“Admiral Brighting sure is a strange one, boss. Do you remember that time in his quonset out in Idaho?”
“I was just thinking about it,” confessed Rich. “He may be a tyrant, but he certainly gets results. The tests and training he puts his people to, and the government contractors he deals with also, are so far beyond what everyone’s been used to that they’re like a new technology. The Trigger’s shakedown compared with Triton’s makes a good illustration. The Triton could have gone on another round-the-world cruise the next day, while they doggone near had to tow the Trigger back from Rio. It was a perfect example of the difference between lousy engineering by committee and the kind of good engineering Brighting does by himself.”
“He didn’t add much to the conference in the Proteus the night before we got underway.”
“He couldn’t. As he said, he’s an engineer, not an operations type. But he did come up with the salient point about the Russian press release. They’ve lost an aircraft in the Arctic under strange circumstances. Strange enough for them to blame it on Keith. And Keith’s second message said there were military aircraft searching in his vicinity. They must have been up there before he arrived. It all hangs together. Something big’s going on.” Richardson’s forehead had been creased in thought often since their departure, Buck had noticed. It was wrinkled now.
“There was one other thing Brighting did,” Buck said. “You know that piece of paper he handed me at the airport just before they took off? All covered with pencil notes and figures?” Williams was looking at Richardson in an odd way.
“Yes. Some new settings for your power plant, he said.”
“Yes. The reactor control officer’s been going over them, and tonight he said he’s ready to put them in. Know what they do?”
“No,” said Rich, his keen interest evident in the narrowed gaze he leveled on Buck. “But I was a bit curious when I heard Harry Langforth report to you.”
“Brighting’s authorized a reduction in our thermal margin and increased the allowed temperature difference between the hot and cold legs of the primary loop. The rest of the figures are the new alarm points for the instrumentation.”
“He handed all this to you on a piece of paper?”
“In pencil. Right off the top of his head. He must carry all those numbers in his mind. I rode to the airport in the same car with him, and he was writing in the back seat. So some of the figures are a little hard to read. He said to check them out and then put them in effect.”
“Has Harry Langforth given you an estimate of what the change does?” asked Richardson.
“It adds twenty percent to our reactor output. Harry figures we’ll make about three more knots at full power. Brighting said the new settings might be useful.” The odd look was still on Buck Williams’ face.
“Three more knots! That’ll give us nearly twenty-three at flank speed!” The furrow was still on Richardson’s brow, now more accentuated. “You say he told you the increased speed might be useful?”
“He didn’t say anything about speed.”
“But that’s what he was talking about, all the same! What a foxy old devil he is! I take back what I just said about him.”
“What’s that?”
“That he’s only an engineer, not an operations type. He’s handed us something that might make all the difference in this caper of ours. Who says he’s not operations oriented!” The frown cleared, was replaced by a grim smile. “We were talking about Triton’s shakedown cruise. This one we’re on is a lot more than any shakedown. It’s going to be the toughest test the old Manta’s ever had, and Brighting thinks there may be more to it even than anyone is anticipating. He’s famous for looking at the possible dark side ahead, you know.”
Buck tipped his chair upright, pushed the coffee cups aside, cleared a space on the writing surface of his desk and pulled a pad of lined paper toward him. “You’re another, Rich! I’ve seen you from way back, and I’ve got a feeling you’re thinking we may have some need for all that new horsepower. We’ll have the new settings in place by tomorrow morning. What sort of ship and fire control drills would you like to start with?”
Richardson’s mind had suddenly wandered to the private conversation he had had in the lead car with Admiral Donaldson. Strange that Donaldson and Brighting should think so much alike, and from such dissimilar backgrounds! Resolutely he shook his head to clear it, hunched forward on the bunk so that he also looked over the writing surface, and the two friends lost themselves planning the exercises.
