common with most British naval officers, Giles
had been appalled at the way the British Government had given in to
American pressure.

The Americans were concerned on two fronts.  Firstly they were bothered
about the growing Japanese naval presence in the Pacific, where
Washington was carving out a vast if unofficial economic empire of its
own.  Secondly they were concerned with the problem of maintaining two
navies, one on the Atlantic seaboard, and the other in the Pacific.
They had first faced this problem back in 1898, when they had gone to
war with Spain and it had taken months to transfer ships from the West
Coast round to the East, via Cape Horn.  The result of that had been
the Panama Canal, to more than halve the steaming time from San Diego
to Key West.  But the Canal had only been able to handle ships up to
thirty-five thousand tons, which in 1914 had been larger than any
battleship afloat.

Building programmes during the war had radically altered that.  By 1922
the Americans had realised that their two principal naval rivals, Great
Britain and Japan, were not only allies but had plans on the table for
monster battleships of forty thousand tons and more.  Britain already
possessed, in Hood, such a ship.  So Washington either had to embark
upon a programme equal to the others, and create two complete fleets,
one for the Atlantic and the other for the Pacific, or completely
rebuild the Panama Canal to take the larger ships and there was no
quarantee that forty thousand tons would be the upward limit of naval
construction.

The only alternative was to secure agreement on that upward limit. This
had been the proposal at Washington in 1922, and this had been what the
British had agreed to, regardless of the fact that they had been faced
with the problem of keeping several fleets in being for more than two
hundred years.  But in 1922 Britain was broke, and America was rich. 
Thus the Americans had ridden triumphantly over all opposition, not
only as regards size, but as regards numbers, and finally, in regard of
forcing the British to abrogate the twenty-year-old defence treaty with
Japan.

Having done that, the Americans had withdrawn into their isolationist
shell, apparently confident that with their fleet and the Royal Navy
equal in power, and the Japanese limited to two-thirds of either of
their strengths, peace in the Pacific would follow as a matter of
course.  It had not seemed to occur to Washington that a government
might arise in Tokyo which would decide to abrogate the new treaty and
go its own way.  But this was what had happened.  When Japan decided to
leave the League of Nations following criticism of her invasion of
Manchuria, she had also turned her back on all agreements with the
West.  Japan was now building bigger and better battleships, having
already equipped herself with a fleet of aircraft-carriers stronger
than any.

Giles was sufficiently traditional in his outlook to discount carriers
as possible rivals to battleships, but he was equally sufficiently
open-minded to realise that the point still had to be proved, and
certainly aircraft-carriers, if they could never hope to fight it out
gun for gun and armour for armour with a capital ship, could provide
the sort of reconnaissance cover which, just for instance, would have
given the British the victory at Jutland.

What Japan intended to do with all this naval strength remained an
imponderable.  It could hardly be used against China, which had no
fleet, save for bombing raids as at Nanking.  Equally it was
unthinkable that Japan would ever consider going to war with either the
United States or the British Empire.  But no one could doubt that they
intended to defy the rest of the world while they carved out their
place in the sun in China and Manchuria, and the fleet was an important
part of that strategy.

He wondered what Hirada Tanawa, so soft-spoken and transparently
Anglophile, thought about that?

Sunday mornings were traditionally church, just as Sunday afternoons
were traditionally croquet.  To the gratification even of Lorraine,
Tanawa accompanied them to church, even if he did not sing, and after
lunch he revealed himself to be no mean hand with a croquet mallet.

The game ended about five.

"That was splendid fun," Tanawa said.

"But I am still full of energy.  Would you care to come for a walk,
Georgina?"

Georgina gave her mother an anxious glance.  She was well aware that
Lorraine did not care for their guest.

But she found herself liking him more and more, and the thought that
she might be invited to visit with his people, on the other side of the
world, was too heady to be acceptable she had not mentioned it to her
mother and father, just on the off chance it never happened.

"Of course you shall have your walk," Lorraine declared, to her
surprise.

"Lizzie, you'll go with Georgie and Mr.  Hirada."

"Oh, gee, Ma, must I?"  When pushed Elizabeth could sound very
American.

"It'll do you good," Lorraine pointed out.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth muttered as they went through the gate.

"Don't you like walking?"  Tanawa asked.

"Of course I like walking.  But I know you two want to be alone."

"Lizzie!"  Georgina snapped.

"Well ..."

"She is the utter end," Georgina complained, very pink in the face.

"I think she is teasing you," Tanawa suggested.

"I'm not.  I'm very serious.  So ... ta-ta."

They were out of sight of the house, and Elizabeth took to her heels,
racing over the grass and disappearing almost before they realised what
she was intending.

"Really!"  Georgina said.

"Would you like to run after her?"

"Not really.  Would you?"

"I am even less good at running than I am at walking," he confessed.

"But I would not like you to be embarrassed."

"I am not embarrassed," Georgina said, but she was blushing again.

"It embarrasses me," Tanawa said.

"To think that my admiration for you has been so obvious."

"Your ..."  Georgina turned away, and continued on the walk, heading,
perhaps inadvertently, towards a distant copse.

"Now you are angry with me."  Tanawa followed her.

"Of course I am not angry with you, Commander Hirada.

You have paid me a compliment."  She kept walking just fast enough to
avoid having to look at him.

"It's just that ..."

she hesitated.

"You are English and I am Japanese."

"Oh, no," she said, stopping in surprise.

"I didn't mean that.  But..  . you're so old."  Another flush.

"Oh, dear, what I meant was, I'm so young."

They gazed at each other.

"May I ask how old you are?"  Tanawa asked.

"I'm sixteen."

"And I am twenty-five.  But this age difference is normal, in Japan."

"Is it?  I'm still at school."

"So are most Japanese girls, at sixteen.  That does not mean they
cannot .. it was his turn to hesitate, and flush.

"Do what?"  she asked, surprised at herself.

Tanawa commenced to walk again, towards the copse;

now it was Georgina who hurried to catch up with him.

"What were you going to say?"  She was really curious, and very
excited.

"I would offend you."

"No.  Promise.  Cross my heart."  She did so.

Tanawa stopped and turned to her; the trees were very close, but they
were still totally exposed on the side of the hill.  On the other hand,
there was no one in sight, although he suspected that the younger
sister might well be lurking close at hand.

"In Japan," he explained, "the fact that a girl is sixteen, and still
at school, is not an obstacle to asking for her hand."

Georgina stared at him with her mouth open.

"Of course," Tanawa went on.

"The man who wishes to marry her does not do the asking, nor does he
ever mention it to her.  He tells his parents, and if they have not
already chosen a wife for him, the business is arranged between them
and the girl's parents, supposing they have not already selected a
husband for her."

"It was like that here, fifty years ago."

Tanawa resumed walking, beneath the trees.

"I suspect, for all our rush to modernity, in many ways Japan is still
fifty years behind England."

Georgina followed him.

"I would have liked to live, fifty years ago."

"You surprise me.  Why?"

"Well ... the clothes were much more attractive, then.

And Britain was the greatest nation in the world."

"Would you not say she is still the greatest nation in the world?"

She glanced at him.

"She's not.  Is that very unpatriotic of me?"

"It is very realistic of you.  But what of having decisions as
important as marriage made for you?"

"I'd be quite happy with that.  I mean, your women in Japan live like
that, don't they?  And they are perfectly happy?  Perhaps happier than
any of us with our so-called freedom."

Tanawa smiled.

"It pleases us men to believe so, certainly."

"Don't you believe it, Mr.  Hirada?"

"Of course.  I am a man.  Will you not call me Tanawa?"

Georgina licked her lips.

"Tanawa.  We should be getting back."

"It is not far."  He held her hand.

"I do not know how to go about this.  But as I am in England ... I am
aware that I have only just met you.  But never have I been so
instantly attracted to anyone.  Were I in Japan ..."

"You would go home to your parents, and ask them to visit my father and
ask for my hand," she suggested, flushed with her own temerity.

He smiled.

"Why, yes, that is what I would do.  But in our present circumstances,
that would take an inordinately long time.  I think I will have to be
English, and ask your father now.  Would you object to my doing
that?"

"It would be very foolish, Tanawa."

"Why?"

"Because he would certainly say no."

"I see.  Because I am Japanese?"

"Well ... I think it would be partly that.  Fathers are always
reluctant to allow their daughters to marry into different religions,
different cultures.  But it would also be just because we have known
each other such a short time."

"Your objections are well thought out.  But what of your feelings in
the matter?"

She smiled at him.

"You have just told me that, in Japan, they would be irrelevant."

"We are in England."

She bit her lip.

"I would also have to say we have not known each other very long, Mr.
Hirada."

"Tanawa."

"Tanawa."

"I think I fell in love with you at first sight."

She licked her lips again.

"But I cannot ask your father for your hand unless you wish it."

She turned away, walked a little further into the wood.

"I

would have to live in Japan," she said over her shoulder.

"You will love Japan."

"I think I would, too."  She turned to face him, now some fifteen feet
away.

"Ma says you may be staying here well into next week."

"I have been invited to do so, certainly."

"Will you stay?"

"If you would like me to."

"I would like you to.  Then perhaps .. . perhaps I could get to know
you better."

"I see.  And you would like me to postpone asking your father until
then."

"I think it would be best."

They gazed at each other, and she slowly came back across the grass
towards him.  It occurred to him that she was a very grown-up young
lady.  Perhaps this was what had so attracted him to her.  But he knew
it was more her colouring, her whole being, her very Englishness.  Did
those things constitute love?  He doubted it.  But love was not
regarded as an essential constituent of marriage, in Japan.

Marriages were arranged for the mutual benefit of the two families, or
because of an overwhelming desire on the part of the would-be
husband.

It was difficult to see any great mutual benefit in a marriage between
the daughter of an English Rear-Admiral and the son of a Japanese
industrialist, especially with relations between Britain and Japan
strained almost to breaking point  Indeed, he might well run into
severe opposition from his own parents, on that point.

That left desire.  He certainly desired this girl.  He did not think he
had ever wanted as badly as at this moment.  But she was English, and
would be dreaming of a romantic marriage, and a romantic life
afterwards.  That was not impossible.

Providing their two countries did not actually get around to shooting
at each other.

She had come right up to him, and he knew she was waiting to be kissed.
That again was the Western way, whereas any Japanese girl would never
consider permitting such a liberty until at least a betrothal had been
agreed.

But as she so evidently wanted ... he held her shoulders and lowered
his mouth to hers.  It was a quick, chaste kiss.

She was acknowledging his proposal, and the fact that she had not
actually refused him.

"Will you tell your sister?"  he asked.

"No.  Will you tell anyone?"

"Not until you give me permission, Georgina."

"We should be getting back."

"Of course.  Will you walk with me again tomorrow?"

"If you would like me to, Tanawa."

He felt enormously happy, as well as decidedly guilty.  He wanted her.
Nothing more than that.  She wanted to love him, and therefore she
would want love back.  Well, he would give it, as much as possible.

But it was also necessary to look ahead, to make himself popular with
her family.  Giles was no problem, he was sure, but the American mother
.. .

That night he was at his conversationalist best, refusing to talk about
either politics or the Navy, and instead telling the ladies all about
the beauty of Japan, the lakes at Hakone, the peace of the Inland Sea,
the hustle and bustle of Tokyo and Osaka, the majesty of the mountains,
the looming terror of the many volcanoes which covered the land.

Even Lorraine warmed to the expansive story-telling.

"All of those earthquakes," she remarked.

"There is a shock every half an hour, every day throughout the year, in
Tokyo," Tanawa told her.

"Good heavens!  How can anyone live there?"

"Nearly all of them are so slight as to be unnoticeable, Mrs.  Dawson.
They are merely a tremble on the Richter Scale.  The last true
earthquake in Tokyo was in 1923."

"And that destroyed the entire city, and Yokohama," Giles remarked.

"We learn to live with these things, sir.  We are building stronger
houses, and are better equipped to deal with the next one, whenever it
happens."

"Is it true that Japanese people sleep on the floor, Commander?"
Marjorie asked.

"With wooden pillows?"

Tanawa smiled.

"Yes, Mrs.  Dawson.  That is perfectly true."

"But why should you do that?"  Elizabeth asked.

"Most Japanese houses are very small," Tanawa explained.

"So there is only one room.  During the day, this room serves as a
living room.  At night, the daytime furniture is placed against the
walls, a mattress is laid on the floor, and the room becomes a
bedroom."

"Isn't it awfully uncomfortable?"

"Not at all.  A mattress laid on wood is very good for one.

It is the same as a bunk at sea.  Is that not so, Admiral Dawson?"

"Absolutely," Giles agreed, amused at the incredulity of the women.

"Does your family sleep on the floor, Mr.  Hirada?"

Georgina asked.

"My parents do, certainly," Tanawa told her.

"This is not because our house is small; it is actually rather large.
But they are traditionalists.  For our guests, why, there are beds."

Giles watched the two young people gazing at each other.

Hm, he thought.  Hm.

But all thoughts of possible family problems were dismissed from his
mind the next morning, when he opened his copy of The Times.

"ENGLISH SHIP SINKS OFF SOUTHERN

PORTUGAL," read the headline.

"SS DRUMBEAT

GOES DOWN IN MINUTES.  MANY LIVES LOST."

He picked up the telephone, called the Admiralty.

"I'm afraid the report is true, Admiral," said the officer he spoke
with.

"How in the name of God does a ship just sink?"

"It appears there was an explosion, sir."

"An internal explosion?"

"Ah .. . the matter is under investigation, sir.  But there does appear
to be a strong possibility that the Drumbeat was torpedoed."

"Torpedoed?"  Giles could not believe his ears.

"By what?

By whom?"

"We do not know that as yet, sir."

"Good God!  The papers speak of considerable casualties."

"I'm afraid that would appear to be the case, sir.  The ship was
attacked without warning, in the middle of the night."

"Do you have a list of survivors?"

"Not as yet, sir."

Giles hung up, slowly, and sat down.

CHAPTER 6

The Ship Jack had no clear idea of how he had got into the water.

He dimly remembered throwing open the door of the cabin opposite in the
hopes that Joanna had gone to bed without coming to him, and finding
the cabin empty.  That delay had all but cost him his life, as by the
time he had reached the deck the ship was already almost gone.  There
had been no time to search any longer; it had been a matter of gaining
the rail and stepping into the sea.

Then there had been turmoil, and near death, as he had been dragged
down in the whirling vortex of the sinking ship, before his powerful
strokes and determination to live had driven him back to the surface.
To more turmoil, the sea seething, men shouting .. . but had there been
any women?

He had lacked a life jacket, had instinctively turned to swim to the
east, the direction of the nearest land, however far away, and found
his arms gripped as he was dragged into the side of an upturned
lifeboat.  When he had caught his breath, he had managed to join the
other four men sitting astride the keel.

Two of the men wore pyjamas; the other two, like Jack, had slept naked
in the sub-tropical heat.

"Where are the women?"  Jack asked.

"Dunno, mate.  Saw no women."

"Went down real quick," said another.

"Think the old man got off a mayday?"  asked a third.

"Too quick," said the fourth.

"Do you know what happened?"  Jack asked.

"Just bang-.  Engine room."

"Naw, we was torpedoed."

"Never!"

"Saw the streak."

"Torpedoed?"  Jack demanded.

"How could we have been torpedoed?  We're not at war with anyone?"

"Don't ask me, mate.  I saw the streak.  Then there was the bang. Don't
ask me."

Father, Jack recalled, had been blown up four times.  It was the fourth
that got him.  He had two to go.  He had a sudden urge to laugh.

But, the women.

"Didn't you see any women?"  he asked, aware of being inane.

"Naw," said one of the men.

"No women."

"How long do you think we're going to be here?"  asked the youngest of
the seamen.

"Not long," said one of his mates.

"Busy area this."  He pointed, and they saw lights, playing over the
sea.

They called out, and tried to wave, but it was difficult to do much for
fear of sliding off the boat's hull.  It was daylight before they were
finally spotted.  By then there were several steamers and fishing boats
in the area, sweeping back and forth.

By then, too, the five men were chilled through, and not concerned with
the nationality of the ship which picked them up; it flew the somewhat
gaudy swastika flag of Nazi Germany.  But the sailors could not have
been more solicitous, and as soon as Jack gave his name and rank he was
taken, swathed in blankets, to the bridge, to meet the captain.

"Joachim Aldringer, Lieutenant Dawson.  What a terrible tragedy.  You
will take brandy with your coffee?"

"Thank you, Captain."  Although both the sea and the air had been warm,
Jack was finding it difficult to stop shivering; he was suffering from
shock.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Aldringer frowned.  He was a surprisingly young man, who wore a short
beard.

"Do you not know what happened?"

"I was asleep.  There was some kind of an explosion .. . the sailors
who were with me say it was a torpedo."

"A torpedo?  That does not make sense."

"It was night, so perhaps we could not be properly identified."

"You are saying it was a Spanish submarine torpedoed you?"

"A Spanish, or .. he changed his mind about what he would have said.

Aldringer gave a grim smile.

"I understand.  There are indeed German naval units assisting the
Spanish Falange.

But I can assure you that it is not their duty to torpedo merchant
vessels proceeding about their lawful business.

There will have to be an investigation."

"Oh, indeed there will," Jack agreed.

"But you have lost all of your gear.  My first officer will see if we
can find some clothes to fit you; you are very big.

However, we will put into Gibraltar this evening, and you will be set
ashore."

"Thank you.  Is it possible to contact the other ships, and see who
else has been picked up?"

"Of course.  You had friends on board this ship?"

"My cousin was a passenger."

"Good heavens!  Yes, we will endeavour to find out immediately.  Your
cousin's name is .. .?"

"Young.  Joanna Young."

Aldringer raised his eyebrows, but sent a message to the wireless room
immediately.  Jack rejoined the other rescued men to enjoy a hearty
German breakfast, consisting mainly of coffee and sausages.  But he had
little appetite.  And after the meal he was recalled to the bridge.

"I am afraid, Lieutenant, that I have no news for you," Aldringer
said.

"Two women were picked up from the Drumbeat: Mrs.  Parsons and Mrs.
Finch.  No ship in this vicinity has any word of a Miss Young."  He
watched the expression on Jack's face, placed his hand on the young
man's shoulder.

"While there is no positive news, one can always hope, Mr.  Dawson."

Joanna's body was recovered, along with four others, the next day by a
Portuguese fishing boat; they were delivered to Gibraltar.  Jack was
already in Gibraltar.  Still wearing borrowed clothes he was taken to
identify the body, and felt sick.  So much beauty, turned into a
swollen, mucous-stained piece of decaying flesh.

"Somebody will pay for this," said Captain Pringle, who had accompanied
him to the morgue.

"You can rely on that, Dawson."

"Yes, sir," Jack said.  Gowrie had said the same thing about Goliath.

Giles and Mark, the lieutenant given special compassionate leave from
Hood, were at Southampton when the Queen Mary docked.  Giles remembered
that his sister Mary was only forty-seven, and the last time he had
seen her, five years before, she had been entering middle-age with all
the vigour and determination which had characterised her throughout her
life.  Now he might have been greeting an old woman.

Harry Krantz was as craggily brusque as ever; he had seen even more
tragedy in his life than his wife.

"Where is she?"

he asked.

"In the undertakers at King's Martin.  She's been embalmed."

Harry nodded.  The two men walked behind Mary and Mark towards the
Rolls; Mary leaned on her son's arm.

"You going to take her home?"  Giles asked.

"No.  King's Martin was her real home.  How're the family?"

"Shattered."

"Yeah.  Who did it, Giles?"

"Nobody is owning up, obviously."

"But the Spanish are number one, right?"

"Yes.  But they claim none of their submarines were in the area of Cape
St.  Vincent on the night in question."

"Well, they would, wouldn't they?"

"Actually, there is some suspicion that it may have been Italian."

Harry turned his head, frowning.

"Mussolini is being very bullish in his support of Franco, and there
are definitely Italian subs in the area; they've been spotted by our
patrols."

"Can't something be done about them?"

"Not without escalating the whole thing to war proportions."

"Which your people aren't going to do, right?  If they wouldn't go to
war with that fat frog to stop him invading Abbysinia, they're not
going to go to war over one small British merchantman."

"I'm afraid that's absolutely right," Giles said miserably.

"What a shitting world," Harry said, and got into the front beside his
brother-in-law; Mary and Mark sat in the back.

"All the family is at Silver Streams," Giles explained.

"Jack got back yesterday.  Poor kid.  This is the second time he's
found himself in the drink in six months."

"Just like his Dad," Harry remarked.

"But he's all right, is he?"

"As a matter of fact, he seems quite cut up.  About Joanna, I mean."

"Did he know her?  I mean, since they both grew up?"

"That's the odd thing.  I don't believe he met her more than once or
twice, since coming home.  It was pure coincidence that she happened to
be going out to Malta on the same ship.

But I imagine that in some way he feels responsible."

"Jack is very family minded."  Mary spoke in a low voice from the
back.

"I suppose so, yes.  Talking about families, ah ... would you have any
objection if a Japanese naval officer attended the funeral?"

"Eh?"

Giles concentrated on the road.

"Chap called Hirada."

"Rings a bell," Harry said.

"Yes.  His father is the industrialist.  He was in the Navy as a young
man himself.  You must have met him on board Mikasa when you were an
attache with Togo.  He certainly was at Tsushima."

"Correct.  Yes, I met him," Harry said.

"And this is the son?  What's he doing in England?"

"You know their planes sank a couple of gunboats on the Yangste: one of
yours and one of ours."

"We know about it," Harry said grimly.

"And one day we are going to do something about that, as well."

"Yes.  Well, as you also surely know, they're trying to mend their
fences.  Young Hirada came over here as part of the apology mission, if
you like.  He happened to have met Jack in Nanking as a matter of fact,
there is some possibility that it was one of the planes under his
command sank Goliath and, well, we invited him down to stay with us,
week-end before last."

"Let me get this straight," Harry said.

"You invited the guy who blew Jack up to stay?"

"It's a long story," Giles said.

"The point is, he came down to Silver Streams for a week-end, and made
a very good impression.  Even Lorraine seemed to like him."

"He's still there?"

"No, no.  He had to go back to London.  But when he heard about
Joanna's death, he telephoned and asked if he could attend the funeral.
It seems he met her in London.

Well, of course, we cannot refuse him permission to attend the funeral.
It's just that, if he comes, I would feel churlish not to invite him to
stay at Silver Streams.  It'll mean a lot of doubling up, of course,
but I reckon he and Jack and Mark could share a room; we'll put up a
camp cot."

"Here, I say, Uncle Giles," Mark protested.

"You wish me to share a room with a Jap?"

"And with Jack," Giles pointed out.

"Anyway, you'll like Hirada.  He really is very decent.  Would you
resent his being there, Harry?"

"I really don't know what to say.  You'll have to ask Mary."

Both Joanna and Mark were Mary's children by her first husband,
Geoffrey Young.

"Silver Streams is your home, Giles," Mary said.

"I'm sure you can invite anyone you wish to stay there.  If this person
wishes to pay his last respects to Joanna, I have no objection."

"The guy who blew up Jack.  And Panay," Harry said, half to himself.

"For God's sake, Giles, you know we're going to have to shoot these
fellows, one of these days?  They're just getting too big for their
boots."

"I sincerely hope you don't mean that, Harry," Giles replied.

"Jack!"  Tanawa held Jack's hands as they met on the King's Martin
Station.

"I do not know what to say."

"There is nothing you can say."

"She was such a handsome woman."  Tanawa looked at the Rolls-Royce, and
the girl seated in the back, his face expressionless.

"You must have met my cousin Georgina when you were here before," Jack
said.

"Yes, of course."  Tanawa gave the girl a quick bow.

"She wanted to come to the station."  Jack got behind the wheel; he was
wearing yet another brand new uniform.

Tanawa sat beside him, turned round to smile at Georgina.

"I am sorry my last visit had to end so abruptly.  I am even more sorry
that my return is on so sad an occasion."

"I'm glad you came," Georgina said.

There had been no more quiet walks or flirtations after the news had
arrived of Joanna's death; they had not had a moment alone together,
and no one had tried to discourage Tanawa from leaving early.  There
was a great deal that remained to be resolved between them.  But was
now going to be the time, either?

Jack asked the question Georgina would have, had she dared.

"How long will you be staying?"

"It is very good of your uncle to put me up at all.  I feel I will be
intruding."

"It'll be a tight squeeze," Jack agreed.

"But we're really glad to see you."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like," Georgina said.

Tanawa turned his head to look at her again.

"That is very kind of you, Georgina.  But I am afraid I cannot stay
more than two nights, in any event."

"Two nights?"  Her voice was suddenly sharp, and she flushed as she
looked at the back of Jack's head, uncertain whether he would have
registered her tone.

But he seemed not to have, and Tanawa was again smiling at her,
somewhat sadly.

"I have been recalled to Japan."

"So soon?"

"We have been here three weeks.  Our mission is completed.  Well,
actually, my government has been a little upset by the British fleet
mobilisation of last week, when we were all being so lavishly
entertained?"

"Oh!  Was that deliberate, Jack?"

"I have no idea," Jack lied.

"I wasn't being mobilised, at the time.  Anyway, the mobilisation
certainly wasn't directed against you, Tanawa.  It was against Hitler."
One of whose ships was busy saving my life, he thought; it was a funny
old world.

"I am sure it was.  But you know what governments are."

Again he smiled at Georgina.

"I should think two nights will be sufficient for me to say my
goodbyes, and offer my thanks for the way your family has entertained
me."

Two nights, and there was so much she wanted to say to him.  To do with
him.  Georgina had actually come to a decision within twenty-four hours
of his proposal.  But within twenty-four hours he had returned to
London, to leave the family alone in its grief.  He had said.  Or did
he really feel he had been deceived by Pa?  But he had found the time
to whisper that he would be back.

Now he was back, and he was leaving again.  And this time for good. But
with her, she was determined.  Or at least, with the promise of her.

She wondered she had not said yes straightaway.  Then the crisis might
have been over before this new crisis had descended on her family.  But
she had known him so short a while, and what he had suggested was such
an enormous step ... yet she knew him no better now, and the step had
grown no less.

She wished she could be certain whether it was the man, or the step,
that was beckoning her.  Tanawa was everything she had ever wanted a
man to be, kind, gentle, perfectly mannered .. . while the fact that he
was not English, bore not the slightest resemblance to any of the boys
she had met at school dances, had a different history and culture, had
made him the more exciting.  Was that a basis for marriage?

Even more, having devoured every book she could find on Japan, she had
found herself entranced with the pictures, with the idea of spending
the rest of her life in a kimono, of learning things like the tea
ceremony, of, indeed, learning Japanese.  Was that a basis for
marriage?

She was well aware of the difficulties.  Ma and Pa, for one thing.  The
rest of the family, for another.  She could only be certain of the
support of Lizzie, because Lizzie would support anything that was
different.

She also understood that she would be marrying into a nation that was
at war, and that was being stigmatised by just about the entire rest of
the world not only as the aggressor, but as a particularly brutal
aggressor, as well.

But there was nothing the least bit brutal about Tanawa.

It was certainly possible that the almost hysterical attitude of the
English press towards the Japanese actions in China had a racial
basis.

But then, her parents' objections would equally certainly have a racial
basis.

But if they objected too strongly, she would just leave.  Of that she
was determined.

Denise and Marjorie were already at Silver Streams, and it really was a
case of doubling up.  But Jack and Marjorie had been given a room of
their own, in view of everything that had happened.

Marjorie had been quite hysterical, and was still liable to burst into
tears without warning.  She clung to Jack; he had had to be quite rude
to stop her coming to the station to meet Tanawa.  But he appreciated
her concern for him, and understood how depressed she was feeling the
news from Hong Kong was bad, and the rest of her family were coming
home, virtually destitute.

Now she sat beside him at tea, gazing at him all the time, as if she
was afraid to take her eyes off him, in case he disappeared again, this
time for good.  She was also upset because he had only been given a few
days compassionate leave, and was then again bound for the
Mediterranean, and Warspite.

Harry made polite conversation with Tanawa, Mary and Denise sat
together, not talking but obviously sharing.

Lorraine bustled and Giles presided with an air of abstracted calm.
Mark merely looked supercilious; he was unfortunate in that only Jack
and Marjorie and Tanawa were in his age group, and he didn't really
like any of them.  Besides, it was his sister who was dead.

Elizabeth stuffed herself with cucumber sandwiches; even her
effervescence was absent on this occasion.

And Georgina waited.  The meal ended eventually, but no one seemed to
know what to do.  The funeral was the following morning, and the
evening stretched in front of them interminably.

"Would you like to go for a walk, Commander Hirada?"

Georgina invited.

"Of course, if you wish."

Lorraine looked at Elizabeth, who got up without a word.

"The Commander is a great walker," Lorraine explained at large, as her
two daughters escorted Tanawa from the room.

"I didn't know it was a Japanese characteristic," Harry remarked,
staring at his sister.

"They all know, you know," Elizabeth said when they reached the gate.

"Oh, really, Lizzie.  Know what?"  Georgina asked.

"That you two are keen."

Georgina flushed as she glanced at Tanawa, but as he made no comment,
she said, "How can anyone know we are .. .

keen?"

"The way you look at each other.  The way you look at Mr.  Hirada,
anyway."

"Oh, really, Lizzie!"

"I think you should get on with it," Elizabeth advised, and ran off
into the trees.

Tanawa and Georgina followed more slowly.

"Does all this mean you have come to a decision?"

Tanawa asked.

"Yes."  Georgina would not look at him.

"Then I am truly pleased."

Her head came up.

"You do not know what I have decided."

"You would not have asked me to come for this walk, had you decided
against me, Georgina."

"Oh!  Well ..."  she stopped walking and faced him.

They were out of sight of the house, and Elizabeth had disappeared.  A
moment later she was in his arms, hugging him as tightly as she could,
feeling his arms go round her, a trifle hesitantly, turning up her face
for his kiss, which was also just a little slow in coming.

She kissed him until she ran out of breath, then stepped away from him,
panting.  All the imponderables had waited upon being in his arms.  Now
they were back.

"What are we going to do?"

She looked quite beautiful.  And so desirable.  She had tasted like
nectar.  She was his to take, at that moment, and he had no doubt that
she wanted to be taken.  But she was to be his wife, and needed always
to be treated with a due respect.

"It is not a good time.  But, as I have been ordered back to Japan, I
must speak with your father immediately."

"He'll say no."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes.  He'll say no because Ma will insist upon it.  They will say I am
too young, and I must finish my schooling, and it is too great a step,
and a whole lot of waffle.  But the real reason will be because she
doesn't like the Japanese."

Tanawa studied her.

"I ... I would come with you, if you wished," Georgina said, cheeks
scarlet.

"That would mean a permanent estrangement from your family.  I do not
think that would be wise.  You would regret it bitterly."

"Then what are we to do?"

"I think you should let me speak with your father, before we make any
plans."

Georgina licked her lips.

"I have been reading ... if ... well, if the marriage was .. .
consummated, they would have to say yes."

Tanawa smiled.

"I do not think you have been reading the right books, Georgina."

"Don't you want to ..."

He took her in his arms again, held her close, kissed her mouth and
then her eyes and nose.

"I adore you," he said.

"I adore your eagerness, you sweet child.  But it would not be right.
In Japan it is very important to be right.  We will marry, eventually.
If you wish it."

"I do," she said.

"I really do.  Or I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"I know that.  That is why I say, we will be married.  Even if we have
to wait for a year or two."

"A year or two?  You'll be in Japan, and I'll be here.

Millions of miles away."

"Only twelve thousand," he smiled, and kissed her again.

"And if we love each other, Georgina, twelve thousand miles will be
irrelevant.  And when we marry, it will be with the respect and
approval of our parents.  All of our parents."

He was not at all sure his would approve, either.

"Hm," Giles Dawson commented.

"Hm."

"I understand now is not the time you would have chosen, sir, for such
a discussion," Tanawa said.  The two men were alone in Giles' study.

"And I apologise.  But as I am returning to Japan next week ..."

"You wish to carry off my daughter with you."

Tanawa smiled.

"In due course, at least, Admiral Dawson."

"I'm afraid this is a matter which will have to be talked over with
both Georgina and her mother, Commander."

"As you wish, sir."

"Do you mind if it is done now?"

"The sooner the better."

"I shall try to be discreet.  But I'm afraid everyone will almost
certainly know what is going on."

"I accept that, sir."

Giles nodded, then got up and left the room.  Tanawa waited.  He was
acting totally improperly, he knew.  Not in respect of the Dawsons, but
in respect of his own parents, who knew nothing of this, and who should
certainly have been consulted first.  But there was no time, if he was
to be sure of the girl.  And how he wanted to be sure of the girl.

Giles returned, ushering Lorraine and Georgina before him.  Tanawa
stood up and bowed to the ladies.  There obviously had been no time for
Giles to brief his wife on the situation, but she had certainly
guessed, and her cheeks were as pink as Georgina's.

"I think a drink may be in order," Giles said.

"Commander?"

"Thank you very much, sir."

It was after a very subdued dinner.  Giles poured two glasses of
brandy.

"My dear?"

"No, thank you," Lorraine said, gazing at Tanawa.

"Well, then .. ."

"May I have one, Pa?"  Georgina asked.

Giles raised his eyebrows.

"You don't drink brandy," Lorraine pointed out.

"I should like to, tonight, with your permission, Ma."

"Well!"  Lorraine remarked.

Giles poured a measure into a third balloon glass and held it out.
Georgina took it in both hands.

Giles sat down.

"I understand that you have accepted Commander Hirada's proposal of
marriage," he said.

"That is absurd," Lorraine declared.

"But I have done so, Ma," Georgina said, having sipped her drink.

"You have come here, Commander Hirada," Lorraine said, "and abused our
hospitality."

"I have fallen in love with your daughter, Mrs.  Dawson.

Some people would regard that as a compliment."

Lorraine's head jerked, and she looked at her husband.

Giles cleared his throat.

"It is a compliment, Hirada.

However, I am sure you can understand that there are considerable
difficulties."

"We have talked about this, sir," Tanawa said.

"May I say that Georgina and I are prepared to wait until she has
completed her schooling."

Giles watched his daughter give her lover a quick, surprised look.

"This will also take care of any doubts you may have regarding
Georgina's age," Tanawa went on.

"Then there is the matter of my parents, who will wish to meet her.  I
would be grateful if Georgina could visit them in Japan, just as soon
as it can be arranged.  I understand that she could not travel alone,
and would therefore be most happy to invite either you, Mrs.  Dawson,
or Elizabeth, or indeed, both of you, to accompany her.  I would
suggest next summer, as soon as Georgina completes her studies.  She
has told me she has no wish to go to university.  But next summer she
will be seventeen."

"Well!"  Lorraine said.

"I also understand your concern as to the difference in our religion. I
am willing to be married in a Christian church, here in England, as I
am sure that Georgina will be willing to undergo a Shinto ceremony in
Japan.  I should add that there are Christian churches in Tokyo where
Georgina could continue to practice her religion as she wishes, with my
support."

He paused, and the three Dawsons stared at him.  None of them had ever
before had the wind so completely taken out of their sails.

"But when would we get married?"  Georgina cried.

"I should hope in two years time," Tanawa said.

"The summer of 1940.  Will that be satisfactory to you, Admiral Dawson?
Mrs.  Dawson?"

"Two years," Lorraine breathed, with great relief.  Two years in which
Georgina would surely get over this absurd infatuation.

"Two years?"  Georgina cried, looking about to burst into tears.

"We won't see each other for two years?"

"We will see each other.  I am hoping that you and your mother and
sister will visit with us next year.  You said you would be finished
school by then."

Georgina looked at her father.

"Two years," Giles said.

"I think that is a very admirable proposal, Commander.  Well, I think
we had better tell the others."

"Now?"  Lorraine demanded.

"Perhaps it would be better to wait until after the funeral, sir,"
Tanawa suggested.

"Hm.  Yes, that would be best, I suppose.  We'll break the news
tomorrow at lunch."

"My God!"  Mark Young remarked, walking in the garden with Jack after
lunch the following day.  Hirada had just left for the station, driven
by Giles and accompanied by Lorraine and Elizabeth as well as
Georgina.

"What an utter swine."

"For wishing to marry our cousin?"  Jack asked.

"Well, that is bloody cheek anyway.  A god damed slit-eyed Jap, trying
to crawl into bed with Georgie?  He should be castrated."

"A little old-fashioned," Jack murmured.

"And the Admiral, accepting it all!  Introducing him as his future
son-in-law!  A Jap!  Next thing there'll be little slit-eyed kids
crawling all over the place."

"I'm sure that's what they're aiming at," Jack agreed.

"What does your mother think about it all?  And Marjorie?"

"I haven't really had the opportunity to talk with them yet.  But I am
sure they will disapprove."

"I can tell you Mother and Harry disapprove.  I thought Harry was going
to go straight through the roof when he heard.  But you .. . this
fellow sank your ship."

"He did not know it was my ship," Jack pointed out, quietly.

The engagement remained unofficial, and therefore unannounced, until
the Hiradas had approved it.  But Giles felt obliged to inform his
superiors of his daughter's intentions.

Sir Ewan Chatfield stroked his chin.

"What a tangled world we do live in, to be sure, Giles.  Do you approve
of this match?"

"Well, of course I would have preferred her to marry an Englishman, or
at least someone of her own background..."

"And race, I imagine."

"That too, naturally."

"She's only sixteen.  You could forbid it.  For five years."

"I could."

"But you're not going to."

"I think I have a very good relationship with my daughters, Ewan.  I
would hate to do anything to spoil it."

Chatfield regarded the younger man.  He recalled that although Giles
Dawson had a fighting record second to none the mere facts that he wore
the crimson ribbon of the Victoria Cross and had escaped from a Turkish
prison camp indicated that there had been considerable opposition to
promoting him above the rank of Captain.  In part, Chatfield knew, this
was because of the events surrounding his brother Jack: there were too
many diehard traditionalists in the Navy who could not convince
themselves that a man who had once been convicted by a court martial
could ever have been innocent.  But in equal part, and more rationally,
there had been questions about Giles' ability to command, to take the
harsh decisions that accompanied leading a fleet into battle.

The promotion had gone through, but he had been sidestepped into
intelligence rather than an operational post.

He had proved an enormous success, with his ability and his capacity
for hard work.  But the doubts remained as to whether he would be able
to handle such a position in time of war.  Of course, Britain wasn't at
war, and even intelligence officers could not be prevented from having
families and allowing them to marry the family naturally could know
nothing of what he really did in the Navy.

Still, blithely to allow his daughter to marry a potential enemy .. .
and at such a moment.

But he could hardly tell a brother officer how to manage his domestic
affairs.

"Well," he said.

"We must hope it all works out."  He opened a drawer, took out a
folder.

"I've been studying this report of yours.  Are you sure it's
accurate?"

"I believe so.  It was obtained at great risk by one of our agents in
Japan."

"That the Japanese have laid down two battleships which ..."  Chatfield
scanned the sheet of paper.

"Will be armed with nine eighteen-inch guns, and displace approximately
seventy thousand tons deep-loaded?"

"That's what it says.  And there appear to be two more on the drawing
board."

"My God!  But that will .. ."

"Make George V and Prince of Wales look like light cruisers?  I'm
afraid they will.  Even Bismarck wouldn't come out too well in a
comparison.  Is there nothing we can do about it?"

"Not at this moment.  We're building to capacity as it is."

"It's unlikely these Japanese monsters will be in the water before
1940," Giles said, "and in commission before 1941."

"Even so there is no way we could lay down an equal, even supposing
Parliament were to give us the money, which it won't, before 1941 at
the earliest.  No, we are going to have to live with the knowledge that
for the first time in two hundred years, the Royal Navy is going to be
outranged and outrun by another fleet.  The question is, what are those
ships being built for?"

"I rather suspect they've been designed to overawe the Yanks," Giles
suggested.

"Overawe.  Call me a pessimist," Chatfield said.

"Lots of people do, as a matter of fact.  But navies are generally
created to fight."

"Or to prevent a fight by illustrating overwhelming force," Gies
arrgued.

"Our 'friends' the Americans have been uttering all manner of threats
against the Japanese, calling on them to abandon the invasion of China
or face the consequences.  Washington is of course talking about
economic consequences; they are already freezing a large amount of
Japanese assets in the States, and prohibiting the export of certain
materials listed as 'vital' from the States to Japan.

Well, Japan can't exist of its own, as it were.  It's like us, in that
respect.  Think of the position we'd be in if some other power forbade
the export of any oil to us, for example?"

"Exactly," Chatfield agreed.

"We would have to do something about it.  I don't think I'm being
pessimistic when I think that given the circumstances, when Japan
starts laying down monster battleships she is starting to think about
doing something about her situation."

"Vis-a-vis America.  There is no necessity for us to be drawn in.  We
have enough problems here in Europe," Giles argued.

"Agreed.  But let's suppose the problems in Europe get worse.  There is
no immediate prospect of them getting any better.  Should there be a
European war, where do you think we are going to have to turn to obtain
everything we are going to need to beat Hitler?"

Giles gulped.

"So if Washington were to say, you help us, at least morally and
economically in the Far East, or we won't help you, morally and
economically, in Europe, we wouldn't have too much choice."

"That still need not involve shooting."

"Maybe not, Giles.  But it's not going to make any British man, or
woman, very popular in Tokyo."  He held out the folder.

Giles placed it in his briefcase, stood up.

"What are you going to do?"  Chatfield asked.

"Probably, pray," Giles told him.

After all the delays, Jack finally joined Warspite at the end of the
summer.  With his name and background he supposed he would have to
expect a certain amount of notoriety, but his recent adventures had
rippled through the Navy.

"Glad to have you aboard, Dawson," said Captain Paynter.

"Just remember that this ship intends to stay afloat."

His fellow officers were less restrained in their comments, but his
size, combined with his good humour, made him a difficult target for
ragging.  On the more serious side, they were naturally interested to
discover what it felt like to be bombed, being well aware that in the
land-locked Mediterranean they were eyeball-to-eyeball with the Italian
air force; Malta was less than a hundred miles from Sicily.

He was even given an interview by the fleet commander,

Vice-Admiral Sir Dudley Pound, a somewhat dour, small man with a wealth
of experience behind him: he had commanded the battleship HMS Colossus
at the Battle of Jutland.  Pound listened to his description of an
aerial attack with his usual gravity, and dismissed him without
comment, except for the inevitable, "I knew your father, briefly."

Pound and his officers were far less concerned about the Italian Navy,
which, as far as capital ships was concerned, consisted of five
pre-Great War battleships, not one of over twenty-five thousand tons.
Admittedly, like everyone else, the Italians were building as fast as
they could.  Their new battleships were to be called the Littorio
Class, and would displace some forty-five thousand tons and carry nine
fifteen-inch guns.  Two of these were actually in the water, but were
not expected to be completed before 1940 at the earliest.  A third had
been laid down and work on a fourth was reported as being about to
start, but the prospect of meeting any of them did not disturb the crew
of Warspite, or any of the other battleships comprising the British
Mediterranean squadron.  The habitual clear skies and the oft glimpsed
coasts of Italy and her islands was what mattered.

"Is there a formal alliance between Mussolini and Hitler, sir?"  Jack
asked his immediate superior, Commander Elliston.

"The Pact of Steel, you mean?  It is a formal alliance, Dawson.  Our
trouble is we don't really know what's in it.  But I think you can take
it as read that if we start shooting at the Germans over
Czechoslovakia, we're going to be shooting at the Italians as well."

It was a heady prospect.  For all the somewhat pessimistic points of
view expressed to Jack on his visit to the Admiralty, he could not help
but look forward to a scrap.  It was what he had been trained to do,
and to have it now, when neither the German nor the Italian navies had
really got off the stocks, promised a relatively easy ride.  But for
the time being the crews, whether in Valletta or Alexandria, their
principal base, were enjoying a Mediterranean summer, with a very blue
sea to swim in, long days lying in the sun, and a continuous round of
entertainment by the local British communities, in which an endless
supply of pretty girls was on offer.

Jack lost out here, as it was well publicised that he was the youngest
married lieutenant in the Navy.  However, he would not have wished to
take up any of the invitations even if he had been free.  The death of
Joanna had affected him deeply.

Perhaps more deeply than any other member of the family, although
fortunately no one seemed to realise that.  She had been virtually
estranged from her parents and her brother, must have had a pretty good
idea of Lorraine's opinion of her.  Only Denise had made any attempt to
mend fences, and that had been at second hand, as it were.

But he had been literally sucked into that all-embracing orbit, and had
been well on the way to falling in love with his own cousin.  Now she
was gone, like a snap of the fingers.  He did not even know what she
had been doing when the torpedo struck, nor how she had died.

By drowning, of course.  But fighting for life, or serenely, or just in
a flat panic?

Had she been in another man's arms at the fatal moment?

It had certainly been well after midnight.  One half of him wanted to
believe that, to convince himself that he had just been another lay in
her life.  The other half refused to accept it.

Oddly, Mother had never asked him how he and Joanna had got on.  It had
not occurred to her to do so, merely because they had had dinner
together twice.  Denise, who had given up everything for the love of a
man the world had considered a criminal traitor, believed that romance
followed very straight and easily discernible lines: a sexual
relationship between first cousins was definitely not a straight
line.

He was so depressed he did not even accompany any of his fellow
officers on their visits to an Alexandrian nightclub operated by an
Englishman called the Blue Light, where apparently it was possible to
obtain anything one could wish, at a price.  But the price was far too
great for his pocket, anyway; two thirds of his pay went direct to the
account he had opened for Marjorie in Bath.

