"All right," the girl replied. "Peter and Mary threw a party last night. Quite good fun. Knocked me back a bit, though."

Her mother sighed a little, but she had learned that it was no use to protest. "You must go to bed early tonight," she said. "You've had so many late nights recently."

"I think I will."

"What was the American like?"

"He's nice. Very quiet and navy."

"Was he married?"

"I didn't ask him. I should think he must have been."

"What did you do?"

The girl repressed her irritation at the catechism; Ma was like that, and there was now too little time to spend it in quarrelling. "We went sailing in the afternoon." She settled down to tell her mother most of what had happened during the week-end, repressing the bit about her bra and much of what had happened at the party.

At Williamstown Commander Towers walked into the dockyard and made his way to Sydney. He occupied two adjoining cabins with a communicating door in the bulkhead, one of which was used for office purposes. He sent a messenger for the officer of the deck in Scorpion and Lieutenant Hirsch appeared with a sheaf of signals in his hand. He took these from the young man and read them through. Mostly they dealt with routine matters of the fuelling and victualling, but one from the Third Naval Member's office was unexpected. It told him that a civilian scientific officer of the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation had been ordered to report in Scorpion for scientific duties. This officer would be under the command of the Australian liaison officer in Scorpion. His name was Mr. J. S. Osborne.

Commander Towers held this signal in his hand, and glanced at the lieutenant. "Say, do you know anything about this guy?"

"He's here right now, sir. He arrived this morning. I put him in the wardroom and got the duty officer to allocate a cabin for him for tonight."

The captain raised his eyebrows. "Well, what do you know? What does he look like?"

"Very tall and thin. Mousey sort of hair. Wears spectacles."

"How old?"

"A little older than me, I'd say. Under thirty, though."

The captain thought for a minute. "Going to make things kind of crowded in the wardroom. I think we'll berth him with Commander Holmes. You got three men aboard?"

"That's right. Isaacs, Holman, and de Vries. Chief of the Boat Mortiner is on board, too."

"Tell the chief I want another cot rigged on the forward side of Bulkhead F, transverse to the ship, head to starboard. He can take one out of the forward torpedo flat."

"Okay, sir."

Commander Towers ran through the routine matters in the other signals with his officer, and then sent the lieutenant to ask Mr. Osborne to come to the office. When the civilian appeared he motioned him to a chair, gave him a cigarette, and dismissed his officer. "Well, Mr. Osborne," he said, "this is quite a surprise. I just read the order posting you to join us. I'm glad to know you."

"I'm afraid it was rather a quick decision," the scientist said. "I only heard about it the day before yesterday."

"That's very often the way it is in service matters," said the captain. "Well, first things first. What's your full name?"

"John Seymour Osborne."

"Married?"

"No."

"Okay. Aboard Scorpion, or aboard any naval vessel, you address me as Captain Towers, and every now and then you call me 'sir.' On shore, off duty, my name is Dwight to you-not to the junior officers."

The scientist smiled. "Very good, sir."

"Ever been to sea in a submarine before?"

"No."

"You'll find things just a little cramped till you get used to it. I'm fixing you a berth in Officer's Country, and you'll mess with the officers in the wardroom." He glanced at the neat grey suit upon the scientist. "You'll probably need clothing. See Lieutenant Commander Holmes about that when he comes aboard tomorrow morning, and get him to draw clothing for you from the store. You'll get that suit messed up if you go down in Scorpion in that."

"Thank you, sir."

The captain leaned back in his chair and glanced at the scientist, noting the lean, intelligent face, the loose, ungainly figure. "Tell me, what are you supposed to be doing in this outfit?"

"I'm to make observations and keep records of the radioactive levels, atmospheric and marine, with special reference to the subsurface levels and radioactive intensity within the hull. I understand you're making a cruise northwards."

"That's what everybody understands but me. It must be right, and I'll be told one day." He frowned slightly. "Are you anticipating a rise in the radioactive level inside the hull?"

"I don't think so. I very much hope not. I doubt if it could happen when you are submerged, except under very extreme conditions. But it's just as well to keep an eye on it. I take it that you'd want to know at once of any significant rise."

"Sure I would."

