‘I see it, Captain,’ the lieutenant answered in the same language. ‘Whoever’s in command is swinging her out far too tight and fast. The tide’s making pretty powerfully now and it’ll be pushing her back like nobody’s business. They’d have been far better to leave her safe and snug in her berth. She certainly won’t have liked that tight a turn from a standing start even with both shafts functioning. And God knows what the captain of that starboard tug thinks he’s doing.’
‘You’d think the chief engineer would have something to say…’ mused Caleb, frowning. ‘He must have pushed the engines right up into the red. Look at that mountain of foam at her stern.’
He was talking to himself, but Sanda still answered, ‘Not if Ngama’s boy Jonah’s on the bridge. No one’ll say a word. Not after what happened to us.’
‘I agree. But even so…’
If Caleb had a further point to make, thought Robin, he never stated it. For just at that moment, disaster overtook the corvette. The starboard towline parted, allowing the tug to jump free. The bow swung left at once, threatening to collide with the tug on that side — perhaps even crush it between the corvette and the dock — it was hard to be certain from this angle. Whoever was on the bridge must have panicked, Robin reckoned, and pushed the engines further still into the red, trying to power his way out of disaster, while in the terrible grip of the inrushing tide. And it wasn’t the shaft that gave way this time. It was the engines themselves. A jet of black smoke billowed out of the rear exhaust system, making it look for a terrible instant as though the whole of the aft section had simply blown open. Robin shouted with shock. A flat detonation like a distant bomb blast echoed across the water. Caleb spat something in Matadi. A curse of some kind. The wind snatched the smoke away, revealing that the hull was still intact — but showing a range of figures simply leaping overboard. More smoke billowed.
‘What’s happening?’ breathed Bonnie.
Caleb was too preoccupied to answer so Robin explained. ‘The engines are on fire. The smoke is coming out of the sides because of the ship’s heat-reduction system — no more hot funnels, you see? But she’s out of control. She must be badly ablaze for the crew to be jumping overboard like that. And, given what Captain Caleb and Lieutenant Sanda were saying about the tide, she’s likely to drift back into the jetty pretty quickly.’
‘Which,’ said Caleb, ‘could set the whole of the new wooden frontage on fire. Everywhere from the deep-water port to the new marina, in fact. Including the minister’s new office and the whole of the complex it’s in. Including the zoo, if the wind increases. And that’s even before you start calculating what damage she could do if all of the armaments she has aboard start detonating because of the heat.’ He spoke into the microphone stalk again. ‘Put me on Otobo’s hailing frequency.’ A moment later the open channel hissed. ‘Otobo, can you hear me? Is there anyone there? It’s Captain Caleb.’
‘Captain. It’s the Chief. I think I’m the only one left aboard. That puppy Jonah Ngama screwed the motors then abandoned. He ordered everyone over the side. The tide’s got her and there’s nothing I can do on my own. We’re going to drift back on to the jetty. It’ll be bad.’
‘I’m in the Shaldag, Chief. I can be there in a few minutes. What’s the tug on your port side doing?’
‘Keeping us off as best he can. The starboard tug’s trying to retrieve its line. If they work together they might slow the drift. But I’m not hopeful.’
‘Are the armaments at risk? Have you activated the safety equipment?’
‘I’ve activated everything I can. But I wouldn’t rely on it. We need help.’
‘I’m on my way. Hang on. Radio Officer, I want the general frequency… All shipping in Granville Harbour, this is Captain Caleb Maina aboard Shaldag FPB004. Please be aware that the Corvette Otobo is drifting out of control, on fire and in a dangerous condition…’
Out of the confused babble of concern, one voice came loud and clear. ‘Captain Maina, this is Captain Zhukov aboard Zubr Stalingrad. We see you and we see Otobo. We are five minutes distant. Please advise how we can assist…’
‘Could we?’ said Caleb. ‘Could a Shaldag and a Zubr tug her out of trouble?’
He was thinking aloud, but Robin answered. ‘All you have to do immediately is turn her head into the incoming tide. Her hull’s so slim almost all the pressure would disappear at once. Then you could maybe pull her clear.’
‘It’s worth a try… Captain Zhukov. Thank you. See you there in five.’
The Shaldag FPB004 sped across the bay like an arrow. After four minutes she was beside the starboard tug, which had retrieved the broken towline and was trying to re-secure it. ‘Think you could share that line?’ asked Robin, surveying the situation, narrow-eyed as the burning corvette’s forecastle head towered dangerously above them. ‘I’m not sure about the physics — you have almost no mass, but you have power. Those big motors of yours should certainly help…’
‘What about the Zubr? She’ll be here in a minute. Could she link up with us?’
‘Same problem. But compounded now I think of it. Those big fans of hers would do more damage than good — they’d effectively set up a hurricane wind blowing Otobo’s forecastle head back shorewards, just adding extra power to the push of the tide. No. The Zubr will have to go on the port side and push outwards. She’ll probably blow some windows out of the minister’s office and conference rooms, but — wow! — she should be able to exert one hell of a lot of force.’
‘How do you know all this?’ whispered Bonnie as Caleb negotiated matters with Zhukov and the two tug skippers. Contacted the chief and got Sanda working.
‘I’m a full ship’s captain. I’ve commanded supertankers…’
‘Not just a pretty face then,’ said Bonnie with a nervous smile.
‘Let’s hope we both still have pretty faces when this lot’s over,’ said Robin and instantly regretted her words. Bonnie frowned, tried to look brave, but failed dismally. ‘Only joking,’ said Robin, but this time she couldn’t even fool herself.
The captain of the starboard tug jury-rigged a double towline and, as the Zubr cruised majestically past, Shaldag FPB004 took it aboard. All Sanda had to secure it was the two stern bitts used to moor the Shaldag. There was no guarantee how much pressure these would take before they were ripped out. But they were big enough to secure the hawser so that was good enough to begin with. The Zubr vanished round the corvette’s forecastle, and after that Robin could only make out its position by looking for the whip-antenna that topped its radio mast. But everything was ready surprisingly quickly and, with Caleb coordinating, the four disparate vessels carefully powered up until they could feel Otobo’s head beginning to swing across the tide, turning away from the shore.
Ten minutes became twenty as the tugs tugged, the Shaldag pulled and the Zubr pushed. Until, quite suddenly, the corvette’s long grey hull settled and stopped fighting. ‘We have her now, Captain,’ said the skipper of the starboard tug through the static of the open channel. ‘Where shall we put her?’
‘She still represents a considerable hazard,’ prompted Robin. ‘And she will do until the fire is under control and the armaments are made safe. Have you a firefighting ship that you can call on to get things under control?’