The boat heaved and porpoised through the depths while Schwachofer and his aides struggled desperately to regain control of her. Panting, with sweat pouring from their bodies, her crew fought for her life and theirs.
When her exploding depth charges had ceased to deafen the asdic, the Hecate's Captain heard the joyful report, "Contact astern. Bearing green one-seven-oh. Range five hundred. Opening fast."
With both contestants moving in opposite directions, the range would increase at over six hundred yards a minute. It was therefore imperative to turn the destroyer to the opposite course without delay.
"Starboard thirty, steer three-oh-oh," the Captain ordered.
The Hecate heeled sharply. Her stern, swinging around in a great arc, crossed out every ripple on the sea and left it smooth as satin on the inside of the turn. The asdic steadily reported the changing bearings.
" 'Midships. Steady on three-oh-oh."
"Red oh-five," the asdic said. "Bearing two-nine-five. Range seventeen hundred. Submarine. Going away."
The Captain realized that he had barely turned in time. A minute or two more and the U-boat would have been free again. He crossed to the view plot. "What did it look like, Pilot?"
"If the depth was anywhere near right, the starboard thrower should have given him a nasty shaking, sir."
"Let's give him one more while he's feeling shaky. Only eight patterns left — that's the real rub."
Rolling heavily, the swell on her beam, the destroyer carried out her third attack. Seven patterns — seventy charges — were left.
"Contact astern bearing one-five-oh, range five hundred."
A mercy that at any rate they were still in contact. As usual the Captain went to the view plot. "Well, Pilot?"
"The U-boat turned to port at the last moment, sir. He's back on his two-one-oh course, or I'm much mistaken."
"What a fool I am! Of course! I should have kept out on his port side. That pattern won't have hurt him much."
What to do? To continue attacking this wily bird until all his ammunition was exhausted or to lay astern of him and just hold contact while he thought things over?
He went to the compass platform. "All right, Number One. I'll take her while you have breakfast. I'm going to take station half a mile astern of him."
The Hecate settled down to wait, like a great dog at the bottom of a tree. The U-boat plodded on her course of two-one-oh degrees. Astern of her, with slow speed on her engines, lazily wallowed the destroyer, her men basking in the sunshine and going to their breakfast in watches. The bridge sweepers appeared and swept away the night's litter of cigarette papers, the wrappers of chocolate bars, and the extraordinary amount of real dust that can accumulate on the open bridge in the middle of the Atlantic. Every five minutes the asdic cabinet reported the range and bearing: "Bearing two-one-oh, range one thousand."
The Captain went below for a shave. When he came back to the bridge he noticed the tidy atmosphere at once. "Well done, Number One. She looks a bit more like our Hecate now. I want you to collect the Pilot, the coxswain, the senior asdic rating and Mr. Grain up here. I think we'll have a little conference."
The Captain addressed the men who had gathered in a sheltered corner of the bridge. "We've already expended a third of our depth charges, and the U-boat need not surface for twenty-four hours, when his air will be exhausted. I've got seven patterns left. We'll attack him half an hour before the end of each watch, the last time at dawn tomorrow; if I can't break his hull, at least I hope to shatter his nerve when he tumbles to what we've got in store for him. Now that's a long battle and you can't all keep at it all the time. So I want you to go somewhere comfortable near your own particular part of the ship, and sit down and rest."
The Hecate replaced her sword in the sheath, but she kept her right hand firmly on the hilt.
In the dim light von Stolberg peered over Schwachofer's shoulder. "What depth?" he asked.
"Hundred and ten — all the tanks are working correctly."
"Keep her steady at a hundred and ten until we've checked on the damage. If there is nothing serious I'll go deep to a hundred and fifty meters."
Already the electricians were hurrying around the boat replacing the broken bulbs and a blown fuse on the main switchboard. The lights came on again, and the full extent of the ordeal through which the boat had passed could be seen and assessed. Great strips of cork insulation had been stripped from the plating and hung festooned among the pipes and valves that surrounded the control room; there was not a gauge glass that had not been shattered, and there were broken shards even on the bodies of the crew. Von Stolberg, turning sharply from the depth gauge, slipped on the glass-strewn deck.
"Get this mess swept up," he said to Kunz.
Slowly the Kapitan felt his nerves relax. The attack was the most devastating blow that he had ever felt in his three years in the submarine service. If the depth charges had exploded six feet, even three feet closer, mortal damage would surely have been done.
He went to the door of the hydrophone cabinet and looked in. "Your ears were not damaged, Braun?" he asked.
"No, Herr Kapitan. I had removed the headphones."
"That is good." Hydrophone operators could have their hearing seriously impaired, for their instrument greatly magnified all sounds in the water. "Can you hear anything?"
"Ja, Herr Kapitan. The destroyer is in contact astern. It is difficult to tell her range because she is blanketed by our own propellers, but I fancy she comes closer."
The Kapitan turned to find Otto Kritz, the engineer, waiting for him. "Well?"
"No material damage, Herr Kapitan."
The Kapitan turned to Schwachofer. "Take her down to one hundred and fifty." It was unlikely that the British ship was aware of the near success of her last attack since the oil tanks, which if punctured would at once leak oil to the surface, were undamaged. However, the deeper he went, the larger his margin of safety would be. Depth charges took three times as long to sink to four hundred feet as to two hundred because the water was denser at the lower level. In this type of U-boat, however, he did not dare go lower: even at one hundred and fifty meters he creaked alarmingly.
Braun was calling. "Destroyer astern — closing rapidly."
The propeller beat could now be heard in the boat. Von Stolberg listened carefully. "What is your depth?"
"Just coming to one hundred and fifty, Herr Kapitan."
"Good." Then to the quartermaster: "Port twenty, steer two-one-oh."
Breathlessly the crew waited. The rumbling detonations sounded above them. One bulb went out. There was nothing more.
"He fires too shallow," von Stolberg said, and a cracked smile twisted his lips — his first that day. The other officers noticed it and felt relief.
Schwachofer broke the silence. "Herr Kapitan, breakfast for the men?"
"Yes, of course. Have some food passed around, but nothing heated. We must conserve electricity."
Very soon tins of sardines and crackers smeared with butter were being passed around the boat. The food at once assumed the taste of Diesel oil, mold and sweat. The atmosphere was already becoming foul by ordinary standards and the boat sweated terribly. Clothes would not dry, and leather garments mildewed and added to the unmistakable U-boat smell. The men accepted the smelclass="underline" it was part of their arduous duty.
Von Stolberg, stuffing a sardine into his mouth, called down the voice pipe to the hydrophone cabinet. "Well?"
"Enemy transmissions on our beam, drawing aft. I think he's going astern of us again, Herr Kapitan. His engines are turning very slowly."
The Kapitan finished his breakfast and asked again: "Well?"
"Still astern of us, Herr Kapitan. He's just sitting on our tail at the same course and speed."