slippery deck. He bent his head until his lips brushed against the speaking tube, his eyes on the white tower of the harbour entrance.
Why not just step over the edge? Finish the whole damned business once and for all? What was the point of trying to escape now? As soon as the dock blew up, every destroyer and aircraft for miles around would be looking for them.
The first line of net buoys loomed ahead, and he conned the boat round until the shape of the boom-vessel was lost in the gloom. The boat moved smoothly between the first two nodding buoys, while Curtis gritted his teeth and waited for the net to grip them. They passed cleanly over the top of the sagging net and he breathed again. It was a race now. The next net must be reached before it became any lighter. Already the sky had brightened alarmingly, and somewhere across the harbour he heard the scream of a train whistle.
He spoke carefully down the pipe. ‘Give me full revs!’ He was amazed at the calmness in his voice. ‘Once over the next net we should be O.K.’
‘We over a net already then?’ Taylor’s voice rattled tinnily up the tube. ‘Cor, fancy that!’
He heard Taylor pass the information to the others, and without warning he began to tremble violently. He knew then that he couldn’t desert them whatever he had done, or whatever they thought of him.
They passed over the last net, within two hundred yards of a sleeping destroyer, and turned for the open sea.
3
CURTIS LOCKED HIS fingers tightly behind his head and lay back uncomfortably on the small bunk across the chart table. He tried to relax his body and concentrate on the steady, monotonous pulse-beat of the motor.
The shaded light in the control-room seemed to have lost some of its brilliance and shed a yellow, sickly glow across the instruments and dials, and twisted Duncan’s intent face into a mass of shadows, from which his cold eyes stared fixedly at the depth gauge and the clock.
Taylor was still at the wheel, while Jervis was trying to find sleep in the forward battery compartment.
Curtis again resisted the temptation to look at the brass clock. It must be nearly six, he thought. Soon the charges would explode and turn the peaceful harbour into a raging hell. He swallowed hard, tasting the bitter coating of oil and grime in his throat.
The submarine had dived as soon as it had cleared the harbour approaches, and as the sun rose above the horizon like a solid gold ball they had groped their way down to a depth of thirty feet and steered purposefully across the open bay.
He pressed his eyes shut and tried to calculate the situation more clearly. They would have to lie on the bottom soon and rest. As soon as the charges exploded he knew from past experience that every craft and plane would be alerted, and their slightest movement in the shallow coastal waters would invite attention and attack. He heard the wheel creak, and he was reminded of his new worry. The gyro compass had started to play up. Both he and Duncan had carried out the usual check , but the rapid alteration and sudden deviation pointed to one thing. The severe grinding which the boat had received beneath the floating dock had caused more damage than any of them was prepared to admit. He bit his lip hard. The boat was blind, and with a faulty compass as well, the possibility of making a rendezvous with the towing submarine in the middle of the night seemed hopeless. Apart from that, he knew that by taking his time over his approach to the rendezvous, and by keeping the other, larger craft helpless on the surface, he was doubling the risk to their lives, as well as those of his own crew.
His aching mind shied away from the obvious solution, from which there was no real alternative. We shall have to ditch the boat, he told himself, and try to make it overland. He had heard of other crews doing the selfsame thing in the past. But that was in Norway, an occupied country, not in Italy. He shuddered.
‘Damn!’ Taylor
Why not just step over the edge? Finish the whole damned business once and for all? What was the point of trying to escape now? As soon as the dock blew up, every destroyer and aircraft for miles around would be looking for them.
The first line of net buoys loomed ahead, and he conned the boat round until the shape of the boom-vessel was lost in the gloom. The boat moved smoothly between the first two nodding buoys, while Curtis gritted his teeth and waited for the net to grip them. They passed cleanly over the top of the sagging net and he breathed again. It was a race now. The next net must be reached before it became any lighter. Already the sky had brightened alarmingly, and somewhere across the harbour he heard the scream of a train whistle.
He spoke carefully down the pipe. ‘Give me full revs!’ He was amazed at the calmness in his voice. ‘Once over the next net we should be O.K.’
‘We over a net already then?’ Taylor’s voice rattled tinnily up the tube. ‘Cor, fancy that!’
He heard Taylor pass the information to the others, and without warning he began to tremble violently. He knew then that he couldn’t desert them whatever he had done, or whatever they thought of him.
They passed over the last net, within two hundred yards of a sleeping destroyer, and turned for the open sea.
3
CURTIS LOCKED HIS fingers tightly behind his head and lay back uncomfortably on the small bunk across the chart table. He tried to relax his body and concentrate on the steady, monotonous pulse-beat of the motor.
The shaded light in the control-room seemed to have lost some of its brilliance and shed a yellow, sickly glow across the instruments and dials, and twisted Duncan’s intent face into a mass of shadows, from which his cold eyes stared fixedly at the depth gauge and the clock.
Taylor was still at the wheel, while Jervis was trying to find sleep in the forward battery compartment.
Curtis again resisted the temptation to look at the brass clock. It must be nearly six, he thought. Soon the charges would explode and turn the peaceful harbour into a raging hell. He swallowed hard, tasting the bitter coating of oil and grime in his throat.
The submarine had dived as soon as it had cleared the harbour approaches, and as the sun rose above the horizon like a solid gold ball they had groped their way down to a depth of thirty feet and steered purposefully across the open bay.
He pressed his eyes shut and tried to calculate the situation more clearly. They would have to lie on the bottom soon and rest. As soon as the charges exploded he knew from past experience that every craft and plane would be alerted, and their slightest movement in the shallow coastal waters would invite attention and attack. He heard the wheel creak, and he was reminded of his new worry. The gyro compass had started to play up. Both he and Duncan had carried out the usual check , but the rapid alteration and sudden deviation pointed to one thing. The severe grinding which the boat had received beneath the floating dock had caused more damage than any of them was prepared to admit. He bit his lip hard. The boat was blind, and with a faulty compass as well, the possibility of making a rendezvous with the towing submarine in the middle of the night seemed hopeless. Apart from that, he knew that by taking his time over his approach to the rendezvous, and by keeping the other, larger craft helpless on the surface, he was doubling the risk to their lives, as well as those of his own crew.
His aching mind shied away from the obvious solution, from which there was no real alternative. We shall have to ditch the boat, he told himself, and try to make it overland. He had heard of other crews doing the selfsame thing in the past. But that was in Norway, an occupied country, not in Italy. He shuddered.
‘Damn!’ Taylor
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