For all of these reasons he avoided Mark wherever possible, for Hood
was also part of the Mediterranean Squadron, and on several occasions
the two huge ships were moored within a few yards of each other.  But
Mark obviously could see no good reason for seeing too much of his
impoverished junior cousin, and they merely exchanged formalities
whenever they encountered one another.  Mark was certainly not mourning
to the extent of refusing invitations, and indeed his name was linked
with the daughter of wealthy English retirees in Malta.

Good luck to him, Jack thought.  He did not suppose he would ever enjoy
sex again.  But Marjorie must have done, at least once, when he had
last been home: At the end of August he received a letter announcing
her pregnancy.

"Congratulations," Captain Paynter said.

"I'm afraid leave is not on at the moment, Dawson."

The crisis in the heart of Europe was boiling up, and no one had any
doubt that Great Britain and Germany would be at war by Christmas. Jack
could only write how proud he was and how much he loved her an utter
lie and, like everyone else, stare towards the north as the summer drew
to a close and the autumnal mistrals and boras began to blow.

He read the newspapers, about how reservists were being called up in
England, and gas masks being issued.  It all seemed very remote in the
still sunlit Mediterranean.

Jack wondered how the looming crisis was affecting Georgie's romance.
That was the oddest thing, and deep down inside, like every other
member of the family, he heartily disapproved of the whole idea.  But
that went against his personal philosophy, that one should be allowed
to love, and marry, when and how one pleased.  He tried to analyse his
objections, came down to simple racism, combined with the fact that
Hirada had sunk his ship.  In any event, it could never come off if
Europe exploded into war.

But, to everyone's surprise and relief, this didn't happen.

Neville Chamberlain went to Germany again and again, Mussolini and
Deladier attended the conferences deciding the future of Czechoslovakia
but not any Czech representative and on 30 September, Chamberlain
returned for the last time waving the piece of paper that meant "peace
in our time."

There was an extra ration of rum on Warspite that night.

Best of all, the ending of the crisis meant that there was home leave.
Jack being a prospective father, was one of the lucky ones allowed home
for Christmas.

He only had a fortnight, and the quickest way to get home was across
country.  From Valletta, where Warspite was spending the holiday, he
took an overnight boat to Messina, crossed to Reggio immediately and
was in Rome by that evening, in time to catch the Rome-Paris overnight
express.

He had assumed that the Italian part of his journey would be the most
frustrating, and was amazed at the efficiency of the Italian public
services, which ran exactly on time, and were clean, and conducted by a
carefully dressed, good-humoured staff.

"II Duce," the guard on the train from Naples to Rome told him.

"He has made all of this possible.  He is the greatest man who ever
lived."

It was hard to argue that Mussolini might not be at least the greatest
Italian there had been for some time, Jack thought, as he looked out of
the train windows at the well-ordered countryside, the straight, wide
roads, the amount of building that was going on, the drainage schemes
and the laughing, prosperous people.  At the same time, he was very
obviously in a military state;

there were uniforms everywhere, most of them rather outlandish to an
English eye.  It was also very clearly a one-man state, from the
numbers of huge posters featuring Mussolini which were to be seen.  But
the Italians appeared to like it so.

He had been advised to travel incognito, and so wore civilian clothes,
but even so, as an Englishman, attracted a good deal of attention.

"You must not be our enemies," said the friendly guard.

"Italians and English, they should not fight, eh?"

"I couldn't agree with you more," Jack told him.

It was all different once he crossed the border.  The train was
international, and remained very comfortable, but the French guards who
took over at the border were less polite and less neatly dressed; the
countryside sprawled untidily, and there were no soldiers to be seen at
all, save for when he disembarked at the Gare du Lyons, and passed a
group of obvious conscripts, arguing while they smoked Gaullois
cigarettes; he had never seen such a slovenly lot, even in China.

That afternoon he caught another train to Dover, and was in England the
following morning, and actually in Bath that evening, only thirty-six
hours after leaving Valletta.

Marjorie was six months pregnant, and hardly more cheerful than when
last he had seen her.

"She has a lot on her mind," Denise explained.

"Her parents have come home, and they really are on their beam ends.  I
feel terribly sorry for them."

"Have you met them?"  Jack asked.

"I had them to a meal.  What a pretty girl that Jennifer is."

"Um," Jack commented.  He didn't really feel safe with Jennie in
England.  But as Marjorie wanted to, he accompanied her to visit them
at the cottage they had taken on the south coast.

"I've got a job," James Mowlam said.

"With Unilever.  As an export manager."

"Well, that's good news," Jack said.

Mowlam continued to looked utterly crushed.

"They're not offering much money.  And it'll probably mean going abroad
again," he said.

"They seem to value my knowledge of international markets."

"Are there any prospects of recouping anything from Nanking?"

"Not a sausage.  The Chinese have retreated up the river, and the Japs
are turning the whole Yangtse into one huge, Japanese-run trading
concern."

"Couldn't it be possible to obtain some recompense from Japan
itself?"

"We're trying, of course.  So is HM Government.  But the Japs don't
seem to be in the mood to listen to anyone."

"Will Janet and Jennifer accompany you abroad again?"

"They're not very keen.  Janet probably will come.  But Jennifer is
going to try to get a job over here.  I know Marjorie would like her to
be around; she tells me she is very lonely with you away all of the
time."

Presumably that was meant as a rebuke.

"Oh, Jack, you're looking so well," Jennifer said, clutching his arm as
they strolled in the tiny garden.

"You've heard Daddy's news?"

"I'm delighted for him."

"But I'm going to stay, to be with Marjorie."

"She'll like that," he agreed.  He could only reflect that she was
unlikely to get a job in Bath.

Christmas Day itself was spent at Silver Streams.  Mark wasn't home
this Christmas as Hood was due back in England anyway in February for a
refit, and he would then have extended leave.  Thus Jack found himself
the man of the moment.

Giles had a long chat with him, interested in the workings of the
Mediterranean Fleet, and how he was getting on with Paynter and what he
thought of Pound.

"He's coming home this year, I understand.  Chatfield is retiring, and
Pound is to take over as First Sea Lord."  Giles brooded on that for a
few minutes before continuing; Jack could understand that there must be
many senior officers in the Navy who doubted Pound's ability to inspire
the service if trouble came.

"Queer to think that when last we met it was odds-on we would be at war
by now," the Admiral said.

"Are you relieved it's over, sir?"

"Over?  It's not over, Jack.  You don't want to believe the Government
hand-cuts.  What has happened is that Germany has got hold of the Czech
munitions industry and most of their army without firing a shot.
Britain and France have suffered one of the greatest defeats in their
joint histories, again without firing a shot."

"Then you still think there may be a war?"

"I am more than ever certain there is going to be a war," Giles said.

"Britain and France against Germany."

"And possibly Italy."

"Shouldn't we win, sir?"

"Of course, we should win, Jack.  But it's not going to be the easy
business a lot of people think.  Mind you, I'd like you to keep that
opinion to yourself."

"Of course, sir."

Giles grinned.

"And we'll enjoy ourselves.  It may be the last peaceful Christmas
we'll know in a long time."

Jack sought out Georgina.

"How is the great romance going?"  he asked.

She gave him one of her rather scornful glances.

"It is going swimmingly, Jack."

"Do you ever hear from Tanawa?"

"Every week.  His parents have given their permission for us to get
married, and it is all settled that Ma and I are going out there as
soon as school breaks up next summer.  They invited Lizzie as well, but
there is no prospect of us getting there, having a good stay with the
Hiradas, and getting back before school starts again in September."

"I envy you," Jack remarked.

She giggled.

"What, marrying Tanawa?"

"Visiting Japan, I should like to do that."

"Well, when I am married, I will invite you to stay with us.  There is
a promise."

Never had she felt so happy and so confident.  That what she was doing
was opposed by almost every member of the family only spurred her on;
she was, after all, a rebel just like her tragic aunt.

She might have been waiting for Tanawa all of her life.

In every way he fulfilled her ideal of the perfect man, in his manners,
his knowledge of the world, his love-making, limited as that had been,
and, perhaps most of all, his innate assumption of superiority over
her.  Because that was what she really wanted, to be the slave of a man
she could love, to do his every bidding, certain that he would only
ever have their good at heart.  And to bear his children.  She could
make herself quite giddy at the thought.

So she merely smiled at the family criticism, whether tacit or open.
Jack was a real gentleman.  Mark, when he visited Silver Streams that
winter, was downright rude.  She gathered Uncle Harry had exploded with
outrage when he had heard the news, and Aunt Mary had hardly spoken to
her before they departed back to the States.  Well, she thought,
daringly, bugger them all.  Only Ma's concern really bothered her.  But
Ma was coming with her to Japan, and that would bring her round, she
had no doubt at all.

The last months and then weeks of school dragged on interminably.  It
was a pretty dismal winter weather-wise in any event, and before the
arrival of spring the war clouds which had seemed so finally dispersed
the previous November were gathering again in gloomy profusion.  In
March Hitler occupied the remainder of Chechoslovakia and according to
the newspapers, was now turning his glare on Poland.

Not only the newspapers took him seriously, for now Prime Minister
Chamberlain, his policy of appeasement in tatters, announced that the
British Government had given unequivocal guarantees of support to both
Poland and Romania should they be invaded.  As there was no possible
way in which British troops could be conveyed to either of those
countries to confront the Nazis, the burden of deterring Hitler, or
taking him on if he did go to war, was clearly going to fall upon the
Royal Navy and the Royal Air Force.

The clamour for new ships grew, but none were ready.

King George V, the first of the new class of British
forty-thousand-tonners, was launched in February, and Prince of Wales
in May, but they were both well over a year away from completion, much
less battle worthiness.

Ark Royal was now in full commission, and to Jack's interest was sent
to the Mediterranean to shake down, and three new carriers, the
Illustrious Class, bigger than Ark Royal,

were on the stocks, but these too were a long way from completion.

While in February, Bismarck was launched, to be followed in April by
Tirpitz, and it seemed obvious that both these huge ships would be in
commision in 1940.  More disturbing was the news leaking out of Germany
that in December 1938 a German aircraft carrier, fully of a size with
Ark Royal, and to be called, logically enough, Graf Zeppelin, had also
been launched.  There could now be no doubt that Germany was building a
new High Seas Fleet just as rapidly as it could be done.

From the British point of view the only good news was that the French
had finally succeeded in launching Richelieu, the first of a projected
class of four ships, each to displace well over forty-five thousand
tons.  When those four were all in the water, together with the five
KGV's from England, the Western democracies would again have naval
superiority.

But that was looking three to four years ahead, and in the meanwhile,
as the European situation worsened, and gas masks were even issued to
people living in Dorset and Somerset, with instructions that they were
to be carried at all times, there seemed little doubt that the European
world was hovering on the brink of catastrophe.

"What do you think we should do?"  Lorraine asked Giles.

"If you cancel, Georgina will never speak to either of us again."

"That's nonsense, darling, and you know it.  She'll be upset, of
course.  But to think of being in Japan when a war breaks out over here
..."

"I don't think it's going to, for a while yet," Giles said.

"You must be the only person who doesn't," his wife snorted.

"It's not quite as simple as it all looks," Giles argued.

"Hitler and his pals have got to be worrying about which way the
Russians are going to jump.  Stalin is saying that had we fought over
Czechoslovakia, he'd have come in on our side.  And everyone knows the
French and ourselves have a mission in Moscow right this minute, trying
to persuade them to join us in the Polish guarantee.  I don't see that
Hitler dares make a move until he is certain that the Russians mean to
remain neutral, otherwise he could be faced with a war on two fronts.
That's been the nightmare of every German general since Frederick the
Great."

"Are we really relying on the support of a Communist government?"
Lorraine demanded.

"Needs must where the devil drives."

"And anyway, why should they fight for Poland?  The Russians and the
Poles hate each other.  What happens when Stalin announces that he is
not going to fight the Germans, under any circumstances?"

"I should think any competent negotiators can keep him talking all
summer," Giles said.

"I don't want you to change your plans, Lorraine."

They gazed at each other.

"What you mean is," Lorraine said, "you think there is going to be a
war this summer, and you want me out of the way.  Right?"

"Well ..."  he grinned.

"Tokyo is a hell of a long way from Europe."

"And suppose the Japanese come in on the German side?  Didn't they sign
the Pact of Steel with Hitler and Mussolini?"

"That was an anti-communism pact.  It wasn't directed against us.  The
Japs aren't going to go to war with any of us in the West, right now.
They can't afford to.  Not while they're fighting the Chinese on so
vast a scale."

In April Marjorie's son was born.  He was naturally christened Jack,
even though his father was unable to come home the Navy was virtually
on full standby all the time, especially in the Mediterranean, where no
one had any idea what Mussolini might do should hostilities break
out.

Marjorie did not have an easy birth, and was predictably peevish
afterwards.  Denise invited Jennifer to stay for a while, to give her a
break from the constant caring for her daughter-in-law; in any event,
she found Jennie much more congenial company than Marjorie.

Georgina came up to Bath to visit and see the baby.

"Oh, I do envy you," Marjorie said.

"Off to Japan.  The voyage ... it takes months, you know."

"I know," Georgina said, unable to keep the stars from showing in her
eyes.

"Look!"

She took off her glove, and the sisters and Denise peered at the
diamond solitaire on her wedding finger.

"Tanawa sent it.  Wasn't that sweet of him?  Japanese girls don't wear
engagement rings."

"He sent that, through the mail?"  Denise was astounded.

"Registered, of course," Georgina said.

"But I know what you mean.  It's the sort of thing he does."

"I wish I'd met him," Jennifer complained.

"You will.  He'll be coming to England next year, for us to get
married."

"Next year," Marjorie said sadly.

"Do you think Jack will be home by then?"

"Bound to be," Georgina assured her.

"Three years is as long as any ship is ever away."

Georgina felt desperately sorry for her.  And for her sister as well.
But then she, in common with the rest of the family, had always felt
sorry for Denise .. . and felt sorrier than ever now.  In electing to
love the first Jack Dawson she had chosen a terribly difficult path. No
matter what passion they had discovered in each other's arms, it was
hard to believe that a total of perhaps a hundred and fifty days out of
all her life made up for all the tragedy she had known.  And now for
Jack junior to bring home as a wife a woman who clearly had no feel for
the Navy and all it stood for, who indeed did nothing but wail her
misery to the world .. .

While her own life was soaring into clouds of unimaginable delight. The
last days of June were like a dream, and then it was Southampton and
the Empress of India, and Japan .. .

and Tanawa!

CHAPTER 7

The Shadow The excitement grew throughout the voyage.  The Empress of
India called first at Gibraltar.  Now the Civil War in Spain was almost
over.  The Falangists had won, and the Loyalists were in flight.  There
was no longer any danger at sea, although the patrols by both the
British and French navies had been stepped up.

From Gibraltar they crossed the Mediterranean to Valletta, where it was
possible to stop off and have a visit with Jack, before going on to
Port Said.

Jack had still not managed to get home to see his son, and they had to
tell him all about the babe; they had brought a stack of photographs as
well as letters from Marjorie and Denise.

"He looks just like you," Georgina said.

It was difficult to take that as a compliment, as the baby looked just
like Winston Churchill.

"All babies look like Churchill," Lorraine pointed out.

They were on a day trip to Gozo, and she watched her daughter splashing
about in the water with a reflective expression.

"How do you think Georgie is coming along?"

Jack was taken by surprise.  His Aunt Lorraine was not in the habit of
asking anyone's opinion, much less his.

In fact, she had never asked his opinion before, on any subject.

He picked his words with care.

"I'm amazed at the way she's grown up over the past year.  I suppose
it's being engaged."

"Yes," Lorraine agreed, grimly.

"So ... I'd have to say she's coming along splendidly, Aunt
Lorraine."

"She is," Lorraine agreed again.

"What do you think of the situation, Jack?"

"Well, I'd say we're bound to have a war before too long.

We're ready for it.  The Navy, I mean."

"I wasn't talking about politics," Lorraine told him.

"Oh!  Ah!  I'm afraid I don't really know enough .. ."

"You know this Hirada.  You introduced him into our family."

Jack opened his mouth to correct her; introducing Hirada into the
family had been Uncle Giles' idea.  But he decided against it.

"I think he's a very nice man."

"You wouldn't agree that he's a mass murderer."

"No, Aunt Lorraine, I would not.  He obeyed orders.  If we were to go
to war with Italy tomorrow and I was told to bombard Naples I would
have no choice but to do it or be cashiered."

"Ha!"  Lorraine commented.

"And so would Uncle Giles."

"And you've nothing against the colour of his skin?  Or his deplorable
habits?"

"What deplorable habits?"

"I am sure he has many.  Like sleeping on the floor."

"Would the Japanese not say that our sleeping in beds is a deplorable
habit?"

Lorraine snorted.

"Are you determined to play Devil's Advocate?"

"I don't want to, Aunt Lorraine.  I just can't help feeling that to
condemn people simply because they don't do things the way we do, well
..."

"That's very unpatriotic, if I may say so," Lorraine told him.

"Well, thank God, I am British.  I still have the right of free
speech."

"But do they have that right in Japan?"  Lorraine asked,
triumphantly.

She was a difficult woman to argue with.  On the other hand, she
obviously found it difficult to argue with Georgina.

Because they were going to Japan, Jack reflected.

He wondered if he would ever seen Georgie again?  Of course, the
marriage was due to take place in England, next summer.  He would
certainly try to get leave.

But next summer seemed a very long way away, as the fleet prepared for
war.

Port Said was reached ten days after leaving Southampton.

Here the ship stopped for two days, in order to give the passengers
time to take a trip to Cairo and look at the Pyramids.

Lorraine was overawed, Georgina merely impatient to get on.  After the
Suez Canal and Aden, Columbo was reached at the end of the next week.
Georgina had never travelled and found this first introduction to the
mysteries of the Far East far more fascinating than Egypt.  Lorraine's
travels had consisted of crossing the Atlantic; she kept a tight hold
on her daughter's hand as they explored the bazaars.

"Curry!"  she commented.

"Ugh!  You know what it looks like?"

"I think it's delicious," Georgina said.

"They don't eat curry in Japan," Lorraine pointed out.

Georgina merely smiled.

It was an impossible situation, really, Lorraine thought.

They shared a cabin, did everything together, were never actually out
of each other's sight, and they spoke of nothing which mattered.  Last
summer Georgina seemed to have closed her mind, and that was that.

Their relationship had never been easy.  Georgina had always had the
laid back reaction of Giles to flee to, when she and her mother had
differed.  But they had never differed on this kind of scale before.
Lorraine knew, because Giles had told her, that he hoped as much as she
that a year's waiting would cool Georgina's ardour; they had certainly
filled the house with eligible young men whenever possible.

Georgina had merely smiled and refused to be tempted.  Or even
interested.

Lorraine had endeavoured to have some heart to heart chats.  But
Georgina had merely said, "Ma, I know you don't approve of Tanawa.
What's there to talk about?"

Really she had felt like being very old-fashioned and locking her in
her room, or whipping her.  But always there had been Giles, smiling
benignly, and putting his faith in time.  Which had now just about run
out.  And still they could not talk.  Georgina wore Tanawa's ring, and
the matter seemed as good as settled.

They had departed from Southampton on 10 July, and after the stops at
Gibraltar and Valetta, Port Said and Aden, it was the 27th before they
left Columbo for Singapore, and the end of the month before they
arrived at the great naval base.  Here it was necessary to change
ships, as the Empress was continuing to Australia, and they had to wait
three days before their new ship, the Japanese liner Khotan Maru,
arrived.

The appearance of the wife of a rear-admiral together with her
extremely attractive daughter of course caused quite a stir in the
small British colony, and their stay in Singapore, at Raffles, was a
round of parties and picnics.  Georgina was surrounded by a fresh host
of handsome young men, but none of these interested her any more than
those in England.

Rear-Admiral Manley was an old acquaintance of Giles'.

"Going on to Japan?"  he asked Lorraine, eyebrows arched.

"In a Japanese ship?"  His eyebrows arched even higher.

"It is the first one available," Lorraine explained.

"Ah, yes.  The Japs are everywhere nowadays.  Holiday, is it?"

"Actually," Lorraine said.

"My daughter is to marry a Japanese officer."

Manley looked scandalised, but it was the last day of their stay, and
if presumably the news very rapidly spread throughout the colony, they
were at sea early the following morning.

"They seem to take the Japanese threat much more seriously out here
than they do in England," Lorraine remarked, as they watched the
Dragon's Teeth fading into the distance.

"What Japanese threat?"  Georgina demanded.

Lorraine retired to her cabin.

They were in Hong Kong three days later, watching the coast of China
looming out of the morning mist with some apprehension.  Even Lorraine
had somewhat settled down by now.  The crew of the Khotan Maru could
not have been more efficient or painstaking, and if the Dawsons were
the only British passengers, the moment Captain Oguchi saw their names
on his list he invited them to cocktails in his cabin.

They found themselves permanently placed at his table for meals, and
the Captain himself taught them how to use their food sticks amidst
much laughter.

Now he joined them to look at the looming mountains.

"You expect to see fighting," he remarked.  His English was
surprisingly good.

"There is no fighting now.  The Chinese are beaten."

"You mean they have made peace?"  Lorraine asked, eager to know that
the war was over.

"They will not make peace," the Captain said.

"They are a foolish people.  They still fight, up the rivers, in the
interior.

But they are beaten.  There is no fighting on the coasts any more, and
soon even Chiang Kai-shek will give up.  They are a foolish people."

"At least if there is no fighting on the coasts the navy is no longer
involved," Georgina said thankfully.

But even Georgina was concerned by the open hostility shown both the
ship and its passengers and crew when they stopped in Hong Kong.
Lorraine took her to pay a call on

Admiral Leighton, who was very stiff.

"Those people are mass murderers," he declared.

"I am sorry, Mrs.  Dawson, but there it is.  Have their atrocities not
been reported in England?"

"Well, I suppose they have," Lorraine said.

"But no one takes them seriously.  Here in Hong Kong we have no choice.
We have had refugees arriving with the most ghastly tales of
mistreatment."

"Are not these things always exaggerated?"  Georgina asked.

Leighton gave her a cold look as if wondering what business a chit of a
girl had interfering in an adult conversation.

"My daughter is to marry a Japanese officer," Lorraine explained.  She
was clutching at straws now.  Hoping at this last moment to have
Georgina put off by making the girl realise how far out of the line of
British thinking she was going to be stepping.

Leighton stared at Georgina as if she were diseased.

But Georgina refused to be upset.

"So you will understand, Admiral, that I am reluctant to accept
unsubstantiated stories of Japanese atrocities."

"Unsubstantiated?"  Leighton demanded.

"Unsubstantiated?"

Lorraine thought it best to hurry Georgina back on board.

But now she had to take the bull by the horns.

"Can't you see?"  she asked in the privacy of their cabin.

"That the whole world is going to condemn you for what you are
doing?"

"I do not see what the whole world has to do with my private life,"
Georgina said.

"Why did you bother to come if you are going to hold me up to everyone
we meet as a villainess?"

"I came in the hopes of changing your mind," Lorraine snapped.

"Of preventing you from making this .. . this ghastly mistake."

"Well, I am not going to change my mind," Georgina shouted.

"Oh .. . you are just being stubborn!"  Lorraine shouted back.

"Yes!  I am being stubborn, and I am going to go on being stubborn,"
Georgina bawled, and burst into tears.

Lorraine admitted defeat, but she was relieved when the Khotan Maru
finally sailed.

Their first view of Japan was a wonderland of scattered, sunlit
islands, laughing fishermen who waved at them from multi-coloured boats
as they hauled on their nets, and picturesque villages, often with
quaintly pagoda-roofed castles rising above them.  In the distance
there were mountains, some of them considerable.

"Many are active volcanoes," Captain Oguchi told them.

"Japan is the land of volcanoes.  But you have seen nothing until you
have seen Fujiyama."

They saw it the next morning, an immense cone seeming to touch the
skies, its colour changing from green to brown to white snow on the
upper slopes.

"There is always snow on Fuji," Oguchi claimed.

"Isn't it beautiful, Ma," Georgina asked.

Lorraine had to admit that it was.

That afternoon they steamed round the Iro-zaki and across Sagami Wan,
and thence past Miura into Tokyo Wan, and gazed at more activity than
they had ever before seen on the sea.  There were ships of every size
and description, either anchored in the bay itself or moving up and
down the long stretch of water to moorings or a place alongside the
Yokohama docks.  Amongst the vessels to be seen were several large
warships.

There was hardly less activity on shore, where on the left hand bank,
buildings crowded together, some of great size, while the waterfront,
as they approached their berth, was teeming with people.

"Not fifty years ago," Oguchi told them, "Yokohama was a little fishing
port.  Now it is the port for Tokyo, and the two cities are virtually
one."

"Look!"  Georgina shouted, jumping up and down.

"There's Tanawa!"

The Khotan Maru moored up, and the gangplank was run ashore.  Tanawa
was one of the first on board, followed by two other young people.

"My brother, Taiko," he explained.

"And my youngest sister, Suiko."

Both the Japanese bowed to the new arrivals, and, feeling rather
foolish in her summer frock and wide-brimmed hat, Georgina attempted to
do likewise; the hat promptly fell off and had to be grabbed by a
laughing Suiko before it hit the deck.

"Your clothes are so much more practical," Georgina said, gazing at the
pale blue kimono which the girl wore.  She had bought herself several
kimonos in England, and had been tempted to wear one for the first time
today but she had been afraid of what Ma would say, quite apart from
being unsure whether she could possible wear it correctly, much less
tie the obi, or sash, which was such an important part of the
garment.

"We shall soon have you properly dressed," Tanawa smiled.  He had made
no attempt to kiss her or embrace her it was not the Japanese way to
show excessive emotion in public and he had bowed most formally to
Lorraine, who had allowed them all a somewhat cold smile.

"My mother and father are waiting for you at the house," Tanawa
explained, escorting them down the gangway to the shore.

"What about our things?"

"The servants will see to that," he assured her, and ushered them
towards a large Daimler.

There were in fact a surprising number of cars to be seen, but far more
bicycles hurrying to and fro, and even, to Georgina's delight, a few
ricks has plying their trade.

"It is a dying art," Tanawa said, smiling at her interest.

She had forgotten how handsome he was, in his uniform and his erect
bearing.  She could have stared at him for the rest of the day, but had
to pretend interest in the sights he pointed out as she sat beside him
and they drove north along the bayside road.  It appeared that neither
Taiko nor Suiko, in the back with Lorraine, spoke any English, and she
was not yet prepared to attempt her Japanese for fear of being laughed
at.

"Where was the earthquake in 1923?"  Lorraine asked.

"I

remember reading about it."

"It was right here, Mrs.  Dawson.  The whole of Yokohama as well as
Tokyo was destroyed.  First there was the quake, then there was a tidal
wave, then there was a great fire."

"Were many people killed?"

"More than a hundred thousand, Mrs.  Dawson."

"Good lord," Georgina said.

"Were you here then?"

"Oh, yes.  I was ten years old.  But my family and I were fortunate.
Our house is outside Tokyo, and we escaped with only minor damage."

" "I'm glad you escaped," Georgina said happily.

The drive took them through crowded downtown Tokyo, where Georgina was
again fascinated by the strange mixture of old and new: western-style
dressed men brushed shoulders with others wearing the kimono; men with
long, straggly white beards walked beside those who were clean shaven.
Equally there were women in western-style dresses with silk stockings
and smart hats and women in kimonos with their hair piled on the tops
of their heads.

Huge department stores were next door to little shanty houses.  Cars
hooted at ricks has  Bicycles were everywhere.

Then they were in the suburbs, driving down wide, clean streets between
tiny houses which sat on infinitesmal lots, although every garden was
obviously carefully tended.

"Those houses don't look very substantial," Lorraine commented.

"They are not the least substantial," Tanawa agreed.

"They are made of screens, nothing more.  There is no point in building
as you do in the West, you see, Mrs.  Dawson.

Unless you are going to spend a great deal of money, as we have to do
on our public buildings, you cannot make them earthquake proof.  With
these houses, if they fall down, well, as soon as the tremors cease,
they can easily be put back up again."

"Good heavens!"  Lorraine had never heard of such a philosophy.

"Is your house made of screens?"  Georgina asked, a trifle anxiously.

Tanawa smiled.

"No.  My father is a very wealthy man."

She found that tremendously reassuring.

But it also made her nervous, as they turned into a drive through one
of the most luxuriant gardens she had ever seen, and arrived before the
portico of a very substantial mansion.  Servants hurried forward to
open the doors for them, and they looked up a short flight of steps at
Mr.  and Mrs.  Hirada, who waited for them on the porch itself.

They were both fairly old, Georgina estimated.  Neither was very tall,
and they did not look in the least aware of their wealth.  Mr.  Hirada
wore a lounge suit, but Mrs.  Hirada was in a kimono.

"What do we do?"  Lorraine hissed, suddenly out of her depths.

"The gift," Georgina hissed back.

Before leaving England they had commisioned a painting of Silver
Streams and the downs, as a gift for the Hiradas, to let them enjoy a
glimpse of the beauty of England.

"It's in the luggage," Lorraine whispered, purple with embarrassment.

"Then it will soon be here," said Tanawa, who had overheard the
exchange.

"There is no need to be concerned.

Come."

He escorted them up the steps, and bowed to his parents.

Lorraine stood absolutely still, a fixed smiled on her lips, and on
this occasion Georgina decided to follow her mother's example.

Tanawa spoke in Japanese, and Hirada Akabuchi in turn bowed to the
ladies.  His wife then took Lorraine's hand, smiling as she spoke.

"My mother says, welcome," Tanawa interpreted.

"Thank you," Lorraine said.

Mrs.  Hirada turned to Georgina, taking her hand as well.

Georgina looked hopefully at Tanawa.

"My mother says you are more beautiful than she had dared to hope,"
Tanawa said.

"Oh!  That's very kind of her."

They were led inside, followed by Taiko and Suiko and gazed in
astonishment at the sparsely furnished room.  It contained but a single
low table, and apart from the vases of flowers in each corner, and the
bamboo matting which covered the floor there was no other furniture.

"The mats are tatami," Tanawa explained.

"Each tatami is six feet long and two feet wide.  This is the area a
person needs for comfort when lying down.  In Japan, rooms are made to
an exact measurement of tatami.  We do not say, a room is eighteen feet
long by twelve wide; we say, it is eighteen tatami.  Do you
understand?"

"Ye-es," Georgina said hesitantly.

"Where do we sit?"  Lorraine asked.

"On the cushions on the floor.  Like this."

He crossed his legs and sat down on one of several cushions waiting on
the floor, maintaining a perfect balance.  His family sat also, around
the table.  Lorraine gulped and attempted to do the same, but fell over
with a most undignified swirling of her skirt.  The Japanese continued
to regard her gravely.

Georgina did better, but was terribly aware that her skirt was far too
short for this kind of thing; when she was seated like the Japanese, it
rode back over her knees and she was sure they could see her knickers.
But their faces remained as grave as ever.

"Now we will take tea," Tanawa said.

To their enormous relief, the bedroom to which they were shown after
the meal was furnished in western style, even if there was only one
bed, a small double.

"Well," Lorraine said.

"I suppose beggars can't be choosers.  Just keep your elbows to
yourself."

Their luggage had by now arrived, and the painting was carefully taken
from its packaging and laid on the bed.

"What I would really like is a hot bath," Lorraine said.

"But as there doesn't seem to be one ... I suppose these people do
bathe?"

"I am sure they do, Mama," Georgina said.

"But perhaps not in the evenings."

"Well, what do you recommend we wear tonight?  Assuming we are going to
be required to sit on the floor again.  Do you think they'll object to
trousers?"

She had brought with her an elegant black and gold evening pants
suit.

"I am sure they will not," Georgina said.

"I intend to wear a kimono."

They wrestled with the obi, and got it passably right, and then put up
Georgina's hair, in the Japanese fashion, securing it with
tortoiseshell pins.

"You'll wow 'em," Lorraine declared, unable to prevent herself from
getting into the spirit of things.

Georgina thought she might be right; the kimono was pale blue, the sash
navy, while the up swept hair seemed more luxuriantly golden than even
when lying on her back.

She so wanted to make Tanawa proud of her, and it seemed that he was,
leaping to his feet when they entered the downstairs room, and taking
her hands.

"You are utterly beautiful," he said.

He still had not kissed her, or touched any part of her save for her
hands.  She supposed she had to be patient.

It was still daylight, and he led them into the huge garden behind the
house.  Willows rustled beside a softly flowing stream, in which
multi-coloured goldfish darted to and fro, and which was crossed by a
hump-backed bridge, ornately carved, to reach a little summer house,
set in the midst of a rockery in which dark flowers bloomed.

Here there seemed an absolute crowd of people: the rest of Tanawa's
family had come to meet his prospective bride.

Georgina and Lorraine were introduced to his eldest brother, Tadatake,
and his wife and children, and his eldest sister, Aki, and her husband,
as well as her children.  Aki spoke English, to Georgina's enormous
relief.

The painting was duly presented, and praised by the polite Japanese.

"England is such a pretty country," Aki said.

"I should like to go there."

"Then you shall, some day," Georgina said, glancing at Lorraine.
Lorraine, totally impressed with the elegance of her hosts, as well as
their domesticity, and the grave, obedient demean ours of the children,
enthusiastically confirmed the invitation.

"As it is such a pleasant evening, we shall dine outside," Tanawa
said.

"My parents hope this will suit you?"

"It sounds a lovely idea," Lorraine said.

She had thoroughly enjoyed the food served on board the ship, even if
she understood that it had necessarily come out of cold stores save for
the fresh vegetables that had been bought in Singapore and then Hong
Kong, and was looking forward to this first real Japanese meal.  They
sat in the usual huge circle, either in the summer house or on mats
spread on the grass outside, which was where most of the children were
placed.

The meal began with porcelain dishes of soup.

"It's delicious," Lorraine whispered to Georgina.

"I wonder what it is?"

"It's probably safer not to ask," Georgina whispered back.

Lorraine finished her soup, and the bowls were removed by the hovering
servants.  Then other servants came out with a large platter on which
there was an equally large fish.

"Tuna," Tanawa explained.

"You like tuna?"

"Oh, yes," Lorraine said.

"But..  . it's alive!"  Georgina exclaimed, as she watched the fish
gasping for breath.

"It is brought to the house in water," Aki told her.

"It had only just been removed.  Fish needs to be very fresh to be
properly tasty."

The platter was placed between them.

"It's so we can inspect the meal," Lorraine told Georgina.

"You choose which portion you would like before its cooked."

"Oh!"  Georgina did not like the way the fish was struggling to stay
alive; she expected it to leap off the platter and on to her lap at any
moment.

"One slice or two?"  Tanawa asked, as his brother Tadatake leaned over
the platter with a large fork and a very sharp looking knife.

"One ..."  Georgina swallowed, as Tadatake very efficiently sliced into
the living fish, using the knife upright, so that he cut down to the
backbone, then sliced alongside it, and underneath, and removed a
substantial tuna steak on to the first of the waiting plates.

A little blood trickled across the china.

Lorraine made a strangled exclamation as the plate was placed in front
of her.  Georgina watched her steak being carved.  Now she could see
the gills, exposed by the removal of the flesh, inflating and
deflating.  And she thought she could hear the tuna screaming its
agony.

"I ... I'm not very hungry," Lorraine muttered.

Aki smiled.

"You have never eaten raw fish.  But tuna is very good, raw.  Much
better than when cooked.  Try a piece, Mrs.  Dawson, and see if you do
not like it."

Lorraine gazed at Georgina, who gazed back, and then very deliberately
used her food sticks to break off a piece of the pink flesh and pop it
into her mouth.  For a moment she thought she would vomit, and
Lorraine, from her expression, clearly expected her to.  Then she
swallowed, discovering as she did so that the flavour was actually very
pleasant.

"Come along, Ma," she said.

"Have a go."

"Good morning."  Aki opened the bedroom door and peered in.

"May I come in?"

Georgina sat up, and her movement awoke Lorraine, who rolled over with
a grunt and then a groan.

"It is a lovely morning," Aki said, and opened the jalousie, which the
two Englishwomen had carefully closed before retiring.  Light flooded
the room, and Georgina saw that Aki wore only a towel, and not under
her armpits, but folded round her waist.  She was, in fact, a rather
lovely young woman, and her hair was loose, a raven shawl descending to
her hips.

"My God," Lorraine groaned, also sitting up.

"What happened to us last night?"

"We got drunk," Georgina told her.

Because they had.  The meal over, there had been a great deal to drink.
Heated sake, plum wine, and then, to their astonishment, Japanese made
scotch whisky, neat.  Not that they had been capable of astonishment by
then.  Certainly her head was buzzing.

But Aki looked at fresh as a daisy.

"I came to ask if you would like to bathe," she said.

"I think that would be a splendid idea," Georgina said.

"Ma?"

"A bath," Lorraine said.

"Oh, yes, a bath.  A ..."  she looked at Aki for the first time.

"Bath," she said in a lower tone.

"I have brought your towels," Aki said, and draped them across the foot
of the bed.

As usual Georgina and Lorraine exchanged glances.  Then Georgina, as
with the fish very carefully and deliberately, took off her nightdress
and wrapped the towel round her waist.  Lorraine watched her.

"Where is the bathroom?"

she asked.

"The bathhouse is nearby," Aki explained.

"Nearby?"

"Aren't you going to wear your towel, Ma?"  Georgina asked.

"Suppose we meet someone?"

"Why should we not meet someone?"  Aki asked.

Lorraine looked ready to get back under the covers.

"Come along, Ma," Georgina said.

Lorraine took off her nightdress in turn, and donned the towel.

"You are so big, and I am so small," Aki remarked.

"How I envy you."  She opened the door and stepped into the corridor.

Lorraine and Georgina gazed at each other, then Georgina led the way.
Aki had already opened the outer door, which was at the end of the
corridor, and descended the four steps to the grass.

"We didn't bring our slippers," Lorraine muttered.

"They obviously don't wear them," Georgina replied.

Aki was crossing the grass towards a fairly large wooden building some
fifty feet away, from the chimney of which a great deal of steam and
smoke was issuing.  There was no one else in sight.

"Come along, Ma, while the going is good," Georgina said, and went down
the steps.

Lorraine hesitated for a moment before following.  They were halfway
across the lawn, and Aki, already at the door to the bathhouse, was
waiting for them, when a male servant emerged from round the building,
carrying a load of wood, and trudged solemnly past them.

"Oh, my God!"  Lorraine squealed, and ran for the door.

But she lost her towel in the process.  Georgina, close behind her,
stopped in consternation, and watched the man stoop, and pick the towel
up, and advance towards her, holding it out and smiling.  She snatched
it from him, and joined her mother in the doorway.

But Lorraine was past caring about her towel.  She was standing at the
side of a large wooden floor, divided into two by a long screen, which
began about two feet from the floor and reached nearly to the ceiling.
She gazed at several women.  Mrs.  Hirada was there, as well as Suiko,
and the three girl children, as well as half a dozen female servants.

All were naked, and the servants were lathering the women with soap.

Aki now discarded her own towel, and beckoned Lorraine into the centre
of the floor, which was composed of wooden slats, set close enough to
afford a good foothold, but wide enough apart to allow any water to run
off into drains beneath the building.  One of the maidservants came
forward with a pail of water, and this Aki emptied over Lorraine's
shoulders.

Lorraine gave a squeal of discomfort: the water was cold.

But another maidservant was emptying a bucket over Aki herself, causing
her to shiver in turn.  Georgina threw both towels on the pile in the
corner and joined them, to be immersed.  This done the maidservants
assaulted them with huge soap-filled loo fahs smothering their entire
bodies with great enthusiasm.  Georgina tried not to look at her mother
as the sponges went between their legs and over their breasts.

Before she had properly recovered, they were again doused in cold
water.  Then Aki, who had been similarly treated, led them across the
room to the far end, where there were several huge tubs, set in the
floor, so that their rims were on a level with the planking.  In one of
these tubs Mrs.  Hirada, Suiko and the children were already soaking.

"They are twin tubs," Aki explained.

"You go in together."

Cautiously Georgina slid into one of the vacant tubs.  It was far
deeper than anything she had ever known in England, and came above her
waist, standing.  At each end, there was a seat, part of the tub
itself.  When she sat down, the water came to her neck.  As Lorraine
got in to sit opposite her, the water overflowed, through the slats in
the floor beside them, but the level never went down, and she realised
that more water was constantly bubbling up through inlets in the bottom
of each tub.  It was so hot it took her breath away, especially after
the cold of a few minutes before.  But never had she felt so clean.

"What an experience," Lorraine whispered.  And then froze, as they
heard men's voices.

Georgina turned her head to look at the door, but it was the door on
the far side of the screen which had opened, and the men of the family
were entering there, accompanied by more of the female servants.

Georgina watched Mrs.  Hirada and Suiko climbing out of their tubs, and
gazed too, at naked male legs visible through the opening under the
screen.  She looked at her mother.

"We get out now," Aki said, climbing out of the tub behind theirs.

"There are men over there," Lorraine pointed out in a strangled tone.

"Yes, they are late.  Men are always late.  They do not bother you?"

"No," Georgina said before Lorraine could reply.  The men on the other
side of the room were her future husband and her future in-laws.  She
got out of the tub.

"They cannot see you," Aki told Lorraine.

"Well, your feet, if they wish."

"It's just the idea," Lorraine said.

"Of being naked in a room with a lot of naked men."

Aki laughed.

"It would be better without the screen.  A hundred years ago Japanese
men and women all bathed together in the public bathhouses.  But morals
suffered, and the system was ended.  Actually, when we are just family,
we all bathe together here.  But Tanawa insisted on the screen being
erected while you are visiting.  He felt you might be embarrassed."

"Thank God for Tanawa," Lorraine said, and having got out of the bath,
stared in horror at two little faces peering under the screen.

Aki bawled at her sons in Japanese, and they hastily disappeared, but
Georgina could hear them chattering at each other.  Discussing the big
breasts of the white women, no doubt, she thought.  But she refused to
be embarrassed.

She retreated to the far side of the room so that she could see all of
the male feet beyond the screen, and tried to determine which belonged
to Tanawa.  She could hear his voice as he talked and laughed with his
brothers and father.  But all the feet looked the same, save for the
pair that definitely belonged to Mr.  Hirada.

She thought it was going to be rather fun being part of this family,
when they all bathed together.

For the next fortnight they had a hectic time, as Tanawa was on leave
and able to take them around.  Aki also took the time off her duties as
housewife and mother to accompany them on various sightseeing tours.
Suiko always came as well, listening to their English conversation with
a quizzical expression.

They drove up into the Hakone mountains, and went for a boat ride on
the lakes, with Fujiyama towering it seemed immediately above them.

They drove down to Kamakura to look at the enormous statue of the
Buddha, which it was possible to enter and climb into the head, some
thirty feet above the ground.  They took a train ride to Nara, the
oldest Japanese capital, to look at the temple there, and choose their
fortunes from a bundle of rolled parchments presented to them in little
cylinders by the soothsayers.

"Oh!"  Georgina cried as she unfolded hers.

"Mine is all doom and damnation.  Can't I have another?"

Aki laughed.

"No, that is not possible.  But do not worry.

Come."

She led Georgina to a tree, one of several dozen on the walkway up to
the temple, and which Georgina had earlier supposed were covered in
some kind of blossom.  But now she saw they were actually covered in
pieces of paper, stuck on the leaves.

"If you do not like your fortune," Aki explained, "you simply stick it
on this tree, and the reverse will happen to what is foretold."

"That sounds terribly convenient," Georgina said.

"So no one ever actually gets a bad fortune?"

"Who wishes to get a bad fortune?"  Aki asked, apparently seriously.

Georgina stuck hers on the tree.

From Nara they went on to Kyoto, which had succeeded Nara as capital in
the eighth Christian century, and indeed had remained the home of the
Mikado until the revolution of 1867 which had overthrown the Shogunate
and restored the Emperors as rulers of the country instead of just
figureheads.

From Kyoto they went to the huge seaport of Osaka, situated at the
northern end of the Inland Sea, and looked at the enormous castle,
which figured prominently in Japanese history as the site of the last
stand of the family of the warlord, Hideyoshi, against the Tokugawa
clan, under the redoubtable lyeyasu.

They spent a couple of days in an hotel at Osaka, and took a boat ride
on the Inland Sea.

In all of this time Tanawa had been nothing more than a most gracious
host, had made no attempt to be alone with Georgina, and although he
always sat beside her at meals this might have been sinmply to instruct
her in what she was eating and in any strange custom she might come
across.

She was bewildered.  She found the Japanese way of life at once
fascinating and erotic, and was desperate to be a part of it.  In Osaka
she could stand it no longer, and, as there seemed no alternative, said
at dinner on their last night before returning to Tokyo, "I wonder if I
could have a word with you, Tanawa, in private?"

Tanawa glanced at his sister, and then smiled.

"Of course, Georgie."

They left Aki and Lorraine to have their coffees at the table, and
withdrew into the lounge, where they sat themselves in a corner.

"Is something troubling you?"

Tanawa asked.

Georgina twined her fingers round each other.

"It's just that .. . well, are we engaged, or not, Tanawa?"

He looked at her left hand.

"Don't you know?"

"Oh, I wear your ring, and you family are entertaining us
magnificently.  It's just that ..."  she could feel her cheeks
burning.

"In England, when a couple are engaged, they are expected to spend a
lot of time alone together .. . well, sort of getting to know one
another."  She gazed at him.

"We haven't been alone together for a moment since I arrived."

"Hm," he commented.

"Yes, you are right.  But you see, in Japan, an engaged couple are
never alone together.  In fact, in normal circumstances, a man scarcely
sees his bride between the betrothal and the marriage.  We are bending
the rules in my spending all this time with you and your mother in any
event."

