Chief Sharkey watched as Mr. Morton moved over to the radar station, standing right behind Nash. They were running submerged; without surfacing to ninety feet, so that the radar mast was above water, they couldn't track anything. It was true that he made it a point to check every station when he was on watch, but he'd checked radar just a little while ago. Why check it out again? The COB edged a little closer, trying to overhear what - if anything - was said, but Mr. Morton gave him a sharp glare, and he backed off. Still it was interesting…

He moved back to his station behind the helm, but he kept an eye on the proceedings. No one knew better than he did how weird Nash had been acting since he came on board. Probably Mr. Morton was trying to figure out what was wrong with the guy. But he should have asked Sharkey. The chief could tell him a thing or two, and none of it was good. Standing over Nash like that, even if he said nothing, just might set the sailor off…

"Get away from me!" Nash's voice rose, drawing the attention of the whole control room. Yup. Just like Sharkey had expected. Odd, though; Mr. Morton hardly ever put a foot wrong.

The XO calmly stepped aside as the sailor came out of his chair, but his eyes narrowed. He said nothing, but it was easy to see that he was assessing the situation, calculating what could be done. If it could be put right, he'd be the one to find the way to do it, but Sharkey still sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the skipper wasn't in the control room at the moment. Nash was so unstable that he might have jumped at Captain Crane if given the opportunity.

"You people are all the same! Standing over me, staring at me… What do you want? Are you all out to get me?" Nash glared around at the people staring at him, as his fists clenched and unclenched at his side. A dangerous signal that; showed he was about to turn violent, in Sharkey's opinion.

"Get back to your stations, men." Mr. Morton's voice was quiet and calm. The other sailors on watch turned back to their stations, but Sharkey could read the tension in their backs, and knew that everyone was surreptitiously watching Nash in case he lost it. There wasn't a man among them who wouldn't have taken Nash down if he threatened an officer, but they were especially watchful when it was the skipper or his XO. Both men had a good reputation among the men; the skipper had easy, engaging manners, but was solid as a rock in a pinch, and Mr. Morton was the calm in the eye of the storm, keeping the men going even when everything was falling apart all around them. The men would do anything for either one of them.

Mr. Morton turned his gaze back on Nash, and said in that same calm, quiet, careful voice, "No one is out to get you, sailor. I check every station in the control room when I have the watch. You know that."

It was true, as everyone listening knew. But Nash shuddered at the words, and ducked his head, muttering. "Trying to catch me out. You want to find something wrong… He wants you to find something wrong, so that he can get me…" He gritted his teeth, and looked up, his eyes blazing.

Mr. Morton stepped a little further back from Nash, not retreating, but prudently putting a bit of space between them; a good move as far as Sharkey could see. Too close, and Nash might snap… Too far, and Nash might turn on the nearest man. By keeping close enough to keep the radar man's attention focused on him, but staying far enough away that Nash couldn't immediately cause any damage, Mr. Morton had partially defused the situation.

Still, the crewman was sweating and shuddering and didn't look good at all. "I think you're not feeling well, Nash." The XO didn't follow the thought through to completion, because it was clear Nash didn't take it well.

"The captain put you up to this, didn't he? No one's going to back me against him." Nash shouted the words and leaped forward, but Mr. Morton was faster, stepping quickly out of reach. Nash crashed against the periscope railing and crumpled to the ground. Ski glanced at the XO, then moved to bend over Nash, crouching down beside the crewman.

"Hey, Nash. Come on, buddy… You need to see the Doc."

Nash shook his head, but his anger had disintegrated, and he buried his face in his hands, sobbing. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I didn't mean it…"

"Nash." Mr. Morton's voice was still calm and steady, with no hint of anger. "You need to see Dr. McKenzie. Kowalski will escort you there." He glanced around the control room and caught Riley's eye. "Riley, take over sonar. Ski…"

"Aye, sir." Ski put his hand under Nash's elbow and helped the sailor to his feet. "Come on, buddy. Doc will have something that will make you feel better for sure."

Sharkey left the helm again, to watch Ski take Nash out. He sidled over until he stood right next to Mr. Morton, his back to Riley at the sonar station and Malone at the hydrophones. "He's cracking up, sir." He spoke as softly as possible, not wanting anyone else to hear him.

Mr. Morton nodded and shot Sharkey a sidelong glance. "Keep an eye on him. I'm a little concerned about his views on Captain Crane."

He didn't know the half of it. Sharkey could tell him things that would curl his hair. Nash had been shooting his mouth off lately, and what he had to say wasn't pretty. A number of the guys were ready to beat him up over it, and it took all Sharkey's considerable ability to keep them in line. "Me, too, sir. Me, too."

Mr. Morton turned to look at him fully then. "You must have some interesting tales to tell, COB."

Something in the chief's words or tone had alerted him; Sharkey really didn't want to have to say anything, but maybe it was better this way. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening when they shouldn't, and then nodded his head. "Nash has been a little… off since we started this cruise, sir. Lately he's been talking about his friend who told him that the skipper was out to get him. And you should hear what he says about Captain Crane, sir." It wasn't fit for publication, that was for sure. "Some of the guys want to ring his bell for him, but so far I've kept them in line."

"His friend?"

Trust Mr. Morton to pick up on that interesting little tidbit. "No one knows who he's talking about. No one's ever seen this friend of his. Chief Mason has seen Nash muttering to himself several times on the boat, but he said Nash was never with anyone. He was always alone. Chief Mason thinks…"

"Maybe Chief Mason better tell me what he thinks, COB."

Sure, of course… Anything else would be hearsay only. "I'll tell him to talk to you, sir."

Mr. Morton nodded in agreement. "Thank you, COB." He turned and went briskly back to the watch station in front of the twin periscopes. Chief Sharkey went back to his station just behind the helm, feeling a little better about the whole situation. He should have known that Mr. Morton would realize that something was up with Nash. Nothing got past him. He might be a little slower at the moment, with the late nights, and the endless paperwork, but now that he'd tumbled to the situation, he would definitely do something about it. Sharkey would put the word out to the men that they could relax; the Nash problem was as good as solved.