Read Online Sea Thrillers 4-Book Collection by Alistair MacLean - Free Book Online Page B

retainer McKinnon removed a rum bottle and laid it on the Captain’s bunk.
    â€˜I don’t suppose the Captain will mind that either,’ Patterson said. ‘For the stretcher-bearers?’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’ The Bo’sun started opening drawers in the Captain’s table and found what he was looking for in the third drawer, two leather-bound folders which he handed to Patterson. ‘Prayer book and burial service, sir. But I should think the burial service would be enough. Somebody’s got to read it.’
    â€˜Good God. I’m not a preacher, Bo’sun.’
    â€˜No, sir. But you’re the officer commanding.’
    â€˜Good God,’ Patterson repeated. He placed the folders reverently on the Captain’s table. ‘I’ll look at those later.’
    â€˜â€œHome signal”,’ the Bo’sun said slowly. ‘That’s what the Captain said, wasn’t it? “Home signal”.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜â€œHoming signal” is what he was trying to say. “Homing signal”. Should have thought of it before – but I suppose that’s why Captain Bowen is a captain and I’m not. How do you think the Condor managed to locate us in the darkness? All right, it was half dawn when he attacked but he must have been on the course when it was still night. How did he know where we were?’
    â€˜U-boat?’
    â€˜No U-boat. The Andover ’s sonar would have picked him up.’ The Bo’sun was repeating the words that Captain Bowen had used.
    â€˜Ah.’ Patterson nodded. ‘Homing signal. Our saboteur friend.’
    â€˜Flannelfoot, as Mr Jamieson calls him. Not only was he busy fiddling around with our electrical circuits, he was transmitting a continuous signal. A directional signal. The Condor knew where we were to the inch. I don’t know whether the Condor was equipped to receive such signals, I know nothing about planes, but it wouldn’t have mattered, some place like Alta Fjord could have picked up the signal and transmitted our bearing to the Condor.’
    â€˜You have it, of course, Bo’sun, you have it to rights.’ Patterson looked at the two guns. ‘One for me and one for you.’
    â€˜If you say so, sir.’
    â€˜Don’t be daft, who else would have it?’ Patterson picked up a gun. ‘I’ve never even held one of these things in my hand, far less fired one. But you know, Bo’sun, I don’t really think I would mind firing a shot once. Just one.’
    â€˜Neither would I, sir.’
    Second Officer Rawlings was lying beside the wheel and there was no mystery as to how he had died: what must have been a flying shard of metal had all but decapitated him.
    â€˜Where’s the helmsman?’ the Bo’sun asked. ‘Was he a survivor, then?’
    â€˜I don’t know. I don’t know who was on. Maybe Rawlings had sent him to get something. But there were two survivors up here, apart from the Captain and Chief Officer – McGuigan and Jones.’
    â€˜McGuigan and Jones? What were they doing up here?’
    â€˜It seems Mr Kennet had called them up and posted them as look-outs, one on either wing. I suppose that’s why they survived, just as Captain Bowen and Mr Kennet survived. They’re in the hospital, too.’
    â€˜Badly hurt?’
    â€˜Unharmed, I believe. Shock, that’s all.’
    The Bo’sun moved out to the port wing and Patterson followed. The wing was wholly undamaged, no signs of metal buckling anywhere. The Bo’sun indicated a once grey but now badly scorched metal box which was attached just below the wind-breaker: its top and one side had been blown off.
    â€˜That’s where they kept the Wessex rockets,’ the Bo’sun said.
    They went back inside and the Bo’sun moved towards the wireless office hatchway: the sliding wooden door was no longer there.
    â€˜I wouldn’t look, if I