Dive in the Sun (6 page)

He checked the cutter and then laid the knife-edge on the first thick strand. Slowly and methodically he began to cut away the wire, snipping and sawing out the sections of the net in the shape of a giant inverted ‘V’, leaving the apex intact against the boat’s snout. It began to get darker, the water above and around him changing to a dark, mottled blue, and he lost all sense of time. His life and his thoughts were concentrated on the net and the cutter, which grew heavier and stiffer in his aching grasp. The muscles in his back protested at every move, and his hands felt raw and ice-cold. Once, in order to grip the cutter with two hands, he lost his footing on the net, and the weight of the heavy instrument dragged him downwards past the boat, before he could pull himself against the rough wire and drag himself painfully back to the widening hole, his blood pumping in his skull.

Somehow he finished, and with a savage gulp at his air-supply, he hacked away the last strand. With a tired shudder the panel of wire folded over away from the boat, and their way was clear. He felt the boat begin to move, and slipping and sliding along the hull, he guided her through, holding the savage, torn wires clear of the hull until the net suddenly vanished astern in the gathering gloom.

He returned the cutter and wearily groped his way into the open hatch.

So weak was he by that time that he had to make several attempts to clamp down the hatch, and as he lowered his body on to the “heads”, he made the last effort and turned down the valve-handle.

Mesmerized, he watched dully as the water began to fall away and some of the pressure on his chest started to subside.

Still dazed, he saw the watertight door open and felt Curtis opening and removing his face-piece. He couldn’t hold the
cup
of tea which was offered him, but sat, shaking like a child, as Curtis held it to his lips.

‘Well done, Ian! Very well done!’ Curtis sank back on his haunches as if removed from some terrible doubt.

The others called from the control-room, and Jervis gave a slow grin. ‘Boy, it’s damp outside!’ was all he managed to say.

The next minutes dragged by as the boat moved cautiously across the wide harbour approaches. Each man concentrated on his job except Jervis, who lay back limply in his wet suit, eyes closed, his thoughts resting not on the last net, but the one ahead.

Curtis checked his notebook once more and glanced at the clock.

‘Take her up. Periscope depth.’

Duncan eyed him quickly before turning back to his instruments.

He thinks I’ll do the same again, thought Curtis, a sudden spasm of white-hot rage coursing through him. Damn him!

He lifted the periscope slowly, squinting frantically to accustom his eyes to the dusk and the distorted movement of the low wave-tops. For a while he could see nothing. Then, as he swung the thin tube in a narrow arc, he caught his breath sharply. The high side of a ship loomed darkly to one side, a mooring-buoy nodding gently at its stem. He lowered the periscope and waited until they had passed the silent ship. Probably a merchantman moored in readiness to leave by daylight.

The motor whined steadily, and at a painful crawl they moved deeper and further into the harbour. When he raised the periscope again he caught a glimpse of a tall, white tower shimmering eerily on the end of a long breakwater. He measured the distance and bearing rapidly, and waited for his next look before making a decision.

‘Just coming up to the main entrance,’ he spoke tersely. ‘Steer oh-one-five! Keep her steady at periscope depth, the bottom’s fallen to only five fathoms hereabouts!’

He raised the periscope once more and watched the white tower fading into the distance. A small, dark shape rounded
the
end of the breakwater, and the steady beat of her powerful diesels throbbed through the submarine’s hull, making them stiffen into a fresh alertness.

Narrowly Curtis watched the boat swinging towards him. The white finger of a searchlight stabbed once, twice, and three times, casting quick, furtive beams across the still hulls of sleeping ships alongside the tangle of jetties and wharves.

‘Patrol boat,’ he said softly. ‘Probably hasn’t got any Asdic——’ He bit his lip, as a sharp, metallic ping echoed along the hull. The submarine turned like a boxer to parry the thrust, so that her narrow beam was in the path of the probing detector.

The patrol boat’s engines faded away across the harbour, and Curtis took another look. The traffic was getting thicker. Two small launches putt-putted across his vision, and a lumbering coaster glided past towards the harbour mouth, a low plume of black smoke darkening the night sky.

Twice more they ducked to avoid anchored ships, and once they sweated painfully as the hull scraped against a mooring-buoy.

