'Stands to make a packet, I daresay, if we win,' was Collier's comment.

'Win what?' Turlough wanted to know. They all turned to stare at him in surprise.

'The race, lad! The race!' Jackson looked at him pityingly, as though he were half-witted. Collier gave a knowing grin. 'Green hand, are you?' He was obviously about to enjoy himself at the newcomer's expense, and they all crowded round ready for a bit of sport. 'Why is it I always bring out the bully in people?' Turlough thought to himself sadly. But under the Doctor's watchful eye, the ribbing they gave him was not too bad. In fact it included some very good advice, for their stories about the horrors of going aloft contained a lot of practical information. He must never let go of the lifeline until his feet were on the deck, and he must keep his eyes open, and learn.

'Know why a pig can never be a sailor?' Collier leered into this ear. 'Cos it can't look aloft.' He dug Turlough hard in the ribs and they all laughed uproariously at this witticism. But the guffaws died into an uneasy silence as one of the officers walked in. He stood impa.s.sively, then pointed to the Doctor and beckoned. 'Looks like you're wanted.' Jackson said quietly. The Doctor rose to his feet.

There was still no word from the officer, just a peremptory nod, and he turned on his heel and left, clearly expecting the Doctor to follow him. Turlough was going to get up too, but quietly and firmly the Doctor pressed him back into his seat. 'You know where the TARDIS is, if things get difficult,' he said softly as he pa.s.sed.

The officer's arrival seemed to have put a damper on the crew's spirits, for there was no more laughter or leg-pulling. Turlough was not particularly happy, either. Even though the Doctor frequently irritated him, he missed his company. There was something very rea.s.suring about it.

'Where've they taken him?' he asked.

'p.o.o.p quarters,' came from a surly Collier.

'First Mate wanted to see him, I daresay,' Jackson added, and then, with a touch of sourness, 'Living like lords they are, back there. Every luxury.'

'While we make do with salt junk and hard tack,' Collier added his grumble.

To his annoyance, Turlough found his concern for the Doctor growing. His basic philosophy learnt from life so far was to look after himself first and not to fall into the trap of caring too much about anybody else. But he found himself saying, in a slightly anxious voice, 'He'll be all right, won't he?'

Jackson's reply was not encouraging. 'Who can tell?' he said fatalistically, and shrugged his shoulders.

3.

Here She Blows!

The room into which the Doctor was shown was in marked contrast to the fo'c's'le. It had panelled walls and a polished floor; a long gleaming table ran down the centre of it, lit by candles, and laid formally for a meal. There was champagne on ice and there were tall fluted gla.s.ses. The officer nodded towards the wine and then withdrew. The Doctor took this as an invitation to help himself and was just debating whether or not he should, when out of the shadows stepped Tegan. Ignoring the Doctor's startled exclamation, she burst into a frantic explanation of how the console had blown up and how she had seen the face on the scanner, how the White Guardian had failed to materialise fully and how his message had not made sense.

' "Winner takes all",' she quoted in scorn. 'What does that mean?'

'We are on a racing yacht,' the Doctor observed thoughtfully. Tegan was startled. 'How d'you know?'

'We've been talking to the crew,' he explained.

'Well I hope they're not as peculiar as the officers,' was her rejoinder. 'The one I've met is very strange.'

The door opened almost before she finished speaking, and they swung round, ready for anything. What they saw could have been a tableau from a waxworks. Three men stood there. The foremost was a tall distinguished figure, with a dark saturnine face, and a uniform covered in gold braid. Like the two officers at his heels, he stood motionless and expressionless for a second, then suddenly clicked into action and stepped forward with a courtly bow.

'Welcome aboard. Delighted you could join us.' His voice was smooth and rea.s.suring, but there was an air of command about him, and a great reserve behind his easy authority. 'Captain Striker, at your service.'

'How d'you do,' the Doctor began. I'm '

' the Doctor ' Striker interrupted smoothly, as though he knew all about them. 'And Miss Tegan, I believe. Allow me to present my officers.' Silently, the two officers saluted.

'They're a funny lot,' Jackson said.

'The after guard always are.' Collier was as cynical as usual, but Turlough hardly heard him.

'What d'you mean "funny"?' he asked.

The men were not very articulate, but he gathered that few of them had set eyes on the Captain, and that the bosun got most of his orders from the First Mate.

'Did he say where the ship was going?' Turlough asked keenly.

They shuffled uneasily. 'Don't remember,' someone muttered. Eyes slid away from his shiftily. They obviously did not want to discuss it.

