On The Beach

All afternoon they carried out their radioactive trials, cruising around a barge with a mildly radioactive element on board anchored in the middle of the bay, while John Osborne ran around noting the readings on his various instruments, barking his long shins upon steel manholes as he clambered up and down the conning tower to the bridge, cracking his tall head painfully on bulkheads and control wheels as he moved quickly in the control room. By five o'clock the trials were over; they left the barge to be disposed of by the shore party of scientists who had put it there, and set course for the open sea.

They stayed on the surface all night, settling into the sea routine as they proceeded westward. At dawn they were off Cape Banks in South Australia, in a fresh southwesterly breeze and a moderate sea. Here they submerged and went down to about fifty feet, returning to periscope depth for a look round once an hour. In the late afternoon they were off Cape Borda on Kangaroo Island, and set course up the strait at periscope depth towards Port Adelaide. By about ten o'clock on Wednesday night they were looking at the town through the periscope; after ten minutes the captain turned around without surfacing and made for the open sea again. At sunset on Thursday they were off the north of King Island and setting course for home. They surfaced as they neared the Heads and passed into Port Phillip Bay at the first light of dawn, and berthed alongside the aircraft carrier at Williamstown in time for breakfast on Friday, with nothing but minor defects to be rectified.

That morning the First Naval Member, Vice Admiral Sir David Hartman, came down to inspect the only ship in his command that was worth bothering about. That took about an hour, and he spent a quarter of an hour with Dwight and Peter Holmes in the office cabin discussing with them the modifications that they had proposed to the draft operation order. He left then for a conference with the Prime Minister, at that time in Melbourne; with no aircraft flying on the airlines, federal government from Canberra was growing difficult, and parliamentary sessions there were growing shorter and less frequent.

That evening Dwight rang Moira Davidson, as he had promised. "Well," he said, "we got back in one piece. There's just a little being done on board the ship, but nothing very much."

She asked, "Does that mean I can see her?"

"I'd be glad to show her to you. We shan't be going off again before Monday."

"I'd like to see her, Dwight. Would tomorrow or Sunday be the best?"

He thought for a moment. If they were to sail on Monday, Sunday might be busy. "I'd say tomorrow would be best."

In turn, she thought rapidly. She would have to run out on Anne Sutherland's party, but it looked like a dreary sort of party anyway.

"I'd love to come tomorrow," she said. "Do I come to Williamstown station?"

"That's the best way. I'll meet you there. What train will you be coming on?"

"I don't know the times. Let's say the first one after eleven-thirty."

"Okay. If I should be all tied up, I'll get Peter Holmes or else John Osborne to go down and meet you."

"Did you say John Osborne?"

"That's right. Do you know him?"

"An Australian-with C.S.I.R.O.?"

"That's the one. A tall guy with spectacles."

"He's a sort of relation-his aunt married one of my uncles. Is he in your party?"

"Definitely. He joined us as scientific officer."

"He's dippy," she informed him. "Absolutely mad. He'll wreck your ship for you."

He laughed. "Okay. Come down and see it before he pulls the bung out."

"I'd love to do that, Dwight. See you on Saturday morning."

He met her at the station the next morning, having nothing particular to do in the ship. She came in a white outfit, white pleated skirt, white blouse with coloured thread embroidery, vaguely Norwegian in style, white shoes. She was pleasant to look at, but there was concern in him as he greeted her; how in hell he was going to get her through the cramped maze of greasy machinery that was Scorpion with her clothes unsullied was a problem, and he was to take her out in the evening.

"Morning, Dwight," she said. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Just a few minutes," he replied. "Did you have to start very early?"

"Not as early as last time," she informed him. "Daddy drove me to the station, and I got a train soon after nine. Early enough, though. You'll give me a drink before lunch, won't you?"

He hesitated. "Uncle Sam doesn't like it aboard ship," he said. "It'll have to be Coke or orangeade."

"Even in Sydney?"

"Even in Sydney," he said firmly. "You wouldn't want to drink hard liquor with my officers when they were drinking Cokes."