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Authors: Geoffrey Jenkins

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BOOK: A Bridge Of Magpies
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'Come on! This is the time! Go! Get going!' Kaptein Denny shouted again.

I got into position to cast
Ichabo
loose. Denny allowed
Gaok
to fall back to meet her so that J could jump before the current carried her away. Whatever the sight of
U-160
had done to him it hadn't affected his seamanship.

'Jump!'

I jumped. Jutta stayed behind in
Gaok as
we'd arranged previously.

'All set there?

'Aye,' I called back to Denny. 'Let's smack it
about.'
He broke the joint plan of action before we started, though. Before I'd time to fire
Ichabo's
engine he was off alone in the direction of the U-boat. He threw a spotlight on her when he got close. Then
Ichabo's
engine started banging away. Where was
Sang A?

I
headed for
U-160.

When
I
came alongside
Gaok
I saw by her
spotlight what the object was that was bobbing and swinging from the jumping-wire like a jack-rabbit pendulum every time a wave lifted the sub.

I cut
Ichabo's engine
and leapt aboard
Gaok.
Denny and Jutta were together in the wheelhouse staring at the U-boat. '

Mine! That's a mine!'

I could almost reach out and touch it but nothing would have made me do so. It hung by a whisker. A U-boat's jumping-wire is a single thick cable for about half its length, then divides into two-V-shaped, somewhere above the level of the gun. The V is secured to either side of the conningtower by sets of double shackles. One leg of the V had snapped. The other was carrying the mine's full weight. The mine's own mooring cable had snarled about the jumpingwire. The main obstacle which prevented its crashing to the deck was a flanged bit of rusty metal ,(probably in its own sea-bed anchor) which was wedged in one of the shackles.

'I
saw it there the first time,' replied Kaptein Denny coolly. 195

'She tangled with one. of her own mines which she'd laid in the channel. But one of the wires has snapped since I saw it last time.'

For all the concern he showed, he might have been quietly discussing some rigging technicalily instead of half a ton of explosive liable lo go off at the drop of a hat. Of a wire, rather.

Ànd the other's going to part at any moment! Especially now it hasn't the sea's lift to take the strain off it! Come on, man! Help me do something about it – quick!'

He made no move.

`Take a look at the way that thing's hanging–see?' I went on. 'It's upside down. Those spikes sticking out below are detonating horns. They're pointing downwards. If that cable snaps the mine will drop slap on the deck – Christ!'

I'd been so carried away, my eyes fixed on the swinging mine, that I hadn't paid any attention to the deck. Now I forgot even the mine.

'If we're looking for a spectacular when the next big sea shakes that mine loose, we've got it,' I said slowly. I couldn't say it fast because my mouth was too dry. `Do you see what I see?'

'Schlebusch was an ace,' replied Kaptein Denny. 'He needed plenty of torpedoes'

'Nine!' J managed to say.
'Nine
extra torpedoes lashed on deck! She's a bloody floating hardware store!'

The spare torpedoes, which Schlebusch would have reloaded through special hatches on the casing, were stowed directly beneath the suspended mine with their firing heads pointing forward to give good streamlining underwater.

'I know that nowadays amatol is considered an old-fashioned explosive,' I said. 'A kilo or two of a modern type is enough to blow up a building. But, by God, there's enough here to sink the
Queen Elizabeth, Ark Royal
and
Enterprise all
rolled into one!'

A swell washed against the waterlogged hull and
a
ripple of phosphorescent fire spread along it.

`Put me aboard,' I said. 'This is a one-man operation. I'

ll fix it. Then get clear, in case J fluff things.'

'No!' exclaimed Jutta. 'No, Struan! No!'

'Do as I say. Every second's vital.

want some spare

196

cable to reinforce what's left up there and then make the mine fast . .

'There's some below-' replied Kaptein Denny quickly.
'
Goals
staying. You'll want her spotlight to see what you're doing. We're all in this together.'

'Stay if you like: amatol's easy. It doesn't matter whether you're five or five hundred feet from the explosion centre of a load like this.'

Jutta's face was a mask of misery. 'Please–no old hulk is worth it!''