'We're here for the race. That's all that matters.' But if Jackson thought he had changed the subject, he reckoned without their questioner. Turlough had decided to impress the Doctor by finding out as much as he could.

'Where are we racing to to?' he repeated. 'Where's the finish?'

There was a sudden grinding jolt, and Jackson looked up. The oil lamps hanging from the ceiling were swaying from side to side, and from the distance came the sound of the bosun's pipe. Immediately the men's dazed expressions vanished and all was confidence and action again.

'Here she blows,' Jackson said. 'This is what we've been waiting for. The wind.'

In the stateroom the wine in the gla.s.ses swished from side to side. One fell over, and a dark red stain spread over the linen. The Doctor put out a hand to steady his claret, and caught Tegan's eye. She looked distinctly queasy.

'I hope it's not going to be too rough,' she muttered.

'I'm not a very good sailor.'

Striker and his officers appeared oblivious of the movement of the ship. They sat, staring blankly ahead, eating and drinking in silence, their faces as impa.s.sive as they had been since the beginning of the meal. The shrill squealing of the bosun's pipe sounded from somewhere, and Tegan felt her stomach beginning to heave up and down with the boat.

'Brave heart, Tegan!' came the Doctor's encouraging whisper across the table, but all she could manage was a watery smile.

'It's not my heart I'm worried about,' she whispered back.

The door was flung open and a voice she recognised spoke.

'Breaking out the rum ration, sir.'

It was her friend of the scanner screen who stood there, his face elated and energy vibrating in his movements. The effect of his arrival on Striker and the other two officers was electric, as though they had come to life.

'Good,' Striker's tone was incisive, his introductions perfunctory. 'My First Mate, Mr Marriner, I believe you've met.' Marriner's salute and short-lived smile in her direction showed that even he now had other things on his mind.

'Everything in order?' the Captain was asking him. 'Are the crew ready?'

'Being prepared,' came the enigmatic reply. The ship shuddered violently. Striker and the two officers sprang to their feet, leaving the Doctor and Tegan sitting in bewilderment.

'I must apologise,' broke in Striker, courteous as always, 'for this rather abrupt end to dinner.'

As the Doctor and Tegan pushed back their chairs to get up, the ship lurched more violently still. There was a crash from the table as several more gla.s.ses fell, and they were both thrown back into their seats.

'Look to the lady, Mr Marriner,' was the Captain's brisk command, and he hurried from the room, his officers behind him.

Marriner was clearly delighted to offer Tegan his arm, but she pulled back, demanding to know where they were going. 'To the wheel-house,' he answered, and before she could raise another objection she was whisked through the doorway. By the time the Doctor had struggled up from his chair there was no sign of her. There was no sign of her in the companionway, either, and he looked from left to right, trying to decide which way to go.

Turlough was equally lost. At the sound of the bosun's pipe everyone in the fo'c's'le had appeared to go berserk.

There was a mad rush of men for the doorway, and he was jostled from side to side. Grasping Collier's arm as he pa.s.sed he asked what was going on. 'Grog ration,' was the brief explanation and then he was alone in the empty fo'c's'le, looking at the half-darned sock, the cards lying higgledy-piggledy on the floor, and the deserted banjo. A second later Jackson was back.

'Come on, lad,' he shouted, shoving Turlough ahead of him. It was not until they were half way along the pa.s.sageway that Turlough discovered to his horror that they were about to go up aloft, and by then it was too late to turn back.

The Doctor was still looking for the wheel-house when he heard the sound of running feet. He flattened himself against the bulkhead as several sailors dashed past him one after the other and shinned up the companion-ladder to the deck above. Two more arrived at the double, and as the first bent to retie a shoelace he saw that it was Turlough.

The man behind overtook him and disappeared up the ladder, with a shout of 'Come on, lad.' If Turlough heard, he certainly made no move, other than to straighten up with a satisfied expression. There was a murmur 'Not going with them?' in his ear, which made him jump, and when he spun round he saw the Doctor smiling at him with complete understanding.

'Going aloft? The rigging's no place for a coward like me!' Turlough grinned back. It was rather a relief that the Doctor knew him so well, at least he did not have to pretend. And it was not too difficult to confess that he had failed to find anything out about the race, except for the fact that the crew apparently knew very little about it either: information which interested the Doctor, but did not seem to surprise him.

'Can't we get back to the TARDIS?' Turlough asked, looking round nervously.

'Not till we've found Tegan,' the Doctor answered. But before either of them could move a step, their skin p.r.i.c.kled to the sound of a blood-curdling scream. Somewhere there was a man in mortal terror.