"Oh," she said.

"But you do mean to marry me?"

"I love you, Georgie.  I dream of you."

"And I dream of you.  Don't you think we could, well, bend the rules a
little further, just this once?  Ma is making noises like, it's time we
were thinking of going home."

"So soon?  You were going to stay until the end of the month."

"Oh, I want to.  I don't want to go home at all.

Tanawa ..."

He smiled at her.

"Very well, Georgie.  I cannot expect you to plunge into our customs
without a backwards glance.

We will bend the rules, just once."  He stood up and held out his
hand.

She was on her feet in a moment, clasping his fingers, heart pounding
as she wondered just what he meant.  Whatever it was, she was
determined to go along with it.

But he merely led her on to the terrace, where, quite high up, they
overlooked the harbour and the lights on the Inland Sea.

"Fishermen," he explained.

"They attract the fish with the lights."

"You eat a lot of fish in Japan," she remarked.

"With rice, it is our staple diet.  Meat is very expensive.

That is why we are a small people."

She turned her back on the view to look at him.

"I love your people.  I love everything about Japan."

"And Japan is going to love everything about you," he promised her, and
took her in his arms.

As always, Tanawa's kisses, while passionate and stimulating, were
carefully controlled, as were his hands they never wandered from
Georgina's shoulders.  She wanted so much more.  But it was equally
important to be everything he wanted in a wife, and she was at least
reassured that he still loved her.

"Well?"  Lorraine asked when they were alone in their bedroom.

"We just necked a little.  Apparently the Japanese don't do that sort
of thing."

"Ha," Lorraine commented.

"But I do love him so, Ma.  And he loves me."

Lorraine turned out the light and lay down with a heavy sigh.

Georgina slept more soundly than on any night since reaching Japan,
awoke with a glow of happiness, and found Tanawa waiting for her at
breakfast, his face grave.

"We must hurry back to Tokyo," he said.

"Has something happened?"

"There is a crisis."  He had a newspaper, which was in Japanese, but
there was a photograph on the front page, of two men shaking hands, and
when she looked more closely,

she recognised one of them as Herr von Ribbentrop, the German Foreign
Minister; she had seen his picture often enough when he had been
Ambassador to Britain, a couple of years before.

"Tell me," she said.

"The other man is Molotov, the Russian Foreign Minister?"

"Is it?  I thought the Nazis and the Communists hated each other?  They
look awfully friendly."

"Yes," he said grimly.

"They have just signed a treaty of alliance."

Georgina didn't know what to make of that, and now Lorraine arrived,
and had to be told.

"What does it mean?"

she asked.

"We shall have to wait and see," Tanawa said.

"I would say that it means Hitler will now attack Poland; he has only
held off this long for fear the Russians might come in on the
democracies' side."

"But... if he does that, England will have to fight him!"

Lorraine cried.

"If they wish to fulfill their treaty obligations, certainly."

"Will it affect Japan?"  Georgina asked.

"I'm afraid it will.  There will be serious repercussions.

As you know, my country adhered to the Pact of Steel two years ago,"
"We remember," Lorraine said bitterly.

"It was an alliance designed to prevent the spread of communism.
Nothing more.  It was in no way intended as a threat to the Western
democracies.  But this .. . this makes a nonsense of everything we
agreed."

"It's your own fault for trusting Hitler," Lorraine told him.

"But we must get home, just as quickly as possible."

Tanawa looked at Georgina.

"I think we should stay here," Georgina said.

"Until we see how things turn out."

"If there is any chance of a war, we must get home," Lorraine
declared.

"Ma ..."

"And you are coming.  You are only seventeen years old.

If I say we are going home, we are going home!"

Georgina looked at Tanawa.

He gave one of his quiet smiles.

"As soon as we get back to Tokyo, I shall see about arranging a
passage."

Georgina opened her mouth to protest, and then changed her mind;
Tanawa's smile had also said, trust me.

Tokyo was in a furore over the news from Europe, with banner headlines
in every paper, and the story of the signing of the Nazi-Soviet Pact
being relayed time and again over the radio.  Hirada Akabuchi was
furious, and Aki hurried home to speak with her husband, who was a
minor official in the Foreign Ministry.  Georgina gathered that it was
a matter of the Government losing face, not only at the German about
turn, but because they had known nothing about it until it was too
late.

With telephones ringing constantly, and everyone conferring with
everyone else, even the ladies and the servants, Georgina and Lorraine
felt very much outsiders, although they wanted to make it plain that
they were more in the middle of whatever trouble was coming than anyone
else.

"God, I wish we were home," Lorraine said, and sent off a sheaf of
telegrams to Giles, asking for news and telling him they were taking
the first available ship.

Tanawa was trying to arrange passages as he had promised, but he was
also very occupied as the ripples extended through the Japanese Army
and Navy, and no one knew for sure whether or not he would be required
to rejoin his ship and put to sea.

"As you can imagine," he told Georgina and Lorraine when he came
home.

"Finding a passage is difficult.  But I have secured you a cabin on the
55 Achates.  She is a British vessel, bound for Singapore.  I'm afraid
the agents could not confirm an onward booking, but they are going to
do the best they can.  She sails on 5 September."

"That's ten days!"  Lorraine complained.

"I know, Mrs.  Dawson, but it is the best I could do.

Everyone wants to go somewhere in view of the crisis.  If I may say so,
I agree with Georgie that your best course would be to remain here
until after things have settled down, when a good passage will be much
easier to obtain."

"I must get home," Lorraine insisted.  She had received a reply to her
telegram, in which Giles had said that the British Government was of
course as amazed and concerned as anyone at the German rapprochement
with Russia, but that nothing agreed by any other countries in any way
affected Britain's and France's guarantee to Poland.  This sounded very
ominous, and he had added that he would like them to return just as
soon as possible.

Georgina was in despair.

"Tanawa," she said when they managed to find themselves alone.

"If I go home now, and there is a war, we won't be able to get married
next year.

You must realise that."

"I do realise that, my darling," he said.

"But what is the alternative?  If your mother says you must go, then
you must go."

"Oh ..."  she wanted to scream in frustration.

"This complete submission to your parents ..."

"Has she not the legal right to tell you what to do?"

"Oh, well, I suppose she does.  But Tanawa, if we were to get married,
she'd have to accept it."

"Get married?  How can we get married without her knowing it?"

"We could elope."  She waited, breathless.

He frowned.

"Elope.  One cannot elope, in Japan."

"Why not?"

"Because marriages are a family matter.  There is no means of getting
married without the family."

Her shoulders drooped.

"So you are just going to let me sail away into the sunset."

He held her hands.

"Dearest Georgie.  You see life in such absolute terms.  Of course you
are going to sail away into the sunset.  But you are going to come
back.  Japan is not going to war with anyone .. . apart from China, of
course.  Listen, we are going to get married next year, no matter what
.. .

if you still wish to, of course."

"Still wish to?"  she cried.

"Then I will come and fetch you, no matter what is going on."

On that promise she had to rely, but the next week was almost frenetic,
as they spent most of every day in each other's company.  Lorraine, on
the other hand, grew happier as each day passed and the moment of their
departure approached.  They were due to sail on a Tuesday, and the
Hiradas had arranged a farewell dinner party for them on the previous
Friday night, the excitement caused by the news from Europe having to a
large extent settled down.

Tanawa had bought Georgina a new kimono, in black and gold black of
course having none of the connotations in Japan that it did in the West
which he thought, and she agreed, would show off her golden hair to
perfection.

She gathered that their engagement was to become official at the
dinner.  Lorraine was also persuaded to wear a kimono for the occasion,
and the pair of them spent the morning trying on their outfits and
tying and relying their obis, with the help of Aki, who came over
specially to supervise.

They were also both going to put their hair up, as well as could be
done in the case of Lorraine, who wore hers fashionably short
fashionably by Western standards, at any rate.

They were engaged in these activities, with a good deal of joking and
laughter, when Tanawa came in, without knocking.  One look at his face
convinced Georgina that something terrible had happened.

"Tanawa!"  She ran to him, clutched his arm.

He looked past her, at Lorraine.

"It has begun," he said.

"Germany has invaded Poland!"

PART TWO

The Storm

CHAPTER 8

The Storm-tossed Line "War!"  Lorraine moaned.

"Oh, what are we going to do?

I must wire Giles!"

"Certainly, Mrs.  Dawson," Tanawa agreed.

"Although I should warn you that it may take some time for even a wire
to get through.  It is a question that you must decide.  If war does
break out, you are a long way from home."

"And you think we'll be safer here?"

"Well, I would say so.  At least until we can find you a passage on a
Japanese ship, which is not likely to be attacked by a German
submarine."

"I think we'll take our chances on the Royal Navy protecting us,"
Lorraine declared, and went off to write out her telegram.

"Tanawa!"  Georgina said.

"I wish to stay."

He nodded.

"We will see what can be done."

The betrothal dinner duly took place that night, and the Japanese at
least seemed to enjoy themselves tremendously, everyone, ladies
included, getting very drunk.

Georgina was introduced to a large number of people whose faces became
increasingly blurred as she tried to forget her very real worries.
These were mainly personal what difference this long foreseen, but
always mentally rejected, calamity was going to make to her plans.

She was slowly coming to a resolve.  This was her future home.  This
was where she wanted to be, now.  And if Japan was already at war,
there was little evidence of it in what she had seen.  These people
were happy.

Perhaps because they were winning.

The next couple of days were tense, as they listened to news of the
British ultimatum.  No reply had yet arrived from Giles when Neville
Chamberlain made his famous Sunday speech.  None had arrived several
hours later, when news came in of the sinking of the 55 Athenia off the
coast of Ireland, with a massive loss of life.

Lorraine stared at Tanawa in consternation.

Giles' reply arrived the next morning.

"WISH YOU

WERE HERE STOP USE EXTREME CAUTION IN

RETURNING STOP ALL LOVE GILES"

"There's a contradiction in terms," Lorraine snorted.

That afternoon the shipping agent telephoned to say that in view of the
situation and reported U-boat activity in the South China Sea, the
Achates would only be going as far as Hong Kong in the first instance,
and would wait there until sufficient ships had been accumulated to
form a convoy down to Singapore.  In other words, there was little
chance of her making an immediate connection in Singapore, while the
agent further advised that nearly all cabin space on vessels out of
Singapore was being requisitioned for essential personnel.

"Essential personnel!"  Lorraine exploded.

"Am I not essential personnel?  I'm the wife of an admiral, for God's
sake."

"Can there really be U-boats in the South China Sea?"

Georgina asked.

"I should think that is highly unlikely," Tanawa agreed.

"They couldn't get there without fuelling, and we would have found out
about that.  No, it is just a panic.  But..  . if the ship isn't
sailing ... I have found a passage on the Taliwan Maru, leaving
Yokohama for San Francisco on 18 September.  That is only a fortnight
away."

"San Francisco?"  Lorraine cried.

"Who wants to go to San Francisco?"

"It is the safest," Tanawa argued.

"Then you can cross the United States and pick up a ship in a convoy
out of New York or Boston."

"And face the North Atlantic.  That's where all the U-boats will be."

"You could visit with Aunt Mary and Uncle Harry," Georgina said
coaxingly.

Lorraine was so upset she did not notice that the suggestion had been
couched in the singular.

"The decision must be yours, of course," Tanawa said.

"I

still say it would be wisest to stay here.  Most analysts do not
consider that this war can last very long.  When it is over, you can
return home in perfect safety."

"I am going home," Lorraine declared.

"Well, I am staying here," Georgina announced.

"Tanawa, could we get married right away?"

Tanawa looked at Lorraine.

The fleet had been on standby all summer.  The announcement of the
Nazi-Soviet Pact had merely led to increased readiness, and the actual
invasion of Poland to a state of war preparedness.  In the
Mediterranean, all thoughts were on Italy.

But on the day of the invasion of Poland, 1 September, Mussolini
announced that he dissociated himself from the conflict.

"You think he means it?"  Jack asked Commander Elliston, his Executive
Officer.

"Not entirely.  He's waiting to see how things go," Elliston said.

"We are just going to have to wait and see, as well."

That was a difficult period.  Needless to say, letters arrived from
home, fairly hysterical in content.  Marjorie's only happy comment was
that she would be able to go on living at Silver Streams for awhile, as
no one was now sure when Lorraine and Georgina would be coming back, or
indeed if they would be coming back at all.  But she was wildly anxious
about Jack's safety, even with the Mediterranean still a neutral
area.

Denise was more relaxed about the situation, but Jack could tell that
she was equally worried; the last war had cost her a husband, and Jack
was all she had.

More disturbing was the news coming out of the Atlantic, where the
U-boats were now beginning their campaign in earnest.  On 17 September
the fleet received the news that HMS Courageous had been sunk, with the
loss of nearly half her complement of twelve hundred men.  Courageous,
like Akagi, had begun life as a battle cruiser and been reconstructed
as an aircraft-carrier after the Treaty of Washington.  Quite apart
from the loss of life, as Great Britain only had four aircraft-carriers
in commission, her sinking was a disaster, and as a result all major
units of the fleet were withdrawn from anti-submarine operations.

It was very frustrating to be basking in the Mediterranean sunlight and
bathing in a lukewarm sea while one's comrades were engaged in a
life-and-death struggle just beyond the Straits of Gibraltar.  Everyone
on board Warspite was happy when, at the end of October, orders came
for the battleship to rejoin the Home Fleet at Scapa Flow.

Lorraine having put off her departure yet again, Georgina's Christian
wedding was a small affair at the Anglican Church in Tokyo.  None of
Tanawa's friends were Christian, and very few of them spoke any
English.  Following the ceremony, only the immediate family gathered at
the house to take tea and congratulate the happy couple.

The Japanese wedding was an entirely different affair.

Although arranged at short notice, it was to be in the traditional
style, and was clearly going to be very elaborate.

Georgina just wished it would happen as quickly as possible;

Tanawa had indicated that they could not sleep together as man and wife
until after the second, to him, more important ceremony.

It took place at the end of October, two days after the Christian
wedding, and began early in the afternoon, when Lorraine was presented
with several bolts of silk as a present from the Hiradas to the mother
of the bride.

"But I have nothing to give in return," she protested, quite taken
aback.

"I took the liberty of purchasing these in your name," Tanawa said, and
opened a box filled with exquisite cloisonne work.

"You will present them to my mother and father."

"Oh!"  Lorraine exclaimed.

"How absolutely beautiful.

Oh, how I wish Giles were here."

"So do we, wish that the Admiral could be here," Tanawa said.

"But as he cannot be ..."

He took Lorraine off to make her presentation.  Georgina was confined
to their room, but now she was joined by Aki and Suiko.  She had
already had her morning bath, and it was their business to dress her.

"Normally, you see," Aki explained.

"The wedding takes place in the bride's house, and we would come to you
there.  But this is an exceptional wedding."  She smiled as she dressed
Georgina's hair, carefully folding the golden tresses on the top of her
head, holding them in place with several silver pins, which Georgina
gathered were Hirada family heirlooms.

By the time she was ready, Lorraine had returned, highly excited.

"My dear, the preparations!"  she whispered to Georgina.

Georgina felt absolutely calm, save for a slowly rising tide of
exhilaration creeping through her mind and body.  They had to wait for
nearly an hour, while Suiko went out to see what was happening, before
the girl returned to tell her sister that all was ready.

"The ceremony will be in Japanese, of course," Aki told them.  She had
already coached Georgina to a certain extent, and Georgina had made
good progress with her Japanese over the past two months, but she knew
the girl was very likely to forget everything in the excitement of the
occasion.

"I will show you what to do as far as I can, and then you have but to
follow Tanawa's example.  Come out in five minutes time."

Suddenly Georgina was nervous, as their mentor also disappeared and
they were left alone.

"Oh, my darling," Lorraine said.

"Oh, my darling!  Are you sure?  Certain, certain, sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Ma.  How could I not be, with these lovely people?"

"Yes," Lorraine said thoughtfully, still not absolutely convinced.

"How I wish Giles and Lizzie were here."

"Time's up," Georgina said.  She stood up, and Lorraine fussed about
her to make sure her kimono in pale green with a gold obi was not
crushed, and adjusting her veil, which, descending from a band round
her forehead, completely hid her face.  Lorraine herself wore a kimono
today, as she knew she would have to sit on the floor in the company of
the family.  Then they slowly walked down the corridor and out the door
into the garden.  The wedding itself was to take place in the summer
house.

They were immediately taken aback by the large number of people seated
on cushions on the grass, on both sides of the bridge, men, women, and
children; no doubt quite a few of them had been at the betrothal party
six weeks before, but Georgina could remember none of their faces.

Aki, who was waiting for them at the door, motioned them to stop for a
moment; between them and the guests were two rows of servants, men on
one side and women on the other.

Each of these had a small bowl of rice, and this rice they now started
to grind with their pestles.  Aki nodded, and Lorraine and Georgina
started forward.  As they passed the servants, those on the left of the
pathway passed their bowls to those on the right, and vice versa.

Lorraine's hand, on Georgina's arm, was trembling.

Slowly they passed beyond the servants, and now walked between the
guests.  On the steps of the summer house Tanawa waited, with his
mother and father, and his brothers and sisters, Aki having hastily run
round the lawn to take her place with them.  Now she and Suiko stood
one to either side of the steps, each bearing a lighted candle, the
flames flaring in the slight breeze.  When Georgina got up to them, the
two sisters moved together, and the left hand candle was passed over
the right, bringing the two wicks against each other so that both
flames were extinguished.

Georgina continued on her way, glancing at Tanawa as she passed him,
but he could not see her eyes beneath the veil, and his face remained
expressionless.  She reached the small dais at the back of the summer
house, and there knelt on the waiting cushion.  Now Tanawa came
forward, and knelt on the cushion placed on the floor immediately
beneath her, facing her but not looking at her.  Two covered trays had
already been laid upon the dais.  Between them was a lacquered table,
on which were cooked chickens, raw fish, and two sake bottles, together
with three cups and two kettles for warming the wine.  Aki and Suiko
now knelt before the couple, and handed them dried fish and seaweed to
eat, accompanying each dish with a short speech in Japanese.

"They are praising your beauty, industry and virtue," Tanawa whispered,
still not looking at her.

"And my manhood, valour, and fame, and telling the guests that our
union will be honoured as long as Japan herself endures."

Georgina was grateful for the veil hiding her glowing cheeks.

While they knelt thus, two older women, obviously Hirada aunts, each
took one of the wine bottles and kettles to the waiting stove at the
side of the room, to be heated.  When they returned, a few minutes
later, Aki and Suiko attached a paper model of a female butterfly to
one bottle, and a male butterfly to the other.  The female butterfly
was then removed and laid on its back, and wine poured from that bottle
into the kettle.  The male butterfly was then placed on top of the
female, and wine poured from the male bottle into the same kettle,
after which the mixed sake was poured into the second kettle, which was
then placed on the floor.

Maidservants were arranging small lacquered tables before each person
on the lawn, as well as before Georgina and Tanawa, and before Aki and
Suiko and the aunts.  Now Aki made a lifting gesture, and Georgina
understood, and raised her veil, throwing it back over her head.

One of the maids placed three cups, each containing sake but also
inside the other, in front of Tanawa.  He sipped twice from the first
cup, then poured some sake from the full kettle into the empty kettle.
He next poured sake into the cup, filling it rather fuller than before,
and drank half of it.  The maid took the cup up to Georgina, who
finished what remained of the sake, and then, watching for Aki's nod,
in turn poured some from the full kettle into the empty one.

Condiments were now served, and then the wine ceremony was repeated.
Guided by Aki's brief nods, Georgina began this, using the second cup.
Tanawa repeated the ceremony the third time, with the last cup.  This
done, Tanawa rose and left the summer house, returning to the main
building escorted by his brothers.

Aki and Suiko also rose, and in turn escorted Georgina back to the
house.

"You must change your garments," Aki told her.

Georgina discovered that she was indeed bathed in sweat, and it was a
great relief to be able to move her legs; her knees were quite painful.
She allowed the two women to strip her and dry her and perfume her,
before they helped her put on another kimono, this one white decorated
with gold thread.

I am a virgin going to be sacrificed, Georgina thought.

"You must also have something to eat," Aki told her, and one of the
servants brought in a tray containing a large bowl of soup.

"I couldn't eat a thing," Georgina protested.

"You must, to keep up your strength.  This soup is made from fish's
fins, which will do you good."

Georgina drank the soup, and was then led back to her place on the
dais.  She tried to catch Lorraine's eye, but her mother, like all the
guests, was also eating.

Tanawa returned immediately after her, and again knelt on the mat
beneath her.  As soon as he was in place, Aki and Suiko placed a tray
beside him, on which were two earthenware cups, one gilded and the
other silvered.

The tray itself was inscribed with a map of the island of Yakasago in
the province of Harima, on which there was a pine tree known as the
tree of mutual old age.  At the root, the tree was single, but towards
the centre it split into two stems, and this twin-stemmed tree was a
symbol that the happy pair would reach mutual old age together, while
the evergreen leaves denoted the unchanging constancy of their hearts.
Drawn under the two stems of the tree were the figures of an old man
and an old woman, to represent the spirits of the pine.

Another wine ceremony, and then the wedding feast began.  The first
course was soup made from the carp, traditionally the most expensive
fish in Japan.  This was followed by twelve plates of sweetmeats, and
then three courses, the first of seven dishes, the second of five, and
the third of three dishes.  During the meal Georgina and Tanawa were
taken out twice to change their clothes, and the last time Georgina put
on a silk kimono given her by Tanawa.

Then they were served green tea, and as they sipped, Hirada Akabuchi
and his wife rose, as did Lorraine.  The marriage was completed.  Now
it was time to circulate amongst the guests.  Aki stayed at Georgina's
elbow, making introductory speeches which Georgina could only just
understand, however hard she had worked at her Japanese during the
preceding three months.  To her surprise, but also delight, two of the
guests turned out to be Prime Minister Abe Noboyuki and his wife. Prime
Minister Abe was actually a general in the Army, and had only replaced
the previous Prime Minister, Hiranuma Kiijoro at the end of August.

Hiranuma had fallen because his government had not known in advance of
the Nazi-Soviet pact, and he was thus deemed to have lost face.  What
the new appointment meant in terms of future Japanese policy no one was
quite sure, but it was a great honour that he should have accepted an
invitation to the wedding.

Also present were Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku, Commander-in-Chief of the
Imperial Japanese Navy, a stocky man, almost entirely bald, who had
lost two fingers of his left hand when serving as a lieutenant at the
Battle of Tsushima, and remembered the first Jack Dawson, as well as
Captain Hamaguchi, who described himself as Tanawa's best friend.

While meeting the guests, Georgina tried to catch a glimpse of Tanawa,
but he was also doing his duty, on the far side of the lawn.

"What a ceremony," Lorraine remarked when they finally got together.

"It was all right for you, being whisked off to change your clothes.  I
thought I was going to faint.  And I feel quite woozy."

"Join the club," Georgina said, and smiled at the next couple presented
to her by Aki.

But at last she was approached by the Hiradas, to bid her formal
welcome into their family.

"Normally," Aki explained, "Tanawa would remain with your mother and
father at their home, and undergo another wine ceremony there, while
you visited here with your new family.  But as that is not possible on
this occasion, we will dispense with it.  Now you must go with my
mother and father."

"But all the guests are still here?"

"And they will remain here most of the night."  It was by now quite
dark.  She smiled.

"But you do not wish to remain in the garden all night, do you?"

"No," Georgina said, and bit her lip.  Her nerves had settled down
during the ceremony, but now the consummation was rushing at her.  With
a man who, quite unlike the situation which would have obtained in
England, she had never necked with in the back row of a cinema, who had
in fact never touched her anywhere save on her hands or mouth, and even
then only with apparent reluctance.

Suppose she did not like him, or what he would wish to do to her?  Or
worse, suppose he did not like her, when it got down to the
nitty-gritty?

She was escorted into the house and sat with the Hiradas to drink some
more sake from various cups which were mixed and unmixed as before. Her
head was spinning.  But maybe that was best.  This final ceremony
lasted half an hour, and then Aki and Suiko arrived to escort her to
Tanawa's bedroom.

Georgina braced herself for the ordeal of coming face to face with her
husband .. . but he wasn't there.  All her clothes had been brought in,
however, and there were fresh towels on the rail beside the
washbasin.

"Tanawa will soon be here," Aki said.  She looked at the little shrine
in the corner of the room, but did not say anything; obviously Georgina
could not be expected to pray at a Shinto shrine.

"Well," she said brightly.

"We will leave you now.  You are our sister.  We will have many good
times together."

She kissed Georgina, as did Suiko, and the door closed behind them.

Georgina gazed at it, chewing her lip, aware of a rising sense of
panic.  But she had made this happen, because it was what she wanted to
happen more than anything else in the world.  It was just a matter of
getting through the next few minutes .. .

She wondered whether she should undress, but decided against it.  She
didn't want Tanawa to think she was in any way wanton, or even forward.
She had to do everything the Japanese way.  And for the rest of her
life, she realised with a start of alarm.

She heard his feet in the passage, and a moment later the door opened.
He was accompanied by his brothers, but they did not enter the room,
said their farewells outside, and then left.  Tanawa stepped inside,
and closed the door behind himself.  They gazed at each other across
the room.

"I am sorry the ceremony took so long," he said.

"Are you very tired?"

"No," she lied.

"I am not tired."

He came towards her.

"You are so very beautiful.  May I?"

He stretched out his hand and took the pins from her hair, which
promptly fell about her shoulders.

"It is like gold," he said.

She licked her lips.  Apprehension was being replaced by desire.  This
man was so very gentle.

He released her obi, and dropped it on the floor, then opened the
kimono to look at her.  At Aki's command, she was wearing nothing
underneath this last change of garments, and she watched his eyes widen
slightly as he took her in.  She might be only seventeen years old but
she was fully developed, and the Dawson women had always been
voluptuous.

"Your sister thinks I am too big," she said.

He took her in his arms and kissed her with more passion than he had
ever before revealed, pulling her body against his, and she realised
that he was wearing nothing under his kimono either.  Boldly she
reached behind him to release his sash, so that his garment also fell
open, and their naked bodies were against each other.  How she wanted
to look down; she could feel him hard against her.

"Wait for me," he said, and stepped away.

She gazed at him in a mixture of delight and dismay, afraid that he was
going to leave her.  But he was merely going to kneel in the corner
before his shrine, head bowed.  Georgina shrugged the kimono from her
shoulders and knelt on the mattress.  There were so many strange things
happening to her all the time, things she had known would happen and
yet had not properly thought about.  As now.  She had known that when
she became Mrs.  Hirada she would sleep like a Japanese, on the floor.
It had not occurred to her that she would also have sex, on the
floor.

Tanawa finished his prayer, and knelt beside her on the mattress.

"Will you be able to sleep, on the floor?"

he asked.

"Are we going to sleep, Tanawa?"

He gazed at her, almost quizzically, and then touched her breasts,
using the tips of his fingers, very softly, to circle the mounds,
before stroking down to her pubes.

"Do I please you, sir?"  she whispered.

"I must be the envy of every man in Japan," he told her, and lay down,
on his back, holding up his arms for her.

By the time Warspite regained England, Poland had long been crushed out
of existence.  The British Expeditionary Force had safely crossed the
Channel, without the loss of a man or a piece of equipment.  The French
army was em placed along the Maginot Line and the south Belgian
frontier, and total peace seemed to have settled over Europe.  The
R.A.F carried out leaflet raids over Germany, and actually bombed one
or two of the German naval bases, and the German U-boats continued to
shoot on sight at anything that moved on the water, but even at sea the
war was in low key.

Save for another huge disaster which had overtaken the Royal Navy.  On
Saturday, 14 October, a German U-boat actually managed to enter the
supposedly impregnable base of Scapa Flow, and torpedo a British
battleship.

The vessel in question, Royal Oak, although of Great War vintage, was
actually a newer ship than Warspite.

She belonged to the second generation of fast, oil-fired capital ships
which had begun with the Queen Elizabeth Class, and her loss, after
being struck by two torpedoes,

with the death of seven hundred and eighty-six men, was a
catastrophe.

Worse even than this, however, the fears which had haunted the Grand
Fleet throughout the opening year of the Great War, and which had led
to Scapa being protected as well as was thought possible or necessary,
were now come to reality.  The Home Fleet hastily abandoned their
cherished home and went to Loch Ewe in West Scotland.

Here War spite joined her sisters, to find morale at rock bottom.

There had been no leave until after Warspite was actually in Loch Ewe,
and even then it was hard to come by, as she, and every other unit of
the Home Fleet, was required to remain on constant stand-by for action
in case of any major move by the Germans: on the west coast of Scotland
they required that much more time to gain the North Sea.  But at last
Jack managed to get ashore and after a good many delays, to call Silver
Streams.

"Jack!"  Marjorie shouted.

"Oh, Jack!  Where are you?"

"On the end of a phone.  I'm sorry, I can't tell you more than that.
Ask Mother; she'll work it out.  Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes.  You wouldn't know there was a war on.  And this place is a
dream.  Oh, Jack, when are we going to have a home like this?"

"I have no idea.  But .. . you mean Aunt Lorraine and Georgie haven't
come home yet?"

"No one knows for sure where they are or what they're doing," Marjorie
said.

"Your uncle is quite distraught.  Jack, you haven't asked after little
Jack."

"I'm sorry.  How is he?"  His brain was racing away; this family had
suffered so heavily in the Great War, and in losing Joanna even before
the start of this one.  To suppose that Georgie and Aunt Lorraine might
also be at the bottom of the sea .. .

"He's fine.  He looks just like you, Jack."

"Poor chap.  Is Mother there?"

"No, I'm sorry, she's out.  Would you like her to call you?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Marjorie, you know she can't do that."

"When are you coming home, Jack?  I so want to see you.

And so does little Jack?"

"I'm afraid I don't know.  You'd better ask Hitler.  I'll call again
whenever I can.

"Bye."

"I love you, Jack," she said just before he hung up.

As usual, talking to Marjorie left him feeling utterly out of sorts, a
mixture of guilt and total frustration.  But Georgie and Aunt Lorraine
.. . Georgie was the only one of his cousins with whom he had ever been
the least bit close.

The gloom which had largely settled over the Navy at their losses,
combined with their inability to come properly to grips with the
Germans, was dispelled in the middle of December by the news from South
America, of the destruction of Graf Spec at the mouth of the River
Plate by three British cruisers.  Warspite was one of the ships put on
stand-by to go out into the Atlantic should the raider evade Commodore
Harwood's squadron and attempt to return to Europe, and while everyone
had to be pleased that the business had been settled so quickly and so
well, it was again frustrating to be deprived of the prospect of active
service as opposed to sitting in port and waiting for some eventuality
which did not seem likely to happen.  But putting to sea was regarded
as too risky for the big ships except in cases of the most dire
emergency; only a few days before the victory of the River Plate
Nelson, the most venerated battleship in the Royal Navy, ran into a
magnetic mine off Loch Ewe, again in supposedly safe waters, and was
damaged, while before the end of the year Barham, a sister ship of
Warspite, was struck by a torpedo.  Again the damage was only slight,
but everyone knew that in either case the ship might easily have been
lost.

To Jack's great relief, however, Aunt Lorraine was home for Christmas,
after a remarkable journey which had taken her from Yokohama to San
Francisco, across the United States she had stopped off for a week to
visit her brother and Aunt Mary and then a hazardous voyage across the
North Atlantic, in convoy from Halifax to Liverpool.

By all accounts she was vowing she would never travel again, but
clearly she had actually thoroughly enjoyed herself; Denise told Jack
on the phone that his aunt looked like dining out all winter on her
tales of Japan, of communal bathing, and above all, of Georgina's
wedding.

But Georgina had remained in Japan, married!  Jack had never supposed
it would actually happen.  Much as he liked Hirada personally, he
shared the common feeling in the fleet that the Japanese as a nation
were bloody aggressors, and the lurking suspicion that the day was not
very far distant when they would have to be taught a lesson.

Where would that leave Georgina?

Relations between the two countries worsened sharply in mid-January,
when a Japanese merchantman, the Asamu Maru, was stopped by HMS
Gloucester, and twenty-one German technicians removed.  Japan protested
vigorously, and Britain agreed to release the men.

"There is a great deal of fuss about it," Tanawa told Georgina.

"But it really is only an incident, as was our bombing of Jack's
gunboat.  These things happen when countries are at war."

"There won't ever be a war with England, will there, Tanawa?"

They strolled in the garden behind the house.  He had just returned
after more than a month with his ship, and had only a few days at
home.

"I sincerely hope there will not be," he said.

"I can see no reason for it.  Or any way either country can afford
it.

We have our hands quite full enough with China, and now England has her
hands entirely full with Germany.  We both need to bury our differences
and look to the future."

"Then why have I just read that Japan is embarking upon a five-year
re-structuring and expansion of her armed forces?"

Georgina asked, gazing at him.

He smiled.

"Frankly, my darling, the last couple of years have raised considerable
doubts about our ability either to wage war or to defend ourselves. The
Army has not defeated China as easily as it thought it would.

Recently, the Chinese have even gained the odd small victory.  And the
Navy, well, every navy in the world is expanding as fast as possible.
We cannot afford to be left behind.  The Imperial Japanese Navy, like
the Royal Navy, is the only guarantee we have against any invasion of
our islands."

"Is it true that we are building the biggest battleships the world has
ever seen?"

He nodded.

"The surest defence is to be the best."

She clung to his arm.

"Oh, Tanawa, I am so afraid, and I don't want to be."

"There is nothing for you, at the least, ever to be afraid of,
Georgie."

"Truly, truly, truly?"

"Absolutely."

"Oh, I hope so.  Tanawa ... I am pregnant."

None of the male members of the family had got home for Christmas, but
Giles was on leave in February.  As a Rear-Admiral, Submarines,
Lorraine knew he could not hope for an active command in this war, but
he had told her that he was responsible for much of the defensive work
off the south coast, and had been putting in very long hours.  He had
even brought down his private secretary, a Lieutenant-Commander Robbie,
and several stuffed briefcases, presumably because he intended to work
over the holidays.  He looked tired and exhausted as he kissed
Elizabeth and Lorraine.

"You need a good lie down," Lorraine said.

"After we've told him, Ma," Elizabeth said.

"Told me what?"  Giles stretched his legs out in front of the fire, and
drank his whisky and soda.

"You're going to be a granddad."

Giles sat up, violently.

"Oh, Lizzie!"  Lorraine complained.

"You are a nuisance.

Now Pa had spilled his drink."

"I'll fetch a cloth."  Elizabeth ran from the room, while Robbie
endeavoured not to look embarrassed.

"Is is true?"  Giles asked.

"When one gets married, all things being equal, children normally
result," Lorraine pointed out.

"It just had not occurred to me ... so soon."

"A Japanese grandson!"

"Or granddaughter," Elizabeth pointed out, returning and mopping her
father's trousers.

"Do you think he'll have slant eyes?"

"Lizzie!"

"It's certainly a possibility," Giles said.

"Is she pleased?"

"She is over the moon."  Lorraine said.

"I gather the whole Hirada clan thinks she's the bees' knees.  Well,
they would, having a half-English baby in the family."

"I thought you had grown to like them," Giles remarked.

"Well, they have tremendous charm, when you're actually with them.
But... I don't know.  The whole thing still seems pretty unnatural to
me."

Giles squeezed her hand.

"He, or she, will still be your first grandchild.  I only wish we could
see him."

"She's not due for another five months.  Maybe the war will be over by
then."

"Chance would be a fine thing," Giles growled.

"I hope you knew we were a madhouse before you accepted Pa's
invitation," Elizabeth confided to Lieutenant Commander Robbie when
they went for a ride the following morning.

"I think the Admiral is about the most fortunate man on earth, in his
family," Robbie remarked.

Elizabeth drew rein to look at him.  He was pleasant looking rather
than handsome, with a freckled face and although short for a man he was
no taller than herself had a lean body which suggested a good deal of
muscular strength.

"You must be a glutton for punishment," Elizabeth remarked, and resumed
riding.

"Am I to understand you don't approve of your sister's marriage?"
Robbie asked, catching her up.

"Do you?"

"I think Tanawa Hirada is a very nice fellow.  As well as being a very
fortunate one."

Elizabeth drew rein again.

"You mean you know him?"

"Oh, yes.  I met him when he was over here in thirty eight

"Oh!  Well, yes, I actually agree with you.  I thought he was very
nice, too.  And I didn't dislike the idea of Georgie marrying him.  But
really, we're in a minority, you know."

"Yes.  Pity, really."

Elizabeth led him towards the copse.  Although it was quite cold, it
was not cold enough for a frost or snow, and it was a bright, sunny
day.

"So when are you going to get married?"  he asked.

Elizabeth drew rein by the stream and slipped from the saddle.  Her
aunt Georgina had committed suicide in this stream, and it was not a
place normally visited by the family nowadays.  But today she felt
strangely drawn to it.

"Not for years and years," she said.

He also dismounted, and let the horses graze while he joined her on the
bank.

"Don't you like men?"

"I'm only fifteen, Alexander."

"Ah!  I should have known that.  You look older."

"Do I?"  She turned, into his arms.

He looked so astonished and embarrassed he clearly hadn't actually
intended it, however much he might have been thinking of it.  But
suddenly she was glad to be there.

He licked his lips.

"I ... ah ... I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't upset me.  You paid me a compliment."

"Well, I meant to, of course.  But, well .. . I'm twenty seven you
know."

"Gosh!"

"Yes, I know.  A little old."  At last he stepped away from her.

"Not too old," she remarked.

He walked back to the horses.

"You won't, ah ... mention this to anyone, Elizabeth?"

She giggled.

"You mean Pa and Ma?  No, I won't on two conditions?"

"Yes?"  he asked cautiously.

"The first is that you call me Lizzie."

"All right.  Lizzie it shall be."

"The second is that you'll come again.  When I'm home from school."

The return of Lorraine of course meant that Denise and Marjorie had to
go home to Bath.  Lorraine invited them to stay for as long as they
wished, but Denise felt it would be too much of an imposition.  Denise
had been friends with Mary since childhood they had been at school
together but she had never felt she knew Lorraine really well, and she
was afraid they would get on each other's nerves were they cooped up
together.

"I think we're going to have to find something to do," she told
Marjorie, when they were settled back in the small town house.

"Do?"  Marjorie asked, bouncing little Jack on her knee;

he was nearly a year old now.

"Well, the Government is calling out for women to take over men's work.
I did in the last war, you know."

"Whatever did you do?"

"I was a bus conductress."

Marjorie gazed at her in amazement; it was difficult to imagine this
small, neat woman roaming a moving bus in uniform.

"I thought I might go back to that," Denise said thoughtfully.

"But what about me?"

"Well, obviously we shall have to see if there isn't some kind of
creche where baby Jack can be left."

"Never," Marjorie declared.

"Farm baby out?  I'd sooner die."

"Well, of course," Denise said.

"If you feel that strongly, no one is going to force you.  You can look
after the house."

"You mean I am going to be left all alone here?"

Denise frowned at her.

"You won't be all alone.  You'll have baby, and I'll be home every
evening.  I'm afraid you will have to do a little housework and some
cooking while I'm out, of course, but .. ."

"I've never done any housework in my life," Marjorie cried.

"And I don't know how to cook."

"Well, then, you'll just have to learn, won't you," Denise said,
somewhat sharply.

Marjorie took Jack upstairs, and remained there.  Next morning Denise
went out to apply for a position.  The moment she was gone, Marjorie
telephoned East Grinstead.

Janet Mowlam listened to her daughter's string of complaints, but her
face tightened when she heard Marjorie's request.

"Come here?  Well, I don't know .. ."

"It isn't money, is it?  I thought Daddy was doing quite well?"

"Well, yes he is.  But .. ."

"And I'd have my share of Jack's salary.  I just can't stay here,
Mumsy.  That woman is driving me mad."

"I was wondering what Jack will say, when he hears you have moved out,
at such a time."

"He can say what he likes," Marjorie declared.

"He hasn't been able to provide a home for me.  My home is where you
are.  He can come to me there, whenever he has leave."

Janet did not resist any more.

February brought its share of excitement and alarms to the fleet at
Loch Ewe.  In the middle of the month there was the rousing report of
Captain Vian's brilliant action in forcing the German supply ship
Altmark to stop, inside Norwegian territorial waters, and releasing
from her several hundred British seamen taken prisoner by the Graf
Spcc.  The fleet had barely finished celebrating that when they were
called to action stations and sent to sea; word had been received by
the Admiralty that the two German battle cruisers Scharnhorst and
Gneisenau, were loose, and intending to attack convoys in the North
Atlantic.

Pending the arrival of Bismarck and Tirpitz, Scharnhorst and Gneisenau
were the pride of the German Navy.  Officially classed as battle
cruisers they yet displaced nearly forty thousand tons, and were very
powerful fighting vessels.  Yet they were only armed with eleven-inch
guns, and no one had any doubt what would happen if they could be
brought to battle by the Home Fleet.

But nothing did happen.  The two German warships, together with their
support, the cruiser Hipper, returned to Wilhelmshaven without having
found anything to attack, and without being sighted by any British
units.  It was a case of frustration all round.

For Jack the abortive sortie was even more frustrating, as he returned
to Loch Ewe to find letters waiting for him from both his mother and
Marjorie.

Denise was aggressive.

"I'm afraid she is simply impossible," she wrote.

"I have taken a job as a bus conductress here in Bath, both for the
money and because I feel we should do our bit.  There was no suggestion
that Marjorie should go out to work herself, only that she should help
around the house.  So she has taken herself off to East Grinstead. With
little Jack!  I think you need to have a good talk with your wife,
Jack, just as soon as possible."

Marjorie was defensive.

"I told you from the beginning that your mother and I just didn't get
on, Jack.  Now I'm afraid there is simply nothing I can do which will
please her.  If only you were here.  But you aren't here, and you're
not going to be here for so long.  Oh, Jack, I am so very miserable."

Jack applied for compassionate leave, and this was granted, but delayed
until after the middle of March because Scapa Flow had now been made
safe for the fleet, or so it was claimed, and the great ships left Loch
Ewe to return to their proper home.  There was naturally a good deal of
apprehension as they steamed through the Western Isles, no one being
certain when there would hear the crump of an exploding mine or
torpedo.  But the transfer was accomplished safely, and Jack set off
for the south, entirely unsure of how to handle the situation.

He went first of all to East Grinstead, having telephoned from Waterloo
to let Marjorie know he was on his way.

Predictably, she was wildly excited, and not in the least concerned
that he might have things on his mind.  And in fact he was aware of a
growing sense of anticipation and exhilaration as the train drew up at
the station: he was about to see his son for the first time.

He asked directions, discovered that the address he had been given was
not very far, and walked it; he had only a half filled kit bag as he
was due back in Scapa in three days.

"Jack!"  Marjorie screamed, running down the path to greet him.

"Oh, Jack!"

He hugged her and kissed her.

"You're looking very well."

"And you're looking tremendous."

"Where's baby?"

"In his cot.  Come along."

Janet and Jennifer were waiting in the doorway, and had to be hugged
and kissed as well.

"It's been so long," Janet said.

"And you're really fully recovered?"

"It was two years ago," he reminded her.

"And then to be sunk all over again," Jennifer said, holding on to his
arm.

"At least it wasn't a warship that time."

"Come and see baby," Marjorie said.

He followed her up the narrow staircase, stood above the cot to look at
his son.

"Isn't he sweet?"  Marjorie said.

"I'm so proud of him, Jack."

"When will he wake up?"

"When he's hungry."  She kissed him on the cheek.

"You can watch me feed him.  And then help me bathe him.  Would you
like that?"

"Ah .. . yes, very much," Jack said uncertainly.

Jack had had nothing to do with babies at any time in his life, being
himself the youngest of the current generation of Dawsons, apart from
Uncle Giles' two girls.  Here he felt himself a total stranger.  He had
actually only known Janet and Jennifer for a few days, and most of that
time had been under utterly traumatic circumstances.

Equally was he a stranger to his son, who gazed at the large man
bending over him with enormous frightened eyes.

Both feeding, bathing, and changing little Jack were messy affairs, and
as Marjorie was clearly concentrating and her mother and sister were
also in constant attendance, he had no chance to discuss the situation
with her.  Nor did the other two show the slightest inclination to
leave them alone.

Instead they all sat down with him in the little sitting room, once
little Jack had been returned to his cot.

"You'll have a gin, Jack?"  Mrs.  Mowlam said.

"That would be very nice, thank you."

"And you must tell us all about the war," Jennifer said, sitting beside
him.

"What war?  Warspite hasn't seen anything remotely resembling an enemy
ship."

"Well, I suppose that's all to the good," Janet said, giving him his
drink and pouring for the girls as well.

"Do you think there is any chance of your getting a shore
appointment?"

"A shore appointment?  I should think there is no chance at all.
Anyway, I wouldn't want one."

"But you're a married man, with a small child, Jack."

"I would say that covers about two-thirds of the crew, Mrs.  Mowlam."

"Oh, I hate this horrid war," Marjorie said, looking ready to burst
into tears.

"I don't think the war is making the slightest difference to how often
I can get home," Jack told her.

"I'm a sailor.  You knew that when we got married."

"Now, Jack," Janet said.

"Don't be hard on Marjorie.

She's so terribly lonely."

"Again, I would say that goes for the wives of two-thirds of the crew,"
Jack said, and decided to take the bull by the horns.

"Now, Mrs.  Mowlam, I wonder if Marjorie and I could have an early
dinner and bed?  She has to get packed, and we have to leave for Bath
first thing tomorrow.  From what I saw on the way down here, train
travel is behind God's back at the moment."

