Shadde's voice was like a lash. "Hard astarboard!"
The coxswain's voice came up urgently from the control room. "She won't answer, sir!" At the same moment the Swedish ship sounded a single urgent blast indicating that she was altering course to starboard. Shadde winced. Had she altered to port they might have cleared. He roared down the voice pipe, "Full astern!" And then to the first lieutenant, "The hatches—quick!"
But it was too late. Cries of alarm from the Swede's passengers were followed by the screech of metal as the submarine's bow struck the steamer well aft and scraped down the side. Fortunately it was an oblique blow, and seconds later the steamer had swung clear again, her captain shaking his fist and shouting.
Meantime the first lieutenant had raced down the conning tower to the control room, closing the hatches behind him. He jumped to the ship's broadcast, pressed the call push and shouted: "Collision stations! Close all watertight doors!" With feverish haste he got through to Rhys Evans and told him to send someone to the steering compartment to see what had happened. Then he ordered all compartments to report any flooding. Only the forward torpedo room reported a minor leak in the pressure hull. Luckily, the point of collision had been well forward of the buoyancy tanks.
Evans called back that the tiller head was locked in the hard-aport position; the telemotor system which actuated the steering gear had apparently broken down. For some reason there'd been a pressure failure on the port ram cylinder.
On the bridge Shadde was maneuvering the submarine with the main engines. He had reported the collision to the port authorities and soon a tug appeared. Shadde shouted to it to lay off. He then proceeded to give a remarkable display of seamanship, returning to his buoy and picking up moorings without the tug's assistance.
As soon as they had secured, Shadde sent signals to the Swedish naval authorities asking for divers and dockyard officials to examine Retaliate's underwater damage. Lieutenant Allistair was landed by the tug to report to the British Naval Attache. "Tell him I'll see him later," said Shadde grimly. Signals were sent to Flag Officer Submarines, repeated to Massive, reporting the delay in sailing.
All that done, Shadde went to his cabin and sent for the first lieutenant. He shot one scowling glance at Cavan and his voice shook. "There'll be no shore leave. Double up sentries fore and aft. Apart from the Swedish officials, there's to be no communication with the shore." He rang for the messenger. "Tell the engineer officer to see me at once."
While he waited Shadde paced furiously. When Rhys Evans came in the captain exploded in a mixture of recrimination and despair. "What the bloody hell happened to that steering engine?"
The Welshman looked hurt. "It was a failure in the hydraulics, sir. We are making an examination now."
"Who told you to make an examination?" stormed Shadde. "Stop it at once! I'm going to have an official inquiry. Today. Soon as I've seen the Naval Attache. Get everybody out of that steering compartment and have it locked. You know what this is, don't you? It's sabotage." He seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then he looked up, frowning angrily. "What are you waiting for? You've heard my orders. Get on with them," he barked.
The collision delayed Retaliate in Stockholm for three days. The leak in her forward torpedo room was not serious; but because it was in the pressure hull she had to be put into dry dock.
Then reports had to be prepared for Swedish port authorities and Flag Officer Submarines. There would be a court of inquiry in Portsmouth on their return, and Lloyds was interested on behalf of the Swedish ship. Though the failure of Retaliate''s steering gear was the prima facie cause of the accident, it might well be shown that there would have been no collision had the Swedish captain altered course to port and not to starboard when the collision was imminent.
Shadde's own inquiry took place late in the afternoon of the accident. Before it started he unlocked the steering compartment, and had a look around. Sure enough, there was the tiller head jammed hard aport, and all over the steel deck was a large mess of sticky liquid, the mixture of water and glycerine which provided the pressure for the hydraulic system. A leak would explain why there was no pressure. But what had caused the leak? And who was responsible for it?
Just before he left the steering compartment the captain made an interesting find. Sticking out from behind a cluster of pipes which ran down the port side was a piece of oil-smeared gray silk, three sides scissor-cut and the fourth torn. He pulled it out and something dropped onto the steel deck with a clang. It was a brass locknut with a reverse thread, about an inch in diameter and half an inch long. Shadde's eyes glistened as he wrapped it up in the gray silk and slipped the small bundle into his pocket.
He sent a private signal to Flag Officer Submarines, Missile class, though Burton, the Naval Attache, had suggested waiting.
"You'll be home in eight days. By then there'll have been time to sort out what went wrong. ..."
"I'll have that settled by this evening. I want Naval Intelligence to send somebody here right away—while the scent's still hot. This is sabotage, Burton, make no mistake."
"How can you be so certain, old chap?"
"Don't tell me you belong to the 'it can't happen here' brigade. I've had a bellyful of that since I commissioned Retaliate."
"Really, what d'you mean?"
"This is the third effort. First was soon after we'd finished working up. We went back to the yard with trouble in the main turbines. Found steel filings in the rotors. Court of inquiry sat for three days, then didn't know the answer. Said dirty work couldn't be excluded, but was unlikely."
"What did they think it might have been?"
"Oh! Workmen's carelessness when the turbines were assembled, or some such bull. You know how we hate to admit anyone might have it in for us."
Burton cocked his head on one side as if he were confronted with a new aspect of Shadde. "The second effort?"
"At Queensferry, months later. Explosion in the heat exchanger. Wad of cotton waste had been put into a steam pipe on the intake side. Someone who knew all about our nuclear plant. There was another court of inquiry. Same wishy-washy findings! Probably negligence 'on the part of some person or persons unknown. The court finds, however, that the possibility of malicious intent cannot be excluded.' Malicious intent! I ask you! It was sabotage at Portsmouth and Queensferry, and it's sabotage in Stockholm. That's why I'm sending that signal to FOS."
The signal had gone through the Embassy for security reasons. It was strongly worded because Shadde wanted quick action. He had referred to his earlier report on the collision, then said that he suspected sabotage and urgently requested that Naval Intelligence dispatch an investigator. The man should come incognito, Shadde insisted, and take passage with them back to Portsmouth.
So much had happened in the last two hours that Shadde had quite forgotten about Kyle until the first lieutenant reported he had been found and a patrol was being sent to fetch him from the police station.
Now, with a start, Shadde wondered if Kyle's missing the boat had any connection with the steering failure. Why hadn't he thought of that before? What more likely than desertion, if you knew the steering might pack up during that tricky passage through the Swedish archipelago? But he said only, "Good. Put him in the cells, with a sentry, until I've seen him."
Cavan sounded surprised. "Cells and sentry, sir?"
"Cells" referred to the one empty compartment on the submarine, an emergency storeroom. Occasionally it was used for locking up libertymen returning the worse for liquor.
"Yes! Cells and sentry!" Shadde snapped. Cavan's eyes followed him as he walked out. Cells and a sentry for a rating who'd gone adrift! What next? The collision must have rattled the captain more than he had suspected.