Nevil Shute - On The Beach

Sir David Hartman asked, "How many hours’ transmission, in all, were monitored?"

"About a hundred and six hours."

"And in that time only two words have come through in clear? The rest is gibberish?"

"That is correct."

The admiral said, "I don’t think the words can be significant. It’s probably a fortuitous transmission. After all, if an infinite number of monkeys start playing with an infinite number of typewriters, one of them will write a play of Shakespeare. The real point to be investigated is this—how are these transmissions taking place at all? It seems certain that there is electrical power available there still. There may be human agency behind that power. It’s not very likely, but it could be so."

Lieutenant Sunderstrom leaned towards his captain and spoke in a low tone. Dwight said aloud, "Mr. Sunderstrom knows the radio installations in that district."

The lieutenant said diffidently, "I wouldn’t say that I know all of them. I attended a short course on naval communications at Santa Maria Island about five years back. One of the frequencies that was used there was 4.92 kilocycles."

The admiral asked, "Where is Santa Maria Island?"

"That one is just near Bremerton in Puget Sound, sir. There’s several others on the Coast. This one is the main navy communications school for that area."

Commander Towers unrolled a chart, and pointed to the island with his finger. "Here it is, sir. It connects with the mainland by a bridge to this place Manchester right next to Clam Bay."

The admiral asked, "What would be the range of the station on Santa Maria Island?"

The lieutenant said, "I wouldn’t know for certain, but I guess it’s global."

"Does it look like a global station? Very high aerials?"

"Oh, yes, sir. The antennas there are quite a sight. I think it’s a part of the regular communication system covering the Pacific area, but I don’t know that for sure. I only attended the communications school."

"You never communicated with the station direct, from any ship that you were serving in?"

"No, sir. We operated on a different set of frequencies."

They discussed the techniques of radio for a time. "If it turns out to be Santa Maria," Dwight said at last, "I’d say we can investigate it without difficulty." He glanced at the chart that he had studied before, to confirm his studies. "There’s forty feet of water right close up to it," he said. "Maybe we could even lie alongside a wharf. In any case, we’ve got the rubber boat. If the radiation level is anywhere near reasonable, we can put an officer on shore for a while, in the protective suit, of course."

The lieutenant said, "I’d be glad to volunteer for that. I guess I know the way around that installation pretty well."

They left it so, and turned to a consideration of the Jorgensen effect, and the scientific observations that were needed to prove or to disprove it.

Dwight met Moira Davidson for lunch after the conference. She had picked a small restaurant in the city for their meeting and he was there before her. She came to him bearing an attaché case.

He greeted her and offered her a drink before lunch. She elected for a brandy and soda, and he ordered it. "Double?" he inquired, as the waiter stood by.

"Single," she said. He nodded to the waiter without comment. He glanced at the attaché case. "Been shopping?"

"Shopping!" she said indignantly. "Me—full of virtue!"

"I’m sorry," he replied. "You’re going someplace?"

"No," she said, enjoying his curiosity. "I’ll give you three guesses what’s in it."

"Brandy," he suggested.

"No. I carry that inside me."

He thought for a moment. "A carving knife. You’re going to cut one of those religious pictures out of the frame and take it away to hang in the bathroom."

"No. One more."

"Your knitting."

"I don’t knit. I don’t do anything restful. You ought to know that by now."

The drinks came. "Okay," he said, "you win. What’s in it?"

She lifted the lid of the case. It contained a reporter’s notebook, a pencil, and a manual of shorthand.

He stared at these three items. "Say," he exclaimed, "you aren’t studying that stuff?"

"What’s wrong with that? You said I ought to, once." He remembered vaguely what he had once said in an idle moment. "You taking a course or something?"

"Every morning," she said. "I’ve got to be in Russell Street at half-past nine. Half-past nine— for me. I have to get up before seven!"

He grinned. "Say, that’s bad. What are you doing it for?"

"Something to do. I got fed up with harrowing the dung."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Three days. I’m getting awfully good at it. I can make a squiggle now with anyone."

"Do you know what it means when you’ve made it?"

"Not yet," she admitted. She took a drink of brandy. "That’s rather advanced work."

"Are you taking typing, too?"

She nodded. "And bookkeeping. All the lot."

He glanced at her in wonder. "You’ll be quite a secretary by the time you’re through."

"Next year," she said. "I’ll be able to get a good job next year."

"Are many other people doing it?" he asked. "You go to a school, or something?"

She nodded. "There are more there than I’d thought there’d be. I think it’s about half the usual number. There were hardly any pupils just after the war and they sacked most of the teachers. Now the numbers are going up and they’ve had to take them on again."

"More people are doing it now?"

"Mostly teen-agers," she told him. "I feel like a grandmother amongst them. I think their people got tired of having them at home and made them go to work." She paused. "It’s the same at the university," she said. "There are many more enrollments now than there were a few months ago."

"I’d never have thought it would work out that way," he remarked.

"It’s dull just living at home," she said. "They meet all their friends at the Shop."

He offered her another drink but she refused it, and they went in to lunch. "Have you heard about John Osborne and his car?" she asked.

He laughed. "I sure have. He showed it to me. I’d say he’s showing it to everybody that will come and look at it. It’s a mighty nice car.

"He’s absolutely mad," she said. "He’ll kill himself on it."

He sipped his cold consommé. "So what? So long as he doesn’t kill himself before we start off on this cruise. He’s having lots of fun."

"When are you starting off on the cruise?" she asked.

"I suppose we’ll be starting about a week from now."

"Is it going to be very dangerous?" she asked quietly.

There was a momentary pause. "Why, no," he said. "What made you think that?"

"I spoke to Mary Holmes over the telephone yesterday. She seemed a bit worried over something Peter told her."

"About this cruise?"

"Not directly," she replied. "At least, I don’t think so. More like making his will or something."

"That’s always a good thing to do," he observed. "Everybody ought to make a will, every married man, that is."

The grilled steaks came. "Tell me, is it dangerous?" she asked again.

He shook his head. "It’s quite a long cruise. We shall be away nearly two months, and nearly half of that submerged. But it’s not more dangerous than any other operation would be up in northern waters." He paused. "It’s always tricky to go nosing around in waters where there may have been a nuclear explosion," he said. "Especially submerged. You never really know what you may run into. Big changes in the sea bed. You may tangle with a sunken ship you didn’t know was there. You’ve got to go in carefully and watch your step. But no, I wouldn’t say it’s dangerous."