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But here there was nothing, and he knew it was affecting almost every man aboard. Tension flared into anger. Someone just a minute late on watch would be cursed by the waiting man with all the hatred and venom of an enemy. Lindsay tried to break the deadly monotony and discomfort by speaking daily to the ship’s company over the new tannoy system. He occasionally left the bridge to do his rounds, to visit as many parts of the ship as he could between other duties, but he could feel the hopelessness of it just the same. Even the pathetically early Christmas decorations in some of the messes seemed to make a mockery of their efforts to stay sane.

The telephone jarred into his thoughts like a gunshot. It was Stannard again.

‘Sorry to bother you, sir.’ His Australian accent was more pronounced than usual. ‘There’s a westbound convoy altering course to the south-east of us. W/T office is monitoring all traffic as you instructed.’

‘How far away?’

Stannard sounded vague. ‘Approximately five hundred miles, sir.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Admiralty reports a deployment of seven plus U-boats converging ahead of convoy’s original course, sir.’

‘Very well. Keep a good listening watch.’ He heard the line go dead.

As he lay back he thought of the countless times he had heard such warnings himself when he had commanded the Vengeur. Except that now there were more U-boats, bigger and better organised than before. He could. imagine the heart-searching which would be going on at this moment as the commodore and escort commander of that unknown convoy examined and discussed the latest information. Alter course. Run further north to avoid the eager U-boats. Lose time certainly, but with luck the ships would be saved from destruction. U-boats rarely wasted their efforts and fuel by sweeping too far from the main convoy routes. And why should they? Their growing toll of sinkings was evidence of their harvest.

But in the Atlantic you could never be really certain. Time and distance, speed and visibility were so different heree from the calm efficiency of the plotting rooms in the far off Admiralty bunkers.

But it was not Benbecula’s concern. The convoy, like all the others at sea at any given time, must depend on its own resources.

He closed his eyes and tried to dismiss it from his mind. But try as he might he could not put aside a sudden feeling of uneasiness. Doubt or instinct? It was impossible to describe.

He switched on the light and swung his legs off the bunk, feeling automatically for his sea boots. It was no surprise to hear the discreet knock at the outer door and to see Jupp’s mournful face peering in at him. Perhaps he could not sleep either.

‘Will you be wanting an early breakfast, sir?’ His eyes flickered swiftly across the disordered bunk. ‘I ‘ave some coffee on the go.’

Lindsay, shook his head, steadying his legs against the tilting deck. ‘I think I’ll make do with coffee for now.’

Jupp vanished just as quietly and returned in minutes with a pot of fresh coffee.

He said, ‘Blowing a bit up top; sir.’ He glanced with. obvious disapproval at Lindsay’s soiled and crumpled sweater. ‘I could get you some more gear from my store.’

Lindsay smiled. ‘Later.’

He swung round as the handset rang again. ‘Captain?’

Stannard said, ‘W/T office has just received a signal for us, sir. Top Secret. I’ve got Aikman on to it right away.’

Lieutenant Aikman, who was listed as boarding officer, had the additional chore of decoding the more secret and difficult signals, and would not thank Stannard for hauling him from his warm bunk.

Lindsay swallowed some coffee and then asked, ‘Any news of the convoy?’

‘Six more U-boats reported to the south of it, sir. I’ve marked ‘em on my chart, so it also gives us a fair idea of the convoy’s position.’

Lindsay nodded. ‘Good. That was sensible.’ There was more to Stannard than he had imagined.

He replaced the- handset as Jupp said, ‘Marvellous ‘ow the Admiralty know all them things, sir..’

Lindsay shrugged. ‘They’ve the Germans to thank for that. Admiralty intercepts signals from seagoing U-boats to German naval headquarters and passes the information on to the convoys. Got it?’

Jupp looked doubtful. ‘Not quite, sir.’

Lindsay groped for the nearest dry towel and wound it round his neck. ‘If a U-boat sights a convoy her skipper flashes the news to Germany.. The German operations staff then signal all U-boats in the vicinity to home on to it like a pack of wolves.’

As he buttoned his jacket he was thinking of those submarines. Seven plus ahead of the convoy’s previous course. Now six more to the south. It was a formidable force, but fortunately there was still time to take avoiding action. Thanks to the radio operators at the Admiralty.

Jupp handed him his cap and glasses. ‘It’s all too much for me, sir. Makes me feel old.’

Lindsay brushed past him. ‘You’ll never get old. You’re like the ship. Rheumaticky but reliable!’

As he hurried up the companion ladder he realised with a start that it was the first time he had attempted to make a joke about anything since … he shut the other picture from his mind.

By the chart room he paused and glanced inside. Stannard was, stretching across the big table, his fingers working deftly with dividers and parallel rulers…He made some small notations on the chart and then straightened his back. Seeing Lindsay in the doorway he said, ‘Oh, good morning, sir.’ He grinned. ‘Although it’s as black as a boot outside.’

Lindsay leaned on the table and studied the neat lines and bearings.

Stannard said, ‘As far as I can make out the convoy has made a really drastic alteration of course.’ He tapped the chart with his dividers. ‘They are steaming almost nor’west and really cracking it on.’

‘What do we know about it, Pilot?’

Lindsay knew what the convoy’s commodore was doing. He had already passed out of effective range of air cover from England and was heading further north in the hopes of getting help from the longe-range bomber patrols from Iceland. There were so many dead patches where aircraft could not reach to carry out sorties and anti-submarine attacks. Like the vast area now covered by Benbecula’s endless vigil.

Stannard said, ‘I looked at the intelligence log, sir. Seems it’s a fast westbound convoy. Only ten ships, according to the last information.’

The door banged open and Aikman, his pyjamas covered bya duffel coat, stepped over the coaming.

‘Bloody hell, Pilot! Can’t you let a bloke get some shut-eye!’ He saw Lindsay and flushed. ‘Sorry, sir!’

Lindsay smiled. ‘I know how you feel.’ He was still thinking about the convoy. ‘What does the signal say?’

Aikman ran his fingers through his tousled hair. ‘Three German heavy units have left Tromso, sir. Last reported heading south along the Norwegian coast. Further information not yet available.’ He looked up as Lindsay turned to face him. ‘There’s a list of deployments too, sir.’

Lindsay took the long, neatly written signal and read it very slowly. It might be nothing. The enemy could be moving three important warships south to Kiel or to the Baltic for use against the Russians. They had been seen steaming south, but that could have easily been a ruse to confuse the Norwegian agents who must have flashed the news to the Admiralty in London. Perhaps they were going to make another attempt to break into the Atlantic in strength. He ran his eye over the deployment information. A cruiser squadron was already on its way from Iceland, and more heavy units had left Scapa Flow: He found he was reading faster as the mental picture began to form in his mind. Almost every available ship was being sent to forestall anything which the three German units might attempt. He thought of the deserted buoys at Scapa. The place would really be stripped bare now.