The three women stared at him.

"Get packed?"  Marjorie said.

"Go down to Bath?"  Janet asked.

"Tomorrow?"  Jennifer squealed.

"Yes, tomorrow.  I only have the one more day after that, then I must
return to Scapa Flow."

"I am not going back to Bath," Marjorie declared.

Jack looked at her.

"The fact is, Jack," Janet explained, "that Margie was utterly
miserable there.  You wouldn't want your wife to be miserable, would
you?"

"I have just been informed that my wife is utterly miserable here,"
Jack pointed out, beginning to lose his temper.

"Well .. . here she is at least with family."

"And you don't consider my mother to be family, is that it?"  Jack
continued to look at Marjorie.

"Oh, Jack .. ."  she began to sniffle.

"She doesn't treat me as family.  She treats me as a skivvy."

"Now you know that's not true," Jack snapped.

"She would, if I let her," Marjorie sobbed.

"I'm not going back.  Not, not not!"  Her voice gradually rose into a
shout.

"Not!"  She ran from the room and up the stairs.

"Now you've upset her," Janet complained.

"Upset her!"  Jack got up.

"Now, Jack, be kind to her," Janet admonished.

The door of the spare bedroom was locked.  He knocked.

"Marjorie, open up!"

"I won't!  Not unless you promise not to talk about taking me back to
Bath."

"Marjorie, you are being absurd.  Open this door!"

"You are a brute!  You spend all your time away from me, and when you
do come to see me, you shout at me!"

"Marjorie, open this door or I shall break it down."

"You dare," Janet said from the foot of the stairs.

"I shall send for a policeman."

Jack looked down at her, then at the door again.

"That is my son in there."

"Your son!"  Janet said scornfully.

"The child is a stranger to you.  I'm sure I don't mean to quarrel with
you, Jack, but you must see that the situation is impossible.  You
simply cannot force Marjorie to live with someone with whom she does
not get on, especially when you are not there yourself."

Jack slowly came down the stairs.

"I'm sure if you wrote to your mother and explained the situation, she
would understand," Janet said, using a more placatory tone.

"I mean, she's welcome to come and visit us here.  I know, you could
telephone her."

"My mother happens to be working, helping the war effort," Jack told
her.

"Oh, she must get some time off.  Tomorrow's Saturday.

The weekend."

"Do you really suppose buses stop running on weekends, Mrs.  Mowlam?"

"Well, I'm sure we can arrange something."

Jack picked up his kit bag which remained in the hall where he had left
it when he had first entered the house.

"I am catching the early train to make a connection to Bath tomorrow
morning," he said.

"Marjorie had better be on it."

"But .. . you mean you're not stopping here tonight?"

"That's right."

"Where will you go?"

Jack went to the door.

"I'll find somewhere.  Remember.

I expect Marjorie and little Jack to be on that platform, tomorrow
morning."

"Do you think some whippersnapper of a lieutenant can order my daughter
around?"  Janet demanded.

"I am speaking as a husband, of my wife."

Jack opened the door and stepped outside.  Jennifer followed him.

"Oh, Jack, don't go.  Listen, stay, and we'll sort something out.  I'll
talk to Marge.  Really I will."

"You do that," Jack said.

"You tell her to be on that platform tomorrow morning."  He went down
the path.

"Jack!"  Jennifer called, but he refused to look back.

"Oh, Jack!"  Denise said.  She had just come in and wore her bus
conductress's uniform; it suited her trim figure.

"It's all my fault."

"Now, how on earth do you reckon that?"  Jack asked.

"Marjorie has just been spoiled rotten all of her life, and there's an
end to it."

"But what's going to happen now?"

"I have to think.  The marriage was a disaster even before it happened.
If it wasn't for little Jack I'd just tell her to bugger off.  As it is
.. ."

"You could sue for divorce."

"On what grounds?  That she doesn't get on with her mother-in-law?
Anyway, as the Navy doesn't approve of junior lieutenants getting
married, try to figure out their reaction to one wanting to be
divorced."

She made them a pot of tea.

"She's got your son."

"She would argue that he's her son."

"Jack!  You're not just going to let him go?  Quite apart from
everything else, with Giles and Lorraine only having two daughters,
he's the very last Dawson."

"No, I'm not going to let him go, Ma.  I'll work something out."  He
brooded into his tea.

Denise watched him with anxious eyes.

"Jack!  I have tomorrow off.  Would you like to go down to Silver
Streams?

Did you know that Georgina is going to have a baby?"

"No, I didn't.  Good heavens!  What do the family think?"

"I don't think they're entirely pleased.  But she is married, and from
all accounts is deliriously happy.  Shall we go over?

They'll tell you all about it."

"And we'll have to tell them all about my problems.  I don't think I
want to do that, right this minute, Ma.  Just let's spend a quiet day
together."

"Oh, I'd like that," Denise said.

"You're sure you won't be bored?"

"Absolutely sure," he promised.

Denise carefully stayed off the subject of Marjorie and little Jack,
for which Jack was grateful, but when on Monday morning he boarded the
train to return north he was no nearer having worked out what to do.

He had quickly got over his anger, and been very tempted to telephone
East Grinstead, but hadn't done it: that would have been too abject a
surrender.  Better just to let things be for the time being.  It was
certain to be several months before he again got leave, and in that
time Marjorie might have come to her senses.  He certainly had no idea
how to go about engineering either a reconciliation or a permanent
separation.

He travelled all day, and that night.  It was Tuesday morning before he
reached Scapa, to find the entire base humming with activity and
excitement .. . and the fleet gone.  For a moment his heart missed a
beat, then he realised that Warspite was still there, with her
attendant destroyers.

"We weren't waiting for you," Commander Elliston said when he reported
for duty.

"You're just lucky.  We've had a problem in the engine room, and our
sailing has been delayed."

"But where have they all gone, sir?"

"The Fleet has been ordered into the Norwegian Sea, Dawson.  There is
something big going on in the Baltic."

CHAPTER 9

The Paradise Club The great ships had put to sea on Sunday, 7 April, to
enter into one of the most surprising coincidences of this or any other
war.

The British Government, and more especially the new First Lord of the
Admiralty, Winston Churchill returning to the post he had been forced
to vacate in 1915 due to the failure of the Dardanelles campaign had,
almost since the outbreak of war, been concerned about German
domination of the Baltic and Scandinavia.  Virtually all of Germany's
iron ore came from Sweden, and much of it travelled down the Norwegian
coastal route.  Churchill had long advocated mining these waters to
prevent this traffic, but had met with opposition from his Cabinet
colleagues, who feared that such an act would adversely affect world
neutral opinion, as Great Britain and Norway were not at war.

The First Lord had however persisted in his endeavours, and had been
greatly assisted by the British public outcry over the Altmark affair.
The Norwegian Navy had stopped the Altmark and searched her, or so they
claimed.  But they also claimed they had found no trace of the
three-hundred odd British prisoners of war confined in the hold of a
not very large vessel.

The Norwegians had protested most strongly about Captain Vian's action
in then taking the law into his own hands, within Norway's territorial
waters, but the fact was that the British prisoners had been found and
released when Vian's men from Cossack had boarded Altmark, and it left
the British nation with some doubts as to whether Norway was in fact
neutral, or not entirely pro-German.

This sentiment had reached the cabinet, and Churchill had at last been
given the go ahead to send a flotilla of destroyers to mine The Leads,
as the particular stretch of water was known.  The Home Fleet had been
ordered out to cover the operation.

It all sounded rather like a hit and run raid, as it was extremely
unlikely that the Germans could possibly react quickly enough to bring
on any kind of a fleet action by attacking the destroyers.  So that
although the crews were kept on full alert throughout Sunday night, it
was more in hope than in expectation.

Meanwhile work went on in a desperate hurry on Warspite to ready her
for sea.

Monday dawned misty and cheerless, and Jack could imagine the ships
ploughing through gray seas.  Radio silence was being maintained, the
destroyers being intended to return to a positional rendezvous when
their task was completed.

Warspite's crew were just being piped to lunch when they were utterly
startled by a radio message, sent in clear, from HMS Glowworm, one of
the destroyers.

Jack was on the bridge when the message was delivered to Captain
Paynter, who read it with consternation.

"Gentlemen," he said, "Glowworm reports having sighted four German
destroyers escorted by the heavy cruiser Admiral Hipper, making for
Trondheim."  He looked at his officers.

"She says she is going to engage!"

They all gulped at the thought of Glowworm, which although a new ship
it was only five years since she had been launched displaced less than
two thousand tons and was armed with four four-point-seven-inch guns
and her torpedoed tubes, taking on the eighteen thousand ton Admiral
Hipper, with her eight eight-inch guns, not to mention her escorts .. .
and the new breed of German destroyer was about twice the size of the
average British, and armed with five five-inch guns.

In fact, that was the last ever heard of Glowworm, until after the war
was finished, when it was discovered that she had indeed taken on the
German squadron, and rammed and badly damaged Admiral Hipper before
being sunk herself.

Her captain, Lieutenant-Commander Gerard Roope, was very properly
awarded a posthumous Victoria Cross.

"What does it mean, sir?"  asked Commander Elliston.

"We shall have to wait and find out," Paynter said.

They learned the truth on Tuesday, when Norway reported that it had
been invaded.  The Norwegians, after having long been regarded by the
British as entirely untrustworthy neutrals, now revealed magnificent
fighting qualities, especially in their navy.  Their small coastal
defence battleships Eidsvold and Norge, three and a half thousand tons
each, actually engaged and sank Admiral Hipper's sister ship, Bluecher,
before being sunk themselves.  But this naval setback did not deter the
Germans, as they poured across the Skaggerrack in massive force,
spearheaded by airborne troops.

It now became apparent that Churchill's and Hitler's thoughts had been
moving in the same direction, and where the First Lord had sought to
prevent the Germans from using Norwegian territorial waters, the
Fuehrer had determined to seize the entire country, both to safeguard
his supplies of iron ore, and to protect his Baltic flank and both men
had gone into action at virtually the same moment!

On this same day, 9 April, the Germans also overran Denmark.

Instantly both Britain and France rushed troops to aid the Norwegians;
here was an opportunity actually to engage the Germans on the ground.
While the support of the fleet became ever more important.  But still
Warspite was not ready for sea, and the crew could only listen in
frustration to the news as it came in, of the first Battle of Narvik,
in which a flotilla of British destroyers, commanded by Captain
Warburton-Lee, engaged ten German destroyers in Ofert Fiord.  Each side
lost two ships, and both flotilla commanders were also killed, but the
British managed to sink eight German merchant ships and a munitions
carrier, and so the battle was accounted as at least a strategic
victory.  Warburton-Lee was also awarded a posthumous Victoria Cross.

That afternoon Warspite was at last ready to go, but before she
actually left Scapa she got into the war for the first time as German
bombers raided the base.  It was presumed that this was in retaliation
for a raid, earlier that day, by British Skua dive-bombers on the
German eight thousand ton cruiser Koenigsberg, which sank at Bergen.
This was the first major warship ever to be sunk by bombers, and the
British crews were at once elated and aware of their own dangers.
Action stations sounded, and the enormous anti-aircraft batteries went
into action: eight four-inch, thirty-two one-and-a-half-inch, and
sixteen machine-guns putting up what seemed an impenetreble wall of
fire around and above the ship.

Jack, wearing a steel helmet for the first time in action, and in
command of one of the batteries of four-inch, gazed up at the vapour
trails above his head with a sense of awe.

It did not seem possible for any of the German planes to survive.  In
fact, four of them were brought down, while none of their bombs struck
anything of the least value.  When the attack was called off, the crew
gave three hearty cheers, and everyone felt much more confident as the
battleship was at last able to put to sea and join the fleet.

During this time the mine-laying operation had been covered by the
battle cruiser Renown, which had actually exchanged salvoes with her
German rival Gneisenau.  Neither ship had hit the other, but Renown had
been struck by two aerial bombs, and although the damage had not been
severe, it was recognised that with her much thinner armour protection,
the battle cruiser was far more vulnerable to air attack than a
battleship.  Thus, once Warspite appeared, as re-directed by the
Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Forbes, on Tuesday 12 April, Vice-Admiral
Whitworth, in local command off the Lofoten Islands, transferred his
flag to enable Renown to retire.

Warspite's barge went across the heaving gray waves of the North Sea to
pick up the Admiral and his staff.  Her crew formed a guard of honour
to welcome the great man aboard.  He immediately went up to the bridge
to put Captain Paynter into the picture, while War spite saluted Renown
and the battle cruiser disappeared into the mist.

The crew was not kept long before discovering, to their pleasure, that
their role was to be aggressive.

"Tomorrow," Captain Paynter told them over the tannoy.

"We are going to seize Narvik."

Anticipation ran high, as it was known there were still German warships
in the vicinity, and the thought of being able to engage something like
Gneisenau sent the adrenalin racing through Jack's veins.  He hardly
slept that night, thoughts of his domestic problems were quite banished
by those of what the next day might bring.

The battleship and her attendant destroyers cruised up and down during
the night, expecting attack either by aircraft or submarines, but none
came.  At daybreak the squadron was set in motion towards the shore,
which loomed over the horizon in mid-morning, a coastline like a
mouthful of broken teeth, dominated by snow-capped hills and then
mountains in the rear.

Jack, in command of B Turret, and Lucas, of A, stood together to watch
the approach.

"At least it's steep-to," Lucas remarked.

"They say you can go close enough to touch those slopes with an oar."

"Providing it's a long oar," Jack commented.

The day was now quite bright, and the scene awe-inspiring.

Because of the risk of mines as well as submarines, the nine escorting
destroyers were strung out both ahead and to either side of the
battleship, while aircraft from the twenty-seven thousand ton fleet
carrier Furious buzzed overhead.  Furious was another one of those
would-be battle cruisers which had been hurriedly re-designed after the
Treaty of Washington;

she was well out of sight, but her support was comforting.

And necessary, for although no mines were encountered, there was
suddenly a submarine alarm, and a few minutes later the deadly white
streaks were to be seen.  While the battleship went into a zigzag
routine, the destroyers rushed to and fro, and Warspite's own Swordfish
was launched.

Jack and Lucas watched her circling some distance to their right, and
then dropping her bombs.  Oil mingled with water gushed into the air,
and then the U-boat's hull emerged for a moment, before turning over
and disappearing.

Warspite burst into a storm of cheers, as, waggling her wings, the
triumphant Swordfish flew on, over the islands and then the mouth of
the fiord itself, and almost immediately reported that there was a
destroyer lurking just within the entrance, undoubtedly waiting to
attack the battleship as she entered the narrow waters.  The
information was relayed to the aircraft from Furious, who immediately
went in, and were able shortly to report that the destroyer had been
sunk.

All opposition having apparently been cleared, Warspite slowly rounded
the Lofotens and entered the fiord.  Jack gazed up at the cliffs to
either side, and was irresistibly reminded of C.S. Forester's novel,
Brown on Resolution, set during the First World War, in which a German
cruiser, having taken refuge to effect repairs in the lagoon of a
tropical volcanic island, is held to ransom by a British prisoner, who
escapes with a rifle and ample ammunition, and from an eyrie high on
the cliffs picks off any man who moves on the German decks.  If the
Germans had had the time or the imagination to install a quick-firing
gun up there, he thought, their passage would have been quite
eventful.

As it turned out, the passage was going to be eventful anyway.  As they
rounded the first bend, five German destroyers came rushing at them out
of the interior of the fiord.

"Shoot!"  came the order from the bridge, the moment the guns had been
ranged.  It was the first time Jack had ever fired at an enemy ship,
and he could not help but feel sorry for the German craft, which had
never been designed to face fifteen-inch shells.  The noise was
tremendous, the explosions reverberating from the cliffs to right and
left, and the German destroyers simply disintegrated.

One was sunk outright; two were hastily driven ashore, to explode a few
minutes later as their crews abandoned them, and the remainder fled.
They were followed by the British destroyers, who encountered two more
enemy ships.

These also were sunk or driven ashore to be destroyed by their crews.

In all eight Germans went down, and Narvik had been cleared of enemy
vessels, while by now it was apparent that there were no shore
batteries em placed at all.

"Gentlemen, I congratulate you," Admiral Whitworth said.

"Now, Captain, if you will form a party of seamen and marines, we can
seize the town."

Paynter hesitated.

"Will there be support, sir?"

"Over the next day or two, certainly.  I will arrange it
immediately."

"With respect, sir," Paynter said.

"I suspect that the German army will be here in force within a few
hours;

they will know what has happened here.  Then it will all come down to
the support of Warspite's guns.  But if the Germans were to launch a
heavy air attack on us here in this fiord, where we do not have room to
manoeuvre, the consequences could be serious."

Whitworth stroked his chin, walked on to the bridge wing, and looked at
the town, just visible, and the hills.

"You're right, of course," he agreed.

"But it seems a damned shame to have won so total a victory and be
unable to exploit it.  We must get the expeditionary force here. You'll
prepare to put to sea, Captain, should it become necessary."

It was very necessary, as later that afternoon a dozen German aircraft
appeared.  Immediately the British squadron, having picked up all their
wounded from the destroyers, and regained the survivors of
Warburton-Lee's action of a few days previously, who had been
maintaining themselves on shore, left the fiord for the open sea.  Two
destroyers remained to watch the fiord and report any enemy activity.

No one had any doubt that a great victory had been gained, even if it
was disappointing that no German heavy ship had been involved.  Equally
no one doubted that the expeditionary force, which had now been
hovering at sea for several days, would quickly seize and hold Narvik.
Admiral Whitworth, indeed, radioed Admiral Cork and Orrery, who was on
his way to assume overall command of the invasion, to inform him that
the fiord and the town were his for the taking.

All that was necessary was for Cork to get in touch with the Army
Commander, General Mackesy, as although the Admiral was the senior
officer, it was regarded as politic by the service chiefs in England
that the two men should work in total co-operation.  General Mackesy
was known to be at sea on board the cruiser Southampton, but
unfortunately radio contact could not be established with the cruiser.
Cork was therefore forced to make a decision as to whether to go ahead
on his own, or stick to the pre-arranged plan made when it was not
known whether Narvik and the fiord would be adequately defended by the
Germans and proceed to the rendezvous at the little port of Harstad,
situated on the Lofotens some distance north of Ofert Fiord.  This last
he decided to do.

Cork had been thinking in terms of a coup-de-main, in which the limited
but sufficient number of troops actually available should seize Narvik,
supported by Warspite's guns, and hold the town while more and more
reinforcements were brought in.  The General thought otherwise.  He
preferred not to move until his entire force was assembled.  Cork did
not overrule this decision.

Jack, and the other junior officers on Warspite, were not of course
aware of the inter-service wrangling or of the reasons for the sudden
cessation of action.  They only knew that there were delays in getting
any offensive started on land, and to compound everyone's frustration,
it now began to snow quite heavily.

What was doubly annoying to those engaged in the Narvik operation was
that further to the south, at Andalsnes, British troops were landed
very successfuly in order to carry out an attack on Trondheim.  The
week drifted by, and at last the orders everyone was waiting for
arrived: Warspite was to bombard Narvik, as a softening-up process
before the troops went in.  The battleship lay off the Lofotens and
poured fifteen-inch shells over the hills and into the town.

German planes appeared and attacked, and were driven off.

Submarines were engaged.  It was Wednesday, 24 April, and at last the
war seemed to have started.

But that afternoon HMS Resolution arrived.  She was a battleship of the
Royal Oak Class.  Signals were exchanged, and Admiral Whitworth bade
farewell to the officers and crew of Warspite, his hosts for the past
fortnight.

That done, he was transferred to Resolution, which immediately moved
closer to the islands and opened fire.

Warspite turned away for Scapa.

"What did we do wrong?"  Lucas inquired.

Commander Elliston gave a weary smile.

"Well, we need to replenish our ammo in any event, and then .. . we've
been ordered back to the Med."

Everyone was mystified, and not a little disappointed.  The North Sea
was where all the real action seemed to be, and they were being sent
back to the sunlit skies and warm waters they had left only six months
before.

"We have to accept that the Admiralty may know something we don't,"
Elliston told his juniors.

Their stay in Scapa was only to be for as long as it took to replenish,
but Jack managed to get ashore and telephone;

after some mental debate, he called Denise rather than Marjorie.

"Are you all right?"  Denise asked anxiously.

"We've been reading such terrible reports of the fighting in the North
Sea, ships being sunk ..."

"They were mostly German," Jack reassured her.

"I'm fine.  We haven't had a casualty, so far."

"And now you're back?  Will you be coming down?"

"Ah ... no.  Not for a while."

"Oh."  But Denise had been a Navy wife for too long to ask any awkward
questions.

"I'll try to keep in touch.  Any word from East Grinstead?"

"Not a whisper.  Have you given any thought to what you're going to
do?"

"There really hasn't been too much time for thinking, Ma."

"Of course.  I know.  Good luck, Jack.  I'm thinking of you."

"Snap."

He replaced the phone and returned to the ship, his mood sombre.

By the time Warspite reached Gibraltar, it was clear that the Norwegian
campaign had gone sour.  British and French troops had been evacuated
from Andalsnes and Namsos, and only the small force far in the north
attacking Narvik remained.  That that would also be driven out before
long seemed obvious.

"The whole bloody thing has been a shambles," Lucas declared.

It seemed the House of Commons felt so too, and a fierce debate was
raging.

In Gibraltar they became aware that a lot was happening which could be
of far more importance than Norway.

Rumours abounded that the Papacy had warned Belgium that Germany was
about to attack in the West.

Certainly Warspite was in and out of Gibraltar as rapidly as possible,
and bound for Alexandria.  She had scarcely arrived when Germany
invaded Holland, Belgium and France.  The real war had begun.

And they were still out of it, for Mussolini again announced his
neutrality.

"This of course eases the situation," Captain Paynter told his officers
when he addressed them in the wardroom.

"But no one should make the mistake of assuming that we shall not be
subject to attack down here.  At the very least we can expect to see
U-boats in the Med before very long.  We must remain on alert."

But this was difficult to achieve, as the Mediterranean summer burst
into full splendour.  If the sailors read with consternation of the
repeated German victories throughout May, and with delight that
Chamberlain had resigned and their own Winston had become Prime
Minister, there was absolutely no sign of any enemy activity off
Alexandria.

Ships came and went, glad to be past the Straits of Gibraltar and free
of submarine or air attack, the sun shone twelve hours in every day,
the beaches were crowded, and the officers queued up for weekends in
Cairo and an opportunity to visit Shepheard's Hotel.

It was Friday 24 May before Jack's number came up, and he took the
train down to the Egyptian capital, which he had actually visited
before, on his earliest sea-going tour of duty.  He supposed it was
reassuring to see that the pyramids were still there, but he did not
believe he was particularly going to enjoy himself.  News had just been
received that Resolution, still operating off Narvik, had been heavily
damaged by an aerial bomb.  It could so easily have been Warspite.
Somehow it seemed to be cheating for them to have been removed from the
active theatre at such a time.

The news from France was worse than ever, with the sudden surrender of
Belgium exposing the British Expeditionary Force to what appeared
annihilation.

Additionally, The Mediterranean always made him think of Joanna.  She
should have been down here, painting and screwing, which had seemed to
be the only things she really enjoyed.  Had she been, he knew he would
have continued to see her, whenever he happened to be in Malta and
equally, she would probably have come on to Egypt.  When he thought of
making love to her, he felt utterly miserable.

She had been so magnificent in every way.  He had fallen in love with
her.  So what if they could never legally marry?  His married life had
turned into a disaster anyway.  Right now he needed a Joanna.

And she was a mouldering corpse in the King's Martin cemetery.  That
thought could make him very angry indeed.

He swung into the entrance of Shepheard's, and paused to give way to a
group of young European women who were leaving.  He did not look at
them at all closely; it was just after lunch and they had obviously
eaten and drunk well.

But then one stepped away from her friends, and he did a double-take,
for a moment supposing that he was being faced with the ghost of Joanna
Young, the same tall, strong body, the same yellow hair .. . but not
the same face.  And yet it was very familiar.

The girl smiled at him.

"Hello, Jack.  Don't you remember me?"

It was Emma Perkins.

Georgina read the news from Europe with a sense of utter despair.  It
was a slow process, because she had found it easier to learn to speak
Japanese than to read it.  It was also distasteful work, because the
paper taken by the Hirada household was very anti-British, and could
not help crowing with every German success.

It had been the most dismal winter of Georgina's existence.  She kept
reminding herself that she had known and understood all the risks when
she had embarked on this life.  They had seemed unimportant when
compared with being the wife of Hirada Tanawa.  But Tanawa was never
here.  He was a sailor, and there was a war on, however much the
Sino-Japanese conflict had been overshadowed by events in Europe.  Even
if, for the Japanese, it was not a war which involved any risk to their
fleet, that fleet was still mobilised and on patrol in the China Sea,
week in and week out.

Thus she was left with the family, and their friends.  No group of
people could possibly have been kinder.  But Georgina had been aware,
more and more with every passing day, that she was becoming
increasingly alien.  In the beginning, the Japanese had been interested
in the European war, but remarkably un partisan  Their dislike for the
Western Democracies went back a long time.  Certainly to 1922, when in
their eyes the British and the Americans had ganged up on them, at one
stroke ending their naval ambitions and their hopes of expansion on the
mainland at the expense of China, their long-standing treaty of amity
with Britain, and the right of their surplus population to emigrate to
Hawaii and California as necessary.

But these were political matters.  So had been the Lytton report on the
Japanese invasion of Manchuria, and even the economic sanctions imposed
by the Americans following the Japanese refusal to accept that report,
had only hurt the big industrialists, at least on the surface.  To the
average Japanese housewife, life had gone on much as it had done for
centuries.  She did not even greatly resent the fact that her son might
be conscripted to die in China.  Japanese women were used to
authoritarianism; they lived with it in their own homes.  Governments
were merely extensions of that relationship.  That their Government had
considered it necessary to adhere to the German-Italian Pact of Steel
in order to combat international communism had not concerned them; that
it had been left with egg on its face by the German rapprochement with
Communist Russia had interested them even less.  In the Pacific, German
manoeuvres did not have quite the immediate presence of the British and
the Americans, and if the Russians were an ever-present menace, it
could at least be felt that if they were in a sense allied to Germany,
as Japan was also, that threat must have diminished.

While distrusting, they had respected and even admired the Anglo-Saxon
nations.  America was accepted as being the most powerful nation in the
world, Great Britain rated only just behind.  Hirada Tanawa's decision
to marry a westerner, if not, Georgina felt, universally approved, had
been equally respected: he had obtained the hand of a woman from the
world's premier race.

What was happening in Europe had forced a reassessment of those
valuations.  Before the War had begun, the Western Democracies had
appeared to lack the will to halt the onwards march of Hitlerism.  This
had shocked the Japanese.  The more cautious had still muttered that
while the British and the French, and in the background, the Americans,
might be too slow to draw the sword, there would come a time when they
would cry enough, and the Nazi war machine would crash into the dust.

That time had now come and the democracies were being defeated, while
America had shrunk back from any share in the conflict.  The Japanese,
almost visibly, had begun to think again.  Theirs was a society in
which only material success counted.  There could be no question as to
which was, at the moment, the most materially successful nation in the
world.

No one of course expressed any sentiments like that to Georgina's face.
But the earlier almost absurd respect with which she had been treated
on her arrival in the country had changed into an equally absurd pity
for her, which she could not help but notice.  She belonged to a
colossus, which had been revealed to have feet of clay.

She had welcomed the Japanese convention which dictated that as she
began to show, she should withdraw from society.

Within the family she felt utterly safe.  But now that the Germans were
sweeping across France, even the family seemed to change their
expressions, and their topics of conversation, when she entered a room,
determined, with typical Japanese politeness, to take no risk of
upsetting her by mentioning the war at all.

And she so desperately wished to discuss it with someone.

Tanawa she knew would be able to take a balanced view, explain it to
her, offer a rational judgement.  But Tanawa was never here any more.

That left only Aki, who from having learned English, although she had
never been to England, was the most Anglophile of the rest of the
family.  Thus she looked up with eager anticipation as her
sister-in-law entered the room;

even Aki had so many things to do with her own family that she only
called once a week.

Georgina struggled to her feet, and bowed as best she could.  Aki made
no attempt to stop her; she was the senior of the two, and even when
very pregnant a junior must pay her proper respects.  Aki was very fond
of her new sister, but she was also very determined that Georgina
should fit entirely into the pattern of Japanese life ... for her own
good, if it was to be her life as well.

Now she sat down on the waiting cushion, and gestured Georgina to sit
again also.  Georgina clapped her hands, and the maid hurried in with
refreshment.

"It is good to see you," Georgina said.

"How are you feeling today?"  Aki asked.

Georgina grimaced.

"Heavy."

"It should not be long now," Aki said.

"When will Tanawa be home?"

"I don't know.  Oh, Aki, I wish he were here now."

"He is serving the Emperor," Aki said severely.  Then she smiled.

"I am sure he will wish to see his child.  Have you heard the news from
Europe?"

Georgina sighed.

"What now?"

"It is very bad, for the English," Aki said.

"They have been utterly defeated.  So have the French and Belgians. The
Belgians have surrendered, and the Germans are saying that the entire
British Army is trapped and will have to surrender.

It is very bad.  The war is lost, for England."

"Never!"  Georgina snapped, vehemently.

Aki raised her eyebrows.

"How may a country fight, without an army?"  she asked.

Georgina burst into tears.

"Emma?"  Jack asked in amazement.

"What on earth are you doing in Cairo?"

"You told me I had to get a job," she pointed out.

"But .. . here?"

"Oh, I've had my bottom pinched a few dozen times.  And other things as
well."

His amazement grew; whatever had happened to the weeping misfit of two
years ago?

She observed his bewilderment.

"I have to rush," she said, looking after her friends, who were waiting
for her.

"Give me dinner tonight, and I'll tell you all about it."

"Well .. . where?"

"Oh, here.  It's the only place to eat.  I'll meet you in the lobby at
six-thirty."

Jack went up to his room, had a shower, and lay down to think.  He had
not had any option but to give her dinner .  but what did he have in
mind for after?  Or perhaps more importantly, what did she have in
mind?  He was still ashamed of himself for cheating on Marjorie so soon
after their marriage.  But now his marriage was just about over, and
Emma was a pretty and decidedly voluptuous girl, and he hadn't had a
woman in over a year.  He had an erection just thinking about her,
remembering the number of times he had watched her undress in their
shared room in Singapore .  and thought what an irritating bore it all
was.

On the other hand, Emma Perkins was also Marjorie's best friend.  So he
was probably building castles in the air.

Emma wore an attractive off the shoulder cocktail frock, with a bolero
for sitting at the dinner table.  Her hair was freshly permed, and she
smelt of good perfume, while whenever she leaned forward she promised
all the treasures of the earth.

He bought them drinks in the bar before the meal.

"You'll forgive me for observing that you've changed."

"For the better, I hope," she said.

"Visually, certainly."

"I don't think you like me, Jack.  I've always liked you, a lot."

"Tell me how you got here."

"Well..  ."  she played with her cocktail stick.

"I had to get a job.  But I didn't know anything.  All I had was my
looks, I suppose.  Lots of people think I'm very pretty."

"Lots of people are absolutely right.  So?"

"Well ..."  another twiddle of the stick.

"This man was advertising.  He was setting up a club, in Alexandria,
mainly for the use of British officers.  It's a very expensive place,"
she added.

"Not the Blue Light?"

"Have you been there?  I never saw you."

"No, I have not been there.  I don't have that kind of money.  What
exactly do you do in this club?"

"Well..  . sometimes I help behind the bar.  But most often I'm just
there.  Talking with the customers.  The officers," she reminded him.

"Making them buy drinks?"

"Well .. . that's what they go there for, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

She gazed at him, eyebrows arched.

"You're not going to pretend there isn't any hanky panky, Emma."

"You're not my father, you know," she pointed out.

"Not even my brother.  I don't have a father, any more.  I never had a
brother."  She looked ready to burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, Emma."  He squeezed her hand.

"It's just that it seems a very different lifestyle to Nanking."

"Beggars can't be choosers."

"Let's eat."

She stood up.

"I thought you were going to throw me out."

He grinned.

"Beggars can't be choosers."

They ate in silence for a while.  But he had no doubt she was thinking
ahead.  So was he.  Emma Perkins had become a glorified tart.  But then
maybe she had always been a glorified tart.  Yet asking her to sleep
with him was going to be very awkward; he felt quite nervous.

"Isn't the news terrible?"  she asked.

"What news?"

"From France.  That the BEF is going to have to surrender."

"Yes," he agreed.  But he had no intention of thinking about the War
tonight; it was going so badly that what the hell?  They might all be
dead tomorrow.  His resolve was hardening.

"Do you hear much from Marjorie?"

"We've lost touch.  Well, I stopped writing her.  I mean, I couldn't
tell her about my job, could I?"  She made a moue.

"But I suppose you will."

"Marjorie and I are virtually separated."

Emma's mouth made a huge O. "She went home to mother," Jack
explained.

"Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry."  Then she smiled.  When she smiled, she
looked quite wanton.

"No, I'm not.  I'm glad.

What she did to you was shameless.  And you never loved her, anyway.
Did you?"

"No.  I suppose I didn't.  But she is the mother of my son."

"You have a son?  Oh, Jack, how splendid.  But you mean Marjorie has
custody?"

"It hasn't come down to things like custody yet, Emma.

But she is the boy's mother, and as I am away ninety per cent of the
time .. . it's something we'll have to work out, when the war is
over."

She ate her dessert slowly.

"Well, then .. ."

"Oh, quite.  Do you have a place?"

She finished her meal, wiped her mouth with her napkin, not looking at
him.

"Yes.  But it's in Alexandria.  Me and some of the girls came down here
for a weekend off.  We're living in an hotel.  Four to a room.  And
it's not a very nice hotel.  Where are you staying?"

At last she raised her eyes.

"Right here."

"Then there's no problem."

"You don't think the hotel will object?"

"Not in Cairo.  Not with a war on."

"Do you want coffee?"

"Oh, let's have coffee.  Real Egyptian coffee.  Then we won't ever feel
sleepy."

They had coffee in the lounge.

"Brandy?"  he asked.

"Not for me.  But you go ahead.  If ... if you'd like to."

He considered.  Alcohol, he knew, was supposed to reduce sexual
capability.  But it certainly hadn't hindered him with Joanna.  And he
was growing more and more randy by the moment, as he looked at this
girl, and remembered .. .

there was something about having dinner with a woman, who was not your
wife.  While both of you knew that you were going to sleep together
afterwards, the sexual tension built and built, making him more randy
than ever before in his life.  He wondered if she felt the same.  But
he was also more nervous than ever before in his life.

"I think I will have one," he decided.

The waiter brought the drink.

"I'm not sure how we do this," he said.

"I have a single room.  We can't just go up, hand in hand .. ."

"What's the number?"

"Four seven one."

"Four seven one," she said.

"It's not a problem.  When we're finished here, we'll walk out into the
lobby, and I'll go to the Ladies.  You go on up to your room.  I'll
come up about fifteen minutes later."

Shades of Joanna, he thought.  Save that this wasn't a ship at sea, and
Emma was somehow far more professional about it.

He finished his brandy.

"Shall we go?"

She drank her coffee, a faint flush appearing in her cheeks.

"We haven't mentioned the money."

He gazed at her.

She licked her lips.

"If I spend the night out," she explained.

"The other girls will know what I've been doing.

And they'll expect their cut.  We share everything, you see.

It's the only way."

"How much?"

"Well ... we normally charge ten pounds, for a whole night."

"I haven't got ten pounds, Emma.  Not to spend on sex, anyway.  I'm
sorry."  He stood up.

She stood also.

"Don't you want me?"

"Very much."

"I want you too, Jack.  I always did.  Since Nanking.  Listen, give me
whatever you can, I'll explain it to them.  You're an old friend.
They'll understand."

Never, Jack supposed, had a society fallen apart so quickly, and so
completely, as that of the English in Nanking.  Or perhaps in all
China.  Marjorie had at least managed to get herself married.  He
wondered what Jennifer was doing, actually.

And he was the gainer.  Sex with Emma had been a delight, because while
she had obviously been far more experienced than he, the fact that he
was a survivor of the old days had made her at once nervous and eager
to please.  While the fact that he had actually paid for her alleviated
his conscience.

There was no risk of falling in love with Emma Perkins.

But there was everything to look forward to in her arms.

He thought he might just make an effort to save up enough to justify a
visit to the Blue Light.

Supposing there was ever to be leave again.  By the time he returned to
Warspite on Monday the evacuation from Dunkirk had almost been
completed, and everyone was calling it a miracle that over three
hundred thousand British and French troops had escaped from under the
very noses of the Germans .. . but no one could deny that the Allies
had suffered a staggering defeat in being so unceremoniously thrown off
the continent.

A week later, Mussolini, to the universal execration of the free world,
declared war on Britain and France.

The fleet put to sea immediately, linking up with a French squadron out
of Marseilles to sweep the Eastern Mediterranean looking for Italian
shipping, while cruisers went close inshore off Libya to bombard
Tobruk.  The Italians struck back with their submarines, and the old
five thousand ton cruiser Calypso was sunk off Crete.  The crews of the
big ships were just waiting for the Italian fleet to dare to put to
sea, but before that happened the Allies suffered another shock, and
ceased to be Allies, as the French surrendered.

This really was a staggering blow to the Mediterranean Fleet, because
far from now sharing operations with the sizeable French Navy, the
French had to be considered as potential enemies, should they be taken
over by the Germans.  Interest mainly centred on the very powerful
units, such as the battle cruisers Dunkerque and Strasbourg, which were
known to be in the Algerian port of Mers-el-Kebir.

In Alexandria the sudden change in the situation caused some
embarrassment: actually moored alongside the principal units of the
Mediterranean Fleet were the old pre Great War twenty-one thousand ton
battleship Lorraine and four cruisers.  Their situation was obviously
untenable;

Warspite could have blown Lorraine out of the water with a single
salvo.  There were thus several comings and goings between the French
captain and the Admiral, and when it became clear that Lorraine was not
going to be allowed to leave, her captain accepted honourable
internment for the duration of the war.

In all some fifty-nine major French warships, including two more
battleships and the huge submarine Surcouf, the largest underwater
warship in the world, displacing over four thousand tons and armed, in
addition to her torpedo tubes, with two eight-inch guns, were seized by
the British in various ports.

"What's going to happen to the others, sir?"  Jack asked Commander
Elliston.

"Do we take them on?"

"Right now they're neutrals," Elliston pointed out.

"But I would imagine they'll want to come in on our side."

"Suppose they don't?"  Lucas asked.

"I think that's a bridge we must cross when we come to it," Elliston
decided.

The Churchill Government in England, however, decided to cross the
bridge immediately, and only a week after the French surrender, the
Mediterranean Fleet was ordered to sea.  To the chagrin of the officers
and crew of Warspite, she was not included in Admiral Somerville's
Force H, ordered to Mers-el-Kebir to "request" the French ships there
either to join the British or sail, under escort, to a neutral port in
America and there be disarmed for the duration.

Should the French refuse, they were to be put out of action.

The French refused.  From their point of view, they were in one of
their national harbours, and their government in Vichy had pledged that
the ships would never be used against their former allies.  This was
unacceptable to the British, aware that it would take nothing more than
a snap of Hitler's fingers to complete the occupation of France, and
seize her fleet.  Admiral Somerville, in accordance with his orders,
opened fire.

This was one battle Jack was glad to have missed, on reflection; there
was something incestuous about firing on

Frenchmen, after the close co-operation of the last thirty years.  The
action was not entirely successful.  The old battleship Bretagne, a
sister of Lorraine, was sunk, with a loss of nearly a thousand lives,
and the new thirty-five thousand ton battle cruiser Dunkerque was badly
damaged.

But Dunkerque'?"  sister, Strasbourg, managed to escape to Toulon.
Three days later aircraft from Ark Royal attacked Dunkerque again, and
put her permanently out of action.

At virtually the same time, aircraft from the carrier Hermes attacked
the recently completed forty-seven thousand ton battleship Richelieu in
the harbour at Dakar, West Africa, and disabled her.  As Richelieu's
sister, Jean Bart, lay uncompleted in Casablanca, with the exception of
Strasbourg and some smaller vessels, the French Navy had ceased to
exist.

Warspite was not left merely kicking her heels, however.

Now that Italy was definitely in the war, obviously there was going to
be a considerable clash in North Africa, where Britain's Egypt and
Italy's Libya lay cheek by jowl.  It was therefore very necessary to
reinforce the British forces in Egypt as rapidly as possible.
Warspite's business, along with her sister-ship Barham, under the
personal command of Admiral Cunningham, who had succeeded Pound as
Commander-in-Chief in the Mediterranean, was to see that the precious
convoys got from Gibraltar to Alexandria, replenishing the island
fortress of Malta on the way.

These duties had to be undertaken immediately, and the great ships were
at sea even while Somerville's Force H was bombarding Mers-el-Kebir.

It was the following Tuesday that spotter aircraft informed the Admiral
that a considerable Italian squadron was at sea.

It was known by now that two of the new Italian Littorio class
battleships, Littorio herself and Vittorio Veneto, had been completed,
and there seemed little doubt that these new and very powerful ships
formed the main part of the hostile squadron, supported by several
heavy cruisers, not to mention destroyers and submarines.

Notwithstanding his considerable inferiority in tonnage, Cunningham
immediately steamed to attack, while calling on Force H, now back at
Gibraltar, to come to his support.

Action stations were sounded, and Jack and Lucas stood to their guns.
The British squadron steamed at full speed towards Calabria, intending
if possible to cut the Italians off from their base at Taranto.

Italian aircraft soon appeared, less to attack at this moment than to
observe, and soon the British spotters reported that the Italians had
turned and were making for home as fast as they could.  But by now they
were within range, even if they remained no more than puffs of smoke on
the horizon.

"Shoot," came the order from the bridge, and the fifteen inch guns went
into action.  This is what I have waited nearly ten years to do, Jack
thought: fight a fleet action!

"They're making smoke," came the disparaging voice from the bridge.

Jack looked out of A turret to see the black clouds obscuring the
distant ships.  And now the Italian aircraft came in to attack in an
attempt to hold back the British.

The anti-aircraft batteries chattered, plumes of tracers and smoke
crisscrossed the clear sky, and occasionally a plane would plummet
downwards and strike the hard blue sea with an explosive thump.

"A hit!"  came the word from the bridge.

"A battleship."

Presumably the Italians were firing back, but it was impossible to be
sure; certainly no damage was done to Warspite.  The enemy's principal
desire, however, seemed to be to get away as rapidly as they could, and
their superior speed enabled them to do this.  Eventually Cunningham
called off the chase, and the British ships returned to base.

They had suffered no damage in the battle, while the planes had
reported that at least two of the Italian ships, the old, pre-1914,
twenty-four thousand ton battleship Giulio Cesare and the new thirteen
thousand ton cruiser Bolzano had both taken severe hits. Unfortunately,
after the battle was over, the brand new twelve thousand ton cruiser
Gloucester, engaged in shadowing the enemy ships, was heavily attacked
by aircraft and badly damaged.

Despite this, the British felt it was a bit much to hear Mussolini
announce that his fleet had gained their first naval victory of the
war!

Being under fire left Jack with an enormous sense of elation.  Along
with Lucas and a couple of other officers, the moment he got leave he
went ashore, to the Blue Light Club.

"I want you," he told Emma, as he singled her out and bought her a
drink.

She licked her lips.

"Here?  Or do you have some place we can go?"

"It'll have to be here."

She gazed at him with her huge blue eyes.

"Then I'll have to charge you the full amount, Jack."

He kissed her.

"I have it.  I probably won't eat again for a month, so you'll have to
make it worth my while."

"Oh, I will," she promised.

"When?"

"Now.  Before I have too much to drink."

She looked past him and made some kind of signal to the barman, who
apparently gave her the all clear.

"You must know something I don't," Lucas said, as Emma drew him away
from the group.

"We're old friends," Jack assured him.

"Met in Nanking."

He followed her up the stairs, found himself in a somewhat small but
comfortable room.

"There's been a battle," Emma said, as she stepped out of her shoes.

"Now, how do you know that?"

"Rumour.  Alexandria is always full of gossip."  She released her dress
and let it slide past her hips to the floor.

Jack gulped; she wore nothing underneath, and seemed to be have grown
more voluptuous since their last meeting.

Now she helped him undress as well.

"How long do I have," he asked, burying his face in her breasts.

"Just as long as you like," she promised him.

"You're paying for the night."

"Cigarette?"  she asked, when he lay exhausted beside her.

"I don't.  But you go ahead."

She sat up, struck a match.

"Full of health and vigour," she remarked.

"It's not altogether a bad point of view."  He slid his hands under her
armpits to hold her breasts.

"I should've married you, Emma."

"Just to have a lien on my tits?"

"More than that.  Marjorie has been a disaster.  Well, Marjorie and me.
Sorry, I didn't mean to talk about her again."

She stubbed out her cigarette and turned, lying on his stomach.

"Part of the business of being .. . well, of doing what I do, is
listening to men talk about their problems.  I sometimes think they
prefer that to fucking."

"I'd rather fuck."

"I can feel that."  She kissed him.

"If you knew how I felt in Singapore, living in the same room with you,
watching you, and not being able to have you."  She sighed.

"So I guess I settled for never having anyone, at least of my very own.
What an idiot I've been."

"Absolutely.  But of course you'll have someone, one day."

"Jackie, I'm a whore."

"Whore's get married."

