Doctor Who_ Island of Death - Barry Letts [39]
The Brigadier was still irritated with himself for his lack of knowledge. „Heard the expression, of course. But I‟ve never quite...‟ He heard himself clearing his throat in a sort of
„ Harrumph!’ Good God! He was turning into a real Colonel Blimp!
„Yeah, right,‟ said the Cox‟n, keeping his eye on the compass, and automatically turning the wheel to keep them on course. „Well now, as you know, to keep the rudder working you‟ve got to be moving through the water. Have to have way on. But the trouble is, if you‟re going in the same direction as waves of any size, you lose way.‟
„If you try to go at the same speed, like surfing, then the rudder has no grip at all - and if you try to go faster or slower, you‟re on a sort of moving switchback. You‟re either slipping down the front of the wave, and speeding up, or sliding down the back, and slowing down.‟
So you lose control. Of course.
„So you lose control?‟ the Brigadier said aloud.
„You got it, sir. There‟s always a time when the helm doesn‟t answer at all - and the ship can swing round broadside on to the waves. And when that happens, if she happens to be rolling in the same direction as the waves...‟
„She can roll right over!‟
„Right. And it‟s too late to say your prayers then.‟
„So that was broaching to‟. Fair enough. As long as they knew what they were doing. But they were never going to get to the blasted island at this rate!
Brother Alex woke up feeling even better. One advantage of a high metabolic rate, he thought. He‟d been well known for his drive even before, when he was in public life; like Winnie, he could get by on four hours‟ sleep a night. And since he‟d left politics, he‟d benefited from the extraordinary access of energy, of sheer vigour, that went with becoming one of the Skang „teachers‟.
He had no intention of losing that permanently. If he couldn‟t get it back, along with all the rest of it, life had no meaning, no savour, no worth.
So what to do?
After all, he was there officially, albeit on sufferance. If he got to know these people, he might be able find out what their game was. But his most important job was dealing with the Smith girl. ASAP Get to know the layout of the vessel.
That was the thing to do. And the movements of the girl.
Sooner or later, he‟d get her alone. And his immediate problem would be solved.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Over all the years of the Doctor‟s jaunts through time and space, seeking the ultimate experience that he knew in his heart could never be found, it had become a joke, saying to those around him, „...there‟s nothing we can do - but wait‟.
He‟d taught himself the art of waiting: the wide-open acceptance of every perception, which took him to a timeless place of satisfaction where he vanished into the ever-changing immediacy and sharp reality of a totally experienced world.
The hours of the storm could have lasted a day or a minute. There was nobody keeping an eye on the clock.
Yet the very alertness that informed his awareness could, if necessary, instantly bring him back to the inexorable flow of one damn thing after another (as he put it when trying to describe it later to a bemused Brigadier). And the sight of Sarah Jane Smith, hanging on with one hand to the lines of one of the ship‟s boats in its davits, while she leaned out over the boiling sea, was enough to snap him back in an instant.
„Sarah! For Pete‟s sake! What do you think you‟re doing?‟
„It‟s all right, Doctor!‟ she called, waving her little camera in the air. „Look, one hand for me and one for the ship!‟
There was nothing he could do but watch as she clambered into ever more precarious positions, reaching out for the perfect shot.
At last she was satisfied, and carefully manoeuvred herself back onto the deck. With a cheery wave, she vanished round the corner.
She was an adult, after all; and she seemed to know what she was doing. With a mental shrug, the Doctor settled back into his corner, noticing that, in spite of his cloak, he was very nearly as wet as if he