‘Athenian’s going out, Mate,’ he snarled accusingly, almost as if he were scared of something.
I glanced quickly round for the Old Man’s support, but he’d disappeared into the wheelhouse. Then our telegraphs clanged as the engine room went on Stand-by and I turned back to face Larabee. ‘So are we, Sparks. Which means you’d better get back to your set, jaldi!’
The usually sardonic eyes were disturbed as they stared past me to where the clank of Athenian’s cable could be heard over the windlass. I turned and saw it was almost up and down, the heavy links leading very slightly forward from the hawse. Her hook was nearly off the bottom and a sailor was leaning well over the flare of the bow, washing down the incoming cable with a high-pressure hose. Streams of cascading, muddy-coloured water disturbed the otherwise placid surface around her forefoot.
‘Get back aft, Larabee,’ I repeated irritably. ‘We’ll explain it to you when there’s time. Until then, stay off the bridge.’
He stared uncomprehendingly at me for a moment, then shook his head fiercely. ‘Not me, Kent! I’m not goin’ out there again before the Navy gets here. We know the bloody sea’s blistering with U-boats between here and the Cape…’
I gripped his shoulder roughly to pull him away from the top of the ladder. The bones moved under the thin shirt as though they were only covered by a skin of tissue paper. ‘We’re sailing just as soon as I get forr’ad, Larabee, but as far as I’m concerned you can stay as long as you like. The Fourth Mate can put you ashore with a bastard axe an' a box of matches and we’ll pick you up when the bloody war’s over.’
I swung round sharply at the snap of Evans’s voice behind me, crisp and irritated. ‘What the Devil’s going on here, Mister?’
The Old Man was standing with one foot still in the wheelhouse doorway. Larabee cut in before I could speak. ‘I say we should stop here till the Navy arrives, Captain.’
The bushy eyebrows met in an arc of surprise, top dead centre in the beefy red face. ‘You say, Larabee? As the Master of this vessel I shall take any decisions I think fit to ensure her safety. Do you hear me, Mister Larabee?’
What the hell was up with the wireless operator? No one, not even a chief officer, stood on a master’s bridge and told him what to do. I dug him in the ribs and jerked my head aft encouragingly. ‘Go on, man. Athenian’s got no radio. If she’s hit going through the entrance we’ll need to get a message out bloody quick.’
I couldn’t have said a worse thing. His face went as white as a sheet and the thin lips pulled back to show paradoxically firm, well-formed teeth. ‘Not till the fuckin’ Navy gets here, Mate. No bloody madman’s going to make me stick my neck out of this bay.’
I stared apprehensively at Evans. What Larabee had said amounted to little short of mutiny — rank refusal to obey a lawful command. I can’t say I felt sorry about it, in fact under rather different circumstances I would probably have taken a sadistic delight in observing the outcome: in seeing Larabee collecting what had been due to him since the start of this God-forsaken trip. But right then we had to get out fast.
Bill Henderson’s arm went into the air in a signal from Athenian’s foc’sle. A palm held sideways and slashed up and down — they were clear of the ground. Then her telegraph tinkled faintly again and a splurge of white water under her counter showed she was under way, starting to move slowly through the water. The Red Ensign that, a moment before, had hung listlessly over her stern gave a slight flap, then another. The sparkle of water rose a few inches higher under her bow. She was going out.
By now the Old Man’s brows had inverted into a ferocious 'vee' until the grey eyes were almost lost behind the overhanging bristle. He looked as though he was going to have an apoplectic stroke and I tensed for the blast as he waved his hands angrily at Larabee.
Then, without warning, the hand froze in mid air and the suffused features went a different colour as he focused on a point past Larabee and myself. He stood like that for a long time, not moving, and when he did finally speak the voice was much quieter than I’d prepared for.
‘The point at issue appears no longer to exist, Mister Larabee,’ he said, so low that we could hardly hear him.
The frozen hand gained control at last, pointing behind us, over towards the entrance.
‘The Navy has arrived.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
The first lean shape slid slowly into the inland sea from the cover of the entrance channel, then a second followed right astern. Long, low silhouettes seen as they were from almost two miles away, out past the bulk of the slowly moving Athenian. We watched in stunned silence as the first warship seemed suddenly to telescope in length, then I realised she was swinging towards us, helm hard over to anticipate that waiting shelf, almost as if she already knew of its existence. Behind me I heard Evans draw a long breath. He'd been absolutely correct. The Navy had arrived.
…except that it was the wrong Navy!
‘Ohhhh, shit!’ I whispered, as we both grabbed for the binocular box. At the top of the ladder, Larabee remained unmoving, staring at the submarines as they steadied on a course to bring them up to our anchorage. I felt the dull bruise of pain as the eyepiece of the Barr and Strouds came up against the bony protrusion of my eyebrows, then forgot all about it again as the focusing wheel spun the ships into stark clarity. Two German Atlantic class oceangoing U-boats, still glistening with a varnish of seawater after their recent submerged passage. There were men on their casings, too, closed up round those wicked looking 4.1 inch guns on the narrow foredecks while, right in the bows, the serrated net cutters projected evilly like shark’s teeth from the stems.
Someone said ‘Bugger it!’ in a shocked voice behind me and, swinging round, I saw we’d been joined by Curtis and Brannigan. Then Charlie Shell came whistling cheerily up the ladder, took one incredulous look past Athenian, shouted ‘Christ ALMIGHTY!’ at the top of his voice, and tumbled back down the ladder to the boat deck en route for his beloved gun on the poop.
The Old Man barged past me to the after end of the bridge and shouted after him, ‘Mister SHELL!’
The Second Mate skidded to a halt and swivelled back nervously, ignoring his cap which had fallen off his head. ‘Sir? Those are U-boats, Sir. I’d better get…’
Evans’s voice was flat and emphatic. ‘You will make no move to man the gun until I give you an order, Mister Shell.’
Charlie just stared at him in disbelief. ‘But — they’re U-boats f'r Chrissake…’
We looked tensely at the Captain. This wasn’t like him, not even to attempt to fight. They had guns, all right, but so did we and ours was as big as theirs. He didn’t keep us in suspense long. ‘You will have the gun crew assemble under the break of the poop, Mister Shell, out of sight of the enemy. No one is to be seen making any move to attend the gun platform unless I send you a direct order or they actually open fire on the ship. Do you understand?’
Shell stood looking very white for a moment, then kicked his cap viciously, sending it high into the air to clear the rails. This wasn’t the Old Man’s day for unquestioning obedience. I hoped he wasn’t going to forget the main issue for the sake of having a go at the Second Mate but, to my relief, Charlie gritted, ‘Aye, aye, Sir,’ through his teeth and trailed disconsolately aft.