She rolled off him, and out of the bed, threw herself into the one
chair, and lit another cigarette.

"If I'd taken some nice stupid job in England, and you and Marge had
fallen out, and we'd met, you might have married me."  She blew a smoke
ring.

"I'm not sure I'm not going to do that anyway."

"Don't tease, Jackie.  Not on that subject."

He sat up.

"I'm not teasing, Emma."  He got out of bed, parted her legs, and knelt
between them, pressing his chest against the curly vee, kissing her
mouth.  Even the cigarette smoke smelt good.

She hugged his face against her breasts.

"You're just a crazy mixed up kid, Jackie.  You've just fought a
battle, and you've still got adrenalin pumping through your veins."

"Arteries, I should think."

"Whatever.  Do you have any idea how many men I've had?"

"I don't give a damn."

"A hell of a lot of them were your brother officers.  You going to ask
them to form a guard of honour with their swords held over us?"

"Well ..."

"Isn't your uncle an admiral?  Wasn't your grandfather an admiral?"

"And my great-grandfather."

"Well, then .. ."

"I'm not at all sure where it got them.  Dad was always the soul of
honour, naval and personal.  So where did it get him!  Several years in
prison, blown up half a dozen times, and finally a German shell."

"I think you want another fuck," she said.

"And after?"

"I'll be here, next time you have twenty quid to throw away."

CHAPTER 10

Those Who Were Friends "Tanawa!"  Georgina could no longer bend at all,
nor could she hug her husband as she would have liked to.

"Georgie!"  He kissed her.

"I have some presents for you."

She took the box, laid it on the table, and lifted the lid.  Inside
were four packets of sugar and two boxes of matches.

"Tanawa!  Where did you get these?"

A few weeks earlier sugar and matches had been placed under strict
rationing in Japan.

He winked.

"You must not inquire after navy secrets.

Now .. ."  he held her shoulders, stood back to look at her.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes.  But I am so tired of being like this.  Looking like this!"

"You look wonderful to me.  When do you expect to be delivered?"

She shrugged.

"Dr.  Oyama says two weeks."  She peered at him.

"Can you stay for two weeks.  Or ... come back?"

"I don't know."  He sat on the tatami mats; no other member of the
family had accompanied him to his wife's room visits in war time were
too precious.

"I don't think so."

She sat beside him, with some effort, having to drop to her knees first
before slowly lowering herself on to the cushion, only then noticed the
fresh thick stripe on his sleeve.

"Tanawa!"

"It's a matter of seniority."

"Full Commander."  She kissed him.

"Oh, Tanawa, I'm so proud."

"It is a great responsibility," he said seriously.

"And it means I can no longer work with Hamaguchi.  He has been
promoted captain, and is going to greater things."

"You will do as well as him."

"I hope so."  He sighed.

"With everything changing, day by day .. ."

"Tell me what's happening."

"It's in the newspapers, my darling girl."

"That Hitler is about to invade England.  That the war will be over by
Christmas with a German victory.  Please tell me the truth, Tanawa."

"Don't you believe the Germans can win this war?  They can, you know.
They are doing it."

"I do not believe the Germans can invade England.  Not so long as there
is the Royal Navy."

Again he sighed.

"Georgie, defence by ships alone is a thing of the past.  Even the
largest and most heavily armoured warships are vulnerable to air
attack.  This is being proven, everywhere."

"And Germany has the largest air force in the world?"

She looked ready to burst into tears.  He kissed her.

"Perhaps.  But largest is not necessarily the same as best.

To invade Great Britain Hitler needs total air supremacy.

This he is trying to achieve.  At the moment, I believe the truth is
that the R.A.F are giving as good as they are getting.

If they can hold out for another few months, until winter sets in, they
may force the invasion to be put off until next year.

I don't know the situation will be any better next year, mind you.  But
we shall have to wait and see."

"I don't see how this affects Japan, Tanawa.  Affects us."

He was again serious.

"It is an encouragement to our ambitions, Georgie.  The ambitions of
our government.

Think of what the situation means to Asia.  France is a broken country,
discredited as a world power.  She will never rise again.  England may
well go the same way.  In any event, she is totally bankrupt.  Germany
has no interest in the Far East.  That means that in the next few years
there is going to be a power vacuum in East Asia, and as you know,
nature abhors a vacuum."

She gazed at him with wide eyes.

"So you see," he went on, "we are faced with a matter of making
decisions.  If we do nothing, the vacuum will be filled, by either
Russia or the United States.  The States is the more likely.  That
would leave us in an invidious position, if, for example, America were
to set up a protectorate over Indo-China, Malaya and the Dutch East
Indies.  We would be surrounded by hostile powers."

"The Americans aren't interested in empire," Georgina protested.

"Don't you believe it.  They may not like to use the name.

But how do you suppose they got all of their land in America in the
first place?  Only by expanding, and shooting anyone who stood in their
way.  They called it their Manifest Destiny.  Who is to say they will
not decide to discover another manifest destiny in south-east Asia?"

"Oh, God," Georgina said.

"You're talking about the whole world being at war."

"It need not happen," Tanawa said.

"Not if we make our position clear to the whole world.  This is what we
are now doing."

"Now?"  She was aghast.

"I'm afraid so.  We have demanded that the British close the Burma
Road, so that Chiang Kai-shek ceases to get supplies.  The Chinese
situation certainly must be dealt with as rapidly as possible."

"Churchill will never accept direction from another government,"
Georgina declared.

Again he kissed her.

"Your Mr.  Churchill, my darling girl, is a great rhetorician, but when
it comes down to it, facts are more important than words.  The British
have agreed to accede to our 'request', and have closed the Burma
Road."

She stared at him, mouth open in dismay.

"Now we have demanded that the French Vichy Government gives us the
right to build bases in Indo-China.  They have agreed to this.  Well,
they were in no position to refuse.

We are already at work down there.  We have also sent notes to all
heads of governments interested in the Far East, that is, Britain,
Holland, France and the United States, that we will not tolerate any
attempt on any of their parts to alter the status quo here in Asia.  So
you see, we have made our position absolutely clear."

"Oh, God," Georgina said again.

"Is that why we are being rationed?"

"Well, we must prepare for a violent reaction.  I'm afraid there will
be increased rationing, for a while.  But I do not believe there will
be a violent reaction.  I believe that we are seeing a fundamental
shift in world history, away from the Anglo-Saxon nations.  We live in
an age of militarism.

German militarism, Japanese militarism, and, regrettably, Russian
militarism.  The rest may talk, but they will never do, simply because
they are not themselves militaristic."

Was this the sweet, gentle man with whom she had fallen in love?  And
of whom she had seen so little over the past year?  She was not sure
she knew this new man.  Worse, she was not sure she liked him.

And she was eight months pregnant with his child!

He smiled, and kissed her yet again.

"Don't look so scared, darling.  No one is going to trouble us.  With
every day, we grow stronger and our opponents grow weaker.  Do you know
what happened just a fortnight ago?"

"No," she muttered, and braced herself for some fresh disaster.

"Yamato was launched.  It is a deadly secret of course, but you will
not tell anyone."

"YamatoT' "The ultimate battleship," Tanawa said proudly.

"Seventy thousand tons.  Nine eighteen-inch guns.  High teen-inch!  Do
you know what that means in terms of range and hitting power?  She is
nearly twice as big and as powerful as the biggest ship in the Royal
Navy.  She is a third bigger than Bismarck will be, supposing the
Germans ever get Bismarck into commission.  She is bigger by far than
anything the United States have, or are planning.  This time next year
she will be in commission.  And she is only the first of four.

Can you imagine a fleet of four such super-ships, escorted by an even
bigger fleet of carriers?  There is no power in the world could stand
against us."

Georgina felt like kicking him.

"Where have you been the past few weeks?"  Emma asked.

Jack nuzzled her, as he so liked doing.

"At sea.  We've been bombarding Italian installations.  Don't ask me
where."

"I won't.  I'm just glad to have you back, in one piece."

Jack didn't tell her that he might have been gone a lot longer than a
week.  It had been a toss-up between Warspite and Barham as to which
battleship would head the task force being sent down the West African
coast, hopefully to induce the surrender of the French naval base at
Dakar; the choice had fallen on Barham, leaving Warspite as the major
capital ship in the Mediterranean even Force H had been withdrawn from
Gibraltar, partly so that Ark Royal could go to Dakar, and partly so
that the rest of the squadron could go north to help defend Britain
against the invasion which seemed to be coming closer day by day.

"Every day the news seems to get grimmer," Emma remarked.

"Where's it going to end, Jackie?"

"I have no idea."  He personally seemed to be living in a vacuum.  News
from England arrived fitfully, when it came at all.  Denise wrote to
tell him that Bath had been bombed, but not seriously; she and the
house were unaffected.  She couldn't say the same about East Grinstead,
which was more in the area over which the Battle of Britain was being
fought, but she told him she had spoken with Marjorie and both she and
the baby seemed to be all right.

"She was distinctly cold," Denise wrote.

"Have you written her recently?"

Jack had not.  He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he did not
really want to be in touch with her.  But what of his son?  The last of
the Dawsons?  Never had he felt so alone.

And on top of it all, he was beginning genuinely to feel that he could
be happy with Emma!  So what had happened to falling in love?  He had
done so, with his own cousin.  He did not suppose he ever would
again.

The Alexandria squadron was out again at the beginning of November.
Cunningham had decided it was time to carry the war to the enemy in a
big way, and Warspite's business was to escort the brand new
twenty-nine thousand ton fleet carrier Illustrious up to within
striking distance of the Italian coast.

Illustrious had only been completed in May, and her removal to the
Mediterranean had been accomplished in the strictest secrecy; as far as
the Italians knew, the British Mediterranean fleet only disposed of one
carrier, Ark Royal, and she was still on her way back from the
disastrous failure at Dakar, in which both Barham and Resolution had
been severely damaged, while Dakar remained in Vichy hands.

The arrival of a new carrier had been the answer to Cunningham's dream.
Now, on the night of 11 November, Illustrious launched twenty-one of
her thirty-three Swordfish aircraft against the Italian naval base of
Taranto.

The squadron had arrived at its designated position undetected, and
surprise was apparently complete.  Nineteen of the aircraft returned,
and told of a stunning victory, which was soon confirmed.  The
twenty-three thousand ton pre Great War battleship Conte di Cavour had
been sunk, the slightly newer twenty-four thousand tonner Caio Duilio
had been badly damaged, and best of all, several hits had been scored
on Littorio herself, pride of the Italian fleet.  News was later
received that Littorio had also sunk, the first of the new big
battleships to go down in the War.

"I wonder how old Musso is croaking tonight?"  Lucas asked.

Because on this same night, the three nine thousand ton cruisers, Ajax
heroine of the River Plate Orion and Sydney, fell upon an Italian
convoy only a few miles from Taranto in the Strait of Otranto, and sank
four transports.

The fleet returned to Alexandria in the best of spirits.  But for Jack
it was to receive a dismal welcome, in the form of a letter from
Marjorie, seeking a divorce on the grounds of his desertion.

Clearly his tangled domestic affairs could be kept secret no longer.
Jack asked for a private interview with Commander Elliston, who
listened to his story with his usual careful attention.

"It's a rum old world," he commented when Jack was finished.

"Is she right in claiming that you have not written her, or made any
attempt to get in touch with her, for over a year?"

"Well, yes, sir.  I'm afraid I rather felt it was up to her to get in
touch with me."

"Points of view," Elliston commented.

"In the circumstances, her charge of desertion does have a point."

"With respect, sir, two thirds of my pay has continued going to her
throughout."

"Hm.  That's a knotty one, because, you see, even had you formally
separated, it's very likely that the Admiralty would have insisted on
your maintaining her.  What about your son?"

"He's the real problem."

"I can imagine.  Look here, Dawson, is there absolutely no hope of a
reconciliation?  I mean, the casus belli, if you'll pardon the
expression, seems to be very slight.  She and your mother don't get on.
I would estimate that situation obtains in more than half the marriages
in the UK.  So she refused to return to your mother's home when ordered
to do so, by you.  I'm afraid a lot of women would say you had a bloody
cheek to try to order her home in the first place.  Isn't it true to
say that had you a home of your own this problem wouldn't have
arisen?"

"I don't know, sir," Jack said truthfully.  Because the real root cause
of the matter was that neither of them had ever loved each other.

"Well, I think this is something you are just going to have to find
out.  You had better go home."

"Sir?"

"I know it's not possible for you to have any kind of extended leave,
but something will have to be arranged."

"Sir, I don't want extended leave.  My place is here, on Warspite."

"But you're not going to be a lot of use to us if only half your mind
is on your job, Dawson.  As I said, you can't have leave.  But I shall
try to have you're-assigned, to a ship based in home waters, or better
yet, a shore job, until you have managed to sort this out."

"Sir, I don't want a shore job.  I joined the Navy to fight the
enemy."

"I imagine there'll be a few of them left around even after you have
managed to become reconciled with your wife, Dawson.  I shall let you
know what I have been able to arrange.  Until then, I will assume that
you wish this whole matter kept confidential.  Dismissed."

"Sir ..."

"Dismissed, Dawson."

Jack stood up, saluted, and left the cabin.

He had really wound up in the cart.  What was worst, was his not
knowing when he would be sent off.  To a desk job in England!  Mother
would be pleased, of course.  But it might mean the end of his
career.

As if he would have a career anyway, after having married too young and
then divorced.

He longed to be able to get to the Blue Light and lose himself in Emma,
but he was short of funds, and before he could accumulate sufficient
War spite was at sea again.  The Italian fleet had been withdrawn from
Taranto up the west coast to Naples, where it was relatively safe from
British attack, and apart from submarines, the Alexandra squadron had
the freedom of the Mediterranean.  But there was a lot to do, both in
North Africa, where the Eighth Army was launching its first offensive,
and very successfully too, and off the Albanian coast, to disrupt the
Italian offensive against Greece.  The battleships, Warspite having
been reinforced by Valiant while Barham returned as soon as she had
been repaired were required to bombard the shore installations as
heavily as they could.

This was rather dull and uninspiring work, but now a new element
appeared on the scene: German Stuka dive bombers.

Jack had had some experience of these in the Baltic, when Warspite had
come through unscathed.  But this seemed to be an improved breed, and
with definite objectives.  In the New Year they managed to score six
hits on Illustrious as she was shepherding a convoy into Malta, and at
the same time, damage the twelve thousand ton, six-inch cruiser
Southampton so badly that she had to be abandoned.

Illustrious put into Malta for repairs, but was attacked and hit again.
She then hurried down to Alexandria, but it was clear that she was
going to be out of action for a long time, and so she was sent off to
the Norfolk Navy Yard in Virginia for a thorough overhaul, a breach of
the neutrality laws which indicated how close the United States were
coming to join the British side.

For the Navy it had been a hectic Cristmas, but the news was mostly
good, as Wavell's offensive in North Africa went from strength to
strength.  Best of all, from Jack's point of view, he heard nothing
further about his transfer back to England.  Perhaps they had forgotten
all about it.

"Now you must not make a noise and wake baby," Suiko admonished her
brother.

"I intend to wake baby," Tanawa told her.

"I wish him to speak to me."

"Speak to you?  Ha!"

Tanawa was aware of considerable excitement.  His son was four months
old, and he had never seen him.  Equally, after four months, Georgina
would have regained her figure, and hopefully, her normal ebullience.

She waited for him just inside the door.  He took her in his arms, and
kissed her, deep and slow; Suiko remained in the corridor.

"I thought you were never coming," Georgina whispered.

"Sometimes I thought so too."

"Can I ask where you've been?"

"I think so, now that I'm back.  We have been showing the flag in the
Gulf of Tonkin, and then taking part in some exercises.  But now ... I
have a whole fortnight."

"Oh, Tanawa .. ."

"And plans.  But first, the boy."

"Oh, goodness, I'd forgotten you haven't seen him."

She led him across the room and they looked into the cot.

"Aki got it from a bazaar down town," Georgina explained.

"A real English cot.  Would you believe it?"

"I thought you meant the boy.  Baby Akabuchi!  May I lift him?"

"Well ..."  the little boy was fast asleep.

"Of course you may."

Tanawa leaned over the bars and gently scooped the baby from the cot.

"No one would ever believe it," he muttered.

Georgina was inclined to agree with him; baby Akabuchi had fair hair
and blue eyes, and yet his face was unmistakeably Japanese.

"Do you like him?"  she asked anxiously.

"I adore him," Tanawa said, and tickled his son under the chin.
Akabuchi, already half awake, gave a gurgle of pleasure.

pw "Well, I declare," Georgina said.

"He usually screams at the sight of a strange face."

"He knows his father," Tanawa said.

"I am proud of you.

Now, do you have a mursemaid?"

"Well, no," Georgina said.

"I prefer to look after him myself."

"But you are no longer feeding him?"

"I'm sorry.  I did want to, for as long as possible.  But I just wasn't
giving enough milk, so Dr.  Oyama has put him on a bottle."

"Good.  Suiko!"

His sister hurried in.

"I am placing Akabuchi in your care for the next fortnight."

"Fortnight?"  Suiko looked at Georgina.

"Fortnight?"  Georgina echoed.

"What's going to happen?"

"You and I are going to have a second honeymoon."

He took her into the Hakone Mountains, where there was an hotel
nestling in the very shadow of Fujiyama.  It was still winter in
Honshu, and there was snow on the ground, and covering the peaks to
either side.  That meant the hotel was empty, and they could enjoy
almost complete privacy, even in the public rooms, sitting on the
terrace wrapped up in Georgina's new fur coat, or walking beside the
lakes.

"This is heaven," she said.

Europe, even China, seemed very far away.  Anyway, the news from Europe
was suddenly all good.  As Tanawa had said, if the R.A.F could hold off
the Luftwaffe until the weather got too bad for an invasion, all things
were possible and the R.A.F had done that.  The Italians were being
beaten both in Greece and in North Africa.  The Japanese newspapers
were even suggesting, rather lugubriously, that if Churchill had any
sense he would accept one of Hitler's peace offers, and come out of the
war with Britain's position hardly impaired.  Which of course would
mean that Britain would be free once again to concern herself with her
Far East possessions.

All seemed irrelevant as Georgina walked with Tanawa in the cold winter
sunshine, or snuggled up against him in the warmth of their mattress.

"When next you come home, I shall be pregnant again," she warned him.

"I am hoping so," he said seriously.

She returned to Tokyo totally refreshed and reassured, to find Akabuchi
bouncingly fat and happy in the arms of his Aunt Suiko, or his Aunt
Aki, or his grandmother.  The Hirada women adored the little boy as
much as Georgina herself, and all the earlier tensions seemed to have
disappeared.  The only snag was the departure of Tanawa, but she had
known that was inevitable.

"How long?"  she whispered as she kissed him goodbye.

"I have no idea.  Just remember, I'll be back."

With that she had to be content.

She was, totally content.  She still refused to employ a nurse, and
liked to walk Akabuchi herself, pushing his pram along the road outside
the Tanawa mansion to a small park which lay only half a mile away.
Here there were benches, and she could sit and enjoy the sunshine as
winter faded into spring.

With the beginning of April, the news suddenly changed for the worse.
It was no longer a matter of beating the Italians.  Now the Germans
were getting into the act.  In North Africa they had reinforced the
Italians and launched a counter-attack which had sent the British
tumbling back towards Egypt, while they were also taking a hand in the
Balkans, had obliterated Belgrade by air attack, and were now streaming
across Yugoslavia into Greece.  It was intensely disheartening to feel
that British soldiers could beat any troops in the world except the
Germans.  But even that sombre thought couldn't entirely dampen
Georgina's spirits, her sudden feeling of belonging, at last.

Thus she was utterly taken aback, as she sat on her park bench one
morning in mid-April, idly pushing Akabuchi's pram to and fro, to be
addressed, in English!

"Mrs.  Hirada?"  the man asked, speaking very quietly.

Georgina looked up, frowning.  He was unmistakeably Japanese, although
he wore western-style clothes; lots of Japanese did that.  But,
speaking English?

"Yes."

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

"If you wish."

He sat on the bench.

"I once had the great pleasure of meeting your father, Mrs.  Hirada."

Georgina turned her head in surprise.

"It was some years ago," the man said.

"When I was on a business visit to England.  Did you know that your
father is the head of British Naval Intelligence?"

Georgina's mouth opened in surprise.

"That's nonsense.

He's in submarines."

"Not any more.  You should ask him."

"I'm sure you're wrong," Georgina said.  She was beginning to feel she
didn't like this intruder, who had not even introduced himself.

"I said, you should ask him, discreetly," the man suggested.

"Ask him if the letters six-one-three mean anything to him, and observe
his reaction.  But you are not going to see him again for awhile, are
you, Mrs.  Hirada?"

"I have no idea," Georgina snapped, and stood up.

"You'll excuse me."

"I have come from your father, Mrs.  Hirada," the man said.

Georgina sat down again.

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"It was felt that you might not.  I was therefore told to identify
myself."

"Yes," Georgina said.

"What is your name?"

"You may call me Hakimo.  But my name is irrelevant.

Your father asked me to ask you if you remembered your Labrador bitch,
May a."

Georgina frowned.

"Yes."

"Do you remember how she died?"

"She had a sudden, massive heart attack."

"It was not altogether unexpected, though, was it?"

"Well, not really.  She had suffered a bad case of osteomylitis as a
pup, and although the vet had cured her with drugs, it was felt that
her heart might have been strained."

"Quite.  But what did your father do after the dog died?"

"Well, he had a post-mortem performed, just in case she might have
eaten some poison."

"But there was no evidence of poison.  On the other hand, the
veterinary surgeon found the evidence of ..."

he paused, and Georgina found that she was holding her breath.

"Three previous, minor heart attacks," Hakimo went on.

"Of which you and your family were completely unaware.  Am I
correct?"

"You could have learned all of this from anyone."

"Not all of it, Mrs.  Hirada.  Your servants would have known the dog
died of a heart attack, but they were all reasonably new when it
happened; none of them would have known of the osteomylitis.  And how
many people knew of the three minor heart attacks?"

Georgina licked her lips.

"Why should my father send you to me, when all he need do was write?"

"Because this is not a matter he could write about, Mrs.  Hirada.  Do
you know that Japan is about to go to war with Great Britain?"

Georgina gave a little gasp.

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"I would hope you do.  It is absolutely true."

"My husband ..."

"Would hardly have told you this.  Even supposing he knows of it.  But
I can tell you that the decision has already been taken.  When the
moment is right, the Japanese intend to strike at the British and Dutch
in Malaya.  That is why they are building huge bases in French
Indo-China."

"The Americans would not stand for that," Georgina declared, wondering
why she was allowing such a crazy conversation to continue.

"Perhaps.  And perhaps not.  But the Japanese government intends to
attack them at the same time.  It will be a lightning but overwhelming
raid on Pearl Harbour in Hawaii, which will destroy or incapacitate the
entire American Pacific Fleet.  Oh, the Americans will still have their
Atlantic fleet, and they will undoubtedly build new ships, but it will
be too late.  By then, Japan will have conquered all of the British and
Dutch East Indies, and all the islands between the mainland and the
centre of the Pacific, to set up a perimeter the Japanese generals
consider will be impossible for the Americans to pierce."

Georgina swallowed.  He spoke in such matter of fact terms.

"If you know all of this, Mr.  Hakimo, do not the American and British
Governments also know it?"

"Persuading those in authority that a scenario quite so dreadful,
happening at such a moment in the world's history, is actually a
possibility, is a difficult task," Hakimo admitted.

"Yet they at least accept that it is a possibility.  What they need to
know, what I need to know, is when this is going to happen."

"Why are you telling me this?  I am married to a Japanese naval
officer.  How do you know that I will not have you arrested?"

"Because you would be betraying your father.  And your country, Mrs.
Hirada.  And I am telling you this precisely because you are married to
a Japanese naval officer, one who has many friends in high places."

Georgina stared at him, the penny slowly dropping.

"You expect me to ask my husband the date Japan will declare war on
Great Britain and the United States?  Are you mad?"

"I do not think Japan will declare war," Hakimo said.

"She never has before.  What we wish to obtain, what we must obtain, is
the date hostilities will commence."  He gave a half smile.

"And I am not suggesting you ask your husband for the date.  But I am
sure that you could find out, by suitable, discreet inquiries, and by
listening."

Georgina licked her lips.  This can't be happening, she told herself.
This man is asking me to ruin my life.  To risk my life.

Never mind my marriage, or the future of my child.

Could Pa really have sent him?  She refused to believe that.

At the same time, could she really hand him over to the secret police,
the kempei-tei, who from what she had been able to gather from her
sisters-in-law, made the Gestapo seem like a group of Sunday school
teachers?

Anyway, the idea of her being able to obtain information was absurd.

"I would have absolutely no idea how to go about obtaining such
information," she declared.

"Even if I would consider it," she hastily added.

"It is really a very simple task, Mrs.  Hirada," Hakimo explained.

"As I have said, we know that the Japanese intend to launch a sudden
attack upon all British and American forces, naval and military, in the
Pacific.  However, it is the naval forces which really matter.  The
British have none, of any importance.  It is the American Pacific
Fleet, nine battleships and three aircraft-carriers based on Pearl
Harbour, which are the main enemy.  Now, an aerial attack may well
damage or even destroy one or two of these ships.  We have seen what
the British accomplished at Taranto.  But that can only be a
preliminary to a main fleet encounter, when the Imperial Japanese Navy
would hope to inflict a crushing defeat upon the Americans.  Thus the
moment of action will come when the Japanese consider that they have
sufficient superiority in ships and guns to achieve that objective.
That is why they are building big warships as quickly as they can.  But
the Americans are building as well.  So the Japanese cannot afford to
wait too long.  We believe the moment is approaching.  Is it not true
that only six months ago the battleship Yamato was launched?"

Georgina started to nod, absorbed by what he was telling her, then bit
her lip.

Hakimo smiled.

"Exactly.  Tell me, how did you know of this, Mrs.  Hirada.  It is a
great secret."

"I ..."  another fatal hesitation.

"Your husband told you, did he not?  Well, why should he not also tell
you what we wish to know: the date that Yamato, having completed her
building and fitting out, and her trials, will be ready for sea?
Because we believe that is the date Japan will go to war."

"You expect me to ask my husband that?"

"I expect you to discover that, whenever you can.  There is time.  We
know it cannot be sooner than another six months, anyway.  But we must
know."  He leaned across the bench towards her.

"Mrs.  Hirada, you would not only be serving your country, your true
country, but you would be even assisting your husband.  You would be
saving his life.  And the life of your child."

They both glanced at the pram, and the sleeping baby.

"Were Japan to carry out such a perfidious attack," Hakimo said
earnestly, "she would undoubtedly gain a great victory.  And this
victory would inspire her to a career of conquest, here in the Pacific.
But she would not have won the war, and she can never win a war,
against the United States.  You are half American yourself.  You know
of what your people are capable.  Of what they are already capable.

Did you know that for every single machine tool produced here in Japan,
the Americans produce eleven?  And Japan is already living, and
working, under conditions of war, to the very maximum of her capacity.
America is at peace, and making no special effort at all.  When she is
called upon to do so, the results will be terrifying.  So will her
anger, if she is also called upon to replace a fleet, and its crews,
lost to a treacherous attack.  Mrs.  Hirada, if this war is not
prevented, America will wipe Japan off the face of the earth, together
with your husband, and perhaps your son, and possibly even yourself.
Mrs.  Hirada, you have the power to prevent this happening."

"By enabling the United States to strike first?"  Georgina asked,
bitterly.

"By enabling President Roosevelt to tell the Japanese Government that
he knows their plans, the date their plan will be implemented, and by
him at the same time confronting them with such a massive display of
strength they will not dare to attack."

"Will they not then know they have been betrayed?"

"Certainly.  But by whom?  There are nearly a hundred million people in
Japan, and a great many of them are opposed to war with America."

Georgina inhaled, slowly.

"You must give me time to think about what you have said."

He inclined his head.

"You walk in this park every day.

I will seek you out again, in about a week."  He stood up, gave a brief
bow.

"Remember, if you betray me, you betray England, America, and your
family.  Think well, Mrs.  Hirada."

"Ah, Dawson.  Sit down," Commander Elliston invited.

Cautiously Jack lowered himself into the chair in front of the
Commander's desk.

"How are things on the domestic front?"

"As they were, sir."

"You have been in communication with your wife?"

"With her solicitor, sir."

"I see.  Well, I am sure you will be pleased to learn that your request
for a transfer has been approved."

"My request, sir?"

"I put one in for you, Dawson.  I'm afraid the powers that be don't
seem to be taking your dilemma very seriously.  They have agreed to
give you a berth closer to home, but a shore berth is apparently out of
the question."

"Yes, sir," Jack said, oozing relief.

"On the other hand, you are being sent to Prince of Wales."

"Sir?"  Relief was followed by exhilaration.  Prince of Wales was the
second of the King George V Class to be built, and could therefore be
regarded as the newest battleship in the Royal Navy.

"She is still several weeks away from commission," Elliston told him.

"So, while she is stationed at Scapa Flow, and you will be kept hard at
it, as she is not yet part of the Home Fleet you will have some
opportunities for leave, and at least have only to travel the length of
England and Scotland to see your wife and sort out this unhappy
business.  Better yet, it should be possible for her to travel up to
Scotland to be near you."

"Supposing she wishes to do that, sir."

"Well, of course, that is up to you.  I strongly recommend that you do
everything you can to effect a reconciliation, Dawson.  The Royal Navy
frowns on divorces.  Now ..."

he began turning the pages of his diary.

"Today is Tuesday 25 March ... I have arranged your passage on a
returning troopship, leaving next Tuesday, that is, 1 April."  He gave
a quick smile.

"All Fool's Day.  Still, maybe it'll be best for you, eh?"

Now what the devil did he mean by that?  Jack wondered.

But he was more concerned with getting to the Blue Light, even if that
would mean he was broke for the journey home.

Going to the Club was always frustrating, in the first instance.  He
was forced to sit at the bar, consuming very expensive drinks as slowly
as he could, while Emma attended to various other officers.  But once
she had spotted him he could be sure she would keep the main part of
the night free, and at last she managed to join him.

He didn't have to offer her a drink, as this was served without
hesitation by the barman soda water suitably coloured to look like
champagne.

"I didn't expect you tonight," she said.

"I know.  But I couldn't let you know.  Emma ..."

"And I'm committed."

"Eh?"

"He's a half colonel.  If I'd known you were coming ..."

"Shit!"

She sighed.

"Why didn't you let me know?"

"Because I only knew myself this afternoon.  I've been reposted."

"Oh, Lord.  Where?"

"Now, you know I can't tell you that.  But it's to do with bloody
Marjorie, and the divorce."

"Will you be coming back, after?"

"I have no idea.  But it's doubtful."

She sipped her drink.

"I'll miss you."

"And I'll miss you."

They gazed at each other.

"If you're not leaving till Tuesday, couldn't you come back again
before you go?  Just name the day, and I'll keep it clear."

"I'd love to, Emma.  But I can't afford it."

She made a moue.

"Have it on me, Jackie."

"I couldn't accept that."

"Don't be an idiot.  Of course you can accept it.  It'll be my farewell
gift to you."

"Well ..."

"Name it."

"I think I could make it on Saturday."

"Then Saturday it will be.  Now, I really must rush.  My half-colonel
has just come in the door."

"Emma .. he caught her hand as she got up.

"I'm going back to divorce Marjorie.  You know that."

"Can you do that?"

"It's what she wants, too."

"I meant .. . what about the Navy?  Your career?"

"God knows."

She waited.

"What I wanted to ask was, after it happens, if I came back here, or if
I could arrange for you to return to England .. .

do you suppose we could get together?"

"You mean, permanently?"

"Yes."

Her mouth twisted.

"Jack, I'm a whore."

"Do you think that matters to me?"

"And one day you're very likely to be an admiral.  Doesn't that matter
to you?"

"You just reminded me that that is now extremely unlikely."

She saw the uncertainty on his face.

"Look, right now you're all mixed up.  And pretty unhappy.  Wait till
you get your life sorted out, and then we'll talk about it.  If you
still want to.  See you on Saturday night."

He watched her walk into the crowd.

Despite his disappointment, he slept heavily, was awakened by his
orderly for his anchor watch just after dawn, and was still getting
dressed when there was a summons to the quarterdeck.  He was there five
minutes later to be one of the guard of honour greeting Admiral
Cunningham as he came on board.  The Admiral took the salute, then
accompanied Captain Paynter to the bridge; his staff followed, while
his orderlies brought his gear on board.

"What's happening?"  Jack asked Lucas, as they dismissed their men.

"Something's up, that's for sure."

They discovered what was happening the following afternoon, Thursday,
27 March, when they put to sea.  The naval war in the Eastern
Mediterranean was apparently hot ting up, as the campaign in Greece
intensified, and word had been received that the Italian fleet was
planning a sortie against the British convoys running between
Alexandria and Piraeus, the port of Athens.

"Vice-Admiral Pridham-Whipple commands a squadron of cruisers and
destroyers south of Crete to protect the convoys," Captain Paynter said
over the tannoy.

"Our task is to intercept and destroy the Italian fleet.  This is the
engagement we have been waiting for since last June.

Let's make sure of them."

"And we've the strength for it," Lucas commented.  For accompanying
Warspite were Valiant, the repaired Barham, and the brand new fleet
carrier Formidable, a sister of Illustrious, and only completed last
November.  Escorting the big ships were nine destroyers.

The squadron hurtled into the night on a north-westerly course to take
them west of Crete from whence they could make either for the Adriatic
or into the Aegean as became necessary.  A constant watch was kept on
radar.  Jack turned in but hardly slept.  Was this going to be the
first fleet action of the War?  He was only happy that it had happened
before he had returned to England, even if it again left him unable to
make that date with Emma.

He was on the morning watch, and was awakened by his orderly at a
quarter to four, to shave and gulp a cup of coffee before reporting to
the bridge, where he relieved Lucas.  Both Cunningham and Paynter, as
well as Elliston, were already there perhaps they had been there all
night.

"There's cloud," Lucas grunted, as he gave course and speed.

"The nobs aren't happy."

Jack nodded, took his position by the binnacle.  The last time he had
been on watch with an admiral seated only a few feet away from him had
been in the North Sea, and he felt distinctly nervous.  The night was
utterly dark, unusual for the Mediterranean, suggesting that the
cloud-cover was total.

On the other hand, it would be dawn in under two hours.

"Ever been in action, Dawson?"  Captain Paynter asked.

"Of course you have.  You were bombed on the Yangste, weren't you?"

"Yes, sir.  But that wasn't action.  We didn't have time to fire
back."

"You'll have time today," Cunningham growled.

"I didn't know Giles Dawson had a son."

"I'm his nephew, sir."

"Nephew!  Ah!"  The penny dropped, and Cunningham looked at his
watch.

"Five o'clock.  Make to Formidable:

launch reconnaissance flight."

The message was sent, and a few minutes later two aircraft roared along
the carrier's flight deck and disappeared into the darkness.  Soon
afterwards the black began to turn to gray.

Cunningham got up and went out on to the bridge wing, to peer at the
dawn.

"Where are they?"  he muttered.

"Damn clouds."

The minutes ticked by, and it grew steadily lighter.

"Aircraft bearing green four three," said the lookout from above
them.

Binoculars were immediately raised and levelled.

"Our two," Paynter said with some relief.

Formidable called shortly afterwards.

"Enemy squadron sighted thirty-four degrees, thirty-three minutes North
Latitude, twenty-three degrees, fifty-five minutes East Longitude."

Jack was already at the chart table with his parallel rule.

"There, sir."  He made a small pencil x on the stiff paper.

"Sixty miles west by south of Cape Lithinon in Crete."

"And well over a hundred miles from us," Paynter remarked.

"I need the composition," Cunningham said.

"Low cloud prevented accurate observation," Formidable replied.

"Estimated at least four cruisers and accompanying destroyers."

"Hell," Cunningham commented.

"Not much.  PridhamWhipple can deal with them."

Paynter and Elliston waited, as did Jack.

"Maintain course and speed," the Admiral decided.

"There may be bigger stuff in support."

The day was overcast and heavy, but there was little wind, and the
British squadron continued to surge onwards.  Radio contact was made
with the cruiser squadron, giving the position of the enemy force, and
Admiral Pridham-Whipple altered course to intercept.  At eight o'clock,
Jack went off watch and breakfasted in the wardroom.  It looked like
being an utter fiasco, from the point of view of a fleet action.

The morning drifted by, with the British battleships continuing on
their way, waiting for word from the cruisers.  It was just before
eleven that the message came through: Enemy in sight, am engaging.

"Lucky buggers," Lucas commented; like Jack he was off watch although,
with enemy ships in the vicinity, they were both on continuous
standby.

But almost immediately there came the jangle of the alarm bells
summoning them to action stations.  As they hurried to their respective
turrets, they were given the reason over the tannoy.

"Admiral Pridham-Whipple is engaging the battleship Vittorio Veneto and
eight cruisers, accompanied by destroyers," Captain Paynter said.

"He needs our help."

"Vittorio Veneto," Jack breathed.  A sister ship of the unlucky
Littorio, at this moment, with Bismarck not yet commissioned, the
Italian was the most powerful warship in Europe.

He stepped outside the turret to strain his eyes ahead, but there was
nothing to see save the gentle waves.  Beneath him the deck trembled as
Warspite opened up to her maximum speed.  This was supposed to be well
over twenty knots, but Jack knew she would be making a lot less than
that; after her two years in the Med her hull was foul.

"They've found us," Captain Paynter told his men.

"They're running for home."

There was no further comment, but Paynter's voice was heavy with
disappointment; Vittorio Veneto, on what was virtually her first
sortie, would certainly be able to make thirty knots.

Cunningham was not going to let her get away if it was humanly possibly
to catch her, however, and just before twelve the crew of Warspite
cheered as they watched the Swordfish taking off from Formidable's
flight deck and making to the north west.

Now they had to expect a return strike, but there was none, not even
from shore-based aircraft.  At noon Jack was again on watch.  And an
hour later the torpedo bombers were back.  There was no wing-waggling
to indicate euphoria.

"No success," came the signal from Formidable.

"Fuel your aircraft and send them out again," Cunningham commanded.

"She's there.  I want her."

The aircraft took off for the second time at a quarter to three.  And
still the battleship squadron was steaming through an empty sea.
Pridham-Whipple and his cruisers was also in full chase of the Italian
squadron, some fifty miles ahead of them.

Then there was an excited babble of conversation on the air, and Jack
watched the Swordfish returning, one of them doing a complete victory
roll.

"One hit obtained," Formidable told the flagship.

"How severe?"  Cunningham wanted to know.

"Strike was amidships at waterline.  Speed definitely reduced."

"We've got her," Cunningham said.

"Make to Formidable:

congratulations.  Re-fuel and arm your aircraft and launch third
strike."

Jack had handed over the watch at four before the Swordfish again
roared into the sky.  They were back an hour later with claims of
another strike, but because of the low cloud they could not adequately
identify the target.  Nevertheless, the ship had been seen to stop.

"If that is Vittorio Veneto .. ."  Lucas said exultantly.

The fleet pressed on into the lowering evening.  Jack, having completed
the second Dog Watch, was standing down when, just on dusk, at nine
o'clock, a message was received from the cruisers, still chasing after
the Italians, that a large vessel, without lights, had been sighted
dead in the water.

Cunningham immediately commanded the cruisers to stand off and altered
course towards the given position.  The target was soon picked up on
radar, but there was a great deal of clutter around her, moving to and
fro.

All turrets were now fully armed and waiting, but it was necessary
positively to identify the target before opening fire; no one had any
desire to sink one of their own ships.

Thus speed was reduced at they approached, when suddenly several more
echoes came into view, approaching from the north-west.  At the same
time Pridham-Whipple reported that all of his ships had cleared the
vicinity.

"Alter course to starboard.  Guns to broadside."

The great turrets swung to port.

"Range five miles," came the command.

Virtually point-blank, for a fifteen-inch gun.

Jack made the adjustment, saw that all his men had their ear-pieces on,
set his own steel helmet in place.

"Shoot!"

There was an enormous rumble of sound, and the battleship swayed away
from the tremendous explosions.  In front of them the night burst into
flames.

"Shoot!"

Another salvo crashed into the Italians.  Jack stepped outside to stare
into the darkness.  There were at least three burning vessels out
there, although none of them seemed large enough to be a battleship.
And not a solitary shot had been fired in reply.

"Cease fire!"

"We got some of the bastards, anyway," Lucas shouted.

Jack's ears were singing as he gazed at the flames.  But even as he
watched they began to go out, sizzling as the ships went down.

"Destroyers will pick up survivors.  Alter course to port."

The Admiral had realised that he had not yet caught Vittorio Veneto,
and the pursuit continued for another couple of hours.  But at midnight
radio reports indicated that the Italian battleship, even with her
speed reduced, was still able to match the sea worn British ships, and
that she had reached the safety of Italian air cover.  Cunningham
altered course to starboard, and at eight o'clock the next morning
rendezvoused with Pridham-Whipple's cruisers some thirty miles
south-west of Cape Matapan on the Peloponnesian Peninsular, which
eventually gave its name to the skirmish.

It was later learned that the Italian ships which had been so summarily
destroyed by the battleships' guns were the fourteen thousand ton
eight-inch cruisers Zara and Frume, sister ships.  They had been sent
back by the Italian Admiral, la chino to help a third sister, Pola,
which was the vessel left dead by the third air strike from Formidable.
In the confusion of the night encounter, Pola had been overlooked, but
entirely lacking support, she was found this day by the British
destroyers, and sunk with torpedoes, although in her case most of the
crew were picked up.

Disappointing as it was not to have caught Vittorio Veneto, the Battle
of Cape Matapan was nonetheless a shattering example of the firepower
of the Royal Navy.  The squadron returned to port in high spirits.
Unfortunately they did not regain Alexandria until Sunday morning, and
then there could be no leave as there was a great deal of cleaning up
to be done before Jack departed on the Tuesday.

He had to content himself with writing Emma a letter.

CHAPTER 11

Leviathan "There's a letter from Georgie," Lorraine said.  Giles was
home for the weekend.

"There's a pleasant surprise."  He lit his pipe and accepted a whisky
and soda.

"All well?"

"It seems so.  Although ..."

"What?"

"I don't know what.  I mean, the letter is definitely from Georgie, but
... it doesn't altogether sound like her.  It sounds a bit strained,
and there are some rather pointless remarks."

"Show me."

"Well ..."  she sat beside her husband, ran her finger along the
lines.

"All the usual stuff about Baby Akabuchi..  .

my God, that I should have a grandchild called Akabuchi."

"You'll love him when you see him."

"Chance would be a fine thing."

"So where's the passage that bothers you?"

"There are several.  But take this one for instance: "I counted
six-one-three clouds in the sky the other day.  Ask Pa if he has ever
counted six-one-three clouds in one day.  It has to mean something."
Isn't that odd?  I mean, the expression.

Shouldn't she have said, six hundred and thirteen?  Or does she mean
she counted six, then one, then three?  But what a pointless
observation."

Giles slowly put down his glass, and his pipe, and sat up.

"May I see it?"

Lorraine frowned as she handed the letter over; Giles voice had been
unusually soft.  Now he frowned as he studied the letter.

"You will be replying to her?"  he asked.

"Of course.  God knows when it'll get there.  I mean, this took three
months to get here."

"Yes.  Well, I must see if I can think of an answer to her little
riddle."

Three months, Giles thought.  My God!  So much could have happened in
three months.  So much might already have happened in the three months
since Georgina had written that letter.  Yet it was necessary to sit
out the weekend, and pretend to be wildly excited about the news of the
great British victory at Matapan.

Needless to say Denise telephoned, as although the ships taking part in
the battle had not been named, the report had said battleships were
involved and she knew that had to mean Jack.

"Well, as far as I can make out, we sank several Italian ships and did
not suffer a single casualty in return," Giles told her.

"So I really wouldn't worry.  I would say that Jack is feeling most
awfully chuffed."

He was on the early train to town and his office, where he summoned
Commander Parks, who was in charge of the Far East Division.

"How many people know my code number?"

he asked.

"Six, sir."

"Who in Japan?"

Parks, a short, chubby young man, looked puzzled.

"Japan, sir?  Why, no one."

"But we do have people in Japan?"

"Well, of course, sir."

"And is there any specific operation going on there at this moment?"

"Not more than usual, sir.  We keep trying to discover which way they
are going to jump.  Latest information is that they are still pretty
miffed with Adolf over that Russian business.  Russia may not appear
much of a menace to Germany, but it looms very large to Japan, and as
you know, sir, there has been an undeclared war running the length of
the Amur for the past two or three years."

Giles nodded.

"Yes.  But as far as you know, there is no reason for any of our agents
in Japan to enlist additional help for any specific project."

"I have given no such instructions, sir.  Is there something wrong?"

Giles hesitated.  He would have liked to confide in the young man, who
was a very good officer.  But what he had uncovered had such sinister
connotations he didn't dare discuss it with anyone, except the First
Sea Lord or the First Lord.  And he wanted to think about that first.

"No," he said.

"Nothing is wrong."

Then it was necessary to think of a reply to Georgie, bearing in mind
that the letter would certainly be opened by the Japanese censors.  In
the end he settled for, "No, I have never seen six-one-three clouds in
the sky in one day, or perhaps at all.  As for what it might mean, I
would ignore it utterly, if I were you."

He could do no more without risking arousing the curiosity of the
censors, and he knew his daughter to be a most intelligent girl.  He
could only pray he was in time.

"You have something for me?"  Hakimo asked, seating himself on the park
bench.

"How can I have anything for you?"  Georgina asked.

