He looked at Stannard. ‘I want you to make notes on this signal. You’ll need help with it, so I’ll stay on the bridge awhile until we hear something more.’
Stannard nodded and picked up a telephone. He said, ‘Bosun’s mate? Get the navigator’s yeoman double quick. And tell Midshipman Kemp I want him here, too.’ As he dropped the handset-he was already searching through his chart folios until with a grunt he dragged one out and laid it on the smaller chart table by the bulkhead. ‘Just so as I can plot what’s happening off Norway, sir.’ He grinned and added, ‘Not that we’ll be involved, but it helps to pass the time.’
Lindsay eyed him gravely. ‘Good thinking. But don’t bank’ on the last part too much.’
As he walked towards the wheelhouse Lindsay was thinking of the carefully detailed information in the signal, What Stannard did not yet realise was that apart from Benbecula and two patrol vessels in the Denmark Strait there was hardly a single ship within five hundred miles of the convoy and its escorts.
He found Dancy standing in the centre of the bridge staring straight ahead through a clearview screen. Beyond the toughened glass there was little visible but the dark outline of the forecastle framed against the oncoming ranks of white-topped waves. Past the pale crests there was complete darkness, with not even a star to. show itself through the thick cloud.
Dancy stiffened as Lindsay lifted himself on to the chair.
Lindsay remarked, ‘How is the ice on deck, Sub?’
Dancy replied, ‘The middle watch had it cleared before we came up, sir. But there is some forming below Number Two gun mounting, I think. I’ll get the hands on it in half an hour.’ He hesitated. ‘If that is all right, sir?’ ‘
Lindsay looked’ at him. How much more confident Dancy had become. Probably through working with Stannard.
‘Fine,’ he said.
Stannard entered the wheelhouse a few minutes later but he was no longer so untroubled. ‘I’ve marked all of it on the charts, sir.’ His palm rasped over his chin. ‘If those three jokers make a go for the Atlantic, which way will they come, d’you reckon?’
Lindsay shrugged. ‘They’ll know they’ve been seen on the move and will not waste time trying for the Denmark Strait this time. Quite apart from the problems of drifting ice, they’ll imagine we’ve a mass of — patrols there already waiting for them.’
Stannard said quietly, ‘If they only knew!’
Lindsay nodded. ‘My guess is they’ll head for the Rose Garden.’
‘Sir?’ Dancy sounded puzzled.
Stannard understood. ‘That’s the area between Iceland and the Faroes, you ignorant oaf!’,
Dancy replied carefully, ‘All the same, it’ll be hard to slip past our ships, surely?’
‘Over four hundred miles, Sub?’ Lindsay looked away. ‘It’s a pretty wide gap.’
He settled back in the chair and waited until the others had moved away. He did not want to talk. He wanted to think, to try and explain why he felt so uneasy: Involved.
On the face of it, Dancy’s youthful optimism should be justified. The Navy had been planning for such an eventuality since the Bismarck’s breakout., But this was a very bad time of the year. Visibility was hopeless and air cover restricted accordingly. It was just possible the Germans might make it. If so, where would they go, south to prey on the convoys from the Cape, or further west in search of more rapid results?
Aikman entered the wheelhouse, his eyes glowing faintly in the shaded compass light. ‘Another signal, sir. Two more U-boats reported to south of convoy.’
Stannard snapped, ‘Give it to me. I’ll put it on the chart.’
Lindsay’s voice stopped him by the door. ‘While you’re there, Pilot, get me a course and speed to intercept the convoy.’ He hesitated, feeling Stannard’s unspoken warning. ‘I mean to intercept the convoy if it comes as far north as our patrol limit.’
Stannard said, ‘Right away, sir.’
Aikman asked, ‘They’ll never come right up here, surely, sir?’
Lindsay looked at him. ‘Wouldn’t you if you had fifteen odd U-boats coming after you?’
Aikman nodded glumly. ‘I suppose so.’
Somewhere below the bridge the tannoy speaker squeaked into life. ‘Cooks to the galley! Forenoon watchkeepers to breakfast and clean!’
Lindsay looked at his watch. Nearly three hours since Stannard had called him on the telephone about the change of course. It seemed like minutes.
Stannard came back and said, ‘Course to intercept would be one hundred degrees, sir. Revs for fifteen knots.’ He paused, his voice empty of everything but professional interest. ‘If the convoy maintains its present course and speed we should make contact at 2000 tonight.’ He stood back, his face hidden in shadow as he waited for Lindsay’s reaction. Then he added slowly, ‘Of course, sir, we’d be out of our allotted area by noon if you decided to act on it.’
‘Yes.’ He thought of the two lines which Stannard must have drawn on his chart. Two converging lines. One the Benbecula, the other a handful of desperate, valuable ships. The convoy’s original track was straddled by Uboats. To the south the gate was also closed. But if the convoy came further north and the German heavy units burst through the patrol lines, they would need all the help they could get.
He said, ‘Very well. Bring her round to one-zero-zero. Call up the chief before you ask for maximum revs, but warn the engine room what to expect.’
He could feel the sudden expectancy amongst the shadowy figures around him. Moments before they had been lolling and swaying with the regular motion, half asleep and dull with boredom. His words had changed all that in an instant.
‘Port fifteen.’ Stannard rested one hand on the gyro, his eyes watching the quartermaster as he began to turn the wheel.
Below decks, as the forenoon watchkeepers queued for their greasy sausages and powdered egg, their, sweet tea and marmalade, they would feel the difference and cling to their mess tables until the turn was completed. Only the seasoned men would guess what was happening. The others would merely curse the officers on the bridge for deliberately trying to ruin their breakfast.
‘Midships.’ Stannard had his eye down to the gyro. ‘Steady.’
‘Steady, sir. Course zero-nine-five.’ The quartermaster sounded breathless as the ship rolled heavily across a steep trough.
‘Steer one-zero-zero.’ Stannard looked up as small tinkling sounds echoed above like tiny bells. More ice.forming on the control position and rigging made by the spray-flung high over the bows.
A telephone buzzed and Stannard said, ‘Yes, Chief.’ He looked at Lindsay. ‘For you, sir.’
Fraser sounded irritable. ‘What’s all this I hear about full revs, sir?’
Lindsay turned his back to the others and spoke very quietly into the mouthpiece. ‘There may be a convoy coming into our pitch, Chief. There are three bandits at large from Norway and a whole pack of U-boats to the south. I thought our presence might cheer ‘em up a bit. Pilot will give you the details. I just wanted you to know the rest of it first.’
There was a long pause. ‘Aye, sir. Ring down when you’re ready; I’ll give you everything I’ve got.’
Lindsay handed the telephone to Stannard and said, ‘‘I’m going below. I have a feeling this is going to be a long day.’
Two hours later Jupp stood beside Lindsay’s table and eyed him with grave approval. Lindsay had shaved, taken a quick shower, and had allowed Jupp to supply him with a freshly laundered sweater. But it was the fact that he was eating his first complete breakfast since taking command which was obviously giving the steward so much pleasure. He even felt better, but could discover no cause for it.
Beyond the bulkhead he could hear hammers banging away the ice and the squeak of metal as the gun crews tested their weapons and made sure the mechanism had not frozen solid overnight. It was still dark on deck, and would be for most of the day. He could feel the ship’s stern lifting slowly to the following sea, while the bows crashed and vibrated like dull thunder, throwing up the spray in long tattered banners as high as the foremast derricks.