Miss Smith sighed. ‘So noble, as ever, Denham.’
Paddy’s fur bristled. He barked at the water. The black waves shivered.
‘I’ll come with you,’ the Commander said. ‘I’ll hand myself in. Surrender. Accept any sort of justice you decide. But please . . . I beg you . . .’ His voice broke.‘Don’t hurt our daughter.’
‘Father.’ Marina felt relief flood through her. He had given himself up. Miss Smith would help him. Marina and he could be together and have the happiest of lives. ‘Miss Smith doesn’t want to hurt me. And she will help you. She will speak to the Admiralty and plead for your life.’
Instead of realizing that he was safe, her father looked heartbroken. ‘But what if I don’t want my life?’
Miss Smith took a deep breath, as if she were trying to ignore the man’s ingratitude. ‘You’re such a fool, Denham,’ she said calmly. ‘You had the whole world in your grasp. For fifteen years, you have known of the existence of a transmitter so powerful that it would win any war.’
‘Because I did not think this transmitter should be used as a weapon.’
What transmitter was this? Marina tugged on Miss Smith’s arm. She looked at Trenchard, but his attention was fixed on the Commander.
‘Don’t hurt him, Miss Smith,’ Marina pleaded. ‘Can’t you see he’s not himself? Some sort of fever . . .’
‘Imagine, Commander Denham.’ Miss Smith’s voice had a taunting quality. ‘If only you had stayed away.’
‘How could I?’
‘You couldn’t. You had to see your precious transmitter – the transmitter you discovered but let go – one last time before the war. Before I use it against the enemy.’
‘You should not use the signal that way.’
Miss Smith shook her head. ‘Even after my months of research, I have not discovered how the signal makes sailors so mad with grief they must drown themselves.’
‘Only a demon would want to know.’
‘You’re a sentimental fool, Denham. In coming here to deprive me of my transmitter, you have instead brought me an enormous gift.’
‘I’ve brought you nothing.’
Miss Smith’s eyes sparkled. ‘Imagine. If I had two transmitters! How much stronger would the signal be then?’
What was Miss Smith talking about?
‘The transmitter you have in your possession was the last of its kind, you know that. The only one in existence.’ Her father sounded defiant.
‘I’m not so sure, Commander.’
‘She won’t sing for you!’
‘Marina.’ Miss Smith turned to her, took her hand in hers. Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘Can you see how unhappy your father is? He’s lost his mind.’
‘Stop, Gaby,’ the Commander cried.
‘Your father will have to be very brave if he is to convince the Admiralty to spare his life. Why don’t you sing to him? Your mother did it once before.’
The water shivered, a wave leapt up over the ice and fell back.
‘You won’t make her.’ Commander Denham took a step towards Miss Smith, his hands balled into fists. ‘And even if you did, there’s no boat for hundreds of nautical miles!’
‘But what about the Sea Witch?’
‘It left at 1100 hours yesterday.’
‘But even so, I think Marina’s voice is strong enough to reach them. And I am sure that your loyal crew would like to hear her song’
What was Miss Smith talking about? How could Marina’s voice reach the Sea Witch?
‘Don’t sing, Marina,’ her father pleaded. What was more upsetting than not understanding what this conversation was about was that her father was on the verge of tears. ‘That’s an order. As your Commander.’ His voice broke. ‘Please. I couldn’t bear it for you to be responsib—’
‘See? He’s raving. He’s lost his nerve,’ Miss Smith whispered to Marina. ‘You don’t want the Admiralty to think he’s a coward. We want him to be able to go before his judges with his head held high. To plead for his life as an honourable man, not as a gibbering wreck. Just sing a note or two. Your voice will raise his spirits. It will make him brave enough to face any danger . . .’
It was a strange request, but what could she do? Marina couldn’t bear to see her father like this. He looked broken, scarcely her father at all. If she could help him get through this ordeal, give him enough strength to convince the Admiralty that he was no spy, had never had a traitorous thought in his body, it was worth him being angry with her for a few moments. She would gladly disobey an order to save his life. She remembered the song which Brown had sung on the Sea Witch and began, ‘As I sailed out one day, one day.’
Her father put his hands over his face and groaned. ‘Don’t, Marina . . .’
A splash in the black water and then it went still as glass.
‘Just another note or two,’ Miss Smith urged her. ‘And sing a little louder, do. You have such a pretty voice.’
‘And being not far . . .’ Marina swallowed. Her throat was dry. ‘From laaaaaand.’
‘No!’ Miss Smith snapped. Her eyes flashed and her beautiful, kind face was twisted in anger. ‘That’s not it!’
‘Wh-what do you mean?’ Marina stuttered.
‘I told you, Gaby,’ her father cried, his voice desperate. ‘She doesn’t know how to sing.’
Miss Smith’s fingers dug into Marina’s wrist.
‘Ouch!’ she cried. ‘You’re hurting me.’
‘That’s the wrong song.’ Miss Smith spat the words in her face.
‘I . . . I don’t know any other,’ Marina gasped. She tried to pull her arm away.
Miss Smith tightened her grip and twisted Marina’s arm round. ‘Sing the true song. The song your mother sang to you!’
‘I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know any song. My mother had no voice!’
‘No voice? Oh, your mother had a voice. Who do you think has sung those boats to the bottom of the sea? Whose voice has made those men so desperate they threw themselves off the sides of their boat, and gladly, too?’
‘And yet you were not affected!’ Denham cried out. ‘You’re so cruel that you could listen to the sounds of torture and not be driven
