Squadron. Parallel, a mile distant, was the American Seventh Fleet-the same ships in line ahead, but instead of six submarines, they had ten. Keeping precision station almost under my feet was Amirante, with Peace's body lashed to her mortars.

At the chaplain's wind-blown words,… Thou hast showed us terrible things and the wonders of the deep.. an officer stepped over and raised his hand to Amirante. If I disagreed with the C-in-C's publicity methods, I could not fault his ships. Amirante's engine-room bells rang. There was a quick thresh of water as her screws went full ahead.

Simultaneously, the tarpaulin was jerked from the coffin.

I looked for the last time towards Geoffrey Peace's body.

Only then did I feel the surge of my pent-up emotions at the sight of the armada of fighting ships, the long swell rolling in on the south-easter, the throb of powerful marine engines, the scream of carrier jets trailing wing-tip smoke.

… Thou sufferedst men to ride over our heads: we went through fire and water..

A dollop of sea creamed over the destroyer's stern, inundating the depth-charge throwers. Amirante raced down the line of ships. Recif Islet, a white, cuspate, guano-stained rock, fell astern and, fine on the starboard bow, was Frigate Island, where Peace had died. A flock of frigate birds circled over it, like a squadron of planes protecting a fleet. The swell was increasing-we were getting into the cyclone season-and the coral reefs and cays where Peace had spent his last hours were white. Amirante reached the head of the fleet. swung towards the American side and came round in a dramatic, full-ahead turn-a bone in her teeth, a splendid, unforgettable sight. The destroyer reached us. Her timing-and the chaplain's