Cindy Williams was tall and angular. There was a strength about her which entirely belied the sensitive vulnerability of her mouth and the sympathetic set of her eyes. She was fully as tall as Buck—taller when she wore heels—and her calm, thoughtful personality was the perfect complement for Buck’s more volatile, crisp makeup. At least, so Laura had always thought. Cindy was not beautiful the way Peggy Leone was beautiful, and occasionally, not today, her grooming was somewhat casual—a fault Peggy would never have been guilty of. She was a sincere person, devoid of self-consciousness. Laura had liked her from the first time she saw her.
Now Cindy and Peggy sat on opposite ends of Laura’s sofa, while Laura faced them across the low coffee table in her living room. On the table stood the remnants of afternoon tea, and alongside the tea tray was an opened bottle of dry cocktail sherry. A half-empty wineglass stood before Cindy on the low table.
Holding her own glass lightly by the stem, Laura sipped the amber liquid. She was glad she had thought of bringing it out, though it had not been in her original plan. It had provided her with an opportune interruption and might smooth the remainder of the afternoon.
A long obligatory telephone conversation with Peggy, late on the morning of the Manta’s departure, had fully discharged any further duty to her; that and the previous, much shorter call she had made, with Rich’s reluctant approval, very early the same day. There was nothing more she could do for her. She would try to avoid an open rupture, but she had not been successful with any of her previous plans for controlling the growing situation. Now she was more than ever determined somehow to escape further embroilment with this fretful, tiresome woman.
Perhaps Cindy had also had experience with Peggy’s obsession. Perhaps she sensed Laura’s reluctance to go into it with her yet again. Laura was sure of it when Cindy adroitly deflected Peggy the first time she tried to steer the conversation toward Keith. “I know both of your men have been away on long cruises from time to time,” Peggy had said, “but somehow Keith seems to draw the longest trips, and the most frequent ones, too. It’s been nearly a month, now, that he’s been gone.”
“Buck had a skipper once,” Cindy interjected, “who said at least once a day that ‘the place for a young man is at sea and away from all ba-a-a-d women!’ Buck used to imitate him for my benefit. He had all sorts of little sayings like this, and I think Buck had every one of them memorized, with gestures and facial expressions.” She had turned toward Laura as she spoke, and Laura had the distinct impression of having had the ball tossed to her.
“I know who that was,” said Laura, picking up the thread. “That was Dan Backus. He was a well-known character. He had a big family, and when he wasn’t pretending to knock them he was bragging about them. Will you have lemon or sugar, Peggy? This tea is straight from China, and is already rather sweet. You can smell the jasmine in it. I think it’s half flower petals.”
“Sugar, please,” said Peggy.
“Is one enough?”
“I like it sweet. Can I have two lumps?”
“Of course. And take a couple of these little biscuits. They’re supposed to be Chinese, too, but they’re made right here in Connecticut.”
“Thanks. I will. They look delicious. With my sweet tooth Keith says I’m lucky I don’t look like a balloon.”
“All the girls in the squadron are just green over you, Peggy,” said Cindy. “I wish I were petite like you and didn’t have to worry about gaining weight.
A horse must have made faces at Mother about the time I was born.”
“If all your worries are only about gaining weight, you’re lucky.” Peggy had the characteristic petulance in her voice which told Laura she was about to revert to her favorite subject.
Quickly, Laura said, “Tell us about that school you’ve just put Ruthie in. What’s its name—the Thames Valley Junior School? From what I’ve heard, they have a very advanced curriculum for the youngsters.”
Peggy could not resist the bait, even though she suspected the subject might have been raised to keep the conversation in a different channel. For half an hour, interspersed with interruptions for more tea, she expanded upon the virtues of the newly formed school and its highly touted program for preschoolers. Finally, however, the teapot was nearly empty, its contents no longer hot. Sensing that Peggy could not be further denied, Laura had the inspiration to suggest sherry. This gave her an excuse to go to the kitchen for a few moments. When she returned she deliberately made small talk about the wine until all three had their wineglasses and had sipped from them.
