At six, a cock crew, it seemed under my elbow, and I heard beyond my door and the cockpit the saloon door slide open as both Johnson and Rupert emerged to pad about on the deek. A smell of coffee seeped through, indistinctly, from the galley. From the fo’c’sle, there was no sound. Michael, I took...
The pity was that he had nothing that mattered to say. Someone had paid someone who had paid someone who had paid him to find out whether or not there was a live baby in Benedict’s carrycot, and flip his cap if there wasn’t. End of episode. In the six hours Benedict had spent at the Mallards‘, he...