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captain’s quarters would seem palatial after the gunroom.
    ‘It’s a
her,
sir. Second Officer Grenfell.’
    Fairfax relaxed slightly. ‘Quintin’s aide, sir. You met her, I expect?’
    Blake stared at his reflection in the mirror and pushed his hair roughly from his forehead. He recalled the Wren officer vaguely. Cool and in control.
    She stepped into the cabin and looked at him calmly.
    ‘Captain Quintin sent me, sir.’
    Moon bustled forward with a chair, but when he hovered over her with his tray she shook her head.
    ‘No thanks. Too early for me.’
    Blake sat down and cleared his throat. It had sounded like a rebuke.
    She said, ‘I apologize for coming down like this, sir.’ She flipped open her shoulder bag and took out a narrow envelope. ‘For your intelligence pack.’ She looked round the cabin for the first time. ‘Hard to believe there was a battle here.’
    Fairfax opened his mouth but shut it as Blake replied, ‘There were fifty men lying around here actually. The sick-bay was too full to take any more. But it was too late for most of them.’ He felt unusually irritated. With her casual appraisal, with his own hasty reaction.
    In a calmer tone he asked, ‘Shall I read this despatch now, or will you tell me what’s in it?’
    She looked at him directly. She had nice even features with steady grey-blue eyes. Beneath her tricorn hat her fair hair jutted forward like two pale wings. It was like seeing someone watching you from behind a mask, he thought.
    She shrugged. ‘Nothing definite, sir. But reports are coming in about a possible incident. A ship called the
Bikanir,
two and a half days out of Cape Town, on passage for Adelaide. An American patrol picked up a garbled distress signal and part of the ship’s position.’ She touched her upper lip with her fingers, it was moist with perspiration.
    Fairfax exclaimed, ‘This might be the one, sir.’
    The girl said, ‘Commodore Stagg is sailing in
Fremantle
this evening. You’ll be sent a rendezvous in due course.’
    Blake ripped open the envelope and read quickly through the neatly typed paragraphs.
    The
Bikanir
was carrying chemicals for industrial use. She was in no state to cross swords with a raider.
    His eyes fastened on Quintin’s scribbled comments beneath the final paragraph.
    Andromeda
would be required to proceed to sea without further delay.
    Blake could feel the girl watching him. He thought suddenly of Diana, her laughing mouth, her various ways of driving a man wild.
    He said, ‘Ask the Chief if he can spare a minute, Victor. Better tell Number One to be prepared to recall the libertymen. Just in case.’
    It was very quiet after Fairfax had gone, and Moon in his pantry seemed to be holding his breath.
    There was a sudden whirr and cool air spilled into the cabin from the fan ducts.
    He leaned back in his chair. ‘I needed that!’
    She said, ‘I wish you luck, sir. You and your ship.’
    Blake got to his feet. He had wanted her to leave, but her casual simplicity made him want her to stay.
    She said, ‘Must be strange out here for you. After the Mediterranean, and England.’
    He nodded, feeling dirty and uncouth before this tall, unsmiling Wren.
    ‘Like being a tourist.’
    She adjusted her hat and closed her shoulder bag with a snap.
    ‘I’ll be off then.’
    Blake made to accompany her to the companion ladder but she said, ‘I know the way, but thanks.’ She looked round at the painted steel, the lights which glowed from a circular hatch to the deck below. As if she were searching for something. A reason, or an explanation.
    Fairfax came back and watched the girl’s legs until they had vanished through the hatch to the quarterdeck.
    ‘Bitch!’ He swallowed awkwardly. ‘Sorry, sir, but she’s got one hell of a nerve coming here like the Queen of Sheba or something!’
    Blake smiled. ‘I suppose you know her, too?’
    Fairfax sighed. ‘After a fashion. She stays her distance. Hands off.’ He hurried on, ‘Not