The wine was of excellent quality, straight from Spain, a gift from one of Rich’s friends who had just returned from there. It might ease the strain for Peggy a little. After all, she had a right to be worried about her husband. But Laura was beyond hoping there could be any permanent adjustment in Peggy’s attitude toward the Navy. She would help her over the present situation as well as she could, but that would have to be the end.
Peggy, in the meantime, perhaps not appreciating that Laura was quietly arranging the best atmosphere possible for what was bound to be a difficult and perhaps painful discussion, chose the moment to discard all subterfuge. “I want to talk about Keith,” she said bluntly, putting down her wineglass and including Cindy and Laura in her tense two-handed gesture.
Laura caught Cindy’s quick look of sympathy. The thought projected across the space between them without need for words. Laura must know far more than Peggy. Cindy probably did, too. Peggy was worried, most understandably so after the unusual events of the past week. She had every right to Laura’s counsel. But what could Laura tell her?
Most of what Laura “knew” was actually only surmise. But she was in a far better position than Peggy to draw accurate deductions. She had indeed had more and better inputs than Peggy. How much could she tell of what she knew, or guessed? Would she thus be violating Rich’s confidence, even though he had carefully not confided in her—perhaps in anticipation of this very situation? She was his wife. She knew better than anyone else what was motivating him, what he was thinking. She was better able than anyone to divine what was going on. He knew it, had warned her that Peggy could not be trusted with a secret. But he hadn’t told her anything. Whatever she thought was strictly her own creation. Peggy had come for help. Her hysteria about Keith must be about to crest again. Laura had to try to do something.
“I can’t stand it anymore,” Peggy said. “Every time Keith leaves it’s worse, and this time it’s worse than ever. I’m always afraid for him, and I’m afraid to be left alone with Ruthie, too. I swore I’d never go through that again, and now look.”
“It’s never for so very long, Peggy,” said Laura soothingly. She realized she was using the same voice she might to a child.
“Yes, it is, too! It’s always too long! Nothing is ever settled in our lives the way it should be! Now I’m sure he’s in danger!” Peggy’s voice broke. “What am I going to do?” she wailed.
Laura swiftly skirted the coffee table, perched on the arm of the sofa and leaned to put her arm around her. Cindy, she saw, had uncrossed her legs as if to get up also. “It’s especially rough for you right now, Peggy, but it’s only a guess about Keith even being in the Arctic. Maybe he’s nowhere near where the Russian plane got shot down.”
“If a plane did get shot down,” said Cindy. “Maybe none of it’s true.”
Peggy had her tea napkin to her eyes. “I just know it’s Keith they’re talking about,” she sobbed. “That must be the Cushing up there under the ice. I’m scared. Maybe the Russians will attack her for shooting at their airplane. Maybe I’ll never see Keith again!”
“Remember what Rich said to tell you before he and Buck got underway,” said Laura swiftly. “He said to keep your faith in the Navy. Remember?” She squeezed Peggy’s shoulder as she spoke.
“That’s easy for you to say, Laura,” said Peggy, her face working. She looked belligerently at her. “Keep your faith in the Navy, Rich says! What faith?”
“The faith all of us have.”
“I have faith, all right! That’s all I’ve got! I’ve got faith that the Navy will never back its people up in a tough spot! It will always look out for itself, all right, and the trade-school boys will look out for themselves. They always put people like Keith in the most danger, and then they go off and leave them to face it alone! Faith in the Navy? Faith in nothing! That’s a laugh!” Peggy’s voice had risen. Her overwrought emotions boiled over. She almost shouted the last few words.
“You’re upset, Peggy, and that’s not surprising. But what you’re saying isn’t fair, and it’s just not true.” Laura spoke quietly, though it took an effort. She wanted to shake her, shout some sense into her. But Peggy was not rational. The thing to do was to calm her. “Do you think the Navy will simply abandon a brand-new and very valuable ship, and its crew of a hundred and twenty-five men? That doesn’t make any sense! It’s never been done. Not in our whole history. It’s contrary to naval tradition, too.”
“Well, why don’t they do something, then? Why don’t they tell me something?”
