Эдвин Грей - Diving Stations

‘Three minutes,’ he said quietly. ‘We should be approaching the boom at any moment.’

The success or failure of the mission was now beyond the control of human hands. Rapier was committed to her course, depth and speed. And, as if he could still play some part in the submarine’s destiny, each man inside the control room stared at his instruments and concentrated on the task in hand. The tense silence was broken only by the faint vibration of the motors, the soft whisper of the sea against the outer plating, and the familiar sound of Ernie Blood sucking his teeth.

‘Let’s hope Alistair’s fish know what they’re doing,’ Hamilton said lightly, in an effort to ease the tension. The men in the control room grinned, but no one felt in the mood for joking and the oppressive silence descended once again, as each man shut himself away in his own private thoughts….

A sudden jolt shuddered through the submarine, followed by a soft slithering rasp from under the keel. Scott’s fish had obviously let him down◦– his estimate of the depth of water over the bar had been too optimistic. Hamilton reacted without hesitation.

‘Full ahead both!’

The hum of the motors rose to a shrill whine as the power came on. Rapier lurched like a prehistoric sea monster rising from its muddy nest on the sea bottom, and then slid smoothly forward as the propellers kicked her clear of the underwater obstruction.

‘Slow ahead both.’

The high-pitched whine faded away to the familiar soft hum and the ammeter needles flicked back as the drain on the batteries eased. The dials showed the submarine riding level and the depth gauges indicated forty feet.

‘Any HE, Baker?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Do you want an Asdic sweep, sir?’ Mannon asked.

Hamilton shook his head. ‘Negative. They might detect the pulses. As it is, I’ve got to gamble that they didn’t spot the disturbance on the surface when we switched to full power.’

He glanced down at his stopwatch to calculate how far they had penetrated inside the bay. He felt like a blind man feeling his way down an unfamiliar street by counting his footsteps. In a few moments he would have to cross the road. If he had counted correctly, he would have reached the safety of the other side. If not, he was likely to be struck down by a large truck. The minute hand of the watch clicked into the third segment of the dial. He looked up.

‘Steer one point to port, Helmsman.’

‘One point to port, sir.’

The overwhelming temptation to raise the periscope and check their position was almost irresistible and only Hamilton’s long experience and iron nerve enabled him to fight off the urge. Rapier was by now well into the bay and moving invisibly towards the anchored gunboat. The stretch of clear water ahead would be under close observation by the Japanese look-outs, and the faintest wisp of spray from the tip of the questing periscope would be sighted and reported as soon as it broke surface. And once trapped inside the bay, Rapier would stand no chance of escaping from the inevitable depth charge attack.

Hamilton seemed unconcerned by the strain of the blind approach, and he stole a quick glance at Mannon to see how he was reacting. He could recall his own nervous tension when the skipper of Surge had crept unseen into Kiel Bay before the war. And he had not forgotten the tragedy that followed. But despite his lack of experience, Mannon was standing up to it well. Leaning forward over the ‘outside’ ERA’s shoulders, he kept watch on the glowing warning lights of the venting panel like the alert hawk he in many ways resembled. Hamilton decided it was time he took the young RNVR officer into his confidence.

Taking a rough sketch map of the bay from his pocket, he called Mannon over to join him and spread the paper out on the chart table so that he could see it.

‘This is our estimated track,’ he explained drawing a line with his pencil. ‘And this…’ he marked a cross on the map, ‘is where we altered course a few minutes ago.

The idea is to get around behind Firefly so that the destroyer’s look-outs won’t see us when we surface.’

‘A bit like Blind Man’s Bluff, sir,’ Mannon observed.

‘I suppose it is,’ Hamilton agreed. ‘A great deal will depend on the strength of the tidal currents inside the bay. The pilot reckons a two knot surge on the ebb.’ He paused to draw a directional arrow. ‘If he’s right, that would make us just about◦– here. We don’t seem to have been spotted so far, so I’ll maintain course to here…’ Hamilton marked another small cross behind and astern of the gunboat. ‘Then I’ll have to raise the periscope to check we’re in position before we surface.’

Mannon nodded. He was beginning to understand the skipper’s strategy. ‘I think I follow it so far, sir. We come up on the blind side of the gunboat so that the Japs can’t observe what’s happening.’

‘That’s part of the plan, Number One. But there’s more to it than that. If we do have the misfortune to be spotted, the gunboat will act as a shield. And if the Japs open fire they’ll have to sink her before they can get at us. Needless to say, by that time we’d be well under the surface again and out of harm’s way.’

It sounded a trifle cold-blooded to Mannon. He wondered what the men onboard Firefly would say if they knew of Hamilton’s scheme. He had not served with Rapier’s skipper long enough to have seen the ruthless streak in his character before◦– and he was not sure that he liked it. But, being objective, he could appreciate the careful thinking behind the plan. Hamilton was protecting his boat and his men. And if anyone got hurt, he was making sure it would not be one of Rapier’s crew. In the circumstances Mannon supposed he should be grateful.

The second hand of the stopwatch circled the dial twice more and, in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture, Hamilton passed the tip of his tongue over his dry lips. His outward air of calm detachment hid the maelstrom of inner tension. His crotch was wet with sweat and he felt slightly sick as a violent spasm knotted his stomach muscles.

‘Up periscope!’

The column glided upwards and he stopped its ascent as soon as the tip broke surface. He had already brought the lens onto an estimated bearing to save time and it took him only a few seconds to fix the submarine’s position.

‘Down periscope. Steer one point to starboard. Stop motors. Stand by to surface.’

‘One point to starboard, sir.’

‘Switches off◦– motors stopped, sir.’

Hamilton concentrated on the stopwatch. ‘We’ll be going straight up, Number One,’ he warned Mannon. ‘Stand by to blow the tanks. I intend to rely on positive buoyancy so we won’t need to use the ’planes.’

Mannon wiped his hands down the sides of his trousers to get rid of the sweat and leaned forward over the venting panel, ready to give Venables his support when the order came.

‘Blow main ballast! Surface!’

‘Close main vents◦– blow all tanks.’

As Venables moved the hydraulic levers to close the vents, Mannon reached forward to turn the valve wheels of the compressed air reservoirs and a shrill scream of high pressure air echoed the length of the submarine.

‘Duty watch on deck!’

Hamilton pulled the clips of the lower hatch as the yeoman and look-outs lined up behind him at the bottom of the ladder.

‘Gun crew stand by! Morgan◦– bring your men topside at the double if I give the word.’

‘Aye aye, sir.’

‘Fifteen feet, sir.’

Hamilton reached up and pushed back the hatch cover. Swinging his body sideways with the agility of a monkey, he avoided the worst of the water streaming down into the control room from the conning tower compartment, and he heard the yeoman swear as he caught it full in the face. Then, hoisting himself up through the narrow opening, he started climbing the ladder leading to the upper hatch….