Doctor Who_ Island of Death - Barry Letts [35]
They had just over two thousand nautical miles to go. That was just about two thousand three hundred common-or-garden land miles, Sarah worked out. If they went at the Hallaton’s maximum speed, which Pete Andrews had told her was seventeen knots, they would be there in five days.
„Sorry, love,‟ he said, when she produced this magnificently nautical calculation at the dinner table in the wardroom that night. „The Old Man has insisted on our going at the normal cruising speed.‟
At the moment the CO was on the bridge as Officer of the Watch, with Chris as his sidekick.
„And what is the normal cruising speed?‟ asked the Brigadier. He pushed aside, unfinished, his plate of sausage and mash (with a thick onion gravy that had an odd but familiar taste that Sarah couldn‟t place).
„Pretty slow, I‟m afraid. Twelve knots. He‟s right in a way.
It‟s only a couple of days more, when all‟s said and done. No point in thrashing the engines if we‟re not in any hurry.‟
Sarah glanced across the table. Surely it was time for the Number One to be told the whole story? But the Doctor seemed more interested in his food.
„You have a Chinese cook, I take it,‟ he said.
Of course! Sarah recognised the flavour now. She had a quick flash of her favourite Chinese restaurant in Shaftesbury Avenue.
„Why yes,‟ said a surprised Bob, who had polished off his own bangers already. „I signed him up in Hong Kong, just for the voyage home. I‟m victualling officer, you see. We‟d have ended up with one of the stokers otherwise.‟
Pete turned back to the Brigadier. „In any case, in the long run, it saves us time to travel more slowly. Gene wanted to stop off at Diego Garcia to refuel. But I pointed out that if we‟re going at the engines‟ economical speed, we‟ll have plenty. They put in extra tanks when she was building, you see, because of the OPEC oil crisis. He was obviously quite chocker about it. Looking forward to a run ashore, I suppose.‟
Chocker. Sarah knew that one. Sailor talk for fed-up.
The Brigadier gave one of his grunts. „Wanted to top up his supply of gin, I expect,‟ he said.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, and the two officers turned their eyes firmly to their plates.
But had Sarah caught a tiny glance from Pete Andrews, and an even tinier wink?
Sarah decided to make the most of it. Her little cabin was quite luxurious, with a wide and comfortable bunk. The millpond sea and the sky were both a deep and heavenly blue. There was a shelf-full of thrillers in the wardroom, there was a well-stocked drinks cupboard (they‟d agreed to pay their way, but it was duty-free after all), and she‟d remembered to bring her costume and a bottle of sun-lotion for tanning purposes. Apart from a swimming pool and an on-board casino, there were all the ingredients of a luxury cruise. And she could justify her self-indulgence by writing up her notes and taking some shots of the ship.
The next morning, bikini-clad, she found herself accepting a hand-up from Able-Seaman „Ginger‟ Gorleston from Norwich (who couldn‟t believe his luck) onto the top of a locker on the quarterdeck. From this vantage point, she could get a smashing shot of the Brigadier standing in the stern, staring moodily at the wake streaming out in a straight line to the northern horizon.
Never mind the flipping Skang lot. She was going to enjoy herself. She‟d got a whole week.
But the weather had other ideas.
The first sign of trouble ahead came at breakfast-time the next day. When she walked down the corridor (which the sailors strangely called a „flat‟) towards the wardroom to get her breakfast, Sarah felt the odd sensation of being off-balance on a floor that, to the eye, was perfectly stable and horizontal, and a queasiness behind her eyes.
The wardroom was empty except for the plump figure of Chris.
„Morning,