at least fifteen feet away. He could hear the nurse talking too, urgency in the soft, persuasive voice, but her arguments didn't seem to be getting her anywhere.
"What the hell's the matter there?" Nicolson shouted savagely.
There was a confused murmur of voices, and then the girl called, "Just a minute, please."
Nicolson twisted round, looked for'ard along the port side of the Kerry Dancer, then flung up a forearm in instinctive defence as the searchlights of the Viroma cleared the slowly swinging superstructure of the Kerry Dancer and struck at his dark-accustomed eyes. The Kerry Dancer was right round now, heading straight into the seas, and the lifeboat with all protection gone. He could see the first of the steep-walled, spume-veined waves racing smoothly, silently, down the listing side of the ship, the next not far behind. How big they were Nicolson couldn't tell: the searchlights, paralleling the surface of the sea, high-lit the broken white of the wave-tops but left the troughs in impenetrable blackness. But they were big enough, too big and too steep: half-a-dozen of these and the lifeboat would fill right up and overturn. At the very least they would flood the engine air intake, and then the results would be just as disastrous.
Nicolson wheeled round, vaulted over the rail, shouted at Vannier and Ferris to get into the lifeboat, called to McKinnon to cast off aft, and half-ran, half-stumbled up the heeling, slippery deck to where the girl and the soldier stood half-way between the aftercastle screen door and the ladder leading to the poop-deck above.
He wasted no time on ceremony but caught the girl by the shoulders, twisted her round and propelled her none too gently towards the ship's side, turned round again, grabbed the soldier and started to drag him across the deck. The boy resisted and, as Nicolson sought for a better grip, struck out viciously, catching Nicolson squarely between the eyes. Nicolson stumbled and half fell on the wet, sloping deck, got to his feet again like a cat and jumped towards the soldier, then swore, softly, bitterly, as his swinging arm was caught and held from behind. Before he could free it the soldier had turned and flung himself up the poop ladder, his studded soles scrabbling frantically on the metal steps.
"You fool!" Nicolson said quietly. "You crazy little fool!" Roughly he freed his arm, made to speak again, saw the bo'sun, in sharp silhouette against the glare of the searchlight, beckoning frantically from where he stood outside the well-deck rail. Nicolson waited no longer. He turned the nurse round, hustled her across the deck, swung her across the rail. McKinnon caught her arm, stared down at the lifeboat two-thirds lost in the shrouded gloom of a trough and waited for nis chance to jump. Just for a moment he looked round and Nicolson could tell from the anger and exasperation on his face that he knew what had happened.
"Do you need me, sir?"
"No." Nicolson shook his head decisively. "The lifeboat's more important." He stared down at the boat as she came surging up sluggishly into the light, water from a high, breaking wave-crest cascading into her bows. "My God, McKinnon, she's filling right up already! Get her away from here as fast as you can! I'll cast off for'ard."
"Aye, aye, sir." Mckinnon nodded matter-of-fact acknowledgment, judged his time perfectly, stepped off the side on to the mast thwart, taking the girl with him: ready hands caught and steadied them as the boat dropped down again into the darkness of a trough. A second later the for'ard rope went snaking down into the lifeboat, Nicolson bending over the rail and staring down after it.
"Everything all right, bo'sun?" he called.
"Aye, no bother, sir. I'm going under the stern, in the lee."
Nicolson turned away without waiting to see what happened. The chances of a water-logged lifeboat broaching to in the initial moments of getting under way in those heavy seas were no better than even, but if
"What the hell's the matter there?" Nicolson shouted savagely.
There was a confused murmur of voices, and then the girl called, "Just a minute, please."
Nicolson twisted round, looked for'ard along the port side of the Kerry Dancer, then flung up a forearm in instinctive defence as the searchlights of the Viroma cleared the slowly swinging superstructure of the Kerry Dancer and struck at his dark-accustomed eyes. The Kerry Dancer was right round now, heading straight into the seas, and the lifeboat with all protection gone. He could see the first of the steep-walled, spume-veined waves racing smoothly, silently, down the listing side of the ship, the next not far behind. How big they were Nicolson couldn't tell: the searchlights, paralleling the surface of the sea, high-lit the broken white of the wave-tops but left the troughs in impenetrable blackness. But they were big enough, too big and too steep: half-a-dozen of these and the lifeboat would fill right up and overturn. At the very least they would flood the engine air intake, and then the results would be just as disastrous.
Nicolson wheeled round, vaulted over the rail, shouted at Vannier and Ferris to get into the lifeboat, called to McKinnon to cast off aft, and half-ran, half-stumbled up the heeling, slippery deck to where the girl and the soldier stood half-way between the aftercastle screen door and the ladder leading to the poop-deck above.
He wasted no time on ceremony but caught the girl by the shoulders, twisted her round and propelled her none too gently towards the ship's side, turned round again, grabbed the soldier and started to drag him across the deck. The boy resisted and, as Nicolson sought for a better grip, struck out viciously, catching Nicolson squarely between the eyes. Nicolson stumbled and half fell on the wet, sloping deck, got to his feet again like a cat and jumped towards the soldier, then swore, softly, bitterly, as his swinging arm was caught and held from behind. Before he could free it the soldier had turned and flung himself up the poop ladder, his studded soles scrabbling frantically on the metal steps.
"You fool!" Nicolson said quietly. "You crazy little fool!" Roughly he freed his arm, made to speak again, saw the bo'sun, in sharp silhouette against the glare of the searchlight, beckoning frantically from where he stood outside the well-deck rail. Nicolson waited no longer. He turned the nurse round, hustled her across the deck, swung her across the rail. McKinnon caught her arm, stared down at the lifeboat two-thirds lost in the shrouded gloom of a trough and waited for nis chance to jump. Just for a moment he looked round and Nicolson could tell from the anger and exasperation on his face that he knew what had happened.
"Do you need me, sir?"
"No." Nicolson shook his head decisively. "The lifeboat's more important." He stared down at the boat as she came surging up sluggishly into the light, water from a high, breaking wave-crest cascading into her bows. "My God, McKinnon, she's filling right up already! Get her away from here as fast as you can! I'll cast off for'ard."
"Aye, aye, sir." Mckinnon nodded matter-of-fact acknowledgment, judged his time perfectly, stepped off the side on to the mast thwart, taking the girl with him: ready hands caught and steadied them as the boat dropped down again into the darkness of a trough. A second later the for'ard rope went snaking down into the lifeboat, Nicolson bending over the rail and staring down after it.
"Everything all right, bo'sun?" he called.
"Aye, no bother, sir. I'm going under the stern, in the lee."
Nicolson turned away without waiting to see what happened. The chances of a water-logged lifeboat broaching to in the initial moments of getting under way in those heavy seas were no better than even, but if
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