They proceeded to discuss the various techniques involved. Most of the gear that Osborne had brought with him was portable and involved no installation in the ship. In the evening light he put on an overall suit lent him by the captain and went down with Dwight into Scorpion to inspect the radiation detector mounted on the aft periscope and formulate a programme for its calibration against a standard instrument as they went down the bay. A similar check was to be made upon the detector installed in the engine room, and a small amount of engineering was required at one of the two remaining torpedo tubes for the sampling of sea water. It was practically dark when they climbed back into Sydney, to take supper in the great, echoing, empty wardroom.

Next day was a turmoil of activity. When Peter came aboard in the forenoon his first job was to telephone a friend in the Operations Division and point out that it would be courteous, to say the least, to tell the captain what was common knowledge to the Australian officers under his command, and to make a signal requesting his comments on a draft operation order. By evening this signal had come in and had been dealt with, John Osborne was suitably clothed for life in a submarine, the work on the aft door of the torpedo tube was finished, and the two Australians were packing their gear into the little space that had been allocated to them for personal effects. They slept that night in Sydney, and moved into Scorpion on Tuesday morning. A few more chores were finished in a couple of hours, and Dwight reported readiness to proceed upon sea trials. They were cleared for sea, had lunch at noon beside the Sydney, and cast off. Dwight turned his ship and set a course at slow speed down the bay towards the Heads.

All afternoon they carried out their radioactive trials, cruising around a barge with a mildly radioactive element on board anchored in the middle of the bay, while John Osborne ran around noting the readings on his various instruments, barking his long shins upon steel manholes as he clambered up and down the conning tower to the bridge, cracking his tall head painfully on bulkheads and control wheels as he moved quickly in the control room. By five o'clock the trials were over; they left the barge to be disposed of by the shore party of scientists who had put it there, and set course for the open sea.

They stayed on the surface all night, settling into the sea routine as they proceeded westward. At dawn they were off Cape Banks in South Australia, in a fresh southwesterly breeze and a moderate sea. Here they submerged and went down to about fifty feet, returning to periscope depth for a look round once an hour. In the late afternoon they were off Cape Borda on Kangaroo Island, and set course up the strait at periscope depth towards Port Adelaide. By about ten o'clock on Wednesday night they were looking at the town through the periscope; after ten minutes the captain turned around without surfacing and made for the open sea again. At sunset on Thursday they were off the north of King Island and setting course for home. They surfaced as they neared the Heads and passed into Port Phillip Bay at the first light of dawn, and berthed alongside the aircraft carrier at Williamstown in time for breakfast on Friday, with nothing but minor defects to be rectified.

That morning the First Naval Member, Vice Admiral Sir David Hartman, came down to inspect the only ship in his command that was worth bothering about. That took about an hour, and he spent a quarter of an hour with Dwight and Peter Holmes in the office cabin discussing with them the modifications that they had proposed to the draft operation order. He left then for a conference with the Prime Minister, at that time in Melbourne; with no aircraft flying on the airlines, federal government from Canberra was growing difficult, and parliamentary sessions there were growing shorter and less frequent.

That evening Dwight rang Moira Davidson, as he had promised. "Well," he said, "we got back in one piece. There's just a little being done on board the ship, but nothing very much."

She asked, "Does that mean I can see her?"

"I'd be glad to show her to you. We shan't be going off again before Monday."

"I'd like to see her, Dwight. Would tomorrow or Sunday be the best?"

He thought for a moment. If they were to sail on Monday, Sunday might be busy. "I'd say tomorrow would be best."

In turn, she thought rapidly. She would have to run out on Anne Sutherland's party, but it looked like a dreary sort of party anyway.

"I'd love to come tomorrow," she said. "Do I come to Williamstown station?"

"That's the best way. I'll meet you there. What train will you be coming on?"

"I don't know the times. Let's say the first one after eleven-thirty."

"Okay. If I should be all tied up, I'll get Peter Holmes or else John Osborne to go down and meet you."

"Did you say John Osborne?"

"That's right. Do you know him?"

"An Australian-with C.S.I.R.O.?"

"That's the one. A tall guy with spectacles."

"He's a sort of relation-his aunt married one of my uncles. Is he in your party?"

"Definitely. He joined us as scientific officer."