Alan Evans - Ship of Force

Dunbar glanced at him but Sanders shouted into the voice pipe that led to the torpedo-gunner aft, “Stand by to depthcharge!”

Smith said to Dunbar, “I think it’s a U-boat on the surface.” It had to be. “If it is then he will see us before we see him.”

Sparrow stood high out of the sea while the U-boat would be almost awash except for the conning-tower. And Sparrow was working up to fifteen knots now, throwing up a big white bowwave, and in seconds she would be running into the light from the burning drifter. Smith went on, “So try the searchlight. Dead ahead.” To Sanders he said, “Range about one thousand I think.”

He heard Sanders repeat it to the killick, and yell it to the six-pounders below the bridge as Dunbar shouted up at the rating on the searchlight platform at the back of and above the bridge. The carbons in the searchlight glowed and crackled as they struck arc and then the beam cut a path through the night ahead of Sparrow . It wavered, swept, then settled.

The U-boat lay in the beam, almost still, cruising but so slowly there was barely a ripple at her bow. No sign that she was preparing to submerge. There were men in the conning-tower and the four-inch gun forward was manned…

The twelve-pounder slammed and recoiled and its smoke whipped past Smith’s face on the wind. Smith saw the shell burst in the sea and Sanders shouted, “Short!” He did not add a correction; Sparrow was closing the range at fifteen knots. The gun’s crew jumped in on the twelve-pounder as the killick yelled and the breech-worker yanked at the handle. The breech opened and the fumes spilled out, the stink of cordite swirled across the bridge.

Dunbar shouted, “Must ha’ been running on the surface to sneak past the barrage in the night. Bound for the Atlantic. Then came on Judy .”

Smith nodded. U-boats from the German bases often went north-about around Scotland but those from the Flanders ports of Zeebrugge and Ostende could reach their Atlantic killing ground quicker by running on the surface at night and slipping over the mine-net barrage that was meant to bar their exit through the Channel.

He saw the wink of flame from the barrel of the gun on the U-boat and as he blinked the rip! became a roar ! The blast threw him back into Buckley and both of them hard against the searchlight platform. Lights wheeled about Smith’s head but then he was aware and clawing to his feet, Buckley thrusting him up. Gow still stood at the wheel. Sanders was pulling himself up by the screen and the crew of the twelve-pounder were on hands and knees but the killick was yelling at them, hauling them on to their feet. The searchlight still blazed, lighting them all. There was no sign of Dunbar.

Smith wavered forward and fetched up against the screen. He could see a tangle of twisted rails and a dent or a scar on the portside of the turtle-back below him. The shell must have exploded on impact, not penetrating. There were ragged holes in the splinter mattresses around the bridge. If there had been only a canvas screen those splinters would have scythed through the bridge staff and left a bloody shambles.

He looked up.

Sparrow was tearing through the circle of light shed by the fire that was Judy and now the drifter lay on the starboard beam. But right ahead lay the U-boat, the range was down to a bare five hundred yards and her gun was not manned. He fumbled at the glasses, set them to his eyes. There was no one in the conning-tower…He swung on Sanders. “She’s diving! Tell the gunner!”

Sanders croaked down the voice pipe “Gunner! Yes, we’re all OK up here except the skipper took a knock. Listen , Gunner! The sub’s diving. We’re going to depth-charge.”

Smith called, “Where’s Dunbar, Sub?”

Sanders turned to him a face painted yellow and black by light and shadow, excited. “On the deck at the foot of the ladder, sir. Blast must have blown him over. Brodie’s down there with him though, and he gave me a ‘thumb’s up!’” Sanders stayed by the voice pipe.

Sparrow ran down on the U-boat that now was only a plunging conning-tower. Then that was gone and the searchlight’s beam showed only the churned circle of water where the submarine had dived. Smith’s eyes were fixed on that circle, watched it slip up to Sparrow ’s stem, under it. He shouted, “Let go One!”

“Let go One!” repeated Sanders into the voice pipe.

The canister fat with three-hundred pounds of explosive rolled down the chute and plumped into the sea off Sparrow ’s stern.

“Hard aport,” ordered Smith. Sparrow swung into the turn and as Gow held it there came the thump ! of the depth charge exploding and a tall column of water was hurled up from the boiling sea. The sweeping searchlight settled on it, the beam fidgeting like a blind man’s searching fingers, looking for oil or the U-boat surfacing. Sparrow still turned. Smith said, “Ease to five! Steady! Steer that!”

Sparrow was heading back towards the blazing drifter but Smith did not see her, his eyes on the sea on the spot where he thought the U-boat might be if she had maintained her course. Sparrow plunged towards it. That was all Smith could do: try to anticipate the U-boat. New-fangled hydrophones were fitted in some ships but not in Sparrow . In any event they would only pick up the sound of a U-boat when the ship itself was stopped and there were no other engine noises about. They were useless for this kind of hunt.

Smith pointed a finger at Sanders. “Let go Two!”

“Let go Two!”

“Hard astarboard!” Sparrow turned, all of them on the bridge bracing themselves against the heel of her. And Smith wondered: What if the U-boat had not held that course, had immediately turned? Which way? The depth-charge exploded and he stared like all of them at another churned circle of water and saw — nothing.

“Ease to five!..Meet her! Steady!” Smith rubbed at his face.

Sparrow tore down past the drifter, passing her to port and a thousand yards away. She burned all along her length and Smith saw that she had a boat in the water now. Sparrow ran on, left the drifter astern. Smith ordered, “Douse that light!” The searchlight snapped off. It was serving no useful purpose for the moment and they were dangerously close to the shore batteries on the enemy-held coast and closing it with every second. The searchlight would make Sparrow an easy target.

“Port ten…Midships.”

Sparrow turned to run north-east and parallel to the unseen coast. Sanders still stood crouched by the voice pipe but his eyes searched the sea. The towering flames on the burning drifter sent faint yellow light trembling over them on the bridge. The little wooden ship off the port bow was just a huge torch now. It lit the sea between –

“ Periscope !” the lookout’s voice was a shriek of excitement. Glasses held to his eyes with one hand, he pointed with the other.

“Hard aport!” Smith used his own glasses, seeking. Was it? So many reports of periscopes proved to be the result of excited imaginations. He saw it, held the glasses on it as Sparrow ’s head came around, banging on to the screen as the deck tilted.

It was a periscope. Between Sparrow and Judy and inshore of the drifter. Five hundred yards from Sparrow’s stem — “Meet her! Steady! Steer that!”

He let the glasses fall and stared unblinking at the tiny sticklike thing poked up from the sea as Sparrow gobbled up the intervening distance. Almost on her. A hundred yards. The periscope dipped but too late this time. The U-boat commander had turned when he submerged, slipped inshore of the drifter and then come up to look for Sparrow — hoping to launch a torpedo? That was more than likely. Sparrow ’s stem knifed into the swirl that marked where the periscope had showed a second before and Smith shouted, “Let go One!”