"My husband has not yet returned on leave."

"Time is passing," Hakimo remarked.  He got up and walked away.

It was a crisp April day, bright with the promise of an early summer.
But for Georgina, winter had not yet ended.  She simply did not know
what to do.

She had taken what had seemed the obvious first step, by writing to Pa
to discover if Hakimo was what he seemed.

But she had little hope of receiving an answer before Tanawa came home
again; he generally had leave every third month.

There was where her decision had to lie.

She did not want to play the spy, betray her husband and her adopted
country.  Even if it was about to go to war with her real country?  She
couldn't be sure about that.  As Hakimo had said, there was surely no
hope of Japan defeating the United States, much less the US and Britain
combined.

It would be so simple to tell Tanawa what had happened, and let him
take it from there.  Which would involve handing Hakimo over to the
kempei-tei.  But that might be to betray Pa, and a whole lot of other
agents.

And what of Hakimo's threat, that the US would take such a terrible
revenge that her own life and that of Akabuchi would be endangered? Not
to mention Tanawa and the entire Hirada family, of whom she had grown
so fond.

Thus the truly simple thing would be to do as Hakimo asked, obtain his
information which could only be for the good, if it prevented a war and
warn him not to trouble her again.

But how she wished she could hear from Pa before Tanawa came home
again.

"Jack?"  Denise Dawson stood in the doorway of her house and stared at
the huge figure blocking out the evening.

"Oh, Jack!"  She threw both arms round his neck and was lifted from the
floor and carried into the sitting room.

"The door!"  she gasped.

In April the nights closed in early, and the blackout wardens were very
strict.

He nodded, retrieved his carryall, and closed the door, then hugged her
again, before handing over the bottle of whisky he was carrying as a
gift.

"Oh, Jack," she said.

"It is so good to see you.  But .. .

you're on furlough?"

"Well, of course I am, Ma."

"I mean, all the way from the Med?  Let me fix you a drink."
Reluctantly she released him and went to pour.

He followed to stand beside her.

"I've been reposted, as a matter of fact.  Nearer to home."

"Oh, Jack, how splendid.  Does that mean you'll be able to get home
more often?"  She poured one for herself as well.

"For a while, anyway."

They sat beside each other on the sofa.

"Tell me about the battle."

"Hardly a battle, Ma.  I don't believe they got off a single shot in
reply.  It was two cruisers opposed to three battleships.

It was a massacre."

"Their fault for going to war in the first place," Denise said
vehemently.  But she knew they were only skating around the important
subject.

"Are you going to see Marjorie?"

"I don't know.  I telephoned yesterday, her solicitor, and we're to
have a meeting in London the day after tomorrow.

I don't know if she will be there."

"The day after tomorrow," Denise said slowly.

"I'll be on my way to my new ship."

"Oh."  Forty-eight hours, she thought.

"But ... her solicitor?  I hadn't realised things had reached that
stage."

"She's taken them to that stage, Ma."

"And is it what you want?"

He finished his drink, got up, and poured himself another.

"Yes."

"Oh, Jack!"

"We never loved each other, Ma.  It was one of those things.  A ghastly
mistake."  He turned.

"And you never liked her, either."

"Well, perhaps I didn't.  But what about Baby Jack?"

"We'll have to sort that out.  I assume I'll be given reasonable
access."  He returned to sit beside her, put his arm round her
shoulders.

"That means you, too."

She sighed.

"It all seems so ... well ... at a time like this."

"Maybe it's the best time.  I have a chance to distinguish myself and
let the nobs get over their antipathy towards divorced junior
lieutenants."

He wanted to tell her about Emma, but at this stage dared not.

Next day they went down to Silver Streams.

"Jack!"  screamed Elizabeth, home for the Easter holidays.

"Gosh, you have grown up," he remarked.

Elizabeth was tall and yellow-haired, even if her figure was concealed
beneath rather shapeless slacks and a loose blouse.

"Girls do, you know," she reminded him.

"Jack!"  Lorraine boomed.

"Come and sit down and have a drink and tell us all about it."

"All about what, Aunt Lorraine?"

"All about everything."

He told them about the battle, and about life in Alexandria
generally.

"Did you see anything of the Wylie-Smith girl?"  Lorraine asked.

"The .. oh, you mean the girl Mark was keen on.  No, I'm afraid I
didn't.  I'm not quite in her class, I suppose.  How is Mark, by the
way?"

"I think he's well.  He's still with Hood, up at Scapa."

"Oh, then I should be seeing something of him," Jack said without
thinking.

"You're going to Scapa?  To HoodT Elizabeth cried.

"Now, Lizzie," Denise protested.

"You know Jack can't tell you that."

Jack grinned.

"I'll pretend you didn't ask.  It was my fault."

It was great fun being with Elizabeth again after so long.

If Georgina, as the elder, had always been his special pal, he truly
liked both of the girls, and it was easy to see that Elizabeth was
going to be every bit as good-looking as her sister, if not more so.

"So what are your plans?"  he asked, as after lunch they walked on the
downs behind the house while their respective mothers rested.

"Can one have plans, nowadays?"  she asked.

"You have," he remarked.

"Or you wouldn't be Lizzie Dawson."

She gave a little giggle.

"Well ... I must finish school.

Ma is very insistent about that."

"And that is .. .?"

"This summer.  And then, if Hitler doesn't invade us this year either,
I'm going to work on a farm for a while.  Or get married, or
something."

She spoke very casually, but she wouldn't look at him.

He stopped walking.

"Lizzie!"

Her cheeks were pink.

"Georgie got married when she was seventeen."

"True.  And do you have a Japanese naval officer tucked away
somewhere?"

"Don't be daft.  But .. . well .. . promise not to say a word to a
soul?"

"Cross my heart."

"I've had a proposal."  She gazed at him, her mouth forming a huge O.
"You're the first person I've told.  I haven't even told Georgie,
because I didn't dare put it in a letter, in case someone else read
it."

"Does that mean you've said yes?"

"I've said maybe.  Which is the next best thing."

Jack gathered that she had been bursting to tell someone.

"Am I allowed to ask his name?"

"Don't forget your promise."

"I won't."

"Maybe you know him."  She drew a long breath.

"Alex Robbie."

"Robbie?  Robbie .. . not your dad's private secretary?"

"He is at the moment, yes.  That's how we met.  And that's why it has
to be a deadly secret.  But Alex is hoping for a sea appointment some
time soon."  She frowned at Jack's expression.

"Don't you like him?"

"I don't know him all that well.  He's a bit senior to me.

And one hell of a lot senior to you, Liz."

"Age is relative," Elizabeth said haughtily.

"He loves me."

"But you don't want Uncle Giles to know."

"Well .. . he'd raise the same objection you did."

"Must be twelve years."

"Yes," she said defiantly.

"Twelve years."

"He has a reputation as a bit of a loner," Jack ventured.

"I think that's to do with his job.  As Pa's secretary.  He doesn't
behave like a loner with me.  He loves me."

"And you love him?"

"Yes.  Yes, I love him."

Jack held out his arms.

"Then come here and let me give you a hug, and very best
congratulations.  I'll come to your wedding.  If I can."

It was amazing how relaxed Jack felt after a visit to Silver Streams,
even if he could tell that Lorraine, and even Lizzie, were concerned
about Georgina.  But apparently their concern was simply that she was
on the far side of the world, and married to a potential enemy: she
seemed to be perfectly fit and well, as was her baby.

A Japanese baby, in the Dawson family!

But Lizzie was going to do the right thing, and marry a British naval
officer.  Even if he was old enough to be ... well, an uncle or
something.  But Lizzie was one of those girls who would always be able
to take care of herself.  He wasn't sure he could say the same thing
about Georgie.

But he was feeling surprisingly cheerful when he went up to town on
Monday morning.  No one else was.  The news out of North Africa was
catastrophic.  A single German panzer division, commanded by an unknown
general named Rommel, had completely restored Italian morale, and was
flooding across Libya, capturing British generals, and even besieging
Tobruk.  Some of the newspapers were talking about the British having
to evacuate Egypt altogether if the Germans couldn't be checked.  Now
that would be a disaster, he thought.  Where would the fleet go?  As
Malta was already overexposed, and would become more so should North
Africa fall, it would have to be Gib.  Which, despite the Navy's
triumph at Matapan, would turn the Mediterranean into that Italian lake
Mussolini had always dreamed of.

How he would crow.  Somehow that was the worst prospect of all.

But, as the Germans were also overrunning Yugoslavia and seemed about
to descend upon the British forces in Greece and the British presence
there, as the troops had been withdrawn from North Africa, was
contributing in no small way to the British disasters in the desert it
seemed a very possible scenario.

What would happen to Emma?  But presumably she would have to come
home.

He had docked at Plymouth, where he had been distressed by the bomb
damage, and there had even been some damage in Bath, although no one
could remotely suppose that Bath was a military target.  But London was
shocking.  Whole streets seemed to have disappeared into rubble, great
craters had appeared in the very centre of the metropolis, and he was
almost surprised to find that landmarks like Nelson's Column in
Trafalgar Square were still standing.

He reported to the Admiralty, and was given a travel voucher for Scapa,
leaving that night.

"Enjoy your afternoon on the town, Lieutenant," said the Duty
Commander.

The man clearly had no idea why Jack had been transferred back to
Britain.  After a largely undigested lunch, he went along to the
solicitor's address, opened the door to the outer office, and found
himself gazing at Marjorie.

She stood up as he entered.  She had Baby Jack in her arms, was quietly
dressed, and looked as pretty as he had ever remembered her.

"Jack," she said.

"Oh, Jack.  Haven't you a kiss for baby?"

She held Little Jack out, and he had to take him.  The clerks beamed,
and no doubt on cue, the inner door opened and Mr.  Richards the
solicitor came through.

"Well," he said.

"There's a pretty sight.  Home the sailor from the sea, eh?"

"Briefly," Jack said, and handed the baby back to his mother.

"You'd better come in," Richards said, and held the door for them.

"You're looking well," Marjorie murmured.

"Thank you.  So are you."

"I was so afraid you'd be wounded, or something, in the battle."

"We suffered no casualties at all."

She sat down with Baby Jack on her knees, while Richards sat behind his
desk.

"Well," he said.

"Now, what's all this talk about a divorce?"

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Didn't you file for one?"

"Yes, I did.  Your wife was becoming desperate at your desertion."

"Mr.  Richards, I have been at sea on my ship."

"Oh, quite.  But really, Lieutenant, never a letter, a telephone
call?"

"We happen to be fighting a war," Jack reminded him.

"But very well, I concede that I have deserted her.  What happens
now?"

"Come, come, Mr.  Dawson, surely you do not wish to carry this
situation to extremes.  Think what it would do to your career?"

"I thought it was my wife who wished to carry this situation to
extremes."

"I just want you back, Jack," Marjorie said.

"I want my son to have a father."

Jack opened his mouth to correct her.  Little Jack was their son.  But
he decided against it.

"But say the word, or rather, act the word, Mr.  Dawson," Richards
said.

"Go home with your wife tonight and, ah, co-habit, and the case falls
to the ground."  He smiled.

"I

shall be left with egg all over my face."

And a sizeable increase in your bank balance, no doubt, Jack thought.
Paid for by me.

"I'm sorry, Mr.  Richards," he said.

"I cannot do that."

"There's another woman!"  Marjorie accused.

Jack looked at her directly for the first time.  If only you knew, he
thought.

"Yes, there is," he agreed.

"She's a ship, and I am under orders to join her this evening."

"Oh, dear," Richards said.

"That is a pity.  But I tell you what I'll do.  I will leave you and
Mrs.  Dawson in my office, alone, for half an hour.  So that you can
talk things over.

That will do just as well."

Before Jack could protest, the lawyer was on his feet and removing
Little Jack from Marjorie's arms.

"One of my girls can look after the baby," he announced.

The door closed behind him.

"What are we supposed to do, screw on the desk?"

Jack asked.

"Oh, Jack, don't be unpleasant," Marjorie said.

"Can't we, well .. . get back together.  I'd be prepared ..."  she
hesitated.

"To do what?"

"Well, to let bygones be bygones."

"You mean you'd return to Bath?"

"And live with your mother?  I didn't say that.  I don't see how you
can force me to live with your mother.  That's unfair."

"And I don't see how you can expect me to regard your mother's house as
my home when I'm on leave.  She really doesn't like me."

"I'm sure I could get a place of our own.  Even if it's tiny.

It'd be just you and me, and baby."

Jack didn't know what to say.  He didn't love her.  He never had and he
did not suppose he ever would.  Or could.  Yet she was his wife and the
mother of his child.

He got up, walked about the room, looked out of the window.

"Suppose I told you that you were right, and I have found another
woman."

"You're a married man!"  she snapped.

"You'd be committing adultery."

"Then I have, committed adultery."

She glared at him.

"And now you think you can divorce me and marry this .. . this tart."

If you only knew, Jack thought again.

"It might be the best thing to do," he said.

"Then perhaps you could find a new husband."

"Well, I'm damned if I will," she declared.

"If you will what?"

"Free you.  You're my husband, and you're going to remain my husband.
Do you hear that?  Forever!"

She was shouting now, and the noise could be heard in the outer office.
There was an anxious knock, and then Richards looked in.

"All settled?"  he asked, optimistically.

"I am not giving him a divorce, under any circumstances," Marjorie
announced.

Richards looked puzzled, and then at Jack.

"I'm afraid I don't understand.  You mean you are reconciled?"

"I wouldn't say that," Jack muttered.

"He wants to marry some fancy woman," Marjorie said, her voice now
quivering as she considered tears.

"Well, I won't let him.  He's my husband.  I don't have to let him, do
I, Mr.  Richards?"

Richards sat behind his desk, lit a cigarette without asking her
permission.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I am completely fogged.  I thought you wanted a divorce, Mrs.
Dawson?"

"Oh, you know that was only a ploy to get Jack to see me," Marjorie
said angrily.

"And I thought you didn't want a divorce, Lieutenant?"

"I came prepared to accept one.  But my wife has changed her mind."

"I'm afraid I don't understand this at all," Richards said.

Jack stood up; he only wanted to escape.

"I'm sure Mrs.  Dawson will be able to explain it to you, Mr.
Richards.

Right now I have a lot to do."  He closed the door behind him, gazed at
the secretary who was bouncing Little Jack on her knee, bent over her
to give the baby a kiss.

"Take care, son," he said.

"God knows when I shall see you again."

What had he achieved, he wondered, as he sat in his train compartment,
racing north through the night?  Absolutely bloody nothing.  But then,
neither had Marjorie.  If he hadn't been so fed up with the entire
situation, it would have been amusing.

Scapa Flow was, as always, windswept, and in mid-April, distinctly
bleak, shrouded in a succession of mists sweeping out of the North Sea,
through which the huge gray ships loomed in a most sinister fashion.
But Jack's welcome on board Prince of Wales was warming, while the ship
herself was everything he had dreamed of.

The new ship was altogether bigger than Warspite.  She was
approximately a hundred feet longer, at seven hundred and forty-five
feet overall, although she was no broader in the beam, and remarkably,
even deep-loaded she drew only six inches more water.  But she
displaced forty-two thousand tons as against Warspite's thirty-five.

She was also much faster.  Powered by four-shaft Parsons geared
turbines, and with eight Admiralty three-drum boilers, which delivered
one hundred and ten thousand shaft horsepower, she was able to cruise
at twenty-eight knots.

She also had a greater range, for her tanks held over four thousand
tons of oil, as against Warspite's three thousand four hundred.

She was no less different in her armament, which reflected the latest
British thinking of the day.  Instead of the eight fifteen-inch guns,
arranged in four turrets, of Warspite, Prince of Wales had ten
fourteen-inch, arranged in two turrets of four and one of two.  This,
combined with the modern turret and breech design for increased speed
of loading and efficiency in delivery, gave her considerably more punch
for a slightly smaller shell.

Finally, there was hardly less a difference in crew.

Warspite had been manned by just under twelve hundred men; Prince of
Wales carried just over fourteen hundred.

She had actually been completed as a fighting vessel a fortnight before
Jack arrived, but there were still various technicians on board
completing small last minute adjustments to such things as the
electrical system.

"So you've caught us just in time, before we leave for our shakedown
cruise at the end of next month," said Commander Roberts, welcoming his
newest lieutenant.

"Now come and meet Captain Leach."

As usual, with his record for not having had quite the same career as
your ordinary officer, Jack had been uncertain of the welcome he would
receive, but Leach gave him a comforting handshake.

"Glad to have you aboard, Dawson.

How was the Med?"

"Hot, sir."

"And Matapan?"

"Rather a turkey shoot, sir."

"At least you had something to shoot at," Leach commented.

"There's not too much of that up here.  Gneisenau and Scharnhorst seem
able to sneak out of Brest and back again without us knowing anything
about it until it's too late.  Still, we must hope for better things
when Bismarck is in commission.  Good luck."

"Thank you, sir."

Jack found himself in the starboard watch, and in command of B Turret.
He had never before had four huge guns under his control, and gazed at
the machinery, the most up-to-date in the world, with some awe.

But he was the one regarded with awe in the wardroom.

Prince of Wales' junior officers were mostly an inexperienced lot. Here
was a man who had been blown up and torpedoed, had taken part, if
briefly, in the Norwegian campaign, and had been at Matapan, which
remained the premier fleet action of the war, so far.  His fellow
lieutenants had a lot of questions to ask, and he was happy to answer
them.

There were several battleships in Scapa, amongst them King George V,
Prince of Wales' slightly older sister, which flew the flag of the
Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Tovey, and of course Hood, still the grand
old lady of the Royal Navy, the most beautiful warship ever built.  She
flew the flag of Vice-Admiral Lancelot Holland.

As soon as he could, Jack paid a call on Mark.

"Good lord!"  his cousin commented.

"Where did you spring from?"

"The Med."

"Lucky beggar, staying there so long.  I say, I've heard something
about your, ah, domestic problems.  Not so good, eh?"

"Not so good," Jack agreed.

"How are your people?"

Mark shrugged.

"Growing old.  They felt the loss of Joanna more than they'd let on."

"I'm sure.  Give them my regards next time you write."

"Will do.  I hear Georgina is a mother."

Jack nodded.

"I gather from Ma that hasn't gone down too well at Silver Streams,."

"Should never have been allowed," Mark grumbled.

"Well, take care, old man."

They really did not have much to say to each other.  Jack couldn't help
but wonder what their relationship might be were Mark ever to learn of
his affair with Joanna?

Meanwhile there was nothing to do but wait for something to happen in
the North Sea, while a great deal was happening elsewhere, all of it
bad.  Jack had barely joined Prince of Wales when Yugoslavia
surrendered, followed within a week by the Greek army.  The British
forces in Greece had to be evacuated, and this was now undertaken by
the Navy, to the accompaniment of relentless air attack by German and
Italian planes, and heavy losses.

Jack knew that Warspite and the entire British Mediterranean Fleet
would be stretched to the limit, and felt a sense of anger that
entirely owing to Marjorie's machinations he should have been whisked
away from what had suddenly become the most important naval theatre of
the war.

On the domestic front he had received no more communications from
either Marjorie or her solicitor.  He wrote to Denise to bring her up
to date with what had happened in London, omitting any reference to any
other woman, but merely saying that the whole thing had been a ploy on
Marjorie's part to engineer a meeting, which was entirely the truth.

More disturbing was the resumption by the Germans of very heavy raids
on various British cities, although Bath was not apparently hit and
East Grinstead could hardly be considered a city.

He also wrote to Emma, telling her exactly what had happened.

"I don't know how it will all turn out," he said.

"But my feelings for you are intensifying all the time."

He had no idea if she would reply, or even if she would ever receive
it; if the news from the Med continued to be bad the British might have
had to evacuate Alexandria before the letter got there.

"Sit down, Giles," invited Sir Dudley Pound.

"Rum do, this Hess thing, eh?"

"I've only seen the briefest report," Giles said.  His job was
gathering information outside of England, not inside the country.

"So have I," Pound said.

"But still, that the Deputy Fuehrer of the Reich should fly, alone and
unheralded, from Germany to Scotland, well, it's like something out of
a Boy's Own Paper story."

"I gather he's being dismissed as a madman by Berlin."

"Yes.  And he very probably is, mad.  They all are.  Now, what's on
your mind."

Giles drew a long breath.

"I'm very much afraid that we have a serious problem, Dudley."

"In intelligance?"

Giles nodded.

"Specifically, there is someone in possession of my code number who
shouldn't be."

Pound frowned.

"Explain?"

Giles did so.

Pound's frown deepened.

"Your own daughter?"

"She certainly didn't know the number when she left here for Japan.
From the way she phrased her letter I am absolutely sure she has been
approached by someone, looking for either blackmail or information, who
gave her the number and told her it was mine.  And she, very sensibly,
and as discreetly as she could, has asked me if that is true.

I have replied, again as discreetly as I could, that it is not true.
However, that doesn't alter the fact that someone in Japan possesses
the number."

Pound filled his pipe, and Giles did the same.

"Obviously the first thing that must be done is to change your
number,

and see that the new number is circulated to all those authorised to
possess it, and that all instructions issued under the old number are
cancelled."

"I have already done that.  But I don't know how much damage has
already been done."

"Well, no doubt we'll find out in due course.  The second thing that
must be done is discover where the leak originated."  He gazed at the
Rear-Admiral.

"Yes," Giles said unhappily.

"I run a hand-picked team."

"Nevertheless, it has to be one of them."

"Yes," Giles said, more unhappily yet.

"Who knows of the leak."

"No one, save you and I. At the moment."

"And the traitor, of course.  And whoever he has passed the information
on to, and that does not necessarily mean only Japan.  You'll have to
be very discreet.  But we have to have this man, Giles."

"Yes," Giles said.

"Lastly, there is the matter of your daughter."

"I know."

"When was her letter to you dated?"

"Three months ago."

"Good God!  You replied immediately?"

Giles nodded.

"But we are still talking of a possible six months during which she's
sitting on a bomb."

Giles nodded again.

"Well, let's be positive, Giles.  We have to assume that she is too
sensible to do anything without your confirmation, and you have not
confirmed.  The only problem is if this Tokyo agent presses too hard.
She gave no indication in her letter as to what he wanted?"

"No.  Not even if he wanted anything.  But the mere fact that he
revealed my number ..."

"Oh, quite.  He's after something.  The question is, what?

And for whom he is working.  The field is very wide.  The Yanks,
obviously.  The Russians.  Even presumably the Germans.  They'd all
like to know just what is going on inside those little yellow minds.  I
mean, no one can have any doubt that the Japanese are expanding their
armed forces just as rapidly as they can.  With what in mind?  They
claim it is merely to finish off the war with China.  But if that were
so, why are they building these huge battleships?  Why have they got
another clutch of aircraft-carriers on the stocks?  None of those are
going to be any use several hundred miles up the Yangste-Kiang, which
is where Chiang Kai-shek has gone to ground.  So it's possible that
this agent pressing your daughter may actually be looking for
information which would be of value to us.  I mean, she is married to a
naval officer, correct?"

"Correct," Giles said.

"But Hirada is a pretty junior naval officer."

"Therefore it must be something specific, which the agent feels she may
be able to procure.  Hm."  Pound knocked out his pipe and began to
refill it.

"It is the very idea of Georgina being involved in something like this
that is keeping me awake," Giles said.

"Oh, quite.  Absolutely.  It's damnable.  We must hope she refuses to
become involved."

"Because there is another possibility," Giles said.

Pound raised his eyebrows.

"Georgina is, as you say, married to a Japanese naval officer.  He
seems a very decent fellow, and comes from a very good and wealthy
family.  But the fact is that she is an alien in a country which is
diametrically opposed to everything we stand for, and with whom we may
well have to go to war some time in the not too distant future.  It is
not beyond the bounds of possibility that there are those in Japan who
are aware that Georgina's father is a British admiral, and may wonder
if she is not some kind of plant."

Pound tried several matches before getting his pipe alight.

"You mean the Japanese secret service may be laying some kind of a trap
for her?"

"I am thinking of the kempei-tei, yes."

"They have a pretty nasty reputation, haven't they?"

"Yes," Giles said grimly.

"Hm.  I think, Giles, that you should try to think up some reason for
getting your daughter out of there.  Talk it over with your wife.  The
best plan would be if Lorraine were to be taken very seriously ill. The
Japanese could hardly refuse Georgina permission to return home if her
mother was thought to be dying."  He glanced up.

"You don't like that idea?"

"I think it's a splendid idea, Dudley.  I'm just wondering if Georgie
would go for it.  She'd have to realise that if she came home she might
never get back to Japan again."

"Well, that's what we want, isn't it?  No one could object to her
bringing her child with her, especially as you've never seen the boy,
have you?"

"No," Giles said.

"We haven't.  But she does seem very much in love with her husband."

"It's up to you to get her back, if you want to save her skin," Pound
said.

"And it's also up to you to find that traitor."  He looked up with a
frown as there was a knock on the door.

"I do not wish to be interrupted, Peters," he said.

"Sir ..."  the Commander was red in the face, and almost shaking.

"We've just had a report from our people in Norway: a very large
warship, accompanied by one considerably smaller, has been sighted off
the Norwegian coast, making north by west.  They think the large ship
must be Bismarck, sir."

Pound was on his feet, going to the huge chart of the North Atlantic
which hung on the wall.

"What do you reckon, Giles?  Coming out, or making for one of the
northern ports?"

"Could be either."  Giles also got up, his personal problems forgotten
in this sudden very real crisis.

"But we can't chance it."

"The smaller vessel.  Can't be Scharnhorst or Gneisenau;

they're in Brest.  What do you reckon?  Scheert"

"Unlikely.  And Hipper is also in Brest.  My bet would be Prinz
Eugen."

"Good?"

"Very.  Nineteen thousand tons, eight eight-inch.  She makes our
biggest cruisers look like destroyers."

"Right.  If they're coming out .. .?"

"Well, obviously it'll have to be either the Denmark Strait, or the
passage between Iceland and the Orkneys.  They'll both have to be
covered."

Pound nodded.

"Peters, get me Admiral Tovey."

The Admiral was on the phone a few minutes later, and Pound outlined
the situation.

"Both passages will have to be covered.  What have you got up there?"
He listened.

"Wake-Walker commands in the Denmark Strait with Norfolk and Suffolk."
He looked at Giles, who shook his head.  The two were somewhat old
eight-inch cruisers of around fourteen thousand tons each; they'd have
problems coping with Prinz Eugen on her own.

Pound was listening again.

"Yes," he said.

"Yes, that ought to do the trick."  He looked up.

"Tovey has three capital ships available.  He suggests that he takes
King George V and Repulse to a position off the Faroes ..."

Giles nodded approvingly.  Repulse was a thirty-eight thousand ton
battle cruiser armed with eight fifteen-inch guns; she was inferior
only to Hood in the battle cruiser class.

"While Holland takes Hood to cover the Denmark Strait," Pound
continued.

"Hood alone?"  Giles queried.

"She's the best we have."

"We need two capital ships to be sure of Bismarck, Dudley.  Is there
nothing else available?  ""Nothing that can get up there in time.
Damn!"

"What about Prince of Wales, sir?"  asked Commander Peters.

"She's not in commission yet."

"She's in commission, sir.  There are just some last minute adjustments
being made.  I'm sure she can go to sea."

Pound glanced at Giles, then spoke into the phone.

"What is the situation regarding Prince of Wales!  Not ready?  What do
you mean?  Well, they'll have to go with her.  They must sail
immediately.  Bismarck must be brought to battle, as soon as possible,
Tovey, or we won't have a convoy left in the Atlantic."

He replaced the phone.

"Seems that there are still technicians on board Prince of Wales
finishing her off.  Well ..."

he gave a grim smile.

"They'll have something to tell their grandchildren.  God, I wish I was
there."

"So do I," Giles said.

Pound raised his eyebrows.

"In a submarine?"

"Anywhere.  I have two nephews, Dudley.  One is on Hood and the other
is on Prince of Wales."

"Son of a gun," Pound commented.

"It's a bloody small world."

I I

Alarm bells jangled the length of Prince of Wales, and every head
turned towards the tannoy loudspeakers.

"This is the Captain speaking," Leach said.

"As of this moment all shore leave is cancelled.  This ship will
prepare for sea."

"Bloody hell," commented Mr.  Evans, one of the electrical contractors
who was working inside B-turret.

"What's he mean by that, Lieutenant."

"What he says, I imagine.  Something big must be up."

Jack went outside, to join Johnnie Fowler, in command of A-turret.

"I reckon it's a massive air raid," Fowler suggested, looking up at the
sky.

"Then why put to sea?  We're better protected here," Jack argued.

"And there wouldn't be sufficient time to scatter, anyway."

"Let's get with it, lads," said Commander Roberts, joining them.

"The Captain wants to be out of here at dusk."

Jack looked across the harbour, watched smoke beginning to issue from
Hood's funnel, and then from King George V;

the entire squadron was putting to sea.

"Do we know what's up, sir?"

"All in good time, Dawson."

"Begging your pardon, sir."  Evans had also come out of the turret,
followed by half-a-dozen of his workforce.

"Are you saying this ship is putting to sea?"

"That is correct, Mr.  Evans."

"Then I'd better round up my people and their gear, so's we can get
ashore."

"I'm sorry, Mr.  Evans, but no one is going ashore."

Evans goggled at him.

"But you said this ship is putting to sea, Commander."

"Yes."

"You mean you're taking us to sea with you?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr.  Evans.  We shouldn't be gone long.  Not more than
a week at the outside."

"A week?"  Evans shouted.

"That's kidnapping, that is."

"Just like the old press gangs," said one of the men behind him.

"That's illegal."

"It is regrettable, but required by the exigencies of the situation,"
Roberts told them.

"Your families will be informed.  In due course."  He gave them an
encouraging smile.

"Think of the story you'll have to tell your grandchildren.  You'll
excuse me, gentlemen."

"Supposing you have any grandchildren," Johnnie Fowler remarked with a
grin.

"Because I think we're off to fight somebody."

The great ships cleared Scapa Flow just before midnight, Thursday, 22
May 1941, and steered north.

Once they were well out to sea, Captain Leach addressed the crew over
the tannoy.

"I wish to inform you," he said, "that the Home Fleet is on its way to
intercept, engage, and destroy the German battleship Bismarck."

He paused to allow this to sink in, and smiled at the sudden outbreak
of cheering the length of the ship.

"Thank you," he said.

"We know she is coming out.

The only question is, which passage will she choose?  It is our
business to cover both of the possibilities.  Admiral Tovey, with King
George V and Repulse, is going to take up station just west of the
Faroes; Vice-Admiral Holland, with Hood and Prince of Wales, is going
to cover Rear-Admiral Wake-Walker in the Denmark Strait.

We must just hope that the Germans decide to use the Strait."  Another
pause, another cheer.

"Now make no mistake," Leach continued.

"Bismarck is the largest operational warship afloat today.  She
displaces fifty thousand tons, has a crew of more than two thousand,
and is principally armed with eight fifteen-inch guns.  It is estimated
that she can steam at twenty-nine knots.  She is accompanied by a heavy
cruiser, at present unidentified but presumed to be Prinz Eugen.  I
wish no one to be under any misapprehension that this is going to be a
piece of cake.  However, I should also like to remind you that Hood is
faster than any German capital ship, and that her eight fifteen-inch
and our ten fourteen-inch will deliver a considerably heavier blow than
Bismarck's eight fifteen-inch and Prinz Eugen's eight eight-inch. Added
to which will be our superior seamanship and the certainty that we are
fighting for the right.  There is therefore no reason to doubt our
success in the coming engagement.  Good luck to you all."

Jack, off watch, lay back in his bunk, and was interrupted a moment
later by the arrival of Johnnie Fowler.

"Some show!"

"Should be," Jack agreed.

"This time they'll be firing back.

Not like at Matapan," he explained.

Johnnie sat on the edge of his bunk.

"Scared?"

"Not yet."

"Crikey!  To sink Bismarckr "Not a chance," Jack told him.

"Eh?"

"You heard the Captain.  Bismarck is the Vice-Admiral's pigeon.  Our
business is Prinz Eugen."

"If you're right," Johnnie said gleefully.

"It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel!"

An hour later the two halves of the squadron parted company.  King
George V and Repulse continued to the north, escorted by four cruisers
and seven destroyers.  Hood and Prince of Wales turned to the
north-west, accompanied by their six destroyers.  Dawn revealed the two
huge ships smashing their way through choppy seas and visibility which
came and went as a wave of mists swept out of the Arctic Ocean.

"What time will we be at the bottom of the Strait, sir?"

asked Petty Officer Limey, Jack's aide in B-turret.

"Dawn tomorrow."

"Think we'll be in time, sir?"

"We have to be in time," Jack told him.

"And then there'll be a battle, mate."  Limey told Mr.  Evans, who had
been ordered to continue working as long as possible.

"You ever been in a battle at sea?"

"What do you take me for, a chump?"  Evans asked.

"And I don't want to be in one now, either."

"Have you ever been in a battle at sea, Mr.  Limey?"  asked one of
Evans' asssistants.

"Ah ... no, I haven't," Limey confessed.

"But the boss has.  Lieutenant Dawson was at Matapan."

But this time, Jack thought again, the enemy are going to be shooting
back.

It was necessary to relax as much as possible, and to maintain the
normal routine of the ship at sea, for the rest of the day, while
knowing that every man's stomach was tying itself into knots at the
thought of what the morrow could bring.  But as Leach had said, they
possessed an overwhelming superiority in fire-power.  There could
surely be only one result.

Looking across the intervening water at Hood, so graceful as she tossed
the waves aside in flying spray, Jack wondered how Mark was feeling.

Darkness came early, brought on by driving rain mixed with snow.
Visibility was down to the length of the ship, but the radar whirred
unceasingly.  Jack was on watch when the vital signal was received in
code from the Admiralty: Norfolk had sighted two ships approaching the
Denmark Strait from the North, keeping to the edge of the pack ice.

Norfolk's signal would of course have been monitored by the Germans;
but they would already have known the exit from the Strait was guarded
by two cruisers.  It was the Admiralty's plan that they should not know
the cruisers were about to be supported by two capital ships.  Thus no
reply was made from either Hood or Prince of Wales.  They knew what
they had to do.  It was just a matter of getting there.

Jack turned in at midnight, but hardly slept.  The motion of the ship
was extreme as she jarred her way into the head seas, but in any event
he expected to be called at any moment.  As it happened he wasn't, but
he was up and dressed at five.

Fowler was breakfasting in the wardroom, having just come off watch.

"They're calling up everything we have," he said.

"King George V and Repulse are chasing behind us just as fast as they
can, and Force H is on its way from Gib."

Force H consisted of the battle cruiser Renown, a sister to Repulse,
Ark Royal, and the twelve thousand ton, twelve six-inch cruiser
Sheffield. Sheffield would be a little out of her class in the coming
encounter, but hopefully she would not be needed.

Jack gulped his breakfast, and just in time; he had not finished his
coffee when the alarm bells jangled, and he ran to his turret.

Mr.  Evans was on deck, wrapped up in his overcoat and wearing his flat
cap, peering into the gloom.  It was all but daylight, but visibility
remained very poor.

"You reckon they're there, Mr.  Dawson?"  he asked.

"I reckon," Jack said, and pulled on his earflaps.

"You'd better go below, Mr.  Evans."

"Hell, no," Evans said.

"You fellows keep telling me I've never seen a battle at sea, and now
you're trying to stop me seeing it."  But he retreated to a bulkhead
door.

"Load!"  came the command from the bridge, and the huge fourteen-inch
shells, each far too large and too heavy to be manhandled, came up the
lift from the magazine and were fed into the breeches.

"Norfolk and Suffolk are in sight, and there is smoke to the north,"
Commander Roberts told them over the tannoy.

The gun crew slapped their hands together and looked at each other,
then their officers.  Limey grinned at them.

"Patience, lads.  Patience."

"Enemy in sight," Roberts said.

"Range thirty-four thousand yards," said the Gunnery Officer.

"Too far," Limey muttered.

But the distance between the two squadrons was closing at some fifty
knots.  Only a few minutes passed and then Prince of Wales altered
course, presumably following Hood's lead.

A moment later there came a rumble of distant sound, rising over the
roar of the engines beneath their feet and the whine of the wind above
their heads.

"Hood has opened fire," Commander Roberts told his men.

Jack looked at his watch: the time was eight minutes to six.

Then there were more distant rumbles; Bismarck was replying.  Jack and
Limey looked at each other.  They had not yet received any orders to
shoot.  Presumably Prince of Wales, which was not as fast as Hood, was
not yet in range, while of course at these distances the cruisers were
completely out of it.

There was a sort of gulp over the tannoy.

"Hood's been hit.  Looks like a four-inch battery.  There's a fire.
Spreading oh, my God!"

Across the morning there came a huge crash, as of the biggest
thunderbolt in history.  Jack stepped out of his turret, gazed in
horror at the pall of smoke which lay above Hood's last position.  But
the battle cruiser the pride of the Royal Navy, had disappeared.

CHAPTER 12

Where East Meets West "Hood's gone!"

The news spread the length of Prince of Wales in a gigantic,
unbelievable whisper.

"Hood's gone!"

Jack felt stunned.  Yet somehow he was not surprised.  Like every other
naval officer he had studied the reports of the Battle of Jutland, when
three of the British battle cruisers had blown up.  Those had been
design faults, weaknesses in armour which had allowed explosive shells
to penetrate, and in lay-out which had allowed the resulting flames to
reach a magazine.

Those faults had been corrected in Hood, it had been claimed.  But now
... no one could ever know for certain what had happened, but the
pattern was exactly as those of Invincible, Indefagitable and Queen
Mary in 1916.  Now surely the lesson would be learned, that no battle
cruiser not even one as large and as powerful as Hood, could possibly
be set to fight a battleship.

There had been a Dawson on board Queen Mary when she had gone up on the
afternoon of 31 May 1916.  His father!

Now there had been a Dawson on board Hood when she had gone down six
o'clock on the morning of 24 May 1940 no matter that his name had
actually been Young.  Father had survived.  Had Mark?

These thoughts flashed through his mind, and then disappeared again as
the order came, "Shoot!"  The initial horror, on both sides, at what
had happened to Hood was now past, and there was still a battle to be
fought.

The battleship was being thrown to left and right as she altered course
to avoid the wreckage of Hood, and attempted to close the enemy.  The
thunder of the guns was continuous,

and Jack adjusted his ranges to the constant stream of corrections from
above.  The ship trembled from the force of the recoils, and the noise
was deafening.  Yet above it all Commander Roberts came through to tell
them, "We've scored a hit.  She's on fire.  She .. ."

There was a huge roar of sound, and Prince of Wales seemed to sag in
the water.  Jack's heart gave a tremendous bound, right into his
throat.  He didn't need to look outside to know that the ship had been
hit, and heavily.  In any event he didn't have the time, as the next
order came through from gunnery control.

"Range sixteen thousand yards, green oh five oh.  Shoot!"

The turret exploded, and Jack waited for the next correction, while his
men looked at each other, wondering just what was happening outside, or
if they were actually sinking.

Then there was another massive shake.

"Range .. . Jesus Christ!"

Jack could resist the temptation no longer, pulled open the steel door
and looked aft, and up, and gulped in horror.

Prince of Wales had clearly been hit several times, and one of the
shells had struck the bridge, which was now just a mass of twisted
metal.  While A-turret, immediately above him and in front of the
bridge, had also been hit and virtually demolished, its fourteen-inch
barrels pointing crazily at the sky.

For the moment the battleship was inadvertently taking evasive action,
as out of control, she veered away to port.

Jack cast a hasty glance towards the enemy, saw the huge ship, just
visible on the edge of the mist.  She was at the moment smothered in
smoke, but whether that was a fire or coming from her own guns he had
no idea; he rather thought the latter, because a moment later there was
a gigantic whoosh!  and plumes of water rose only a few hundred yards
astern of the stricken battleship.

Then he was back inside the turret adjusting his range to the order
from the gunnery control, where, whatever the comment of the gun layer
when the bridge went up, they still seemed to be unharmed and
working.

"What's happening, sir?"  Limey bawled.

"Trouble," Jack told him, and wondered if Johnnie Fowler had survived
the hit on A-turret.  But a few minutes later Prince of Wales tunned
again, and the command came to cease firing.  The noise died away, and
the men stared at each other in consternation.  Jack stepped outside.
The sun was invisible, but from the way the wind had dropped he knew
that the ship had turned away from the north and was heading
south-east, black smoke belching from her funnels to lay a screen
behind which they could hide.

They had been well and truly beaten.

The men were dejected, but Admiral Wake-Walker on board Norfolk had
made the only possible decision.  And to their great relief, Captain
Leach had survived the disaster to the bridge, although Commander
Roberts had been killed, as had Fowler.  Having got his ship under
control, the Captain came forward to speak to the men, a wierd sight
with his cap missing and his uniform torn and bloodstained.

"We hit her," he told the gun crew.

"I don't know how badly, but she is damaged.  And there is a lot of
help coming."

"Any survivors from Hood, sir?"  Jack asked.

"It doesn't look too hopeful," Leach said.

In fact, there were three survivors from Hood, although Mark Young was
not amongst them.  Jack could only imagine what would be the feelings
of Aunt Mary, both her children at the bottom of the sea.  As was their
father.

And the battle was not yet over for Prince of Wales, badly damaged as
she was.  Bismarck and Prinz Eugen still had to be kept under
surveillance until the other British ships out hunting for them could
come into action.  Prince of Wales had actually done better than her
crew could possibly have hoped, for one of their shells had penetrated
Bismarck's reserve oil tanks, and the leviathan had lost a great deal
of its fuel.  In all the circumstances, and with the enormous triumph
of Hood under his belt, Admiral Lutjens would have been wisest to have
turned about for the safety of the Baltic and repairs.  But with Prince
of Wales apparently in full flight and Norfolk and Suffolk also
retreating, and unaware of the huge net being closed around him, he
apparently decided that he could still carry out his original orders
and make Brest, there to link up with Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and
Hipper, and thus give Germany a really formidable Atlantic squadron and
perhaps pick up one or two convoys on the way.

Thus he headed south, uncaring that he was being shadowed by Norfolk
and Suffolk on radar.  Throughout the day the chase continued, the
British ships gradually coming closer.  But by that evening it seemed
apparent that Bismarck was more seriously damaged than had been
supposed; at dusk Prim Eugen was detached and sent with all speed to
the safety of Brest.  The British were unaware of the manouevre, and in
any event, they were concentrating on Bismarck.  The carrier Victorious
was now close enough to launch an air strike, and the Swordfish went in
at ten that evening, and scored a hit.

Even now the huge ship, if slowed, was far from crippled.

Prince of Wales and Norfolk finally had to turn back to Iceland for
fuel, but they were no longer needed.  As Bismarck staggered towards
Brest she was again hit by aircraft, which damaged her steering gear,
and finally, on the morning of Tuesday 27 May, she was brought to
battle by the battleships King George V and Rodney and reduced to a
wreck.  The cruiser Dorsetshire finished her off with torpedoes, and
she went down with the loss of more than two thousand lives.

Hood was avenged, but it would be a long time before the Royal Navy got
over her loss.

"Letters," Suiko said.

"Oh!"  Georgina stopped feeding Akabuchi and hurried to the front of
the house.

"Any from England?"

"Ah .. ."  Suiko riffled through the envelopes.

"I'm sorry, Gina."

She could not properly pronounce Georgina because of the R. Georgina's
shoulders slumped, but of course it was ridiculous to expect an answer
back from Pa so soon.

"But there is one for you, from Tanawa," Suiko said.

Georgina snatched the envelope, tore it open.

"He's coming home," she said.

"He's coming home."

Tanawa arrived a week later.

"What do you think of the news from England?"  he asked.

"I think it's terrific."

"It must have been some show," Tanawa said, somewhat wistfully.  He
could not help but wonder if he would ever experience a real battle at
sea.

"Do you think any of your cousins would have been there?"

"I know Jack was in the Mediterranean," she said.

"But Mark used to be with Hood ..."

"Oh," Tanawa said.

"I am terribly sorry."

"Thank you.  I've written to find out what happened, but I don't know
when I'll hear back."

"What do you think of it?"  she asked later, when he had played with
Akabuchi, spent some time with his mother and father, and they were
able to be alone.

"I think that the Royal Navy have again proved themselves to be a
formidable fighting force.  But it grieves me to think of a ship like
Bismarck having so short a life.  Please don't think there is anything
anti-British in my attitude.  I just think she was a marvelous ship,
now just a heap of rusting metal at the bottom of the Atlantic
Ocean."

"I know.  I'm sure the Royal Navy feels the same."  She was having
trouble with her breathing because if she was going to find out what
Hakimo wanted surely she would never have an opportunity as good as
this.  But was she going to do it?

On the other hand, obtaining the information did not mean she had to
use it.

"The biggest warship in the world, they say she was.  I wonder which is
the biggest warship in the world now."

Tanawa smiled.

"Why, Yamato of course.  She was always going to be, from the moment
she was laid down."

Georgina laughed; what an actress she was becoming.

"But she's not ready yet.  I meant, which is the biggest warship in
commission.  Do you think that other German ship, Tirpitz, is in
commission yet?"

He nodded.

"She was commissioned a couple of months ago.  It is difficult to
understand why the Germans did not send out both of their battleships
together.  Now that would have been a fight.  I'm not sure it would
have been one the Royal Navy could have won."

"But the Germans still have the biggest warship in the world," Georgina
persisted.

"Temporarily."

"Until when?"

He glanced at her.

"Why are you so interested, my darling?"

"I'm afraid I just hate the Germans.  You can't blame me for that,
Tanawa.  I hate the idea of them being best at anything."

