On thy dear breast I'll lay my head--

he rushed on. "It's massacre, sir, it'sit's just murder!" "Shut up, kid!" Miller growled. "That'll do, Corporal!" Mallory said sharply. He looked at the American for a long moment, then turned to Stevens, his eyes cold. "Lieutenant, the whole concept of directing a successful war is aimed at placing your enemy at a disadvantage, at not giving him an even chance. We kill them or they kill us. They go under or we doand a thousand men on Kheros. It's just as simple as that, Lieutenant. It's not even a question of conscience." For several seconds Stevens stared at Mallory in complete silence. He was vaguely aware that everyone was looking at him. In that instant he hated Mallory, could have killed him. He hated him because-suddenly he was aware that he hated him only for the remorseless logic of what he said. He stared down at his clenched hands. Mallory, the idol of every young mountaineer and cragsman in pre-war England, whose fantastic climbing exploits had made world headlines, in '38 and '39: Mallory, who had twice been baulked by the most atrocious ill-fortune from surprising Rommel in his desert headquarters: Mallory, who had three times refused promotion in order to stay with his beloved Cretans who worshipped him the other side of idolatry. Confusedly these thoughts tumbled through his mind and he looked up slowly, looked at the lean, sunburnt face, the sensitive, chiselled mouth, the heavy, dark eyebrows barstraight over the lined brown eyes that could be so cold or so compassionate, and suddenly he felt ashamed, knew that Captain Mallory lay beyond both his understanding and his judgment. "I am very sorry, sir." He smiled faintly. "As Corporal Miller would say, I was talking out of turn." He looked aft at the caique arrowing up from the southeast. Again he felt the sick fear, but his voice was steady enough as he spoke. "I won't let you down, sir." "Good enough. I never thought you would." Mallory smiled in turn, looked at Miller and Brown. "Get the stuff ready and lay it out, will you? Casual, easy and keep it hidden. They'll have the glasses on you." He turned away, walked for'ard. Andrea followed him. "You were very hard on the young man." It was neither criticism nor reproachmerely statement of fact. "I know." Mallory shrugged. "I didn't like it either. . . . I had to do it." "I think you had," Andrea said slowly. "Yes, I think you had. cannon s3 is digital camera But it was hard. . . . Do you think they'll use the big gun in the bows to stop us?" "Mightthey haven't turned back after us unless they're pretty sure we're up to something fishy. But the warning shot across the bowsthey don't go in for that Captain Teach stuff normally." Andrea wrinkled his brows. "Captain Teach?" "Never mind." Mallory smiled. "Time we were taking up position now. Remember, wait for me. You won't have any trouble in hearing my signal," he finished dryly. The creaming bow-wave died away to a gentle ripple, the throb of the heavy diesel muted to a distant murmur as the German boat slid alongside, barely six feet away. From where he sat on a fish-box on the port- of the fo'c'sle, industriously sewing a button on to the old coat lying on the deck between his legs, Mallory could see six men, all dressed in the uniform of the regular German Navyone crouched behind a belted Spandau mounted on its tripod just aft of the two-pounder, three others bunched amidships, each armed with an automatic machine carbineSchmeissers, he thoughtthe captain, a hard, cold-faced young lieutenant with the Iron Cross on his tunic, looking out the open door of the wheelhouse and, finally, a curious head peering over the edge of the engine-room hatch. From where he sat, Mallory couldn't see the poop-deckthe intermittent ballooning of the lug-sail in the uncertain wind blocked his vision; but from the restricted fore-and-aft lateral sweep of the Spandau, hungrily traversing only the for'ard half of their own caique, be was reasonably sure that there was another machine-gunner similarly engaged on the German's poop. The hard-faced, young lieutenanta real product of the Hitler Jugend that one, Mallory thoughtleaned out of the wheelhouse, cupped his hand to his mouth. "Lower your sails!" he shouted. Mallory stiffened, froze to immobility. The needle had jammed hard into the palm of his band, but he didn't even notice it. The lieutenant had spoken in English! Stevens was so young, so inexperienced. He'll fall for it, Mallory thought with a sudden sick certainty, he's bound to fall for it. But Stevens didn't fall for it. He opened the door, leaned out, cupped his hand to his ear and gazed vacantly up to the sky, his mouth wide open. It was so perfect an imitation of dull-Witted