There wasn't time to listen to her side of the story. J'd set myself in motion to do a job and I'd narrowed down my thinking to that, to the exclusion of all else. Perhaps tlmebomb defusers work that way. My muscles hadn't got over their initial shock-though; it seemed as if they were being operated by remote control.

I ducked below for some cable-lengths of securing line and wire-cutters. When I got back on deck Kaptein Denny was easing
Gaok
alongside the U-boat-millimetre by
milli-
metre.
There was a steel-clad reason,
hanging
by a
thread,
why he should.

Then I was climbing ova: the side.

Jutta caJled, 'I'll hold your things. I'll pass them to you while you work.'

If the mine slipped I wouldn't be able to reach her in the last few seconds; without her there my hands would be steadier.

'No.'

She didn't argue but I could feel her eyes on my back as I dropped down on to the barnacled casing. There was an unmistakable musty, wet, deep-sea smell coming off the conning-tower and I found a steel ladder up to it. It was clamped on the starboard side (where
Gaok
was) and led first to a light anti-aircraft
gun
platform, drilled full of holes for draining, abaft the bridge. This was surrounded by a rusty melal 'pulpit rail'. It could well have been one of
Gousblom's
turrets which had fallen on her, because the structure was wrecked and the stanchions and rails were all crushed. The rear entrance to the conning-tower bridge–a U-shaped enclosure with the open end of the U facing astern–was blocked with twisted metal and also the remains of the peri197 scope housing. It was just possible to edge in.

I did so, and started in on the mine. The jumping-wire to starboard was gone but the one to port was intact. I got -a light line round the top of the mine and stopped it swinging: one of the detonating horns was arcing within eighteen inches of the bridge.

Easy now, easy does it, I told myself. Up to now Pd been '

working largely by reflex, but with the slight change of the odds in my favour I began to react consciously. You can't do anything about the main jumping-wire for'ard of the gun before it divides for the
'W,
because it's out of reach, but it doesn't look too bad. Keep that infernal spotlight out of my eyes! I'd brace and lash tight my new strop on the broken section by running a loop through the nearest shackle, then secure it to something firm on the bridge. The steel pipe of the captain's jump-stool would serve. It was strong enough to take the strain.

I was sweating heavily
and
bracing myself against the bridge coaming and leaning forward to slip one end of the wire through the shackle to make the repair. Easy now, easy! I hope to God
Sang A
doesn't come and catch us with our pants down and a fart weighing half a ton in the pipeline waiting to hit the deck. Not the deck. At twelve feet it didn't need a computer to work out the exact spot where the mine would land. On those nine torpedoes. Would they still explode after all this time? It didn't matter reaJly; the mine would. You're always reading about old war-time mines going up. Over a hundred thousand of them still unswept up around Britain . . . Pull yourself together. You're shaking like a soak with the
ritte!tits –hysterical
DTs. The whole bloody Sperrgebiet
will
shake too if this little lot goes up. I couldn't manage to complete the loop of my emergency strop. I was about six inches too far away from the shackle. I could do so, however, if I hung on the jumping wire. Add my two hundred pounds' weight to that already dicey cable. So near and yet so far. Shit on all of them who'd put me in this spot. Shit on you, you bastard Denny, Denzo, or whatever you caJl yourself. Stuff all the Denzos. All the long line of them in eight hundred years. And Tsushima. And Yamamoto. There's Jutta to think of now. I'm damned if this iron udder is going to bang its tits on any deck full of torpedoes, 198

I grabbed the jumping-wire on sudden impulse, heaved forward with my weight on it, twisted the loop tight, and then dropped back into the conning-tower and made the cable fast.

I'd flayed the skin off my fingers and palms: I descended the conning-tower ladder like a man in a dream and crunched back across the shells and marine growths to
Gaok.
The world started to come slowly back into focus and I became conscious of the gaJe again. Out there on the exposed casing it felt as if the whole world would disappear in one great blowing cloud. The U-boat's buoyancy had a curious dead feel and walking across her deck like that made one want to grope uncertalnly with one's feet, like an astronaut on a spacewalk.