The lens of the periscope suddenly filled with red light as a lamp stabbed out ahead. Then, as he watched, the long shape of a destroyer began to slide across the main harbour towards another ship, the one which had flashed the light.

Curtis paused to dash the sweat from his eyes. This was a bit of unexpected luck. They must be getting near the next net, and the outward bound destroyer was having the gate opened for her.

‘Get ready to give me full speed! As soon as the gate’s opened, I’m going to make a dash for it!’

Jervis sat up immediately, his eyes searching. ‘Won’t they pick up our motor, at full revs?’

Curtis was pressing the hoist-switch again and shook his head briefly. ‘No, the big chap’ll drown ours!’

Suppose we can’t make it before the boom-gate vessel closes the gap? A cold chill ran across his neck. We
have
to make it!

The destroyer’s engines thundered through the boat,
making
the instruments chatter and vibrate like mad things. Curtis saw the long, grey shape slide past, the froth already mounting at her stem.

‘Full ahead! Steer oh-two-oh!’

He had said it. They were suddenly moving more rapidly towards the narrow opening in the gate. The buoys which supported the nets bobbed darkly, like the heads of tired swimmers, and the boom-vessel grew larger and sharper in detail. He could see her long, spindley funnel and the bulky shapes of her winches and hoisting gear. He heard clearly the thud of her engine as she began to draw the buoys together again.

We’re not going to make it! He watched in rising anguish, as the gap became narrower and more distorted.

He could see the rust-dappled sides of the ship, and caught the glow of a cigarette from her narrow bridge. Thirty feet, fifteen feet, there seemed to be no entrance any more.

He saw the high, jagged stem rising over him like an axe, and wanted to hide his eyes from the impenetrable wall of metal which loomed across their path in a solid barrier.

‘Hard a-starboard!’ His voice was a sob.

He saw the vessel sheer away, and heard the grate of metal along the hull, as the casing ground against one of the buoys. A final jerk, which made Taylor gasp and cling more fiercely to the wheel, and then they were curving round, away from the net. They were through.

‘In!’ said Curtis. He couldn’t trust his voice for more.

Duncan spoke from between his teeth, ‘Well, there’s no turning back now, is there?’

‘Was there ever?’ Jervis was massaging his raw hands and watching Duncan curiously.

Duncan laughed shortly. ‘Could be, Ian. Could be.’

At minimum speed the boat prowled across the harbour, while Curtis hurriedly checked the chart and measured the distances between the piers and jetties. Jervis knelt at his side, studying Curtis’s quick, skilful movements.

‘You did that for
me
, didn’t you, Skipper? You didn’t want me to go out and cut another net?’ He spoke very quietly and saw Curtis stiffen.

Curtis turned his face so that they were only inches apart. ‘Questions! Nothing but damn questions! For Christ’s sake shut up and let me get on with my job!’

Jervis coloured, and lowered himself shakily to the deck. Duncan glanced casually at him and shrugged. ‘A hard life, ain’t it?’

Curtis twisted a pencil between his strong fingers and closed his eyes tightly, forcing his reeling thoughts to grapple with the attack. Jervis, the young fool! Did he really think I wanted to make it easier for him? Hadn’t it occurred to him that I can’t stand the suspense of waiting any longer? Steve knew. He sees right through me. He knows I can’t hold out much longer.

He crawled back to the periscope and raised it cautiously, thinking as he did so how quiet it seemed in the boat.

The long grey finger of the loading jetty lay before him, its sharp outline broken in places by the bulky shapes of moored vessels. They passed softly down the side of a high freighter, a dim arc-lamp giving him a quick view of some army lorries lashed across her decks. The lamplight filtered across the water in a pale silver sheen, too weak to endanger the tiny black stick which moved so purposefully through the uneasy, lapping wavelets.

They don’t seem to be very worried about the blackout here, he thought absently; perhaps the Allied invasion has been delayed. Surely something must be happening in the south by now. ‘Damn!’ He pressed the button as another patrol boat chugged slowly amongst the ships. Some uniformed figures squatted around a small gun on the boat’s foredeck, their uniform buttons glinting under the arc-lamp.

He listened to the engine fading away, and Taylor began to whistle softly between his teeth.

Curtis took another quick look and edged the boat even closer to the nearest merchantman.

The submarine sank like a sounding whale, and dipped under the ship’s fat bilge, scraping the sand and muck on the harbour bottom, and once, with a sharp metallic screech, actually colliding with the stonework of the jetty.

