Truth and Beauty 13-9

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“The fiddle?” repeated Stephen.

“Yes, sir,” said the marine, grasping the edge of the table as the Roth plunged. “The fiddle.”

“Indeed,” sad Stephen. The unperturbed demeanor of the marine and the master’s mate forced him to be equally calm or lose face. In a bid to keep the marine talking, Stephen quizzed him about the fiddle; a series of questions and answers that grew increasingly strange until the marine realized that while he was discussing the raised lip of the table, Doctor Russ was discussing a violin.

* * *
Two levels up, Bollwerk appeared with a spill-proof mug of coffee and a pocket full of cereal bars. Jack had not left the bridge, except for a brief trip to the bathroom, since the storm had started in earnest. This was partly from professional duty, partly from curiosity - this was Roth’s first blow under his command, and patly because he simply loved a blow.

“Sir,” said the radar man, “it’s getting very difficult to see the far side of the convoy.”

Mister Greenstreet, to whom the comment was ostensibly directed, nodded. Jack left several seconds of silence. He did not want to appear distrustful of his first lieutenant, a man with whom he was saddled for the foreseeable future. But eventually he moved over to where he could clearly see the radar displays.

Fuzzy waves swept across the screens, with many of the ships of the convoy shown in the yellow of extrapolated data, rather than the green of a solid return.

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