Donal looked at the four other ships in line. Abruptly the leading one disappeared. The rest continued, seemingly, to hang there, without motion. There was no sound in the control room about him. The seconds crept by, became minutes. The minutes crawled. Suddenly—a ship appeared in front of Bannerman’s craft.

Donal looked back at the three behind. Now, there were only two.

The run continued until all the ships had made their pass.

“Again,” ordered Donal.

They did it again; and it went off without a hitch.

“Rest,” said Donal, getting out of the chair. “Captain, pass the word for all ships to give their personnel a break of half an hour. Make sure everyone is fed, rested, and supplied with medication. Also supply every person with extra medication to be taken as needed. Then, I’d like to talk to you, personally.”

When Bannerman had accomplished these orders and approached Donal, Donal took him a aside.

“How about the reactions of the men?” he asked.

“Fine, captain,” Bannerman said; and Donal was surprised to read a true enthusiasm in his voice. “We’ve got good crews, here. High level-ratings, and experience.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Donal, thankfully. “Now . . . about the time interval—”

“Five minutes exactly, sir,” Bannerman looked at him inquiringly. “We can shorten slightly, or lengthen as much as you want.”

“No,” said Donal. “I just wanted to know. Do you have battle dress for me and my orderly?”

“It’s coming up from stores.”

The half hour slid by quickly. As it approached its end and they prepared to tie into their chairs, Donal noticed the chronometer on the control room wall. It stood at 23:10 and the half hour would be up at 23:12.

“Make that start at 23:15,” he directed Bannerman. The word was passed to the other ships. Everyone was in battle dress, in their chairs and at their posts, waiting. Donal felt a strange metallic taste in his mouth and the slow sweat began to work out on the surface of his skin.

“Give me an all-ship hookup,” he said. There was a few seconds pause, and then a. Third Officer spoke from the control panel.

“You’re hooked in, sir.”

“Men,” said Donal. “This is Captain Graeme.” He paused. He had no idea what he had intended to say. He had asked for the hookup on impulse, and to break the strain of the last few moments which must be weighing on all the rest as much as him. “I’ll tell you one thing. This is something Newton’s never going to forget. Good luck to all of you. That’s all.”

He wigwagged to the Third Officer to cut him off; and looked up at the clock. A chime sounded softly through the ship.

It was 23:15.

SUB-PATROL CHIEF II

Newton was not to forget.