Silently the boat settled on the bottom and the engine died away.

‘We there?’ Duncan sat back heavily in his small seat.

‘The dock is about fifty feet ahead of us.’

Curtis’s words dropped like pebbles in a still pool. He waited while each of the crew digested them.

‘What’ll we do, Skipper?’ Jervis suddenly checked himself, afraid that Curtis would turn on him again. But his captain merely looked at him unseeingly and bit his lip.

‘There doesn’t seem to be much water here.’ Duncan spoke slowly, as if he, too, were being cautious. ‘If that flamin’ dock is a bit low in the water, we might find it a bit of a squeeze!’

‘We’re going in now! We’ve got to drop a charge at each end of the target, to make quite sure!’ He turned to Jervis. ‘Get into the “W and D”, Ian; you might have to go out and assist things in a minute.’

The submarine moved forward once more. Curtis counted off the seconds, visualizing the giant, factory-shaped floating dock towering over them. There was a sharp metallic clang, and the control-room rocked violently.

‘We’re underneath,’ he announced flatly.

‘Christ, they must be bloody deaf up there!’ The words were forced from Taylor’s twisted lips. His whole face looked sunken and shone with sweat.

The boat stopped.

Curtis checked the fuse-settings of the charges and began to wind the big basket-wheel on the port side. They heard the charge fall away, and each man imagined the deadly shape falling like a giant leaf, to settle practically alongside the hull.

They began to bump their way along the bottom of the dock, Curtis checking the time and trying to estimate when they had covered about three hundred feet.

‘Stand by!’

Curtis swung the starboard release wheel and held his breath. Overhead he could hear the steady beat of several engines, probably generators on the dock, or maybe some repairs being carried out.

‘Charge gone!’

Curtis looked wildly around the control-room as a fresh grating on the hull cut the words from his mouth. The boat
shivered
and settled down again. There was a strange groan from the metal overhead.

Duncan sat bolt upright. ‘Jesus! They’re floodin’ the dock! We’ll be pinned underneath an’ go up with the charges!’

Curtis pulled desperately at his jacket, as if stifling to death. ‘Full ahead!’ He tapped Taylor sharply on the arm, so that the man jumped in his seat. ‘Use the wheel all you can to free us!’

The motor whined and shuddered on its bed, and as the sturdy little hull twisted under power and rudder they heard the clinging pressure of the massive dock on their casing, as it tried to hold and destroy its own killer.

Through the glass ports in the periscope dome Curtis saw a break in the black wall of disturbed mud and overhanging shadows. One more thrust. We’ve
got
to get clear!

Over his shoulder he said, ‘Watch it, Steve! Don’t let her break surface and give the whole game away!’

‘Hark who’s talking!’ Duncan’s voice sounded breathless with the effort of controlling the boat’s savage motion. ‘I guess I’m not in the mood for a ruddy sermon!’ he added jerkily.

Curtis momentarily forgot the danger and the grinding of metal against the hull. A wave of sickness coursed through his taut limbs, and he stared wildly at the other man’s intent and angry face.

‘What did you mean by that?’ He had to hold his stooped body close to the periscope to prevent himself from falling. ‘What the hell are you implying?’

‘Forget it till later!’

‘Damn you! I’m asking you now!’ His voice rose to a shout, and Taylor wrenched his eyes from the compass to stare miserably from one to the other.

Curtis reached out and gripped Duncan’s shoulder. ‘Come on, spit it out while you’ve got the chance! Tell me what you’ve been thinking all this time! Now’s your chance to get it off your ruddy chest!’ He glared round the boat, seeing only a misty picture of the wet, glistening plates and Taylor’s bent shoulders at the wheel. Of Jervis’s white face framed in the open door, and lastly Duncan’s tight lips and lowered head.
As
the Australian remained silent, Curtis shook his shoulder and shouted even louder. ‘You think I’m scared, lost my nerve, is that it? Or are you afraid to tell me that I’m a murderer, too?’ He fell back weakly, his blue eyes suddenly dead.

Duncan’s hands were rigid. ‘I said forget it, Ralph. For Christ’s sake get a hold of yourself.’ His tone had changed and he sounded uneasy. ‘Right now, I guess we have a job to finish. The rest’ll keep.’