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The radio operator set her controls and spoke into the microphone, trying several settings before looking up at her skipper. “Nothing, sir.”
Jack took another sip of his coffee to give himself time to consider. The sublieutenant, he noticed, was looking sullen. Well, Jack thought, if the damn’ fool had been doing his job, I wouldn’t have to. “Try for Taconite,” he said aloud.
“Nothing, sir,” said the radio operator, after two minutes of twiddling her knobs and careful listening.
Jack moved over to the radar station. Several vessels now showed in red: last known position, current location unknown. Scattered white blips indicated unclassified returns, probably the current locations of some of the lost vessels. “Zoom out,” he asked the operator.
The operator complied, and Jack studied the screen. “Two vessels are missing,” he said at last.
“They come and go,” said the operator. If you wait a few minutes they’ll reappear.”
“Mister Greenstreet, perhaps we should increase our distance.”
“Yes, sir. I don’t think we’ve received orders to that effect.
“I am issuing the orders, sublieutenant. You may enter that in the log. I want us at least two clicks from the nearest known or suspected vessel.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mister Greenstreet, saluting and making as if to leave the bridge.
“Where are you going?”
“The chartroom, sir.”
Jack stared. After two false starts to his premier, he turned his back on the man and addressed the helmsman instead. “Take us down and away,” he said, “and reduce speed by one knot.”
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