engineering officer, Mr. Lundgren.' He smiled. 'It takes a pretty high-grade engineering staff to run our motors. This is Mr. Benson, Mr. O'Doherty, and Mr. Hirsch.' The young men bowed, a little awkwardly. The captain turned to Peter. 'How about a drink before lunch, Commander?'
The Australian said, 'Well-thank you very much. I'll have a pink gin.' The captain pressed the bell upon the bulkhead. 'How many officers have you in Scorpion, sir?'
'Eleven, all told. She's quite a submarine, of course, and we carry four engineer officers.'
'You must have a big wardroom.'
'It's a bit cramped when we're all sitting down together but that doesn't happen very often in a submarine. But we've got a cot for you, Commander.'
Peter smiled. 'All to myself, or is it Box and Cox?'
The captain was a little shocked at the suggestion. 'Why, no. Every officer and every enlisted man has an individual berth in Scorpion.'
The wardroom steward came in answer to the bell. The captain said, 'Will you bring one pink gin and six orangeades?'
Peter was embarrassed, and could have kicked himself for his indiscretion. He checked the steward. 'Don't you drink in port, sir?'
The captain smiled. 'Why, no. Uncle Sam doesn't like it. But you go right ahead. This is a British ship.'
'I'd rather have it your way, if you don't mind,' Peter replied. 'Seven orangeades.'
'Seven it is,' said the captain nonchalantly. The steward went away. 'Some navies have it one way and some another,' he remarked. 'I never noticed that it made much difference in the end result.'
They lunched in Sidney, a dozen officers at one end of one of the long, empty tables. Then they went down into Scorpion, moored alongside. She was the biggest submarine that Peter Holmes had ever seen; she displaced about six thousand tons and her atomic-powered turbines developed well over ten thousand horsepower. Besides her eleven officers she carried a crew of about seventy petty officers and enlisted men. All these men messed and slept amongst a maze of pipes and wiring as is common in all submarines, but she was well equipped for the tropics with good air conditioning and a very large cold store. Peter Holmes was no submariner and could not judge her from a technical point of view, but the captain told him that she was easy on controls and quite manoeuvrable in spite of her great length.
Most of her armament and warlike stores had been taken off her during her refit, and all but two of her torpedo tubes had been removed. This made more room for mess decks and amenities than is usual in a submarine, and the removal of the aft tubes and torpedo stowage made conditions in the engine room a good deal easier for the engineers. Peter spent an hour in this part of the ship with the engineering officer, Lieutenant Commander Lundgren. He had never served in an atomic-powered ship, and as much of the equipment was classified for security a great deal of it was novel to him. He spent some time absorbing the general layout of the liquid sodium circuit to take heat from the reactor, the various heat exchangers, and the closed cycle helium circuits for the twin high- speed turbines that drove the ship through the enormous reduction gears, so much larger and more sensitive than the other units of the power plant.
He came back to the captain's tiny cabin in the end. Commander Towers rang for the coloured steward, ordered coffee for two, and let down the folding seat for Peter. 'Have a good look at the engines?' he asked.
The Australian nodded. 'I'm not an engineer,' he said. 'Much of it is just a bit over my head, but it was very interesting. Do they give you much trouble?'
The captain shook his head. 'They never have so far. There's nothing much that you can do with them at sea if they do. Just keep your fingers crossed and hope they'll keep on spinning around.'
The coffee came and they sipped it in silence. 'My orders are to report to you on Tuesday,' Peter said. 'What time would you like me here, sir?'
'We sail on Tuesday on sea trials,' the captain said. 'It might be Wednesday, but I don't think we'll be so late as that. We're taking on stores Monday and the crew come aboard.'
'I'd better report to you on Monday, then,' said the Australian. 'Some time in the forenoon?'
'That might be a good thing,' said the captain. 'I think we'll get away by Tuesday noon. I told the admiral I'd like to take a little cruise in Bass Strait as a shakedown, and come back maybe on Friday and report operational readiness. I'd say if you're on board any time Monday forenoon that would be okay.'
'Is there anything that I can do for you in the meantime? I'd come aboard on Saturday if I could help at all.'
'I appreciate that, Commander, but there's not a thing. Half the crew are off on leave right now, and I'm letting the other half go off on week-end pass tomorrow noon. There'll be nobody here Saturday and Sunday barring one officer and six men on watch. No, Monday forenoon will be time enough for you.'
He glanced at Peter. 'Anybody tell you what they want us to do?'
The Australian was surprised. 'Haven't they told you, sir?'
The American laughed. 'Not a thing. I'd say the last person to hear the sailing orders is the captain.'
'The Second Naval Member sent for me about this posting,' Peter said. 'He told me that you were making a cruise to Carins, Port Moresby, and Darwin, and that it was going to take eleven days.'
'Your Captain Nixon in the Operations Division, he asked me how long that would take,' the captain remarked. 'I haven't had it as an order yet.'
'The admiral said, this morning, that after that was over there'd be a much longer cruise, that would take about two months.'
Commander Towers paused, motionless, his cup suspended in mid-air. 'That's news to me,' he remarked. 'Did he say where we were going?'
Peter shook his head. 'He just said it would take about two months.'
There was a short silence. Then the American roused himself and smiled. 'I guess if you look in around midnight you'll find me drawing radiuses on the chart,' he said quietly. 'And tomorrow night, and the night after that.'
It seemed better to the Australian to turn the conversation to a lighter tone. 'Aren't you going away for the week-end?' he asked.
The captain shook his head. 'I'll stick around. Maybe go up to the city one day and take in a movie.'
It seemed a dreary sort of programme for his weekend, a stranger far from home in a strange land. On the impulse Peter said, 'Would you care to come down to Falmouth for a couple of nights, sir? We've got a spare bedroom. We've been spending most of our time at the sailing club this weather, swimming and sailing. My wife would like it if you could come.'
'That's mighty nice of you,' the captain said thoughtfully. He took another drink of coffee while he considered the proposal. Northern Hemisphere people seldom mixed well, now, with people of the Southern Hemisphere. Too much lay between them, too great a difference of experience. The intolerable sympathy made a barrier. He knew that very well, and more, he knew that this Australian officer must know it in spite of his invitation. In the line of duty, however, he felt that he would like to know more about the liaison officer. If he had to communicate through him with the Australian naval command he would like to know what sort of man he was; that was a point in favour of this visit to his home. The change would certainly be some relief from the vile inactivity that had tormented him in the last months; however great the awkwardness, it might be better than a week-end in the echoing, empty aircraft carrier with only his own thoughts and memories for company.
He smiled faintly as he put his cup down. It might be awkward if he went down there, but it could be even more awkward if he churlishly refused an invitation kindly meant from his new officer. 'You sure it wouldn't be too much for your wife?' he asked. 'With a young baby?'
Peter shook his head. 'She'd like it,' he said. 'Make a bit of a change for her. She doesn't see many new faces, with things as they are. Of course, the baby makes a tie as well.'
'I certainly would like to come down for one night,' the American said. 'I'll have to stick around here tomorrow, but I could use a swim on Saturday. It's a long time since I had a swim. How would it be if I came down to Falmouth on the train Saturday morning? I'll have to be back here on Sunday.'
'I'll meet you at the station.' They discussed trains for a little. Then Peter asked, 'Can you ride a push bike?' The other nodded. 'I'll bring another bike down with me to the station. We live about two miles out.'
Commander Towers said, 'that'll be fine.' The red Oldsmobile was fading to a dream. It was only fifteen months since he had driven it to the airport, but now he could hardly remember what the instrument panel looked