“Peggy, they can’t. If the Navy makes any sort of announcement, even privately to only a few people, that’s practically the same as telling the Russians too. If things are as bad as you fear, do you think that sort of thing will help Keith?”
“They’ve not helped me much!” There were both a whine and a snarl in Peggy’s voice. “I told you I can’t stand it anymore! The Navy’s never done anything except make me miserable!”
Cindy said, “You’ve got to think of it from Keith’s point of view, too, Peggy. What he thinks must mean something to you.”
Laura said, “Keith has put his trust in the Navy, Peggy. If he could, he’d tell you so right now.”
“No, he wouldn’t! I wouldn’t let him! I hate the Navy! Even when he’s home I hate it, because he’s never there long. He’s always planning that next trip, and it wasn’t any better when he was on duty in Washington. He was in the Pentagon all day and all night too. I counted his hours; some weeks he was in the Pentagon for eighty hours and even ninety hours. It’s just not fair!” The cocktail napkin was twisted into a sodden ball, clenched in her hand. She waved it wildly as she spoke.
“It’s true the Navy asks more of its conscientious people, like Keith,” said Laura. “But that’s why he’s had such important assignments. Rich says he’s a couple of years ahead of his contemporaries right now. The Navy asks more of him because he’s one of the best officers it’s got.”
“That’s so! The Navy’s using him for a patsy. It always has. I know. I’ve seen it too many times!”
“Is that why he’s got the best and newest ship in the Navy, right now?”
“That’s why they’ve sent him out on this dangerous mission. It’s obvious! That’s why!”
“Peggy,” Laura said as calmly as she could, although she could feel herself tensing and knew she could not keep her rising reaction totally under control, “both Rich and I have been trying to convince you that’s not true. This assignment he’s on now, whatever it is, is due to his reputation as one of the best skippers in the Navy. It’s an honor for him.”
Laura’s arm was still draped over the back of the sofa, not quite touching Peggy. Nevertheless, Peggy peevishly brushed it away. “No kidding!” The sarcasm in her voice was heavy. “They always send Keith off on the big risks! Don’t tell me they don’t! And I know why they pick him. Send one of our boys on those tou
gh jobs? Oh, no! Send Keith Leone. He’s not one of ours. He doesn’t count.”
Laura could see Cindy’s eyes narrow, then widen. Perhaps she had not heard this portion of the litany of complaints. “Don’t be silly,” Laura said, still in the quiet tone. She was about to go on, say something more, but Peggy continued talking.
“You, of all people, ought to know what I’m talking about, Laura! Your first husband didn’t go through the trade school either, did he?” Peggy accentuated the words “trade school.” “Have you ever thought about that?”
“Nobody cared where Jim Bledsoe’s diploma came from! He was one of the best sub skippers we had!” Laura spoke sharply, with anger. She herself was surprised at the way her words came out. The mention of Jim had caught her unawares. She had not spoken of him for years, rarely thought of him these days. The memories flooded in on her. It was the first of the war years, and they had been married only five days, during which Jim worked fourteen hours a day on board the new Walrus, getting her ready for the trip to the Pacific from which neither returned. It was not long enough to build a marriage, although she had tried her amateurish, insufficient best.
The hurt came slowly, the days in succession dawning with hope, passing with a slight deepening of the growing disappointment. She wrote two long letters a week, setting aside the time necessary to do so even when the long silences and sparse replies made continued cheerfulness a misery. Jim was at war. His ship was at sea, fighting. He rarely was in port long enough to answer letters. Then came the day when she met Cynthia Schultz, wife of the ship’s engineer, happily carrying a handbag full of thick envelopes—when she had only two thin ones. The worst was when Jim took the Walrus to Australia, where he was lionized as a brilliant combat submariner. His exploits, camouflaged and censored though they were, filled the news. Friends called to congratulate her, strangers spoke of the pride she must feel, and she had been forced to smile gratefully through her shame, for there were no letters at all in her purse. Once, a mortifying memory, she had pretended in a desperate moment that a letter from someone else was from Jim.
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