"I'm afraid they seem to be best at quite a few things right about
now," Tanawa said.

"But as regards ships .. . you'll have to wait a month or two yet."

"A month or two?"

"Six months, to be precise.  Yamato will be in commission in December."
He held up his finger.

"That is confidential information, my darling.  I'm only telling you
because I know you have no close Japanese friends.

But it would be better not even to disclose it to the family."

"Do you think I would do that?"  Georgina asked, feeling the heat in
her cheeks.

He leaned across and kissed her.

"No.  That is why I told you."

For the next few days Georgina could relax.  Tanawa was home, and when
she was out with Akabuchi he usually came too, even if it was a very
unusual sight for a Japanese officer to be seen walking with his wife
and baby.  But Tanawa seemed more than ever anxious to be a
western-style husband to her.  She knew he loved her dearly, and was
very proud of her, but this was something more.  Did he know something
about the War she didn't?  Something bad about Britain's position?

The fact was that Britain's position could hardly be worse.

The Royal Navy might have been able, after a huge effort, to cope with
Bismarck, but the British Army had been driven out of Greece and now
Crete, had been defeated in North Africa .. . there didn't seem any way
it could possibly stop the Germans.  The only victories the British
were gaining were against countries like Iraq.

It was a terrifying thought that they might also have to go to war with
Japan, and that she could prevent it, if she dared, if she was prepared
to betray this very loving man whose only fault was that he belonged to
a country whose interests were diametrically opposed to those of
Britain.

Because of her guilt, she loved him with more than usual intensity for
the rest of his furlough, eager to forget in his arms the decision she
had to make.

But the very day before Tanawa was due to rejoin his ship Japan was as
stunned as everywhere else by the news that Hitler had invaded Russia
on the most massive scale ever known.

Georgina stared at the newspaper in horror.

"What does it mean?"

"Very simply, my darling, it means that Hitler has decided that Britain
is defeated."

He looked neither pleased nor sorry about that, merely preoccupied.

"Can he beat Russia?"

"He can beat the Russian armies," Tanawa said.

"They are not up to much.  As to whether he can beat Russia itself .
there is an awful lot of it.  But what this means to Japan .  Russia
has always been our greatest enemy, sitting there, brooding on our
north-western borders ..."

"You mean your government didn't know what Hitler was going to do?"

"I very much doubt they did.  You'll remember how upset we all were at
the news of the Nazi-Soviet Pact.  That seemed to free Russia to act
against us.  But now .. . the important thing is that one of the
greatest obstacles to the fulfillment of our plans may be being
removed.  We shall have to wait and see."

By the time Georgina kissed him goodbye, her mind was made up.  Because
there could be no question of what Japan intended, now.

She hardly slept that night, in her anxiety to get to the park the
following morning.  But Hakimo did not appear.  Or the day after
that.

Aki came to call.

"You are not looking well, Gina," she said.

"Are you worrying about the War?"

"Aren't you?"

"What is happening in Europe cannot affect us," Aki said.

"But you, you should be pleased.  If Hitler is invading Russia, he can
hardly invade Britain at the same time.  Not even Hitler."

Not even Hitler, Georgina thought bitterly.

"Tanawa says he's doing it because he thinks Britain is beaten."

"Britain is beaten," Aki pointed out, gently.

"But she is a very fortunate country.  If Hitler gets too caught up in
Russia, she may yet be able to make an honourable peace.  Of course,
she will have to get rid of Churchill first ..."

Georgina was so angry she found it difficult to speak.

These people, whom she had always found so charming, were really so
totally arrogant, unfeeling, uncaring .. . next morning Hakimo joined
her on the park bench.

"Your husband has been home on furlough," he remarked.

"Yes."

"Were you able to learn anything?"

She pushed the pram to and fro with her foot.

"Yes."

"About Yamator "She will be completed in December.  He did not know the
exact date."

"December," Hakimo repeated, quietly.

"That is what you wished to know, is it not?"

"Yes.  That is very satisfactory."

He stood up.

"I do not wish to see you again," Georgina said.

"You may tell my father this."

"You will not see me again, Mrs.  Hirada."

She watched him walk across the park, felt relief exuding through her
body.  It was done.  Now she could resume being a wife and mother.

And she might even have stopped a war!

"Jack!"  Denise clung to her son.

"I have been so worried."

"Don't they say no news is good news?  Anyway, how did you know I was
on Prince of Wales!"

"Giles told me."

"Then he also told you I wasn't harmed."

"Yes.  He did."  She sat beside him on the sofa.

"But I still worried.  He told me about Mark, too."

Jack nodded.

"How did Aunt Mary take it?"

"Not very well, from what I can gather.  She hasn't written to me.  But
Harry wrote to Lorraine .. . she's pretty cut up."

"I can imagine."

"I'm sure Lorraine would like you to go over and see them.

In fact, I think Giles may be down this weekend.  How long have you
got?"

"This weekend."

She peered at him.

"Are you going to East Grinstead?"

"I don't think there'd be a lot of point, Ma."

"I worry about little Jack."

"So do I. But ... I have an awful notion we've lost him."

"That shitting girl .. . I'm sorry," she added as he stared at her.  He
had never heard his mother use language like that before.

"Maybe you should get a divorce.  That way you'd at least have legal
access.  Or be able to get married again and have another child."

"Yes.  But now she doesn't want to give me one, just in case I get
married again."

"I think you should speak with your uncle about it," Denise
recommended.

BW-"

"Jack!"  Giles shook hands.

"You know Alex Robbie."

"Sir."  Jack shook hands with the Commander.

"Alex is taking a break with me," Giles explained.

And using the opportunity to court Lizzie, Jack supposed;

certainly she had been in fine form when she had welcomed Denise and
him at the station.  And she was no longer a schoolgirl, but a very
lovely young woman, who looked disconcertingly like her late Cousin
Joanna.

"How's the ship?"  Robbie asked.

"Just about ready again."

"Orders?"

"There's a rumour that something big is up, but we don't know what as
yet."

"It will be, something big," Giles said quietly.

"Although not what you'd expect.  How're your people taking it?"

"Oh, you mean the talk about us running away from Bismarck.  Well, sir,
we were ordered to do so, by Rear Admiral Wake-Walker."

Giles nodded.

"Of course.  And he acted entirely correctly.

You'd done your bit.  These rumours are simply damnable.

Anyway, I can promise you that coming your way is the most important
mission of the entire War, so far.  I'm not going to say anything more
than that.  Save that I'm damned glad you survived, Jack."

He shook his nephew's hand.

"I'll say amen to that," Robbie agreed, following his superior's
example.

"How's it going?"  Jack asked Elizabeth, when he managed to get her
alone.

"How's what going?"  They were in the stables, and she was inspecting
her horse's shoes, looking very bucolic in her loose slacks and with
her hair bound up in a bandanna.

Jack leaned against the gate of the stall.

"You and Robbie, dunderhead."

"Well ..."  she kept her head bowed.

"He's asked me to marry him again, if that's what you mean."

"Congratulations."

Her ears were pink.

"I haven't said yes."

"Oh?  Aren't you going to?"

"I think so, probably."  At last she released the patient hoof and
straightened; her whole face was glowing, and not just from bending
over.

"I think I will."

"Playing hard to get?  Do Uncle Giles and Aunt Lorraine know?"

She shook her head.

"And you're not going to tell them."

"I wouldn't dream of it."  He held out his arms, and after a moment she
came into them to be hugged.

"My very best wishes, Lizzie.  I just know you're going to be happy."

She looked up at him.

"Am I, Jack?"

"Yes."

"Jack .. . I'm so terribly sorry about..  . well, everything.

Do you think you and Marjorie will ever get back together?"

"No.  But you don't want to judge other people's chances of happiness
by mine, Lizzie."  He gave a twisted grin.

"You don't want to judge anything by me."

She stepped away and blew him a kiss.

The ship's company was mustered on the quarterdeck, and gazed in
consternation as the Admiral's barge pulled in to the boarding ladder,
and the short, stout man, wearing naval uniform and with an unlit cigar
stuck between his teeth, stepped on to the platform.

"Ship's company, attention!"

Boots slapped the deck as the hands of the marines smacked their rifle
butts to present arms.  Churchill came on board, beaming as he walked
down the ranks, pausing every so often to speak with one of the men. He
paused opposite Jack, who towered above him.

"Dawson, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir!"

"I never met your father.  But I knew a lot about him.

Keep up the good work."

Jack glowed.

As Uncle Giles had said, the most important naval mission of the War.
Churchill's staff which included the American special envoy Harry
Hopkins, and the First Sea Lord, Sir Dudley Pound came on board, and
accompanied by her destroyers, Prince of Wales slipped out of the
harbour just before dusk on 4 August, and round the top end of
Scotland, before steaming west at full speed.  The seas got up during
the first day, and on the second were so lumpy Captain Leach had to
report to the Prime Minister that the destroyers could no longer take
the battering.

"What are our alternatives?"  Churchill asked.

"We have two, sir.  Either we reduce speed, or we go on alone."

Churchill looked at the First Sea Lord.

"Your decision But I do not wish to be late for Roosevelt."

"Indeed not," Pound agreed.

"You'll send the destroyers home, Captain Leach."

Leach hesitated only for a moment; he knew as well as anyone that they
were in a submarine-infested zone.  Then he nodded.

"Aye-aye."

The destroyers turned away, and the battleship continued alone, but
forty-eight hours later they picked up a new destroyer escort and at
nine in the morning of Saturday 9 August Prince of Wales dropped anchor
in Placentia Bay, Newfoundland, where the somewhat small, eleven
thousand ton, nine eight-inch gun cruiser Augusta was already
waiting.

On board the American ship were President Roosevelt and his staff.

With the two chiefs of state in conference, the crew of Prince of Wales
was able to relax somewhat and clean up the inevitable mess left by
four and a half days of hard steaming into head seas, but the following
morning it was on parade again as the President visited the British
battleship, and remained for a church service, in which a large
proportion of the crew of Augusta also came across to take part.

The next two days were taken up with high level conferences, during
which the crews of the two warships were encouraged to fraternize. Jack
was shown over the American ship, and was in turn required to show
American officers over the British battleship.

"You reckon we're ever gonna be in this thing together?"

they asked him.

"I certainly hope so," he agreed.

Then the conference was over, the Atlantic Charter had been drawn up,
and it was time to go home.  Now they had a full escort of destroyers,
but the Prime Minister wished to stop at Iceland, which was reached on
16 August.  Two days later Prince of Wales was back in Scapa Flow.

It had been an exhausting but exhilarating fortnight.

"I wonder where they'll send us next," remarked the new executive
officer, Commander Brownlee.

Suiko opened Georgina's bedroom door.

"There are some people her to see you, Gina," she said.

Georgina was kneeling on the floor playing with Akabuchi.

She sat on her heels to look up at her sister-in-law.

"To see me?"

"Yes.  I asked them if they wished to see Mother, but they said no, it
was you they wished to see."

Georgina got up and straightened her kimono.

"You'd better stay with baby," she said, and stepped into the corridor.
She was aware of an increased heartbeat.  That whoever it was should
have called in the middle of the afternoon, when Hirada Akabuchi senior
would be certain to be at his office, and should wish to see her
instead of the lady of the house, could only have something to do with
Tanawa.  An accident?  She didn't know what to think as she entered the
front room of the house, past a bowing maid servant who had clearly
been keeping an eye on the three men who knelt there, waiting for
her.

They wore western-style dress, but it was not uniform.

Now they bowed ceremonially as she entered, and then stood up.

"Mrs.  Hirada Tanawa?"

"Yes.  I am Mrs.  Hirada."

The leader of the group gave another little bow.

"We would like you to come with us, please."

Georgina frowned at him.

"Come with you?  Where?"

"To where we are going.  We would ask you to do this quietly and
without protest, Mrs.  Hirada.  Then the household will not be
disturbed."

You must be crazy, Georgina thought, but she didn't know how to phrase
that in Japanese.  So she said, "I think you had better speak with Mrs.
Hirada Akabuchi."

"We have no reason to speak with her," the man said.

"If you do not come with us, now, it will be very difficult for you.
And for your family."

"Who are you?"  Georgina demanded.

"We are police officers, honourable lady."

"Are you trying to tell me I am under arrest?"

The policeman gave a little bow.

"We wish to ask you some questions.  Come with us, and there will be no
trouble."

Georgina hesitated.  If only there was some way of getting hold of
Tanawa.  But what good would that do?  This could only be to do with
that ghastly little man Hakimo.  He must have been caught trying to
send his information out of the country, and have given them her name.
The bastard!

Well, she would simply deny everything.  It would be his word against
hers, and she was a Hirada.

"You must show me your credentials," she said.

He produced a small pocket-book, and flipped it open.

Georgina's stomach gave a little roll as she saw the words,
kempei-tai.

"When will I return here?"  she asked.

"There is the baby."

"Your sister-in-law will look after the baby, Mrs.  Hirada," the man
said, proving that he knew a good deal more about her family life than
she had supposed.

"As for when you will return .. he gave a little smile.

"That will be when you have told us all we wish to know."

Georgina kept telling herself there was nothing to be afraid of.  Not
only was she a Hirada, a member of one of the wealthiest and most
powerful families in Japan, but these men very clearly knew that, and
understood her position they were being unfailingly polite.

They allowed her to tell Suiko that she was going out for a little
while, and to kiss Akabuchi goodbye.  Then she was seated in the back
of their car, beside the spokesman, while the other two sat in front,
and driven to downtown Tokyo.

There was nothing in or on the car to indicate police, and slowly she
began to relax.

"Don't you think you should tell me your name?"  she asked.

"I am Commandant Ayuchi."

"Commandant Ayuchi," she repeated softly.

The car swung through a gateway, past an armed and uniformed sentry,
and after traversing a driveway, through two more guarded gateways,
came to a halt outside a one-storeyed, but obviously large and
sprawling building, set in the midst of luxuriant gardens.  Anything
less like a police station she could not imagine.

Commandant Ayuchi opened his door and got out.

Georgina expected him to open her door for her, but as he did not, she
opened it for herself.

"In there," Ayuchi said.

He was looking at the doorway, and Georgina went in.

Now she was aware of a slow tightening of her muscles; his attitude had
changed.

Inside the building there were several men, some sitting at desks
writing or typing, others on the telephone or just staring into space.
All turned their heads and stopped what they were doing to look at the
golden-haired woman who had just entered.

"In there," Ayuchi said again.

There was another door at the back of the room.  As no one attempted to
open this for her, either, Georgina turned the handle and stepped into
a corridor.  There were doors along the right hand wall, but the left
was merely an overhanging roof and then the garden.

"The fourth door," Ayuchi said, from behind her.

Georgina reached the fourth door, drew a long breath she had no idea
what she was going to find opened it and stepped inside, and let her
breath go again in a sigh of relief.

The room was empty, save for a desk, with a chair behind it, and
another chair in front of it.

Then her muscles tightened up again.  The chair in front of the desk
was bolted to the floor, and there were steel clamps on the arms and
legs.  There were also some unpleasant looking stains on the wooden
floor beneath it.

She turned to face Ayuchi, who was entering the room, followed by his
two aides.

"What do you wish to know?"

she asked.

"You must bow when you address a Japanese officer," Ayuchi said.

Georgina raised her eyebrows.  She knew all about the Japanese habit of
bowing to superiors, of course; like Tanawa she always bowed before
addressing Mr.  and Mrs.  Hirada.  But this lout .. .?

"Did you not hear me?"  Ayuchi seated himself behind his desk.

Georgina turned to face him.  There was no point in upsetting him.  She
gave a perfunctory bow.

"That is not sufficient," Ayuchi said.

"You bow, from the waist, until your body is parallel with the
floor."

As if he was her father!  Georgina bowed, from the waist.

"That is not far enough," Ayuchi told her.

"You ..."  all the breath was taken away by a stinging pain in her
right buttock.  She swung round in outraged anger; no one had ever hit
her like that before.  But as she faced the two aides, the other one
also hit her, like his companion, with a short length of solid rubber
hose which they each must have been carrying all the time.

This second blow was across the groin, and Georgina's knees gave way as
she collapsed on to the floor.  Tears of pain and anger flooded from
her eyes, but again she could hardly breathe with the agony which was
spreading through her body.

Dimly she heard Ayuchi's voice.

"You must stand and face me at all times."

Georgina could not move, so the first man hit her again, across the
left shoulder.  She yelped with pain, and struggled to her feet.

The second man hit her on the other shoulder.  She was facing the wrong
way.  Desperately she turned round.

"Bow," Ayuchi said.

With equal desperation Georgina bowed until she thought she might fall
over.  While her brain teemed.  They just could not treat her like
this.  She was the wife of Hirada Tanawa, and the daughter-in-law of
Hirada Akabuchi.  General Abe had come to her wedding, not to mention
Admiral Yamamoto.

But General Abe had himself recently been replaced as Prime Minister,
by Prince Konoye Fumumaro.  He hadn't been at her wedding.

"Stand straight," Ayuchi said.

Georgina straightened.  She could hear herself breathing, and the pain
was only just beginning to fade.  She felt physically sick.

"You are a spy for the British," Ayuchi said.

Georgina filled her lungs.

"No," she said.  She wanted to say a great deal more, but the thought
of those two rubber truncheons just behind her had robbed her of all
her courage as no doubt they had been intended to do.

"You must confess," Ayuchi said.

"You will confess, eventually.  Besides, we have proof."

"I have never spied for Britain," Georgina said.  Because that was the
truth.  She wondered if they would confront her with Hakimo.

Ayuchi studied her for several seconds, then he shrugged.

"Undress."

Georgina's head jerked.  He couldn't be serious.

"Strip her," he told his aides.

She felt a hand on the sleeve of her kimono.

"No," she cried.

"I will .. ."

Another agonising blow, and she was on her knees, gasping with pain.
One of the men grasped her hair to pull her head back; the
tortoiseshell pins came out and the golden strands tumbled down her
shoulders while she whimpered with this new pain.

The other man knelt before her, released her obi, and opened the
kimono.  The man behind her released her hair and grasped the shoulders
of the garment instead, wrenching it from her body.  She went with it,
rolling on the floor.

Before she could recover he had pulled her undershirt away as well, and
the other man was dragging down her knickers.  Her shoes came off but
they did not worry with her white socks.  Instead she was jerked to her
feet and thrust at the desk.

Ayuchi studied her, while she could not prevent herself from shivering
and trying to turn away from him, impossible as her arms were held by
the men.  Since her marriage she had become accustomed to appearing
naked in front of men when the family bathed together, but this was
something different.

Apart from the pain, she could see the lust in Ayuchi's eyes.

No doubt he had never had a golden-haired beauty at his mercy before.

He got up and came round the desk, staring at her as he did so.  He
reached out and took one of her nipples, rather as he might have
selected a cigarette from a fully packed box.

Now he twisted it and squeezed it, while her mouth sagged open at this
new assault.

"You are a beautiful woman, Mrs.  Hirada," Ayuchi remarked, "and a
desirable one.  Now tell me what I wish to know, or I will make you
cease to be beautiful, and cease to be desirable."

"Tell you?"  she snarled, trying to find sufficient saliva to spit at
him.  But her mouth was dry.

He gave another of his shrugs.

"Put her in the chair," he said.

Georgina was thrust into the chair before the desk.  She was feeling
too exhausted to fight them any more, sat there without resisting as
they clamped her wrists to the arms and her ankles to the legs.  Thus
secured, she found that she could actually move her body quite freely,
even if she could not leave the chair.

Ayuchi gazed at her while she was being secured.  When his men stood
away from her, he said, "Now, this information you gave to the man
Hakimo.  Where did you obtain it?"

Georgina licked her lips.  Deny everything, she had told herself.  She
had to deny everything.

"I don't know any man named Hakimo," she said.

Ayuchi studied her.

"Will you deny that your father is the head of British Naval
Intelligence?"

"Of course I deny it.  My father is Rear-Admiral Submarines."

"Did you not write to your father, using his code number,
six-one-three?"

"I did not."

"Mrs.  Hirada, we opened that letter and saw the inquiry.

And here .. he opened one of the desk drawers and took out several
sheets of paper, "is your father's reply, in which he answers your
query.  Now, both the query and the reply are clearly in code.  We
would like you to tell us what they mean."

Georgina stared at the letter.  Pa's reply.  Which she had never
received.  But to change her position now would be disastrous.

"I do not know what you are talking about," she said.

"You are very foolish," Ayuchi said.

"Now I am going to hurt you.  I will enjoy doing this, Mrs.  Hirada.
But you will not.  Why do you not tell me what I wish to know?"

"Why don't you ask the man Hakimo?"  Georgina shouted.

"If he exists."

Ayuchi smiled.

"Oh, he exists, Mrs.  Hirada.  He is one of my agents."

Georgina stared at him in horror.

"We have had our eye upon you for a long time," Ayuchi said.

"We have asked ourselves the question, why should the daughter of a
British admiral, who is also head of British Naval Intelligence, marry
a Japanese naval officer?  The British hate the Japanese.  They call us
little yellow men.

They despise us.  Yet an admiral's daughter marries one of us.  That is
not logical, Mrs.  Hirada.  So come now, tell us your task here in
Japan.  Give us the names of the agents you have been contacting. Begin
by telling us whether your husband is in the plot with you."

Georgina continued to stare at him.  Hakimo had been ensnaring her, all
the time.  And she had fallen into the trap.

And perhaps endangered Tanawa far more seriously than if she had let
Japan go to war with America.

They were going to do that anyway.

"I do not know what you are talking about," she repeated.

"I married Hirada Tanawa because I loved him.  I love him now.  My
family opposed the marriage, yes.  But I insisted.

He is my husband.  And I am his wife.  And neither of us have ever
betrayed Japan."

That was certainly true now.

Ayuchi studied her for several seconds.  Then he shrugged.

"As you wish."  He opened his desk drawer, and took out a coil of very
fine wire, and a pair of pliers.

"Do you know what I can do with this?"  he asked.

He got up and came round the desk to stand beside her, clipped off a
length of the wire about a foot long, and twisted it into a small loop
in the middle.  This loop he carefully placed around her right nipple.
She attempted to jerk away, and her shoulders were seized and held
firmly against the back of the chair by the two men behind her.

Ayuchi held the wire in place against her flesh with his left hand,
pressing into the breast.

"Now," he said.

"If I use my pliers, thus, and grasp the wire, and turn it, the loop
closes."

Georgina gasped as the metal ate into her flesh.

"I think, three more twists, and I would remove your nipple
altogether," Ayuchi said.

"Would you like me to do that?"

Georgina panted, and the loop was slipped from her nipple.  Ayuchi
returned behind his desk.

"Think about that, Mrs.  Hirada."

Georgina licked her lips.

"All right.  Hakimo pretended he had come from my father.  I did not
believe him.  I wrote to my father to find out.  You know that.  My
father wrote back warning me to have nothing to do with Hakimo.  That
is the secret of his message."

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"It is the truth."

"Yet you extracted important information from your husband, and gave it
to Hakimo."

"Because you did not let me see my father's letter."

Another long study.

"How did you obtain the information about the commissioning of Yamatol
Your husband would hardly just have told you."

"I asked him."

"And he told you.  Just like that?"

"It was in conversation."  Her nerves were beginning to settle.

"We were talking about the greatest battleship in the world, in
commission.  He said it would soon be Yamato."

"And then he told you the date.  I find that difficult to believe.  Or
can it be that he is in this plot with you, and is a traitor to his
country?"

Georgina's head jerked.

"No.  That is not true."

"I do not think anything you have said is true.  The only thing we know
is true is that you have betrayed Japan, because you did it to one of
my own men.  But we do not know how many times before that you have
betrayed Japan, and what part your husband has played in this.  Now you
are going to have to tell us.  Do you know what will happen to you if I
put a length of this wire between your legs, seated in that chair as
you are, and then move it to and fro very rapidly?"

"I have nothing to tell you," Georgina shouted.

Ayuchi smiled, and cut off another, longer length of wire.

"Any news from Japan?"  asked Sir Dudley Pound.

"Not a word," Giles replied, his shoulders hunched as he sat before the
First Sea Lord's desk.

"Well, perhaps that is good news."

"I wish I could be sure of that."

"And what about the leak in your office?"

"There is absolutely nothing.  I've had all my people investigated,
even my secretary, Alex Robbie, who may well be my next son-in-law ...
I haven't enjoyed doing it, I can tell you.  But I've had his bank
accounts checked, as well as everyone else's who could possibly have
done it.

We've looked into a change of lifestyle, contacts .. . and come up with
nothing."

"Blackmail?"

"Surely there'd be some evidence of it.  You know the sort of thing,
sudden unwarranted affluence, change in lifestyle .  there's been
nothing like that."

"Have any of your people ever had any contact with any Japanese?"

"Well ... we all did, when that mission was over here in 1938.  You
know, we deputed officers to take their officers around, on a man to
man basis, and then we made sure they were all royally entertained that
weekend of the Czech crisis when the fleet was mobilised ..."

"It could have happened then."

"What?"

"Whatever happened.  Anyway, it looks as if it may all pretty soon be
academic.  You know that the PM and President Roosevelt keep in pretty
close touch with each other."

Giles nodded.

"So we're getting some feedback from US intelligence.  It seems things
in the Far East could be coming to a crunch.

Washington intends really to put the rocks to the Japanese by imposing
an embargo on oil sales to Japan, until the Japanese pull out of
China."

Giles gave a low whistle.

Pound nodded.

"That is really going to put the cat amongst the pigeons.  Japan cannot
survive she certainly cannot fight a war without imported oil.
Therefore, once that embargo is announced, she will either have to
surrender to American pressure, with all the loss of face that is going
to entail, or do something about it."

"She'll do something about," Giles said.

"Quite.  And the nearest available oil in any quantity is in the Dutch
East Indies.  So ... it's our business to stop them."

Giles gulped.

"You mean, take on Japan, as well as Germany and Italy?"

Pound gave a grim smile.

"Pretend we're Japanese, Giles.

What you just said was: you mean, take on Great Britain and Russia,
possibly backed by the United States, as well as China?"

"It's a point of view."

"Most things are.  But it is a valid point of view.  Japan would really
be sticking her chin out."

"Do we have any proof Russia and the US would back us?"

"No.  Russia, certainly not, at the moment.  But do the Japanese know
that?  The War Council is of the opinion that if we take a firm stand
it is entirely possible that might tilt the scales in favour of a
Japanese climb-down, which would be a great relief to us all.  So, we
have, for example, informed Tokyo that we have re-opened the Burma
Road."

"And suppose they won't climb down?"

"Oh, we have to make sure they believe us.  The PM has been in
consultation with me as to what we can spare.

Well, with Bismarck done, Tirpitz apparently a fixture in Norway,
Gneisenau and Scharnhorst tucked away in Brest and also apparently not
intending to come out again after what happened to Bismarck, and best
of all, with Duke of York going to be in commission in two months time
and Anson and Howe soon to follow, I think we have a certain margin of
safety.  So I've agreed to send a squadron to the Far East."

"Comprising?"

"It has to be strong enough to make the Japanese realise we mean
business.  Prince of Wales, Repulse and Indomitable.

A battleship, a battle cruiser and a carrier.  With their attendant
destroyers, of course.  That should do the trick."

Giles stroked his chin.

"What exactly is the plan?"

"Well, showing the flag, mainly.  Columbo, Singapore, Hong Kong, and
then Pearl Harbour.  And then, well, if nothing has devolved, or if the
Japanese are still being sticky, they may well stay in Pearl for
awhile, with the Americans.  The Yanks have eight battleships and three
carriers in Pearl.  With our reinforcements, that would be some fleet.
Far superior to the Japanese."  He frowned.

"You don't look altogether convinced, Giles."

"I'm sorry.  I just find it difficult to accept that the Japanese
haven't taken into account the possibility that we might send a battle
squadron out there.  Who's to command?"

"Tom Phillips."

"Couldn't be better.  Well ..."  Giles stood up.

"You won't mind if I redouble my efforts to get Georgina out of
there?"

"As long as it's done absolutely openly, Giles.  This is top secret. We
don't want the Japanese to know our plans until Phillips and his ships
are at least in the Indian Ocean."

Giles nodded.

"Point taken."

"What's this?"  inquired Lieutenant Roger Telfer, peering at the large
package which had been deposited on his bunk.

He had only joined Prince of Wales the previous week and was inclined
to be suspicious.

"If it's anything like the gear on my bunk," Jack told him.

"It's tropical kit."

Telfer tore at the parcel, gazed at the white shorts and stockings, the
white cap cover.

"Great Scot!  What does it mean?"

"That we are being sent to a tropical station."

"But .. . where?"

"I don't think anyone is going to tell us that, until we're there,"
Jack said.

But he had no doubt at all.  They were going back to the Med.  And
Emma!

Next day he received a letter, in a hand he did not recognise.
Frowning, he slit the envelope, took out the sheet of paper.

On it was written, very simply: "I'm in England.  London.

If you wish, you can reach me care of my aunt.  She's in the book.

E."

He gazed at it in a mixture of delight and consternation.

He was going to Alexandria, and she was back in England.

But she was, in England.  How he wanted to be with her.  To think of
holding Emma in his arms again .. .

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," said Commander Brownlee when he asked about
the possibility of leave.

"All leave has been cancelled.  We sail in three days time."

Jack had to content himself with writing her a letter.

"When I come back," he said.

"Oh, when I come back ..."

CHAPTER 13

The End of the Beginning Georgina listened to the sound of the bolts
being drawn, and raised her head.  Her body slowly followed, until she
was almost sitting upright.

The pain had somewhat dulled over the weeks.  In her groin and her
belly.  Not in her mind.  It would never be dulled in her mind.

She blinked at the light, her eyes for a moment unable to focus, then
slowly coming together in consternation as she recognised the man
standing above her.

"Tanawa?"  she whispered.

Her first thought was that her greatest fear had been realised, and he
had also been arrested.  But he wore uniform, and his sword, and the
guards behind him were standing back deferentially.

"I have come to take you home," he said.

Georgina's own clothes had long disappeared.  Tanawa wrapped her in a
blanket, and lifted her out to the car, sat her in the back seat and
sat beside her.  His brother Taiko was driving.  Tanawa pulled the
blanket over her head so that she did not have to look at anyone on the
street, and no one outside the car could see her face.

She did not dare breathe until they had left the grounds.

She had not expected ever to leave her cell.  When the gates had closed
behind them, she asked, "Where are you taking me?"

"Home," Tanawa said.

"I do not understand."

"I am sorry it has taken so long," Tanawa said.

"My father wrote to me as soon as he discovered what had happened, and
he himself immediately started the procedure to have you released.  But
these things take time."

Georgina hugged herself.  There was so much that had to be said, and he
had not yet attempted to embrace her.  But that might just be because
they were in public.

"I did not ever expect to see you again," she said.

"The kempei-tai are almost a state within a state," he remarked.

"It is always so with the secret police.  I imagine your Special Branch
is the same."

She could not believe that, but she did want to argue with him.

Instead she said, "Why did they let me go?"

"Because we insisted upon it.  My father is an important man.  Anyway
.. ."  he hesitated.

"It does not matter now."

"They said I had betrayed Japan."

For the first time he looked at her.

"Did you not?  Or at least attempt to?"

She licked her lips.  They did not speak again until they reached the
house.  There the entire family was waiting to receive her.  Even the
servants were assembled.  Clutching her blanket against herself,
Georgina bowed to Mr.  and Mrs.  Hirada.  Then she looked at Aki, and
gave a quick smile, but Aki did not smile back.

Only Suiko looked the least but pleased to see her.

Tanawa walked in front of her, along the corridor, to their bedroom.

"Suiko has been looking after Akabuchi," he said.

"I think you will find that he is well."

"I must thank her," Georgina said, and scooped the little boy from his
cot.  In all the weeks she had been away, he was the one she had most
feared she would never see again.  Still holding him, she turned to
face her husband.

"I will leave you now," he said.

"I imagine you wish a bath.

I have ordered the house to be prepared for you.  No one will interrupt
you."

"Don't you want to know what they did to me?"  she asked.

The wire, she thought, sawing between her legs while she had screamed
until she had thought her lungs would burst, and her body had heaved
against the steel clamps, as she had gazed at Ayuchi's smiling face.
And then being kept naked, in the company only of men, for ... she did
not know how long.  She had lost track of time.  But it had been
several weeks.  She felt he had to know about these things, if they
were ever going to have a relationship again.

"No."

He went to the door.

"Tanawa!"  she cried.

"Do you hate me?"

He half turned.

"You are my wife."

"But you think I am guilty.  All your family thinks I am guilty."

"You are guilty, Georgina.  The kempei-tai have proved this to us."

Her shoulders sagged, and she laid the baby back in his cot.

She wanted to go to her husband, but she did not know if she could
stand the touch of a man's hand, certainly anywhere intimate, at this
moment.

"What is to happen to me?"

"You have been released into the custody of my father and myself.  I
was able to convince my superiors that the date of Yamato's being
commissioned was the only information of any importance you have ever
sought from me, and therefore it seems apparent that Hakimo was the
only agent with whom you dealt.  That he was actually working for the
kempei-tai does not excuse your crime, but at least no damage has been
done to the country.  Therefore you will remain in the custody of my
family until further notice.  You will only leave this house in the
company of one of my sisters or one of our servants.  I wish you to
understand this.  Should you ever attempt to act independently, the
kempei-tei would have the right to re-arrest you."

"I would rather die than go back to that cell."

Tanawa nodded.

"I understand this."

"But you will not ask what they did to me."

"No."

"Then what of us?  Our relationship?"

"It will be considered, in due course.  Now there are more important
things to be done."

"Tanawa ... I am sorry."

"Thank you."  He opened the door.

"Tanawa, has this had any repercussions for you?"

Again he half turned.

"Why, yes.  I have been severely reprimanded for my carelessness in
confiding in you."

He closed the door behind himself.

Georgina sat and stared at the door for several seconds.

She was again a prisoner, and her life was ruined.  Certainly, her
marriage.  But she could see nothing ahead of her, either.

She even wondered if, as this was Japan, she had not been returned to
the house of her husband's family simply so that she could commit
suicide.  Of course, Japanese women did not perform seppuku, the
ceremonial slitting open of the belly which Europeans so contemptuously
called hari-kiri, and which had to be carried out before witnesses .. .
but which enabled a disgraced samurai to atone for all his sins.

But Japanese women certainly took their own lives when placed in a
position of despair, either by poison or hanging.

Was that what they wanted her to do?

There was a gurgle from the cot, and she went to her son, lifted him
up, and hugged him.  They would have to wait a long time.  She was not
going to kill herself; she had far too great a responsibility to this
tiny morsel of humanity.

Besides, she wanted him to grow up.

"Well, hell," Lieutenant Telfer remarked, gazing at the chart, where he
had just entered up the noon position of Prince of Wales, then
straightened and gazed out of the chartroom windows at Repulse, and the
cluster of destroyers,

ranging in front and to either side of the battle squadron.

Indomitable had not yet joined them.

"What's up?"  Jack had just arrived on the bridge to take over the
watch.

"Well ..."  Telfer gestured at the chart.

"We are here.

Cape St.  Vincent is there, well behind us now, and Gibraltar is there.
If we are going to the Med, I reckon we should be altering course
around now.  But the course and speed are unchanged.  Virtually due
south."

Jack looked to the east.  They were of course out of sight of land, too
far out in the Atlantic even to make out the blue haze which would be
Portugal.  But as Telfer had said, if they were bound for the Med they
should have altered course.  So, they were not bound for the Med.

"What do you reckon?"  Telfer asked.

"I reckon we may be going some place even hotter," Jack said
thoughtfully.

But we're not at war in the Indian Ocean, he thought.  Not yet,
anyway.

Elizabeth was not at all sure she didn't like autumn at Silver Streams
better than any other time of the year.  But this weekend was in any
event going to be the best of the year, for her.  Of any year.

She had celebrated her seventeenth birthday the previous month.  There
had actually been no celebration, at the time, because only Ma was
home.  But this weekend Pa was coming down, and Aunt Denise was coming
across from Bath.

Best of all, Alex was coming down too.

The two men arrived on the Friday night.  Elizabeth was working on a
neigbouring farm, but she had left early the days were closing in
anyway and had time to bathe and change and accompany Lorraine to the
station.

She hugged and kissed her father, than gazed at Alex, more shyly than
ever before.  They had corresponded all summer, and she had promised
him her answer this weekend.

Now he kissed her cheek, formally.

"Well?"  he whispered.

"I think it's yes," she whispered back.

Denise could tell at a glance that Giles had a lot on his mind.  But
then, so did she.

"I haven't heard from Jack for over a month," she said.

"Just a note to say that he was going to be tied up for a while."

"Yes," Giles said.

"I don't suppose ..."

"I'm afraid not, Denise."

"But something nasty is happening.  I can tell it, Giles."

"We're fighting a war, Denise.  Something nasty is always happening, in
a war.  Such as, I'm afraid poor old Ark Royal has finally gone."

Denise stared at him in consternation.

"Ark Royal?  I don't believe it.  The Germans have claimed to have sunk
her a dozen times.  But she always came through."

Giles sighed.

"I know.  But this time ... she was torpedoed.  They tried everything
they could to save her, got her within forty miles of Gibraltar .. .
then she went down."

"Oh, hell," Denise said.

"Hell, hell, hell.  That's not what Jack's involved in, is it?"

"No, it's not."  He looked into her eyes.

"There's another bit of news, just came in.  Prince Konoye has
resigned."

"Who's Prince Konoye?"

"He was Prime Minister of Japan."

"I see," Denise said thoughtfully.

"He's been replaced by a chap called Tojo.  It'll be in all the papers
tomorrow."

Denise frowned.

"Tojo?  Not a relative of the famous admiral?  The one my Jack and
Geoffrey Young met at Tsushima?"

"Unfortunately, no," Giles said.

"That was Togo.  This is Tojo.  Hideki Tojo.  Or as the Japanese would
have it, Tojo Hideki.  He used to be boss of the kempei-tei.  That's
the Japanese secret police."

"Ugh!"

"As you say.  He's quite a character.  His nickname is "The Razor'. And
he is virulently anti-democracy."

"My God!  You don't mean there will be a war with Japan?

What about Georgina?"

"I wish I knew.  We haven't had a letter from her in months.  We're
keeping our fingers crossed that all is well.

As to whether or not there'll be a war with Japan, well, we're doing
our best to make them think twice about that."

He was continuing to peer into her eyes.  Denise peered back, and
suddenly realised what he had just told her.

"Oh," she said.

"Oh!  It's a part of the world Jack knows well."

"Yes," Giles agreed.

Denise clutched his hand.

"There won't be a war out there, will there, Giles?"

"Let's hope the Japanese have more sense," Giles said, squeezing her
fingers.

"It's all so confusing and upsetting," Elizabeth confided to Alex. They
weren't entirely alone; there had been no opportunity for that since
his arrival.  But they were in a corner of the drawing room while their
elders talked on the far side of the room.

"Nobody seems to know what is happening.  Do you know what is
happening, Alex?"

"Where?"

"In the Far East."

"Good heavens!  How should I know?  And ..."

"You work with Pa.  He knows about these things, doesn't he?"

"Why should he?  He's Rear-Admiral, Submarines.  And even if he did
know anything, Lizzie, or I did, you know we couldn't tell you.  And it
would be very wrong of you to ask."

"I know," she said sadly.

"But you have no idea how frustrating it is to be a woman, and not be
told anything.

Not even to know how your sister is getting on.  I wish she could come
home.  With little Akabuchi.  I'm longing to see him."

"I'm sure you will, before long.  Can we talk about us?

May I speak with your father, tonight?"

"Well, of course you may.  You must.  I want the whole world to
know."

"Are you sure?"  Giles asked his younger daughter.

"Certain, certain sure?"

He had had his talk with Alex Robbie, a not unexpected talk, as he had
been watching developments over the past year.  But before he had given
his consent he had wanted this last word with Elizabeth.

"Yes, I'm sure, Pa.  Don't I look sure?"

"Of course you do, sweetheart.  I suppose it's just that..  .

well, with Georgie on the other side of the world, doing we don't know
what ..."

"But surely, Pa, if anything was the matter with Georgie, you'd have
heard.  Tanawa would have got in touch with you, somehow.  Not hearing
from her only means the mails must be very bad."

Giles played with the paperknife on his desk.

"Do you know, and this is to go no further, Lizzie, that we are trying
to get her to come back?"

"Back from Japan?  That would be marvelous.  For a visit, you mean?"

"Actually, for good."

Elizabeth frowned.

"I don't follow.  Has something gone wrong between her and Tanawa?"

"Not that we know of.  It's just that we'd rather have her here right
now."

"She'll never come.  Anyway, we always said it was safer in Tokyo than
in London.  The Chinese haven't the air force to carry out bombing
raids."

"Yes," Giles said absently.

"There are other things .. .

the point is, we decided we would like her back.  So ... I wrote her
and told her that your mother was seriously ill."

Elizabeth's mouth made a huge O. "You didn't!"

"And she hasn't replied.  That must either mean she hasn't received the
letter, or for some reason she can't reply."

"But, Pa, what a thing to have done.  She'll never forgive you."  Then
her frown was back.

"Ma isn't really ill, is she?"

"Of course she isn't.  And whether Georgie forgives us or not is
irrelevant, providing we can get her out of Japan."

He stood up, abruptly.

"I've been talking out of turn.  Your marrying Alex Robbie is something
I've always hoped for.

Sorry about that wobbly.  Shall we go and break open a bottle of
bubbly?"

Elizabeth followed him out of the office, slowly.

Tanawa was aware principally of heat, as he stepped from the aircraft
on to the tarmac.  Situated some twenty miles north of Saigon, the
airstrip was just about twelve degrees north of the Equator, and with
the sun overhead the heat seemed to rise from the concrete and envelope
him in a miasma of sweat.

The lieutenant meeting him straightened from his bow.

"Welcome, honourable Commander."

Tanawa nodded, and looked from left to right.  The air base, one of the
first to be built since the Vichy French had given their permission for
the Japanese to use their IndoChina colony, was much larger than he had
expected.  There were also more aircraft than he had expected, too. And
two squadrons of the parked Mitsubishi fighter-bombers, as well as two
more of torpedo aircraft, bore the insignia of the Japanese Navy.

It was a far cry from the flight deck of Akagi, but this was where he
had wound up, thanks to the machinations of his wife.

He had endeavoured not to consider the matter in that light.  His
reaction to learning that Georgina had allowed herself to be entrapped
into betraying Japan had been total shock.  He had simply refused to
believe it, until he had been confronted with the proof, the man Hakimo
and the exchange of letters with Giles Dawson.

Even then, his sole preoccupation had, been to get Georgina out of the
hands of the kempei-tai.  In that, at least, he had succeeded.  Heaven
alone knew what she had suffered, but she did not appear to have been
mutilated or permanently injured in any way, physically.
Psychologically was another matter.

It was a matter in which he would have to play his part.  If he chose.
But the more he investigated what had been happening, the more he
became certain that there was some kind of link between Giles Dawson
and his daughter.  The Dawson family might pretend not to know that
Giles was actually head of Naval Intelligence, but there could be no
doubt they did.  Then there was the matter of Giles being in favour of
Georgina's marriage to a Japanese, when his wife had been so violently
opposed.

Then there was the plain fact of the letters.  The kempei-tei, thanks
to the contact they had set up in England the real traitor in this
business had learned Giles Dawson's code number.  When they had put it
to Georgina, she had reacted by writing to her father.  But what
exactly had she asked her father?  Whether what Hakimo had told her was
true?

Or whether, having been approached by an apparent agent, she was to act
on it?

And Dawson's reply had equally been coded.  No matter how she had been
tortured, Georgina had sworn his reply had been a warning-off.  But she
might just be a very tough young woman indeed.

She had to be tough, to have survived five weeks in the hands of the
kempei-tei.

What on earth had possessed them to entrap her in the first place? They
would not tell him.  But there again, he had to suppose they had had a
very good reason.

In any event, the conclusive evidence that Georgina was acting for her
father was contained in the last letter, which he had shown to neither
Georgina nor the kempei-tei.  The claim that Lorraine Dawson was
desperately ill had been so patently false.  Giles Dawson was desperate
to get his daughter out of Japan, because he had discovered that his
code had been broken.  It was as simple as that.

Thus he needed to decide what he was going to do about it.  It had been
suggested by his superiors that he should divorce the woman and send
her back to England, without her son.  But in view of everything that
had happened, such a course might very well destroy her mind.  And he
loved her.  Despite all, despite his very real fears that she was
indeed an enemy agent, he loved her.

He wanted her there whenever he went home.  He wanted the feel of her,
her bright smile, her ready wit.  Above all, he wanted her to be the
mother of more children for him.

So the decision was his.  And whichever way he made it, he would again
be criticised.  There had not been lacking those to hint that a man
whose wife has committed treason is obliged to commit seppuku.  Tanawa
had been so upset that he had taken the matter to Yamamoto himself. The
Commander-in-Chief had pooh-pooh ed the idea.

"You are far too valuable a man to lose because of the weakness of your
wife.  However," he had said.

"I cannot send you to sea on a carrier at this moment, Tanawa.  That
would be too risky.  One of your fellow officers might seek a quarrel.
You are going to have to keep a low profile for a while."

For the second time in his life, Tanawa thought bitterly.

An orderly escorted him to the command building, and he was shown into
an office, and stopped in surprise, and delight, a slow relief
spreading through his system.

"Honourable Captain!"  He bowed from the waist.

"This is a great surprise."

Hamaguchi got up and came round the desk to embrace him.

