He levered himself off the wall and walked over to Starr, hands still thrust deep in his pockets.

"I hate to say this in front of the Captain, but every officer in the ship, except Captain Vallery, knows that die men would have mutinied, as you call it, long ago, but for one thing, Captain Vallery. The intense personal loyalty of the crew to the Captain, the devotion almost to the other side of idolatry is something quite unique in my experience, Admiral Starr."

Tyndall and Turned both murmured approval. Vallery still sat motionless.

"But there was a limit even to that. It had to come. And now you talk of punishing, imprisoning these men. Good God above, you might as well hang a man for having leprosy, or send him to penal servitude for developing ulcers!" Brooks shook his head in despair. "Our crew are equally guiltless. They just couldn't help it. They can't see right from wrong any more. They can't think straight. They just want a rest, they just want peace, a few days' blessed quiet. They'll give anything in the world for these things and they can't see beyond them. Can't you see that, Admiral Starr? Can't you? Can't you?"

For perhaps thirty seconds there was silence, complete, utter silence, in the Admiral's cabin. The high, thin whine of the wind, the swish of the hail seemed unnaturally loud. Then Starr was on his feet, his hands stretching out for his gloves: Vallery looked up, for the first time, and he knew that Brooks had failed.

"Have my barge alongside, Captain Vallery. At once, please." Starr was detached, quite emotionless. "Complete oiling, provisioning and ammunitioning as soon as possible. Admiral Tyndall, I wish you and your squadron a successful voyage. As for you, Commander Brooks, I quite see the point of your argument, at least, as far as you are concerned." His lips parted in a bleak, wintry smile. "You are quite obviously overwrought, badly in need of some leave. Your relief will be aboard before midnight. If you will come with me, Captain..."