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
– were split-second. As he spoke the sonorous last words,
Amirante was alongside. .. we therefore commit his body to the deep..
There was a sharp explosion, a puff of smoke at Amirante's stern. The ungainly coffin cartwheeled high into the air.
Cameras locked on the grey object as it hurtled upwards and news commentators, hanging on to the stern rails with one hand and with microphone in the other, gave their word pictures. Slowly the thing rose up and up. It arced downwards. I thought almost I heard the splash above the destroyer's engines. The C-in-C allowed the raw drama to sink in. The chaplain was silent, too, before the Benediction. An officer pressed a button at the rear of Loch Vennachar's bridge. The deck trembled and shook. Four missiles leapt from the cruiser's launchers in a flurry of flame. Four others rose from an
American cruiser. There seemed scarcely any time between the launch and a thunderous detonation overhead. Then a helicopter was over Peace's grave and a huge wreath floated down at the end of a parachute.
As it hit the sea, I felt a sudden impulse. Something of Peace for Peace's end. I reached out my hand' I wouldn't waste a good cap,' said a prim voice.
Peace had spoken of that voice a thousand times: didactic, precise. The DNI stood next to me, screwing up his eyes at the water. Like me, he was not in uniform.
I held my cap-the Skeleton Coast cap-uncertainly.
Ny anivon riaka,' he said, articulating the words with a slight forward throw of the lips, like an actor. He smiled. My Creole isn't the best, but it means, " that which is in the midst of the moving waters." Mam'zelle Adele says Creole was once a French patois, but no longer. Everything in Limuria seems to undergo a sea-change.'
Could this indeed be the man whose influence over Peace had been so great? I could not equate his blathering about an obscure language in an obscure ocean with his knowledge of submarines and underwater strategy, which, Peace claimed, was greater than that of anyone living.
He went on, ' You would not think that so scattered a community as the Limurian islanders could have a language with the subtletly of expression which Creole has. It's as diverse as their brede dishes-in South Africa there is almost the same word, bredie, which means rice with things like peppers and tomatoes. There are any number of nuances for bredes: brede giraumon, with pumpkin leaves; brede martin; brede malabar--!
No wonder Peace admired the Dm-they were equally heartless.
' You feel all this is appropriate to-?' I nodded towards the swiftly disappearing patch where Peace had been fired.
He seemed amused. You yourself wanted to give him his own sort of farewell-from what I hear-but now you object to anything but formal funeral conversation about the departed hero'
Departed hero! If a sneer is all Peace could expect..
He remained smiling, and gestured with his hand. It seemed wrong, too, that he should be smoking. ' I think you've missed your moment with that cap.'
Annoyed, thrown off-balance, I went to the dodger. The mocking and ironical words followed me. I raised the cap to throw it.
The camera crews are working hard to record the last dramatic gesture of Peace's comrade-in-arms.
I looked down-into a battery of 'cameras and telephoto lenses aboard Amirante.
It would be a futile gesture, anyway,' went on the cool voice. During our cpnversation we gathered speed and I doubt if anyone could locate the spot now where they fired our hero.'
I saw the reason now for his small-talk-he had saved me from contributing one more of the kind of histrionic gestures which I had so deplored.
Thanks,' I said. Thanks very much'
The clear grey-green eyes were expressionless. He said, with an almost conspiratorial air, Come on-let's give it to them-a smart double salute from two old comrades.' He flicked the cigarette-stub into the water. There's a fag-end for friend Peace-it's all right, don't look so startled, we're not being broadcast. Now!' He jumped smartly to attention and pistoned a salute which would have been the envy of a stars-in-the-eyes midshipman. I saluted too.
Well, that's that,' said the DNI. Wish we could get a Pink Plymouth in the wardroom, but I don't suppose everyone is as broadminded as to pour Glenfiddich into a dead man's face.'
I went cold. Glenfiddich! Only Mac and I had been there. Had the DNI heard from the CIA agent? What was the tie-up? I turned from watching the two fleets' complicated man-oeuvre to bring them back to port to find the DNI's eyes on me, unsmiling, hard. You came to see me a couple of evenings ago?'
It was a statement, a demand..
Yes.'
Why come to me?'
I wanted you to help stop this silly charade.'
I? A retired naval officer living quietly among the back-, blocks of the sea?'
Yes. You still carry a good deal of weight in high places'
My dear boy, you overrate me.'
I don't think so.'
He said quietly: ' The petty officer underrated Mam'zelle Adele.'
You mean to say-?'
Oh, come, Garland!' He was impatient, but pleased at his minor triumph in disconcerting me. I naturally heard all the petty officer said about myself and my young lady-I had him dismissed from the guard.'
How?'
` You can't live all your life surrounded by cloak-anddagger listening devices without taking some into retirement,', he replied. I had an ultra-sensitive mike in the post-box which recorded everything the petty officer said. There are others in the garden, too.' He was pedantic. ' Your outburst and character delineation of the late Commander Peace was apt, penetrating and very touching. You must hear the tape. I regret that the petty officer's Eliza Doolittle exclamation is a little blurred. But I was delighted to have the negrillons' patois a patois within a patois, as it were. Mam'zelle Adele says the language is perfect.'
The petty officer didn't seem so very far off the mark, the way he enthused about his Mam'zelle Adele. She must be a cut above the ordinary Seychelles good-time girl, though. A teacher of languages-well, that was as good a cover as any, even though it didn't deceive the locals.
He watched me closely. ' I couldn't make out why you suddenly went back without pressing your desire to see me.'
I could not tell him why. I improvised something about his being part of Peace's funeral circus, but I could tell he was not deceived.