`Safe-conduct's fixed? I told Denny when I got aboard
Gaok.

`Struan .

darling .. .1' The rest of Jutta's welcome was

blocked in her throat.

`Now's our time!' replied Kaptein Denny. Not a mention of the thing which hung there–safe now.

I was still suffering from a carry-over of tension but I brushed it aside. 'Right!' I said. 'Let's get on with the job. But look how she's down at the head.'

You didn't need good night vision, in the almost moonlight conditions-to make an assessment that
U-160
would never be classed Al at Lloyd's. The seas surged across the deck, which was half awash most of
its
length and fully awash in the bows. Even the railings and stanchions for'ard of the main torpedo loading hatch were half under water. If it hadn't been for what she carrled inside I would have dismissed her as a load of old iron only fit to cover with a blanket-and caJl the padre. The luminescence made a bright border about a foot wide amidships round the casing, where it rode clear of the water; but in the bows-where the seas were shredded, it was like flame rippling on a burning log.

Kaptein Denny said, `Tonight's the night. It's been this
way
too
many times
before. This is the last attempt. Now let's get that rope cradled under her.'

That had been the plan. It was simple–as a plan. It called for a double length of four-inch manila hawser attached to both cutters' bow and stern winches, and looped under
U-160's
hull. We'd first let go enough slack to let the hawsers sink
199

deeper than the U-boat-then dose on her from both flanks, astern; stop when we came abreast the conning-tower, and then winch the cradle in tight. The cutters would act as lifting pontoons while we got busy on the main hatch with the cutting torch.

The theory was fine, the practice different. It was as if we were cowpunchers riding herd and trying to rope the most bloody-minded maverick that ever cut loose on the plains of Texas. The Ancient Mariner's undersea spirit couldn't have jinked, yawed and shoved that sodden hull in more random, chaotic and unpredictable directions than the upwell cell current did. Perhaps that was why she'd escaped being piled up on the reefs in all the years before.

The, operation was also continually hamstrung by Denny's refusal to move more than a few hundred feet from the Uboat, for fear of losing her from under his spotlight. This meant I was at the perimeter in
Ichabo,
dragging two heavy lopsided cables whlle
Gaok
and
U-160
remained close to the operations centre. This made it almost impossible for the cables to reach deep enough to encircle the hull. Once when we nearly succeeded it was spoilt by the cradle snagging on something–possibly a propeller or hydroplane belonging to the U-boat–and before
we
could do anything about it she gave one of her sudden yaws and we had to go hard astern to prevent the boats being crushed. We lost her and started all over again.

This went on for about an hour. And it seemed like sending out a new invitation to
Sang A
to join the party, every time we gunned our engines full ahead or full astern–on average once every five minutes–and swung the spotlight to every point of the compass to keep it homed on the conning-tower. When I heard through the murk the heavy crash of breakers coming from close at hand, I'd had enough. We were in the middle of yet another manoeuvre–which meant I was doing the manoeuvring while
Gaok
hugged
U-160.
I didn't cast off my end of the cradle, but cut my engine and set the winches going. This had the effect of dragging
Ichabo
bodily broadside across the gap separating the two boats.
U-160
got in the way like an unwanted third at a
fete-a-tate,
but I couldn't help that: This time
Gaok
did the manoeuvring, I jumped aboard her and told Kaptein Denny. 'This is for 200

the birds. Every one of the hundred million birds in the islands?

'Go on.'

'I hear breakers. Lots of breakers. I'd say it was Penguins Turning.'

'It is Penguins Turning.'

'I'm glad someone knows where we are because J don't. And if it's the
skietrots,
we've come less than a mile in a straight line since we began. Straight being the operative word.'

'So what? Distance isn't important. What is important . ?

'Distance is time and time is
Sang A,'
I retorted. 'Any time
is Sang A time
and I don't fancy going on with this caper round Penguins Turning. Especially in the whirlpool behind it. 'Are you saying you intend to throw in the towel?'

°The only towel I want is one to dry myself with when I come up on the other side of
U-160.'

BOOK: A Bridge Of Magpies
8.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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