H.M.S. Ulysses Part 49

"Said he couldn't spare his engine room men, too b.l.o.o.d.y valuable... Too much?" The oil, thick, viscous, was pouring slowly on to the overheated bearing.

"Lieutenant Grierson!" Dodson was almost vicious, his voice a whiplash of icy correction. "And that's a d.a.m.ned lie, Riley! Lieutenant Grierson never sent you: I suppose you told him that somebody else had sent you?"

"Drink your coffee," Riley advised sourly. "You're wanted in the engine-room."

The Engineer-Commander clenched his fist, restrained himself with difficulty.

"You d.a.m.ned insolent b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" he burst out. Abruptly, control came back and he said evenly: "Commander's Defaulters in the morning. You'll pay for this, Riley!"

"No, I won't." Confound him, Dodson thought furiously, he's actually grinning, the insolent...

He checked his thought.

"Why not?" he demanded dangerously.

"Because you won't report me." Riley seemed to be enjoying himself hugely.

"Oh, so that's it!" Dodson glanced swiftly round the darkened tunnel, and his lips tightened as he realised for the first time how completely alone they were: in sudden certainty he looked back at Riley, big and hunched and menacing. Smiling yet, but no smile, Dodson thought, could ever transform that ugly brutal face. The smile on the face of the tiger... Fear, exhaustion, never, ending strain, they did terrible things to a man and you couldn't blame him for what he had become, or for what he was born... But his, Dodson's, first responsibility was to himself. Grimly, he remembered how Turner had berated him, called him all sorts of a fool for refusing to have Riley sent to prison.

"So that's it, eh?" he repeated softly. He turned himself, feet thrusting solidly against the block. "Don't be so sure, Riley. I can give you twenty five years, but------"

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Riley burst out impatiently. "What are you talking about, sir? Drink your coffee, please, You're wanted in the engine-room, I tell you!" he repeated impatiently.

Uncertainly, Dodson relaxed, unscrewed the cap of the Thermos. He had a sudden, peculiar feeling of unreality, as if he were a spectator, some bystander in no way involved in this scene, this fantastic scene. His head, he realised, still hurt like h.e.l.l.

"Tell me, Riley," he asked softly, "what makes you so sure I won't report you?"

"Oh, you can report me all right." Riley was suddenly cheerful again.

"But I won't be at the Commander's table tomorrow morning."

"No?" It was half-challenge, half-question.

"No," Riley grinned. "'Cos there'll be no Commander and no table tomorrow morning." He clasped his hands luxuriously behind his head.

"In fact, there'll be no nothin'."

Something in the voice, rather than in the words, caught and held Dodson's attention. He knew, with instant conviction, that though Riley might be smiling, he wasn't joking. Dodson looked at him curiously, but said nothing.

"Commander's just finished broadcastin'," Riley continued. "The Tirpitz is out, we have four hours left."

The bald, flat statement, the complete lack of histrionics, of playing for effect, left no possible room for doubt. The Tirpitz out. The Tirpitz out. Dodson repeated the phrase to himself, over and over again. Four hours, just four hours to go.... He was surprised at his own reaction, his apparent lack of concern.

"Well?" Riley was anxious now, restive. "Are you goin' or aren't you? I'm not kiddin', sir, you're wanted urgent!"

"You're a liar," Dodson said pleasantly. "Why did you bring the coffee?"

"For myself." The smile was gone, the face set and sullen. "But I thought you needed it, you don't look so good to me... They'll fix you up back in the engine-room."

"And that's just where you're going, right nowl" Dodson said evenly.

Riley gave no sign that he had heard.

"On your way, Riley," Dodson said curtly. "That's an order!"

"-----, off!" Riley growled. "I'm stayin'. You don't require to have three -----, great gold stripes on your sleeve to handle a b.l.o.o.d.y oil can," he finished derisively.

"Possibly not." Dodson braced against a sudden, violent pitch, but too late to prevent himself lurching into Riley. "Sorry, Riley. Weather's worsening, I'm afraid. Well, we, ah-appear to have reached an impa.s.se."

"What's that?" Riley asked suspiciously.

"A dead end. A no-decision fight... Tell me, Riley," he asked quietly. "What brought you here?"

"I told you!" Riley was aggrieved. "Grierson, Lieutenant Grierson sent me."

"What brought you here?" Dodson persisted. It was as if Riley had not spoken.

"That's my -----, business!" Riley answered savagely.

"'What brought you here?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake leave me alone!" Riley shouted. His voice echoed loudly along the dark tunnel. Suddenly he turned round full face, his mouth twisted bitterly. "You know b.l.o.o.d.y well why I came."

"To do me in, perhaps?"

Riley looked at him a long second, then turned away. His shoulders were hunched, his head held low.

"You're the only b.a.s.t.a.r.d in this s.h.i.+p that ever gave me a break," he muttered. "The only b.a.s.t.a.r.d I've ever known who ever gave me a chance," he amended slowly. "b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Dodson supposed, was Riley's accolade of friends.h.i.+p, and he felt suddenly ashamed of his last remark.

"If it wasn't for you," Riley went on softly, "I'd 'a' been in cells the first time, in a civvy jail the second. Remember, sir?"

Dodson nodded. "You were rather foolish, Riley," he admitted.

"Why did you do it?" The big stoker was intense, worried. "G.o.d, everyone knows What I'm like------"

"Do they? I wonder... I thought you had the makings of a better man than you ------"

"Don't give me that bull!" Riley scoffed. " know what I'm like. I know what I am. I'm no -----, good! Everybody says I'm no -----, good! And they're right..." He leaned forward. "Do you know somethin'? I'm a Catholic. Four hours from now..." He broke off. "I should be on my knees, shouldn't I?" he sneered.

"Repentance, lookin' for, what do they call it?"

"Absolution?"

"Aye. That's it. Absolution. And do you know what?" He spoke slowly, emphatically. "I don't give a single, solitary d.a.m.n!"

"Maybe you don't have to," Dodson murmured. "For the last time, get back to that engine-room!"

"No!"