Scott seemed unconcerned. Unlike the executive officer, he was a regular Navy man and he’d been in submarines since 1938. Picking up a pencil, he began sketching a series of directional arrows on the chart, to indicate the probable flow of the tidal currents inside the bay. Although he had not voiced his opinions aloud, he was certain that Hamilton had made a grave error by choosing to go through at high water. If Rapier had been taken in on the flood tide, the strength of the current could have added at least two knots to their speed. But now, battling against the ebb, the motors could dissipate fifty per cent of their power in just fighting the tide.
Hamilton smiled to himself as he watched the navigator drawing his little barbed arrows. It wasn’t difficult to guess what was passing through Scott’s mind. But Hamilton had already considered the point when issuing his original orders. The changing of the tide, especially in the confined waters of the narrow entrance, would create a considerable disturbance on the surface as the ingoing and outgoing currents clashed. It would only last for two or three minutes, but the tumbling waters would help to conceal the presence of the submarine creeping stealthily beneath the surface. He thought about explaining his reasons to Scott but, on an impulse, changed his mind. He glanced down at the stopwatch.
‘Three minutes,’ he said quietly. ‘We should be approaching the boom at any moment.’
The success or failure of the mission was now beyond the control of human hands. Rapier was committed to her course, depth and speed. And, as if he could still play some part in the submarine’s destiny, each man inside the control room stared at his instruments and concentrated on the task in hand. The tense silence was broken only by the faint vibration of the motors, the soft whisper of the sea against the outer plating, and the familiar sound of Ernie Blood sucking his teeth.
‘Let’s hope Alistair’s fish know what they’re doing,’ Hamilton said lightly, in an effort to ease the tension. The men in the control room grinned, but no one felt in the mood for joking and the oppressive silence descended once again, as each man shut himself away in his own private thoughts….
A sudden jolt shuddered through the submarine, followed by a soft slithering rasp from under the keel. Scott’s fish had obviously let him down◦– his estimate of the depth of water over the bar had been too optimistic. Hamilton reacted without hesitation.
‘Full ahead both!’
The hum of the motors rose to a shrill whine as the power came on. Rapier lurched like a prehistoric sea monster rising from its muddy nest on the sea bottom, and then slid smoothly forward as the propellers kicked her clear of the underwater obstruction.
‘Slow ahead both.’
The high-pitched whine faded away to the familiar soft hum and the ammeter needles flicked back as the drain on the batteries eased. The dials showed the submarine riding level and the depth gauges indicated forty feet.
‘Any HE, Baker?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Do you want an Asdic sweep, sir?’ Mannon asked.
Hamilton shook his head. ‘Negative. They might detect the pulses. As it is, I’ve got to gamble that they didn’t spot the disturbance on the surface when we switched to full power.’
He glanced down at his stopwatch to calculate how far they had penetrated inside the bay. He felt like a blind man feeling his way down an unfamiliar street by counting his footsteps. In a few moments he would have to cross the road. If he had counted correctly, he would have reached the safety of the other side. If not, he was likely to be struck down by a large truck. The minute hand of the watch clicked into the third segment of the dial. He looked up.
‘Steer one point to port, Helmsman.’
‘One point to port, sir.’
The overwhelming temptation to raise the periscope and check their position was almost irresistible and only Hamilton’s long experience and iron nerve enabled him to fight off the urge. Rapier was by now well into the bay and moving invisibly towards the anchored gunboat. The stretch of clear water ahead would be under close observation by the Japanese look-outs, and the faintest wisp of spray from the tip of the questing periscope would be sighted and reported as soon as it broke surface. And once trapped inside the bay, Rapier would stand no chance of escaping from the inevitable depth charge attack.
Hamilton seemed unconcerned by the strain of the blind approach, and he stole a quick glance at Mannon to see how he was reacting. He could recall his own nervous tension when the skipper of Surge had crept unseen into Kiel Bay before the war. And he had not forgotten the tragedy that followed. But despite his lack of experience, Mannon was standing up to it well. Leaning forward over the ‘outside’ ERA’s shoulders, he kept watch on the glowing warning lights of the venting panel like the alert hawk he in many ways resembled. Hamilton decided it was time he took the young RNVR officer into his confidence.
Taking a rough sketch map of the bay from his pocket, he called Mannon over to join him and spread the paper out on the chart table so that he could see it.
‘This is our estimated track,’ he explained drawing a line with his pencil. ‘And this…’ he marked a cross on the map, ‘is where we altered course a few minutes ago.
The idea is to get around behind Firefly so that the destroyer’s look-outs won’t see us when we surface.’
‘A bit like Blind Man’s Bluff, sir,’ Mannon observed.
‘I suppose it is,’ Hamilton agreed. ‘A great deal will depend on the strength of the tidal currents inside the bay. The pilot reckons a two knot surge on the ebb.’ He paused to draw a directional arrow. ‘If he’s right, that would make us just about◦– here. We don’t seem to have been spotted so far, so I’ll maintain course to here…’ Hamilton marked another small cross behind and astern of the gunboat. ‘Then I’ll have to raise the periscope to check we’re in position before we surface.’
Mannon nodded. He was beginning to understand the skipper’s strategy. ‘I think I follow it so far, sir. We come up on the blind side of the gunboat so that the Japs can’t observe what’s happening.’
‘That’s part of the plan, Number One. But there’s more to it than that. If we do have the misfortune to be spotted, the gunboat will act as a shield. And if the Japs open fire they’ll have to sink her before they can get at us. Needless to say, by that time we’d be well under the surface again and out of harm’s way.’
It sounded a trifle cold-blooded to Mannon. He wondered what the men onboard Firefly would say if they knew of Hamilton’s scheme. He had not served with Rapier’s skipper long enough to have seen the ruthless streak in his character before◦– and he was not sure that he liked it. But, being objective, he could appreciate the careful thinking behind the plan. Hamilton was protecting his boat and his men. And if anyone got hurt, he was making sure it would not be one of Rapier’s crew. In the circumstances Mannon supposed he should be grateful.
The second hand of the stopwatch circled the dial twice more and, in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture, Hamilton passed the tip of his tongue over his dry lips. His outward air of calm detachment hid the maelstrom of inner tension. His crotch was wet with sweat and he felt slightly sick as a violent spasm knotted his stomach muscles.