“Aye, she was a fine ship,” agreed Fawkes. “In my mind she still is. But time has passed her by. Your government sold her for scrap and the African Army of Revolution bought her for a very special undertaking.”

“That’s something else that rubs us wrong,” said Dugan. “Busting our ass so’s some bunch of nigger radicals can kill white people.”

Fawkes laid down the pencil and fixed Dugan with a rigid stare. “I don’t think you people quite realize the economics of the situation,” he said. “What the AAR does with the ship once it leaves your shipyard needn’t concern your racial philosophies. What counts is that they pay my wages the same as they pay yours and those of your men, who, if my memory serves me, number one hundred and seventy. However, if you insist, I’ll be happy to convey your sentiments to the officials in charge of the AAR treasury. I feel certain they can find another shipyard that will prove more cooperative. And that would be a pity, particularly since their contract is the only one on your books at present. Without it, all one hundred and seventy men on your crew would have to be laid off. I do not think their families will take it kindly when they find out your petty objections put their menfolk out of work.”

Dugan and Metz exchanged angry, defeated looks. Metz avoided Fawkes’s eyes and gazed down sullenly at the blueprints. “Okay, Cap- ; tain, you’re calling the shots.”

There was a confidence born of long years of commanding men re—

Salvage I 133

fleeted in Fawkes’s tight smile. “Thank you, gentlemen. Now that we’ve cleared the air of any misunderstandings, shall we continue?”

An hour later the two shipyard men left the bridge and made their way down to the main deck of the ship. “I can’t believe I heard right,” Metz mumbled numbly. “Did that lead-brained Scotsman actually order us to remove half the superstructure, the funnels, and the fore and aft gun turrets and replace them all with plywood sheeting painted gray?”

“That’s what the man said,” Dugan replied. “I guess he figures by dumping all that weight he can lighten the ship by fifteen thousand tons.”

“But why replace everything with dummy structures?”

“Beats me. Maybe he and his black buddies expect to bluff the South African Navy to death.”

“And that’s another thing,” said Metz. “If you bought a ship like this to use in a foreign war, wouldn’t you try and keep the deal under wraps? My guess is that they’re going to blast Cape Town all to hell.”

“With dummy guns, no less,” grunted Dugan.

“I’d like to tell that overgrown bastard to take his contract and stuff it up his ass,” Metz rasped.