Evans cut me short. ‘You spoke to him? When? By God, but you didn’t talk about what we have in the strong-room, man? If I…’
But my nerves were in tatters as well. It was my turn to interrupt angrily, ‘No, Sir, I did not. And you’ve no goddamned right to suggest that I’d act in breach of your confidence, or the Official bloody Secrets Act. But I’ll tell you one thing now, and that’s that Larabee seems to be a helluva sight more interested in where we’re going than a second sparks should be. Sir!’
For a moment I thought he was going to blow his top, then he got a grip on his frayed nerves and, this time, his tone was more conciliatory. ‘I apologise unreservedly, Mister Kent. You’ll perhaps understand.’
I nodded, feeling a bit ashamed. I didn’t have to bear the final responsibility for what had happened a few hours before. I hadn’t had to ring for ‘Full Ahead’ while men died horribly in the water alongside us. I also remembered that Germany had been preparing for this war for a long time. Their agents must have been infiltrating our society for years, insidiously blending into all our spheres of life — whereas whatever else I thought of him, Larabee simply didn’t blend.
Suddenly a memory of Curtis flashed into my mind. An image of the Third Mate’s expression when he'd realised that some U-boat was actually trying to torpedo us. But why? Why such surprise? This was total war, the enemy could be expected to shoot at us — or, in the Third Mate’s case, was it the enemy who were shooting? If I was a German agent I guess I’d have been a bit discommoded too, if I'd suddenly found my oppos trying to cancel my contract with a torpedo. I swallowed and, clutching desperately to reason, forced a change of subject before I landed myself with a defamation of character case as well.
‘Now we’ve lost Mallard, shouldn’t we call RN Simonstown, Sir? Ask for instructions and another escort?’ I suggested tentatively.
He shook his head slowly. ‘We’re under strict radio silence, you know that. If we risked transmitting even one short message, it could home in every U-boat within a hundred miles.’
I looked at him. There were two ways of arguing that one. ‘But if I’m right? If the Jerries already know where we are — which they must do, because that last U-boat would've lodged a contact report — then we’re a sitting duck that our own side haven’t even got marked on the chart. None of us—Mallard included — sent out our positions over the past few days because of the need for radio silence, which means we’re so far sou'west of our expected course that the Admiralty wouldn’t even know where to start looking.’
I sat forward and stared at him earnestly, willing him to understand. ‘The likelihood is that U-boat Command already have our exact position plotted, Captain. While our own people don’t even know if we’re still afloat.’
He looked at me thoughtfully, then opened his mouth to speak, but I never did find out what he would have done had the situation remained as it was up to that moment.
Because the sullen rumble of distant gunfire ahead started us running for the bridge again. This time without even picking up our caps.
The inexplicable pyrotechnics appeared even more impressive this time, reflecting as they did from the low cloud ceiling that had formed in the early hours of the night.
We stood gazing over the bows for what seemed a very long time, watching silently as multi-coloured tracer streams climbed gracefully into the black sky almost directly in line with our foremast. It was mad. It was sheer crazy improbability that a thing like this could be happening— but it was happening, and in less than an hour we would be right there on top of it.
Unless…?
The Captain turned slowly away from the silent group of officers and stepped into the chartroom. I followed and shut the door softly. As he looked up at me the glare from the Anglepoise threw his lined, exhausted old face into sharp, craggy relief. I didn’t say anything, just reached up and handed him a cigarette from the Old Tar tin, then lit it for him as he leaned over and listlessly dragged the signal pad towards him.
I still didn’t say anything as he started to write, but what I read made me feel a bit better. The lights out there had convinced me finally, and I think him too, that we were under constant observation — that the enemy alone were monitoring our every move and were waiting. Just waiting. Dear God, please let the Navy get to us first.
The pencil moved slowly across the paper and I noticed blue veins standing out on the backs of the Captain’s hands — old man’s hands. Tired, almost defeated old hands. Occasionally he stopped writing to check the chart, twice he twirled the brass dividers as he marked off various positions. When he’d finished he picked what was left of his cigarette out of the ashtray and pushed the pad across to me.
It read COMCONVOYH24S, our Naval Control group designator, to COMSAW — Commander-in-Chief, South Atlantic Waters… he was really going right to the top… COMMANDANT JOFFRE SUNK 0540 hrs 26 5 STOP ESCORT MALLARD SUNK 2120 HRS 28 5 STOP PRESUMED NO SURVIVORS… OUR PRESENT POSITION P36 50S P2 45E COURSE 085 TRUE SPEED 19 DECIMAL FIVE KNOTS STRONG ENEMY ACTIVITY SUSPECTED AHEAD… PLEASE ADVISE INSTRUCTIONS QUERY URGENT URGENT REPEAT URGENT SIGNED EVANS MASTER CYCLOPS.
He could've added ‘Help’ for my money.
The gunfire stopped abruptly as I finished reading the signal and we stepped outside into the cloying darkness. Evans spoke softly in my ear, almost as if he were afraid the U-boats might be listening too. ‘I’ll be down in my cabin encoding this, John. Send a quartermaster down in ten minutes to take it aft for transmission, please.’
‘Aye, aye, Sir,’ I said, then hesitated. ‘The lights ahead. Do you want to continue on our present heading?’
I saw his mouth smile softly in the darkness. ‘Not particularly, Mister Kent. Unless you’re terribly curious yourself, perhaps you could swing round and notify Athenian of the change. We should get an answer to this before very long, until then… let’s hear all, see all, but do nowt.’
Which was just what I had hoped he would say.
I stayed up on the bridge until the answer came back, less than an hour later. Thank God they weren’t all in bed in Simonstown Naval Control. Larabee brought it to the bridge himself and waved it at me. It was a long one and, in the form he’d received it, simply a jumbled mass of coded letter groups.
I frowned. ‘You should be at your set, Larabee. There’s blokes awake all over the ruddy ship right now to run messages for you.’
He grinned in the dim light of the wheelhouse. ‘Jus’ couldn’t live a minute longer without seein’ you, Mister Mate.’
I felt my nerve ends grate like the jagged edges of a torn tin can, but I merely grabbed the signal form from his slender, delicate operator’s fingers and pushed past him to the ladder. Larabee and I, we’d said it all before and I was too anxious to know what hopes of salvation we had to pray for, hidden as it was in the handwritten mass of code in my hand.
‘You have the watch, Mister Shell,’ I flung over my shoulder as I slid down the sloping handrails to the master’s cabin, knocked on the door, then entered without waiting. It was silly, but even after I'd closed the door behind me and pushed through the green black-out curtain I could still feel Larabee’s stare somehow penetrating the thick cabin steel, digging and boring into my back. I shivered involuntarily, it was an eerie sensation, especially when connected with such a scruffy, unprepossessing little bastard. God, but my imagination was really excelling itself this trip.