The same cry halted Tegan. She had just been helped up from a companionway by Marriner, and she stopped dead, tense and alarmed.

'What was that?' she gasped. Marriner's expression never changed, and his tone was as calm and pleasant as usual.

'One of the crew going aloft. It sometimes affects them that way, especially when it's the first time.'

Tegan was horrified. 'The first time! You mean you're sending a completely inexperienced crewman aloft? In a race!'

'They soon get used to it,' Marriner smiled at her. He moved on quite unperturbed, but Tegan was not to be put off.

'Now wait a minute ' she said, as she caught up with him. She meant business, by the sound of her voice, but it died away in disbelief as she caught sight of something in the corridor ahead.

'Wet suits!' she exclaimed, rushing forward to examine them. There they were, hanging in a row on pegs, with shelves of other equipment below. 'What are wet suits doing on an Edwardian sailing-ship?'

Without a word Marriner took her by the arm and hustled her along the pa.s.sageway to a door at the end, flung it open and hurried her through into what was clearly the wheel-house. The whole place seemed to be gla.s.sed in, and to Tegan's surprise it was pitch dark outside. Somehow she had expected a race to start in daylight. But before she had time to comment, or to do more _than glance at the polished bra.s.s of the nautical instruments round the walls, there came a curt command from the far end of the room.

'Mr Mate.' It was Striker, standing by the helmsman at the wheel. Excusing himself briefly, Marriner hurried to the Captain's side.

'Are you all right?' she heard the Doctor's anxious voice asking. He and Turlough had just hurried in and were looking very relieved to see her. Tegan rushed across to them, her words tumbling over each other.

'You'll never guess what I've seen! Wet suits! In one of the companionways! Underwater gear like scuba-divers wear!'

'On an Edwardian ship!' Turlough was scathing. But there was something about Tegan's certainty that was convincing.

'Wait a minute,' said the Doctor. 'This might tell us where we are.' He had caught sight of a chart spread out on one of the tables. Tegan and Turlough hurried over to join him and in a second the three of them were poring over it.

Turlough was the first to give up.

'It doesn't make sense!' he said in disgust.

But Tegan had a feeling she was on the right track. 'It's to do with the race, I'm sure,' she said. 'Marker buoys! It shows the positions of the marker buoys!'

'Marker buoys? They're considerably more than that '

The gravity in the Doctor's voice startled them. But before he could explain, Striker was calling out authoritatively, 'Mr Mate we'll look at our cornpet.i.tors, please.'

Marriner pressed a bra.s.s lever and the polished wooden top of a fitment opened, to reveal a bank of switches. A touch on one of them produced a gentle humming noise and a large panel in the wall slid slowly upwards.

'Electronics!' exclaimed Tegan, her mouth dropping open. 'What date is this ship?'

She and Turlough stared at each other in bewilderment, but the Doctor only had eyes for what the panel revealed. It was a huge screen, like a gigantic scanner.

'Look!' he said urgently.

It was not sea which surrounded them; there were no waves, no long swell, no distant horizon; there was nothing but a vast blackness, spangled with far-away stars.

'We're in s.p.a.ce,' the Doctor said.

Into view glided a square-rigged eighteenth-century frigate, so close they felt they could almost have touched her. Beyond were the tall lines of a clipper; beyond her, a galleon; beyond, a shape that was older still, a hint of the Phoenician in her prow; another and another, floating in the dark as far as the eye could see.

'What are they?' Tegan whispered.

's.p.a.ce ships,' answered the Doctor.

4.

Marker Buoy.

The Doctor seemed unaware of Turlough's presence at his elbow; he was completely engrossed, taking in every detail of the strange ships on the screen.

'Fascinating,' he said. 'The technology is amazing.'

'Why waste it on that that though?' Turlough was incredulous. 'What are they trying to achieve? Is it some sort of game? It's not real!' though?' Turlough was incredulous. 'What are they trying to achieve? Is it some sort of game? It's not real!'

'The crew are real enough,' observed the Doctor.

Turlough thought of Jackson, Collier and the rest, with their earthy humour and their mild bullying, and he had to agree. Definitely human. He was not so sure about the officers. His eyes went to the Captain, frozen motionless again in his position by the helmsman, then to Marriner, still and silent at the computer, and he had a sudden inspiration. 'Androids?' he asked. But the Doctor shook his head slowly. 'Much more complicated.'

They were interrupted by a low groan from Tegan. She was leaning against the wall, looking distinctly green. 'I feel terrible,' she moaned. Marriner was at her side almost before she had finished speaking, offering his arm and asking to be allowed to escort her to her cabin.