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sheds. The Northern Lights lay right across the northern sky, pulsing coldly. In their light the snow-muffled town looked chill as ice. “Wind’s droppin’ a bit,” Bert said.
    I offered him a cigarette. There were only two left. He looked up at me quickly and then took one. We lit up and stood leaning against the rail for a while without speaking. Suddenly Bert said, “Sorry I lost me temper this evenin’, Corp. Must a’ bin the wevver. I felt fair bra’ned off, I did.”
    “It’s all right, Bert,” I said.
    We stood there in silence for a time and then he said, “Goodnight,” and left me alone to the cold and my thoughts.
    It was seven o’clock when I came out on deck for my second spell of duty and in the dull morning light there was an air of bustle about the ship. The hatches were being battened down over the holds, fore and aft, and billows of black smoke pouring out of the funnel showed that we were getting up steam. As the light strengthened, the port seemed to come to life. Tugs hurried back and forth across the river, hooting; and occasionally the deep note of a ship’s siren sounded. A destroyer lay farther down the estuary, a dirty white ensign just visible in thedrifting smoke of her funnels. Shortly after Sills relieved me, two corvettes slipped down to join her and the three steamed slowly out of sight round a bend. “Think we’ll sail this morning, Corp?” Sills asked. There was a strange longing in his voice. He was not more than twenty. Probably this was the first time he’d been out of England.
    “Looks as though there’s a convoy forming,” I said. “There’s two boats over there being towed out from their moorings.”
    Ten minutes later the Liberty boat in the next berth to us slipped her moorings and with much hooting was hauled out into the open river by a diminutive tug that fussed around, churning the cold slate surface of the water to a muddy brown. I took a stroll round the ship. There was no doubt about it, we were getting ready to sail, and I began to feel that sense of excitement that is inevitable with the thought of putting to sea.
    As I came abreast of the gangway I saw the figure of the first mate hurrying across the quayside. He walked quickly up the gangway and disappeared below the bridge in the direction of the Captain’s cabin. I was reminded then of the conversation I had overheard the previous night. I leaned against the rail staring down unseeingly at the bustle of the docks, trying to figure out what had been meant, when Rankin’s voice interrupted my thoughts, “Get your bedding all right, Corporal Vardy?” he asked.
    I turned. His face looked grey above the blue-clothed bulk of his body and the little oyster eyes were bloodshot. “Yes,” I said, “I got them all right.” And then without stopping to think, I said, “Does the name Kalinsky mean anything to you, Rankin?”
    He took a little breath and his eyes narrowed. “You trying to be funny, Corporal?” he asked, endeavouring to cover that momentary shock.
    “No,” I said. “I just happened to hear two people mention your name in connection with Kalinsky.”
    “Who were they?” he asked.
    I turned to go. But he caught me by the shoulder and spun me round. “Who were they?” he hissed angrily.
    The bloodshot little eyes were staring at me over their pouches of flesh and there was a flicker of something I couldn’t make out for a moment. And then I realised that he was frightened. “Who were they?” he repeated.
    “The Captain and the first mate,” I said.
    He let me go then and I left him standing slightly dazed at the top of the gangway. It was warmer now and the heat of the boilers was melting the snow round the engine-room hatches. Several ships had moved out into the harbour and there was an air of expectancy over the ship and the port that it was impossible to ignore.
    I went below for a shave. The crew’s washrooms were primitive. But there was plenty of hot water. The cook was