"I knew you were coming, Tanawa, and have been looking forward to it.
Sit down."

Tanawa sat before the desk, still trying to digest the fact that he was
again to serve under his old comrade in arms.  But .. . "Then you also
know that I am in disgrace."

"Not to me.  Or to the men you are going to lead."

"Lead?  Where are we going to go, in this jungle?"

"This jungle, Tanawa, is only seven hundred miles from Singapore, nine
hundred and fifty miles from Manila."

Tanawa sat up straight.

"Oh, yes," Hamaguchi said.

"We are about to strike."

"At Singapore?"  That he could understand.

"And Manila?"  That he could not.

"That will bring the Americans into the War; is not the Philippines a
protectorate of theirs?"

"Indeed.  But our high command is of the opinion, rightly, I believe,
that the Americans are about to wage war on us in any event.  Certainly
that when we attack the British and Dutch possessions in south-east
Asia they will come in against us.  It is best we get in the first
shots.  So .  our fleet will soon be on its way to attack the American
base at Pearl Harbour.  It is estimated that if we can achieve total
surprise, total victory will be ours."

"And I am here," Tanawa groaned, "instead of with the fleet."

"You are here for a very good reason, Tanawa," Hamaguchi said.

"To attack Singapore?  With torpedo bombers?"

"That would not be very effective.  But we must never forget that while
we are seeking a decisive victory over the American fleet, we also have
to fight the Royal Navy."

"A few gunboats?"

Hamaguchi leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming.

"Our agents in Great Britain have informed us that a battle squadron is
on its way to Singapore."

"A battle squadron?"  Tanawa's eyes gleamed as well.

Hamaguchi looked at the paper lying on his desk.

"It consists of the battleship Prince of Wales, the battle cruiser
Repulse, and the aircraft-carrier Indomitable, with a destroyer escort,
of course."

"Three ships, to take on the Japanese Navy?"  Tanawa was
contemptuous.

"But the main part of the Japanese Navy will be in the northern
Pacific, Tanawa, fighting the Americans.

Our remaining capital ships will be occupied in convoying our invasion
force to the Philippines.  When the British squadron gets here, it is
up to us to stop them.  Otherwise they could play havoc with our
invasion plans for Malaya."

"Ah!"  Tanawa said.

"So you see, your job here is going to be far more onerous, and have
more influence upon the outcome of the coming war, than if you were
still with Akagi."

"Yes.  I understand that, now."  Tanawa frowned.

"Did you say the British battleship is Prince of Wales!"

"According to our information, yes."

Tanawa remembered that in his last letter Giles Dawson had mentioned to
Georgina that Jack Dawson had been on one of the first ships to engage
Bismarck.  The first two ships to engage Bismarck had been Hood and
Prince of Wales, and Hood had gone down with virtually all hands. Giles
Dawson would certainly have informed his daughter if her cousin had
been drowned.  Therefore .. .

"She is Great Britain's newest battleship," Hamaguchi said.

"She played an important pajt in the sinking of Bismarck."  He watched
his second-in-command's changing expressions.

"Does this concern you?"

"No, honourable Captain," Tanawa said.  If Jack Dawson was still
serving with Prince of Wales, he thought, then he had all the more
reason to sink the ship; right this minute he hated the very name of
Dawson.

"The exotic East," Telfer said, leaning on the bridge wing and looking
out at Colombo Harbour.

"Think we're going to have shore leave?  I've heard about these
hints."

"I wouldn't count on it," Jack told him.

They had spent only one day in Simonstown, before resuming their
journey.  And now they were almost there.

To face what?  Nobody knew, because Britain and Japan were still at
peace.  But for Jack, the thought that he might be about to fight
against Georgina's husband was a distressing one.

Jack was right about there being no shore leave, but he and all the
other officers were taken aback when after dinner that evening they
were visited in the wardroom by the Captain himself.

Leach seated himself at the head of the table and surveyed his men, all
now wearing tropical whites, then nodded to Commander Brownlee.

"Thank you, Walsh," the Commander said.

"That will be all.  You may leave the port."

"Sir!"  The chief steward ushered his assistants from the room, and
carefully closed the doors.

The port did its rounds, and the loyal toast was drunk.

"Now, gentlemen," Brownlee said.

"The Captain has something to say to us."

All faces turned towards the head of the table.

"Whatever I say is top secret," Leach announced.

"And must not go beyond these bulkheads.  Understood?"

He looked from face to face, then nodded.

"I imagine you all have by now worked out where we are headed.  This is
because relations between Japan and the United States have just about
reached breaking point, and it is felt in both Washington and Whitehall
that the presence of a powerful British naval squadron at the
south-western end of the Pacific, taken in conjunction with the very
powerful American fleet at Hawaii in the north-eastern sector, may well
deter the Japanese from engaging in any rash actions.

It is to be hoped that our masters are right."

He paused, looked at his half-empty port glass, and took a drink of
water instead.

"However, we must operate on the assumption that the Japanese will not
be deterred, and that therefore sometime in the next few months, or
even weeks, we may be engaged with various elements of the Imperial
Japanese Navy.  I wish you all to bear this in mind at all times,
especially in view of the Japanese habit of shooting first and
declaring war afterwards.  They did this against both the Chinese in
1894 and the Russians in 1904, to very good effect.  This squadron, and
most importantly, this ship, is not to be caught napping.
Understood?"

Another look around the now anxious faces in front of him.

"Now, in respect of our immediate task, that of showing the flag in
Singapore and Hong Kong, I have two pieces of information, one good,
and the other, I'm afraid, rather disappointing.  The good news is that
we have had a commander appointed to the Squadron.  Admiral Sir Tom
Phillips is on his way to join us now.  Sir Tom is flying out, and is
going direct to Singapore and thence Manila for talks with the American
officers commanding there.  He will return to Singapore to take
personal command of the squadron as soon as these talks are completed,
and he will fly his flag on board this ship.  It follows that we shall
await his arrival there."

Another pause, another sip of water.

"The disappointing news is that we are not after all going to be joined
by Indomitable.  She was working up in the Caribbean before joining us,
and touched a reef off Jamaica.  She will not now be operational for
several weeks.  This means, of course, that if we proceed, we shall
lack air cover.  However, we are going to proceed; the matter has been
discussed with the Admiralty, and they have taken the decision.  The
Royal Navy has fought often enough in the past without air cover, and
indeed, it has fought several times in this war without air cover.
Additionally, the Royal Air Force in Singapore will provide whatever
cover we may need, should it come to a fight during the next couple of
weeks.  Thank you, gentlemen."  He stood up, and then grinned at
them.

"I

am sure you will all be pleased to know that once we reach Singapore it
will be possible to grant shore leave.  No one can have any doubt why
we are there, and if anyone asks, your reply will be, why, to fight the
Japanese ... if they want to fight us.  Good night, gentlemen."

"Singapore," Telfer said, gazing at the Dragon's Teeth as the squadron
moved slowly towards the harbour.

A sadly attentuated squadron, Jack thought, without Indomitable.  The
new carrier displaced nearly thirty thousand tons and carried
forty-five aircraft, a third more than any other British ship.
Obviously Leach had had to put the best face on it in Colombo, but Jack
could not help but remember how anxious Captain Paynter had been to get
Warspite out of Ofert Fiord and into the open sea before she could be
attacked by German aircraft.

On the other hand, if they were going to be provided with air cover by
the R.A.F, there should be no problem.

Supposing there was going to be a war at all.

You've been here before," Telfer remarked, inspecting the shore through
his binoculars.

"What do we do first?"

When I was here three years ago, Jack thought, I was a confused and
penniless young naval lieutenant, lumbered with a wife I already
disliked, and a hanger-on.  So had anything changed?  Save for the
status of the hanger-on.

Oh, save for the status of the hanger-on.

Singapore itself had not changed at all.  There were still magnificent
chota pegs to be served in Raffles, by white-jacketed, bare-footed
waiters.  There was still cricket being played on the pa dang  There
were still crowds of Chinese, Malays, and every possible mixture of the
two riding their bicycles and ricks has on the crowded streets.

And the English, in their sun to pees and white tropical ducks" or
their cool cotton dresses and open sandals, were still the lords of
creation.

No one, of whatever race or colour, seemed to have the slightest
inkling that they might be sitting on the edge of a volcano.

The squadron had entered the harbour on 2 December, a Tuesday, but
shore leave wasn't practical until the following day, and then it was
the enlisted men who received first go they had been cooped up on board
for too long.

Three days after their arrival Admiral Phillips flew in from Manila,
where he had been conferring with General Mac Arthur and Admiral Hart,
the local American commanders, and was welcomed on board Prince of
Wales by a guard of honour and a marine band.  The Admiral did not look
a particularly happy man, but he did not confide his thoughts to the
lieutenants.

Jack and Telfer got ashore on Saturday, and Jack showed his friend such
of the town as he could remember.  They had their drinks at Raffles,
and found themselves invited to a cocktail party.  Here the two naval
officers, as well as some from Repulse, were surrounded by several
attractive young women, some married, some not, all anxious to be close
to the glamorous uniforms and the strange young men.

"These kids are just dying to be laid," Telfer commented.

"Then why not chance your arm?"  Jack asked.

"What about you?"

"I think I'll go back to the ship."

"Homesick for the wife, eh?"

"Yes," Jack said.

"Homesick for the wife."  He wondered what, or more likely who, Emma
was doing tonight.

General Yamashita surveyed his officers.

"At dawn, tomorrow morning," he said, "Admiral Yamamoto's fleet will
attack Pearl Harbour.  At the same time our forces on the mainland of
China will commence operations against Hong Kong, the Fourteenth Army
under General Homma will commence landings in the Philippines .. . and
the Twenty Fifth Army under my command will move against Malaya.

He got up, walked to the huge map of the area on the wall, touched it
with his wand.

"Our troops will land here, and here, and here.  Gentlemen, it is
absolutely essential that this operation be carried out with the
maximum efficiency and ruthlessness.  There are some eighty thousand
British, Indian and Australian troops in Malaya; that is approximately
the fighting strength of our invasion force, so we cannot expect an
easy victory.  However, our information is that the enemy are not
disposed to the best advantage.

This is because they have, at this moment, no inkling that we are about
to go to war.  Once we do commence hostilities, however, we may expect
those troops to be very rapidly concentrated ... if they are allowed to
do so.  So, speed, infiltration, attack.  Above all, attack and attack.
The enemy must be given no opportunity to recover from the surprise
onslaught he is about to receive.  Our intention must be to send him
reeling down the peninsular towards Singapore, before the fortress can
be adequately reinforced."

He paused to survey their faces.

"I know that some of you will be wondering why we do not simply attack
Singapore, and thus cut the enemy in Malaya off from any hope of
succour.  I will tell you.  It is not practical.  Singapore is a
fortress, heavily guarded from the sea.  Our men would have to approach
it across the sea.  Had we the Imperial Navy at our disposal, then it
might be done.  But the Imperial Navy is in the north-east Pacific, and
there are two British battleships in Singapore Harbour.  We have had a
stroke of good fortune here, to be sure; the aircraft-carrier which was
to accompany the battleships has not appeared.  But the battleships are
still capable of blowing any seaborne invasion force, unprotected by a
battle fleet of its own, out of the water.  Thus we must use the land.
Singapore is not protected against the land.  If we can drive the
Allied force down the Peninsular in sufficient disarray, then all
things may be possible.

"However, Singapore will be attacked, on day one.  Our bombers will
raid the city, and cause as much disruption as possible.  There is a
large non-European population on the island.  Many of these people hate
the British, and it is only fear of the imperial power keeps them from
revolt.  We must demonstrate that there is no longer any need to fear
the British, but every need to fear us.  That situation too may then
turn out to our advantage."

"And the British battleships, honourable General?"  asked Hamaguchi.

"They are a considerable threat," Yamashita agreed.

"I do not believe they will attempt to proceed against us without air
cover, and thus they may well remain immobile until Indomitable joins
them.  If, before this happens, they can be attacked and damaged in
Singapore then so much the better.  Is this possible, Captain?"

"My squadrons can bomb them, certainly.  But to torpedo them ..."
Hamaguchi looked at Tanawa.

"It will depend on how the ships are situated, with regard to the land,
honourable General," Tanawa said.

"The torpedoes need at least a mile in which to run."

"Well, you must do the best you can," Yamashita said.

"I

regard those ships as the greatest obstacle between ourselves and
victory in Malaya.  Thank you, gentlemen."

"Tomorrow," Tanawa said, his eyes gleaming as he walked on the tarmac
with Hamaguchi.

"After so long, a naval enemy worthy of us," Hamaguchi agreed, then
glanced at his junior.

"I thought you liked the British?"

"I respect them as fighting men, nothing more," Tanawa said.

Hamaguchi frowned; he had never known Tanawa to be so vehement.

"You will lead the torpedo squadrons," he said.

"Thank you, honourable Captain."

"But Tanawa, I wish you to take no unnecessary risks.  As you told
Yamashita, your torpedoes need room in which to run.  There is no point
in risking your planes in making an attack if it is clearly not going
to succeed.  I wish this understood."

Tanawa hesitated, then nodded.

Hamaguchi smiled.

"We have not that many that we can afford to throw them away.  Even
less can we afford to throw away the lives of our pilots, because we
have even less of them, trained and ready."  He slapped his friend on
the shoulder.

"And there is only one Hirada, eh?"  .

Only one Hirada, Tanawa thought, as he lay on his back and gazed into
the darkness of the night, listened to the whirring of the mosquitoes
as they tried to get through the netting which shrouded the bed.

That was not true, of course.  Hamaguchi had meant that there was only
one Hirada serving with the Imperial Navy, only one Hirada in his class
as a flying commander.

But there would be another.  His son, grown to manhood.

He was determined on that.  To fight another war, in another time.
Providing his father won this one.  Tanawa did not intend there to be
any mistake about that.

He wondered what the British, and the Americans, were doing at this
moment.  Because of the International Date Line, it was still Saturday
night in Hawaii.  The Americans would be celebrating, as they always
celebrated Saturday night, and they would be totally relaxed tomorrow
morning, because they were always totally relaxed on Sunday morning,
thinking of nothing more important than a church parade followed
perhaps by a game of golf.

If Yamamoto had managed to approach within striking distance
undetected, he should gain a complete surprise.

But in Singapore it was Sunday night, and the weekend was almost behind
the British.  They would wake up tomorrow morning ready to go to work.
On the other hand, they too had no inkling of what was coming.

Jack slept fitfully, awoke before dawn, for a moment unsure of where
the ship was.  Then the heat got to him, even in the darkness.

He got up, showered, and sat down with a book, wondering how Telfer had
got on, or even, as they had been given a weekend pass, how he was
still getting on; he wasn't due back on board until lunchtime.

A weekend pass, which he had preferred to spend on board.  Singapore
brought back too many memories, and none of them were pleasant.  He had
preferred to spend almost the entire day in his bunk, reading, and
dreaming of Emma, of that flowing figure, and the flowing movements to
match.  Emma was born to love and be loved.  Which was perhaps why she
was what she was.  But when he returned to England he was going to have
to be positive.  Of that he was certain.  If Marjorie would not divorce
him, then he would set Emma up as his mistress, and the devil with the
consequences.

When he returned to England!

He hated weekends, in port.  Now he was eager to get at the new day,
the new week, and occupy his time.

He raised his head, listened to the noises from the shore.

Even on a Monday morning the Chinese still seemed to be letting of
their interminable firecrackers.  But now the noise was overlaid with a
wierd whistling kind of sound.

A ... an air raid siren!  He leapt to his feet even as the alarm bells
jangled throughout the ship, crammed his steel helmet on his head, and
ran up to his position at the first anti-aircraft battery, where his
gun crew was already assembling.

"Must be a trial, sir," Midshipman Bartlett suggested.

"Let's hope so," Jack said, staring at the shore.  There was officially
a black-out in force, but it wasn't taken at all seriously, and even at
half-past four in the morning the city was still a blaze of lights, out
of which, rising eerily into the sky, were the beams of several
searchlights.

That did not look like a trial to him.

He wondered again how Telfer was faring.  And indeed, how he would fare
if the squadron put to sea.

But for the moment there was no suggestion of that.

Instead he heard the sharp reports of anti-aircraft guns firing on the
land.

Bartlett looked at him in dismay.

Jack grinned at him.

"No trial, Midshipman."

The midshipman gulped, and peered at the sky, watched a sudden belch of
flame and smoke from the docks, only a few hundred yards away.

"That's a bomb," Jack muttered.

"Where the hell are they?"

"Bandits, four o'clock," a voice said over the tannoy.

The battery swung round, the men straining their eyes.

"There!"  Jack pointed.

"Open fire."

The bombers came in, two squadrons, and it seemed every gun on board
Prince of Wales, saving only the main armament, opened up in reply.
Repulse was also a continuous explosion of flame and noise, and the
destroyers were popping away.

"Got one!"  Petty Officer Limey crowed triumphantly, as the darkness
was sparked with an exploding fireball high above them; a few seconds
later the destroyed plane struck the water with an enormous hissing
splash.

Then it was over.  The ship had not been hit, and neither had any of
the others.  The bombers were gone, and the sirens were sounding again,
this time the all clear.

Jack looked at the city.  It was just starting to grow light, and he
could see several pillars of smoke rising out of dull red glows.  While
now he could hear, as well, a gigantic wail of bewilderment and terror,
emanating from a million throats.

"Stand down," said the tannoy.

"This is the Captain speaking."  Leach took over.

"I wish to inform you that as of this minute, we are at war with
Japan.

I also wish to congratulate you on your shooting.  We'll get some more,
next time they come."

Tanawa climbed down from his cockpit, taking off his helmet as he did
so.  He threw it to his waiting orderly and stamped towards the control
building.

"I see you still have your fish," remarked Colonel Ozawa, of the
military wing, overall commander of the 22nd Air Flotilla.

"There was no room to use them," Tanawa snapped.

"The attack on the warships was a fiasco.  And Captain Hamaguchi is
dead."

"I know," Ozawa said.

"I am sorry, Commander.  Was he a good friend?"

"He was my best friend," Tanawa said.

"Then you have much to avenge.  You will take command of the naval
squadron."

"To bomb Singapore again?"

"We shall see what develops.  Meanwhile, Commander, let us mourn your
captain and celebrate a great victory at the same time: the American
Pacific Fleet has been destroyed."

Singapore remained in a state of panic all day, which grew as word came
in from the outside world of the catastrophe which had overtaken the
Americans at Pearl Harbour, and even more with the news that leaked
out, despite official censorship, of Japanese landings at the north end
of the Malayan Peninsular.

Obviously all possible force had to be brought to bear to check the
invaders.  The squadron was immediately prepared for sea.

Telfer was back on board only an hour after the first bombing raid,
panting with excitement, induced not only by the outbreak of war, Jack
gathered, but also by the sexual triumph he had just achieved.

"The best lay I have ever had," he crowed.

"And now .. .

let's get at these bloody Japs."

The squadron sailed at half-past five that afternoon.  It consisted of
the battleship, the battle cruiser and four destroyers.

"Oh, to have Indomitable," Jack muttered.

Captain Leach might have been able to hear him.  As soon as they were
clear of the land and steering north-east he came on the tannoy.

"Our purpose is to seek and destroy the enemy.  I'm afraid I cannot
promise you a confrontation with any Japanese capital ship; there are
none known to be in this area.  So it is going to be the rather nasty
business of shooting up landing craft and destroyers.  However, this is
war, and I know you will not shirk from your duty.  In case any of you
are concerned about air cover, let me assure you that this will be
provided by the R.A.F, which is at this moment moving several of its
squadrons to airfields in the north of the Peninsular.  So there is no
concern on that score."

He did not tell his crew that Admiral Phillips had been informed of
large Japanese concentrations of air power in Indo-China, but in any
event that seemed irrelevant as the evening closed in, with low cloud
and a succession of heavy rain squalls bringing visibility down to a
few yards.

Hardly anyone slept that night, and next morning they continued to
steam north at full speed through heavy weather.  The four destroyers,
Electro, Express, Vampire and Tenedos Vampire and Tenedos were old
World War I ships, but the other two were new, two thousand tons each
and armed with four four-point-seven-inch guns as well as their torpedo
tubes were bucking and plunging in the short, steep seas, and taking it
green over the bows, while even on the capital ships there were
occasional rattles of spray against the bridge screens, alternating
with the patter of rain.

"I don't see how we're supposed to find any bloody landing craft in
this mess," Telfer grumbled when he came on watch the following
morning.

"Maybe we'll just run them down," Jack said, giving him course and
speed.

Commander Brownlee joined them.

"We're on our own," he remarked.

"Sir?"  Both lieutenants looked up in alarm.

"There's to be no air support.  The airfields in the north have either
been overrun or put out of action.  There is no way the Hurricanes from
Singapore can fly up here and stay with us.  They can only come for a
brief period if called for.

So .. he gave a grim smile.

"Your chaps may have some work to do."

"They have to find us, first," Telfer said.

Jack went down the ladder, pausing to look around him at the day.
Prince of Wales was the lead ship; behind her was the huge bulk of
Repulse, bow rising and falling in the swell, occasional gushes of
green water sweeping across her foredeck.  Behind that foredeck were
her fifteen-inch guns, massive and threatening.  It was impossible to
imagine a ship that huge and powerful being at risk to aircraft..  .
and yet, his shoulders felt cold, as he remembered Goliath, and the
anxiety with which they had worried about enemy air attack, both off
Norway and in the Med.

And colder yet, when he looked up at the sky, and saw a patch of blue.
The clouds were clearing.

The Admiral had seen the patch of blue too, and had realised that his
chances of reaching Khota Baru, where the landings had been reported,
and getting away again without being attacked, were slim; an hour later
the squadron came about, to steam south, and home.

Colonel Ozawa surveyed his pilots.

"The enemy squadron has left Singapore," he announced.

There was a rustle throughout the command room.

"They steamed to the east after leaving the port, and have not been
seen or heard of since."

"We must find them, honourable Colonel," Tanawa said.

Ozawa nodded.

"We will send up reconnaissance machines immediately.  But there are
only three directions they could have gone.  They may be trying to
cross the Pacific to link up with the American carriers which escaped
destruction at Pearl Harbour, or they may be trying to reach Hong Kong
to assist the garrison there, which is under attack from our forces on
the Chinese mainland.

In either of those eventualities they will be steaming north-east
across the South China Sea.  Secondly, they may be on their way to
Manila to assist the Americans in the Philipines.  In which case they
are steaming virtually due East across the Celebes Sea.  Thirdly, they
may be meaning to strike at our landings in the north of Malaya, in
which case they will be steaming north, fairly close to the land."

"What if they have decided to make for Australia, honourable Colonel?"
someone asked.

"I think that is unlikely.  It would be running away from an enemy.  I
do not believe the Royal Navy will do that.

No, the most likely of the three alternatives is a strike against our
landing forces.  I do not have to tell you what destruction the guns of
two battleships could wreak amongst our troop-carrying ships.  They
must be found, gejitlemen.

However, until they are, we will continue our bombing of Singapore."

But the search planes could not penetrate the low cloud, and all were
back by Tuesday lunchtime, with nothing to report.

Tanawa walked up and down the tarmac with his second in command,
Lieutenant-Commander Hojo.  He had let Hojo take over command of the
bombers in place of Hamaguchi;

he intended to retain control of the torpedo planes.

"The gods are fighting for the British," he grumbled.

"They could be anywhere."

An orderly panted up to them.

"Honourable sirs, will you report to Colonel Oyama, please."

The two officers ran to the command room.  Oyama was standing before
his wall map, looking elated.

"We have had a report from one of our submarines, timed fourteen
hundred hours: two large warships with destroyer escort in this
position .. he had already made a mark on the chart, "steaming north.
How fast will these ships travel, honourable Commander."

"If they are steaming at full speed, even after a long voyage out from
England, they should be capable of at least twenty-five knots,
honourable Colonel."

"Then we can estimate where they are, hour by hour.

They are definitely continuing their intention of attacking our forces
at Khota Baru."

"Without air cover?  That is madness," Tanawa said.

"It is the arrogance of too many centuries of unbroken success," Oyama
said.

"Now, gentlemen, we have them.

I have ordered our aircraft to be armed and fuelled.

You will lead the attack, Commander Hirada.  Sink those battleships."

The entire 22nd Air Flotilla took off at dusk and droned into the sky,
which was clearing rapidly.

"Now the gods are fighting for us, honourable Commander," Hojo said
jubilantly.

Tanawa could not believe it, that the British squadron should just
steam into the jaws of what they had to know would be a massive air
attack; he looked left and right at the eighty aircraft of the flotilla
he had never commanded such a force before.  He didn't know how well
the army pilots would perform, but his navy fliers were trained to the
maximum efficiency.

The lights of Indo-China fell away and they flew over the southern end
of the Gulf of Thailand.  Now the skies were entirely clear, and
although there was no moon, it was quite light enough to see the water
glistening beneath them.  Every man was keyed up for a first sight of
the British ships.

But they saw nothing.  Eventually the coast of Malaya came into view,
and they even flew over the frenzied activity at Khota Baru itself,
where the troops were still disembarking.

But there was no sign of the British.

"They must have turned back," Hojo said over the radio.

"Shall we sweep south, honourable Commander?"

Tanawa looked at his fuel gauge.  There was a lot of water to the
south, and the British could be anywhere.  Even within range of the
Hurricanes at Singapore.

"No," he said wearily.

"We will return to base and fuel."

Jack was fast asleep when he was called just after midnight,

to find the ship again a buzz of excitement; news had been received
that the Japanese were attempting a second landing, at Kuantan, a good
hundred and thirty miles south of Khota Baru.

"Even if we were spotted yesterday," the Admiral said, "and I don't
believe we were, we'll have thrown them off the scent by our change of
course.  Let's see what we can do about this Kuantan business."

The entire crew was with him in his determination to attack the enemy
wherever they could be found, whatever the risk.

Course was altered for Kuantan, and the destroyer Electra was sent on
ahead to ascertain the whereabouts of the Japanese, while the big ships
followed as fast as they could.

Everyone was on the alert, and several men reported hearing aircraft
engines even above the roar of the ships, which suggested that there
were a lot of the enemy about, but nothing happened, and the noise
faded.

"Missed us," Telfer said, as exultant as ever.

Tanawa saw that the planes were being re-fuelled, and reported to
Oyama.

"That is very strange," Oyama said.

"Obviously they turned back to the south, honourable Colonel.
Battleships cannot just disappear into thin air."

"I agree.  But there is no use in your people racing to and fro across
the sky.  Stand them down."

"With respect, honourable Colonel ..."

"Commander Hirada, if the British squadron has turned back for
Singapore, it no longer poses a threat to our landings.  If it is
located again before it reaches Singapore, then we will attack it.
Until then, we must be patient.  Stand your men down, and get some
sleep."

Reluctantly, Tanawa obeyed.  He did not expect to sleep, but in fact
fell into a heavy slumber, from which he was awakened just before dawn
by his excited orderly.  He hurried to the command room.

"They have been sighted again, by another submarine," Oyama said.

"Here."  He marked the chart.

"Steaming south.

Can you catch them before they reach port?"

Tanawa bent over the position, made a hasty mental calculation.

"Yes, honourable Colonel."

"Then go."

Jack breakfasted at dawn on cold meat and bread and marmalade, with
coffee.  There were several war correspondents on board, and these had
all accumulated in the wardroom.

"Here's to a good day's shooting," someone said.

After the bad weather of yesterday, this was a perfect morning, with
the sky a brilliant blue, and the water a steadily lightening green,
for now they could see the low, tree-clad shoreline of Malaya in the
distance.  And Electro, returning to say there was no sign of any enemy
activity at Kuantan.

"For Jesus' sake," commented Petty Officer Limey.

"Begging your pardon, Mr.  Dawson, but this is like looking for a
bloody needle in a fucking haystack."

They waited for orders, but these were to continue the search, for a
few miles further north; the Admiral was reluctant to return to
Singapore entirely empty-handed.

They cruised along the coast, northwards, for an hour, before the
command came to turn back to the south, and home.

Once again, empty water, for as far as the eye could see, and today
visibility was excellent.

"I see Singapore," Hojo said over the radio.

Tanawa raised his head, and could also make out the sun glinting from
the buildings, the smoke rising from fires left after the last raid.

Once again the British squadron had simply disappeared into thin air.

And once again his fuel gauge was reading just over half-full.

"Flotilla will return to base," he said wearily.

But where on earth could the British have gone?  Obviously they had
altered course again, but in which direction?  West lay only the coast
of Malaya, empty of anything which might interest, or succour, a
battleship.  To the east lay the Philippines, but if the British had
altered course for the Philippines, they would have to pass very close
to Indo-China.  If he could get his planes home, and refuelled in time
... he looked at his watch: it was a quarter past ten.

If only he knew when the British had altered course again.

It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, he thought.

"I see ships," Hojo remarked, almost casually.  He was far out in front
of the main body.

"I am going to investigate."

"Wouldn't know we were at war, would you?"  Telfer remarked, as he and
Jack stood together on the bridge wing and looked at the sparkling
water spreading away from the battleship's bows.

"At this speed we'll be home for dinner.

It's only two hundred miles now.  You reckon there'll be any shore
leave, Jack?"

"That will depend on what's been happening while we've been away."

"Boy, I want to get back to that Alice.  She is really something.  She
..."

"Enemy aircraft bearing one six five," said the tannoy.

Binoculars were brought up, studying the lone speck in the sky.

"Mitsubishi Nine Six," Commander Brownlee said.  He lowered his glasses
and looked at the Admiral and Captain Leach.

"It was all too good to be true," Leach commented.

"They haven't caught us yet," Phillips said.

"A lot will depend on where his friends are."

The plane disappeared, and the skies remained empty for another quarter
of an hour.

Then Jack pointed.

"They weren't so far off."

There were nine aircraft coming up from the south, flying in line
ahead.

"By God," First Lieutenant Harrison said.

"If those were the chaps looking for us last night ..."

"Holy Jesus Christ!"  Telfer muttered.

For behind the first squadron there were nine more.

The entire southern sky was suddenly filled with Japanese bombers.

"Well, they've found us now," Jack said, running for his anti-aircraft
battery as the alarm went.

"Are you happy, honourable Commander?"  Hojo asked over the radio.

Tanawa looked down at the two huge ships, the four destroyers.  There
was no Japanese ship within possible range of the conflict, even were
there any Japanese ships in the vicinity able to match the two British
monsters.  It would be a straight fight between the old and the new:

battleship versus aircraft.  Or, looked at in another way, between
roughly four thousand men commanding enormous fire power, and one
hundred and sixty-two, mustering eighty-one projectiles between them,
but far more able to control events.

He did not doubt the outcome for a moment.

"Yes, Hojo," he said.

"I am happy.  Take your bombers in first, Commander.  Toro, toro,
toro!"

Every anti-aircraft gun on board Prince of Wales opened up as the
planes came in.  Jack's battery spun round and round to send streams of
tracers upwards at the enemy, watched the vapour trails and the plumes,
and also the white bursts as the bombs struck the water.

"Repulse is hit, sir," Limey muttered.

Jack twisted his neck, saw the smoke rising from the battle cruiser
deck.

"Doesn't look too serious."

"They've gone," Telfer shouted.

The respite was only momentary, as the first wave zoomed back up into
the clear blue sky.

"Here comes the second!"

"Torpedo bombers!"

Jack adjusted the range.  Torpedo bombers would have to come in low. He
watched the planes seeming almost to touch the wavetops, sent volley
after volley at them.  But aiming was difficult as Prince of Wales
twisted away from the torpedoes.  Yet one of the attackers suddenly
exploded, and another hit the water with a huge impact, breaking up
into a thousand pieces as it cartwheeled across the gentle waves.

Jack had no idea whether or not his battery had brought either of the
planes down, and he lost sight of them as Prince of Wales came back on
to course.  Then the entire ship shuddered, and then again, almost
instantanously.

We've been hit!  he thought.  Yet nothing seemed to have changed; there
were still Japanese planes diving at them, and the guns were still
chattering, and the brilliantly sunlit morning was a crisscross of
smoke and tracer streams and vapour trails .. . but instead of
zigzagging on a southerly course, Prince of Wales was slowly turning to
port, and again, so that she performed an entire circle.

"Oh, shit!"  Limey commented.

Commander Brownlee came on the tannoy.

"We have been hit aft and lost our rudder," he said.

"Do the best you can."

"Keep firing," Jack told his men, as more and more aircraft seemed to
surround them, sensing the kill; a hasty glance showed him Repulse
overtaking them to starboard, apparently hardly damaged.

Then the battleship shuddered again and again, and the engine pitch
changed, racing before slowing.

"I'm afraid we have lost two screws," Brownlee said.

The next wave had gone, and there was time to draw breath.  Jack tried
to brush aside the smoke which was swirling everywhere, and for the
first time looked down from his position, to gulp: the sea seemed oddly
close beneath him Prince of Wales was taking water.  The great ship, so
powerful, so comfortable, so much of a home to him for the past nine
months, was sinking.

But no order had been given to abandon ship, and more Japanese aircraft
were coming in.  He shouted his directions, his voice hoarse, and the
battery chattered away.  Once again the bright blue sky became a
crisscross of vapour trails and tracer streaks, while the green water
was slashed with torpedo wakes, and spattered with spray from bomb
explosions.

He looked forward, and saw Repulse, now significantly in the lead,
turning to come back to the aid of the flagship.  He wanted to wave and
shout at her to get away while she could, because even as he watched
several Japanese planes roared down at her.  Jack watched huge
explosions hurling men and metal skywards, and Repulse lost way,
sagging to port.

The sag increased.  Jack held his breath as he watched men jump into
the sea.  Once again a battle cruiser had proved insufficiently
armoured to stand up to direct attack, but somehow this was more
terrible than the destruction of Hood.  That had happened so quickly it
had been several hours before the fact of it had properly sunk in. 
Repulse seemed to be acting in slow motion, as she turned on her side,
and with a huge gurgle sank beneath the waves.

Instinctively Jack looked at his watch, as if he would need to have the
correct time to give to the police when they arrived to investigate
this unthinkable disaster: it was twenty seven minutes to one.  He
watched a great wave roll away from the sunken battle cruiser a huge
swell because it was so smothered in oil it could not break.  It
reached Prince of Wales and moved her to and fro; the battleship's hull
by now contained so much water it could only respond sluggishly.

Behind the wave the destroyers moved in to pick up survivors.  No
Japanese attacked them; the planes were regrouping for the destruction
of the chief prize.  All the torpedoes had been fired; the coup de
grace would be left to the bombers.

"We got one of the bastards, sir," Limey said.

"We got two," Midshipman Bartlett objected.

' ' They were still full of fight, unaware that they were standing on a
corpse.  But a corpse which was taking a long time being buried.  Jack
summoned stretcher bearers and had his wounded removed they had mostly
been hit by flying splinters of steel and glass looked down at teams
with hoses dousing the fires caused by the bombs" stepped over dead
men, slipped on streams of blood .. . and watched the sea slowly rising
about the hull.

Captain Leach's voice came over the tannoy.

"Blow up your life jackets."

Jack obeyed the order mechanically.  He had rehearsed this so many
times, without ever truly expecting to have to do it.  And still the
enemy aircraft buzzed to and fro, and the ship trembled to the roar of
the ack-ack guns, and the tracer streams cut across the sky, and the
sun beamed down upon the scene with glorious warmth.

The deck was tilting.

"Abandon ship," said the quiet voice on the tannoy.

Jack hesitated, suddenly obsessed with the necessity to fetch some of
his more personal belongings from his cabin.

But that was impossible; the quarterdeck was awash, and his cabin was
already beneath the surface.

"Time to go, lads," he told his gun crew

They gazed at him in unbelieving consternation, and he went to the
rail.

"All together now."

The crew came to him.  He had envisaged having to dive or jump into the
sea, but that wasn't necessary.  As they reached the rail it went
under, and it was simply a matter of propelling themselves away from
the hull.

Jack looked back and up, at the superstructure of the battleship
looming above him, at Captain Leach and Admiral Phillips standing on
the sloping bridge, gazing down at him.

He began to swim with desperate energy.  His tremendous strength
enabled him to get well away from the ship before she fell on her side.
He had reached what seemed a safe distance away before he heard the
gigantic hiss which meant the battleship had gone under, but even so it
felt as if a gigantic hand had hold of his legs, and he went down and
down.

Still he kept swimming, and surged upwards.  He broke the surface and
gulped for air; with it came a mouthful of seawater which was mostly
oil.  He swallowed and choked, then vomited, again and again.  Only
just managing to keep his head above water, wondering stupidly if his
vomit would attract sharks.  But sharks would surely realise they were
out of their class in this man-made cataclysm.

If they did come, they would have a lot to do.  The water was full of
men, and not all of them were swimming, while there was blood
everywhere.  He heard the grind of engines, looked up, and saw Express
moving into the mass of swimmers and dead bodies and flotsam, as slowly
as possible to avoid chopping anyone up in her propellers.

Nets were strung from her side, and up these men were climbing.  Now
the other destroyers were also coming to the rescue.  Jack looked up at
the sky, which was strangely clear, peaceful.  The Japanese had done
their work and gone home; this was the second major victory they had
achieved in a week.

He reached the destroyer's side, grasped the rope, hung there while the
men climbed past him.  He looked for Limey and Bartlett, for Telfer,
for Commander Brownlee or the Captain or the Admiral, but couldn't see
any of them.

"Take your time," he said, as two sailors fought each other for a place
on the net.

"Hold on to me until it's your turn."

"Are we ever going to beat the bastards, sir?"  one of the men asked.

"Yes," Jack said.

"One of these days."

"Prince of Wales and Repulse, gone," Sir Dudley Pound said.  His
shoulders were hunched, and he looked exhausted.

"Twelve hundred men, gone.  Tom Phillips, Leach .. . gone.

Worst of all, our entire naval strength in the Pacific, gone."

He sighed.

"Do you know, this is the first time I have ever seen Winston looking
cut up."

"Any news on survivors?"  Giles asked.

"The destroyers picked up more than half.  I have no names yet.  Your
nephew was on board Prince of Wales, wasn't he?"

Giles nodded.

"He's the only one left."

"Well, if those figures are accurate, there's at least an even chance
he's come through.  The question is, what are we going to do next?  I'm
afraid it looks serious.  I don't see how we're going to keep them out
of the Indian Ocean."

"We still have Singapore," Giles reminded him.

"Percival has a large army there.  Eighty thousand men.  He'll just
have to hang on until we regain control of the situation."

"Yes," Pound said, uncertainly.

Giles returned to his office, found Commander Parks waiting for him.

"It's all pretty grim," Giles told him.

"But we just have to see about putting it right."

"What about your daughter, sir?"

Giles looked at him, then sat behind his desk.

"She's married to a Japanese naval officer.  We'll just have to wait
and see.  Where's Robbie?"

"He went home, sir, when he heard the news."

Giles raised his eyebrows.

"He really was upset, sir."

"He was, was he?  It's a case of all hands to the pump.

You get hold of him and tell him I want him here.  Upset?

We're all bloody well upset.  You get him back."

Both Lorraine and Elizabeth met Giles at the King's Martin Station.  It
was very unusual for him to come home in the middle of the week, and
they feared the worst.

"Georgie?"  Lorraine asked.

Giles sat beside her in the front; he looked very old and very tired.
Elizabeth sat in the back.

"I'm afraid I don't know.  I suppose technically she is now an enemy
alien.

But she is married to a Japanese officer, and so ... I'm trying to find
out, but until I do we must simply hope for the best."

"But, when we win ... we are going to win, aren't we, Giles?"

"Oh, we are going to win, Lorry, I promise you that."

"What will happen to her then?"

"I hope we'll get her back.  As to whether she'll want to come ..."  he
sighed.

"That will depend on what happens between now and when Japan
surrenders."

They drove in silence for a few minutes.

"Is there any news of Jack?"  Elizabeth asked.

"Nothing as yet.  I'm trying to find out.  There's a good chance."

"Thank God for that.  But..."  she bit her lip.  If he didn't know
about Jack .. . when he had telephoned to say he was coming down, she
had had no doubt it was something very serious.

The Rolls topped the slight rise and looked down on Silver Streams.

"Stop here a moment," Giles said.

Lorraine obediently braked.

Giles half turned in his seat to look at Elizabeth.

"I have some rather unpleasant news."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

Giles took a long breath.

"Alex Robbie is dead."

Both women stared at him in total consternation.

"I'm not going to tell you any lies," Giles said.

"But what I have to say is in total confidence, between us three.  I
wish this very clearly understood.  As far as anyone knows, or will
ever know, he died of a heart attack."

"A heart attack?"  Elizabeth cried.

"Alex?"

"He committed suicide," Giles said.

Once again they stared at him.

"I'm afraid it appears as if Alex was actually a traitor.  I suppose it
is partly my fault.  He was one of the officers I deputed to take care
of that visiting group of Japanese back in 1938.  This was' because he
spoke the language.  Jack was one of them as well, you may remember.
Well, Jack survived.

Robbie apparently didn't."

He paused to look at his daughter.  But Elizabeth was showing no sign
of collapse or bursting into tears.  He had never doubted that she was
by far the strongest of his daughters.

Lorraine looked quite distressed.

"He was, I'm afraid, already sympathetic towards the Japanese," Giles
continued.

"And perhaps he had, well..  .

it really isn't very nice."

"I don't understand," Lorraine said.

Giles continued to gaze at his daughter.  He had an uneasy feeling that
Elizabeth entirely understood.

"It's odd," she said.

"He always seemed embarrassed when he kissed me."

"He didn't do anything more than that, I hope."

"Oh, good lord, no, Pa.  You mean, he was really .. .?"

"I don't know.  He allowed himself to be seduced, and then there were
photographs, well, as I said, it is a very unpleasant business."

"Seduced?"  Lorraine demanded.

"Seduced by whom?"

Giles and Elizabeth gazed at each other.

"Oh, my God!"  Lorraine cried as the penny dropped.

"Oh, how awful.  And he was going to marry Lizzie?"

Giles sighed.

"Perhaps it went with the business of, well ..."

"Of being a spy."  Elizabeth opened the back door and got out.

"You all go on home.  I'll walk the rest of the way."

"Lizzie!  You're not ..."

"Oh, Pa!  I'm not going to do anything foolish.  I just want to be
alone."

"Lizzie," Lorraine said.

"There'll be other men.  Hundreds and thousands of them."

"Of course, Ma," Elizabeth said, and forced a smile.

"Thousands and thousands of them."  She put her hands in the pockets of
her coat and started to walk down the hill.

"Tanawa!"  Hirada Akabuchi embraced his son.

"A great victory.  You are a hero."

"They were all heroes, Father," Tanawa said.

Aki and Suiko were there to be hugged and kissed, as was his mother.

"No nation in history has ever gained so many victories in so short a
space of time," Aki told him.

"We are so proudl" Tanawa kissed her again, then went along the
corridor to his apartment.

Georgina knelt on the floor and bowed as he entered.  Little Akabuchi,
not yet a year old, sat and stared at his father.

Tanawa knelt opposite his wife.

"You have heard the news?"

"I would have to be deaf and blind not to have heard the news,"
Georgina said.

"I am sorry it had to be this way.  That it had to involve Prince of
Wales."

"Was Jack ..."  she bit her lip.

"I do not know.  I do not even know if he was on board.

I am surmising.  Anyway, there would have been many survivors, I
think."

"Did they fight well?"

"They went down with their guns firing, if that is what you mean.  Yes,
I would say they fought well."

"And now you are masters of all East Asia?"

"Yes."

They gazed at each other.

"Do you really think you can win?"  Georgina remembered what Hakimo had
said.  It might have been a lure to suck her into his trap, but it was
nonetheless true.

"Do you even think you can hold what you have won?"

It was some seconds before Tanawa replied.

"We must try," he said simply.

"Three times lucky," mused Admiral Leighton.

"I seem to remember that your father was three times lucky too,
Dawson."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, here's wishing you more success."  He held out the envelope.

"That contains your travel warrant to Colombo.

Your ship sails tonight.  I don't know where you'll be assigned when
you get there."

"With respect, sir," Jack said.

"I would like to request permission to remain here."

"Here?"  Leighton looked astonished, and then cocked his head to listen
to the sounds of Singapore.  A Singapore on the verge of panic as
rumour ran riot, of the Japanese advance down the Malayan Peninsular,
of the ruthless invincibility of their troops.

"What on earth for?"

"I want to fight the Japanese, sir."

Leighton gave a grim smile.

"Don't you think you are going to?  You're a sailor, Dawson.  Your
business is fighting them at sea, not on land."  He looked up at the
tall young man.

"I suppose you feel that the loss of Prince of Wales was just about the
end of the world, for you."

"Yes, sir," Jack said.

"I do feel that."

"Well, it wasn't the end of your world, Dawson.  There will be other
ships, and other battles, battles which you will win.

No, no, the loss of those ships, tragic though it was, wasn't the end
of our world.  It was only the end of the beginning of this war.  With
the Americans and the Russians fighting beside us, what happened last
week was the ultimate end of the world, for German and Japanese
militarism.  You be on that ship tonight.  You have a lot to do."

continued from front flap caught up in the trauma of a nation bent on
war, against her own people.

But Resumption also tells the story of two navies, the British and
Japanese preparing themselves for the greatest of wars, and exploding
into triumph and tragedy in the Gulf of Siam on that sunlit December
day in 1941.

Born in the West Indies, British author Christopher Nicole's historical
fiction includes the best selling, 5-volume Canbee series.  His
extraordinary naval knowledge was the source of his popular, six-part
McGann Saga, ending with The Passion And The Glory and most recently
Days of Wine And Roses?  and The Titans