The Captain noted that the bows of his ship were already swinging round to follow the turn that the U-boat had started. Now, thank heaven, the wretched boat was no longer up-sun of him. In fact, if the turn continued it would soon be the gun layer of the submarine who would have the sun in his eyes.
It was at this precise moment that the shell arrived that had been fired while the commanding officer of the U-boat had been distracted by his junior.
It plunged through the thin side plating at the after comer of number-one boiler room, penetrated the bulkhead dividing it from number-two boiler room, and burst against the curved flank of the second boiler. The effects of this single hit were almost disastrous. The giant fans, whose high-pitched whirr was a constant feature of life in a destroyer, normally kept the boiler rooms under pressure while the torches were alight, in order to force the flame through the boilers and the hot gas up the funnel; and once the pressure was released through the torn side, the inevitable flashback occurred. For an instant before the automatic devices cut off the supply of oil, the boiler room was a searing furnace where tortured men shrieked in agony.
The position was bad in this boiler room, but it was even worse in the other. The bursting shell had destroyed at least a quarter of the tubes of number-two boiler. From these tubes, and from the big main steampipe, also damaged, there drained away every ounce of steam in all three boilers. In this room the crew died instantly.
The Captain, on the bridge, saw a huge cloud of steam rise from somewhere between the two funnels, carrying among its snow-white billows the black oily smoke from the fire in the forward boiler room. The throb of the engines died.
"Ship's not answering her wheel, sir," the coxswain reported.
The Captain knew his ship had received a vital wound. The wind, which was light, was on his starboard quarter. As she lost her way through the water, the Hecate would turn ever more quickly to starboard, until she came to rest almost beam-on to the sea. Then her head would be toward the U-boat and her after gun could no longer be made to bear on the enemy. There would be a big arc ahead of her in which the U-boat Kapitan could maneuver with impunity, while he fired into the Hecate's unprotected bows until he sank her.
For the first time the Captain found his own confidence in the final outcome distinctly upset. The fates had been kind to the U-boat. The lucky chance of surfacing up-sun, the three hits, each in its own way tipping the scales more heavily against the Hecate — these had put the destroyer in an untenable position from which she could only be extricated if the wheel of fortune should turn once more.
Thank God the after gun was still firing! Wondering how much longer it would bear, and unable to see it because of the steam cloud, he turned to watch the fall of its shot. Already the U-boat was moving slowly toward the arc of complete safety. For a moment it subsided into the hollow of a swell until only the conning tower and gun were visible. It rose swiftly as the sea passed under it. He could see the puff of yellowy-white smoke as its gun fired.
Then, miraculously, another more orange explosion occurred beneath the enemy muzzle, and a dark yellow blob of smoke hovered for an instant around the place where the orange flash had been. When the smoke cleared away, the gun's barrel pointed aimlessly into the sky and of the men who had tended it a moment before there was no sign.
Cold Steel
0916 to 1205 Zone Time, Thursday, 9 September
WHEN von Stolberg again trained the periscope onto the destroyer, he saw the havoc the last shot had caused. It did not seem likely that she would steam again before he could complete her destruction. If only he could get ahead of her, so that her after gun would not be able to train on him, he could sink her at his leisure. "Port twenty," he ordered.
Slowly, desperately, the U-boat turned. Just as slowly the Kapitan moved around, grasping the periscope handles to keep the destroyer in view.
"Schwachofer, I believe she has stopped! Soon we shall be out of the arc of fire of that after gun, and then we can sink the swine." "There is very little left in the battery, Herr Kapitan." "We only need a very little. In three hundred meters we shall be safe. Less than that, because as he stops he will lie beam-on to the wind, and his head will come round toward us."
Schwachofer could sense the appalling suspense under which his Kapitan was laboring. The man was breathing heavily with excitement, and his tongue licked his dry lips. Their own gun fired again.
A second later there was a shuddering explosion interlaced with high-pitched screams. The noise died away and left a silence full of foreboding.
Von Stolberg leapt to the forward door of the control room. The gloom of the forepart of the boat was shot with a beam of daylight from the open fore hatch, through which a wisp of brown smoke now spiraled down. Von Stolberg stopped short as he saw Petty Ofiicer Muller run up the ladder. The feet paused when the head and shoulders were in the air. Then the sea boots began to come down the ladder slowly.
"Well, Muller, the gun?" the Kapitan asked.
"Kaput, Herr Kapitan, kaput."
"And the gun crew?"
Muller met the Kapitan's stare with a strangely sullen glance. "They also." He paused before adding, "Herr Kapitan." Then he turned and disappeared forward into the gloom.
The Kapitan made a mental note that Muller's nerve must be cracking. For himself, he saw no reason to doubt their ability, even without the gun, to hold out until the arrival of the Cecilie. He hurried back to the periscope. " 'Midships — steady . . . Good. I can no longer see their gun. Herr Oberleutnant, stop the motors. It's now past nine o'clock, and we have less than three hours to wait. Let us go with the engineer to see if it is possible to get a Diesel running. But first I will reload at least one torpedo. You have sufficient air, Herr Oberleutnant, to fire?"
Schwachofer bent to inspect the dials of the air bottles. "I think enough to fire one torpedo, Herr Kapitan, but it will not be easy to reload with the boat rolling like this." To manhandle the greasy two-ton monsters while there was any movement on the boat, and particularly without the usual good lighting, meant serious risk to both the torpedoes and the men.
"It is never easy, Herr Oberleutnant, to do one's duty. But we will reload at least one tube."
The Kapitan led the way forward. "Leutnant Kunz, Petty Officer Muller," he called as he neared the foot of the forward ladder. The two men appeared out of the gloom.
"Reload one torpedo," the Kapitan ordered.
"Herr Kapitan," the petty officer said quietly. It might be supposed that his age and years of experience would entitle him to a hearing.
"What is it, Miiller?"
"The boat rolls too much. We will damage the torpedo and possibly crush a man."
"Then load another torpedo." The two men looked at each other, and the petty officer's eyes fell. "At once, Petty Officer Muller. And report to me as soon as you have reloaded." He turned and, followed by Schwachofer and Kritz the engineer, stumped up the ladder.
Out in the strong sunlight, von Stolberg blinked and was suddenly aware of his own tiredness. The three officers stood for a moment looking at the wreck of the gun. The British shell had exploded underneath its mounting. Nothing that they could conceivably do would ever enable another shot to be fired.
They passed on around the conning tower and paused at its battered after end to inspect the wreck of the A.A. gun. Yellow-green fumes still eddied in waves from the open after hatch that led to the engine room; from inside came a continuous stuttering sound as the great batteries below the engine-room floor consumed themselves.