LITMIR.BIZ

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and shouted: ‘No! No! Get down, get down!’ and flung himself at McKinnon, bringing both men crashing heavily to the deck of the bridge. Even as they landed, hundreds of bullets, to the accompaniment of the staccato chattering of several machine-guns, smashed into the fore end and starboard side of the bridge. None of the bullets succeeded in penetrating the metal but all four windows were smashed. The fusillade lasted no more than three seconds and had no sooner ceased when the U-boat’s deck gun fired three times in rapid succession, on each occasion causing the San Andreas to shudder as the shells exploded somewhere in the after hull.

      McKinnon hauled himself to his feet and took the wheel. ‘If I’d been standing there I’d have been very much the late Archie McKinnon. I’ll thank you tomorrow.’ He looked at the central window before him. It was holed, cracked, starred, abraded and completely opaque. ‘George?’

      But Naseby needed no telling. Fire-extinguisher in hand, he smashed away the entire window in just two blows. He hitched a cautious eye over the bottom of where the window had been, saw that the San Andreas was arrowing in on the bows of the U-boat, then abruptly straightened in the instinctive reaction of a man who realizes that all danger is past.

      ‘Conning-tower’s empty, Archie. They’ve all gone. Bloody funny, isn’t it?’

      ‘Nothing funny about it.’ The Bo’sun’s tone was dry; if he was in any way moved or shaken by the narrowness of his recent escape he showed no signs of it. ‘It’s customary, George, to go below and pull down the hatch after you when you’re going to dive. In this case, crash dive.’

      ‘Crash dive?’

      ‘Captain has no option. He knows he hasn’t the firepower to stop us and he can’t possibly bring his torpedoes to bear. Right now he’s blowing all main ballast. See those bubbles? That’s water being blown from the ballast tanks by high pressure air – something like three thousand pounds per square inch.’

      ‘But – but he’s left his gun crew on deck.’

      ‘Indeed he has. Again, no option. A U-boat is much more valuable than the lives of three men. See those valves they’re twisting on the right-hand side of their suits? Oxygen valves. They’re turning their Dräger lungs into life jackets. Much good it will do them if they run into a propeller. Will you go out on the wings, George, and see if there’s any flame or smoke aft.’

      ‘You could phone.’

      McKinnon pointed to the phone in front of the wheel, a phone that had been shattered by a machine gun bullet. Naseby nodded and went out on both wings in turn.

      ‘Nothing. Nothing you can see from the outside.’ He looked ahead towards the U-boat, not much more than a hundred yards distant. ‘She’s going down, Archie. Fore and aft decks are awash.’

      ‘I can see that.’

      ‘And she’s turning away to her starboard.’

      ‘I can see that, too. Counsel of desperation. He’s hoping that if he can turn his sub at an acute enough angle to us he’ll be struck only a glancing blow. A glancing blow he could survive. I think.’

      ‘Hull’s submerged now. Is he going to make it?’

      ‘He’s left it too late.’ McKinnon rang down for full astern and eased the wheel slightly to port. Five seconds later, with the top of the conning tower barely awash, the forefoot of the San Andreas tore into the hull of the U-boat some thirty feet for’ard of the conning tower. The San Andreas juddered throughout its length but the overall effect of the impact was curiously small. For a period of not more than three seconds they felt rather than heard the sensation of steel grinding over steel, then all contact was abruptly lost.

      ‘Well,’ Naseby said, ‘so that’s how it’s done, is it?’ He paused. ‘There’s going to be a lot of jagged metal on that U-boat. If a prop hits that –’

      ‘No chance. The U-boat’s been driven down, deep down – and they’ll still be blowing main ballast. Let’s just hope we haven’t damaged ourselves too badly.’

      ‘You said the U-boat captain had no option. We didn’t either. You think there’ll be any survivors?’

      ‘I don’t know. If there are any, we’ll find out soon enough. I question very much whether they would even have had time to close watertight doors. If they didn’t, then that U-boat is on its way to the bottom. If anyone is going to escape, they’re going to have to do it before it reaches the two-hundred-and-fifty-foot mark – I’ve never heard of anyone escaping from a submarine at a depth greater than that.’

      ‘They’d have to use the conning-tower?’

      ‘I suppose. There is a for’ard escape hatch – it’s really an access hatch to the deck gun. But the chances are high that the fore part of the U-boat is completely flooded, so that’s useless. There may be an after escape hatch, I don’t know. The conning-tower is probably their best bet, or would have been if we hadn’t rammed their vessel.’

      ‘We didn’t hit anywhere near the conning-tower.’

      ‘We didn’t have to. The compressive power of something like ten thousand tons dead weight has to be pretty fierce. The conning-tower hatch may have been jammed solid. Whether it would be possible to ease it or not I wouldn’t know. Worse still, it may have sprung open and with a hundred gallons of water a second pouring down into the control room there is no way anyone is going to get out, they’d probably be battered unconscious in the first few seconds. I’m going down on deck now. Keep going round to starboard and keep her astern till you stop, then heave to. I’ll take the motorboat out as soon as you’ve lost enough way.’

      ‘What’s the point in taking the boat out if there are going to be no survivors?’

      McKinnon led him out on to the port wing and astern to where three men were floundering about in the water. ‘Those three characters. The gun crew. As far as I could tell they were only wearing overalls and oilskins. Maybe the odd jersey or two, but that would make no difference. Leave them out there another ten, fifteen minutes and they’ll just freeze to death.’

      ‘Let them. Those three bastards hit us aft three times. For all we can tell, some of those shells may have exploded inside the hospital.’

      ‘I know, George, I know. But I dare say there’s something in the Geneva Convention about it.’ McKinnon clapped him lightly on the shoulder and went below.

      Just outside the deck entrance to the hospital McKinnon found half a dozen people waiting for him – Patterson, Jamieson, Curran, Trent, McCrimmon and Stephen. Patterson said: ‘I believe we’ve been in some sort of collision, Bo’sun.’

      ‘Yes, sir. U-boat.’

      ‘And?’

      McKinnon pointed downwards. ‘I just hope we don’t go the same way. For’ard watertight bulkheads, sir?’

      ‘Of course. At once.’ He looked at McCrimmon and Stephen, who left without a word. ‘And next, Bo’sun?’

      ‘We were hit three times aft, sir. Any damage in the hospital?’

      ‘Some. All three hit the hospital area. One appears to have exploded when it passed through the bulkhead between A and B wards. Some injuries, no fatalities. Dr Sinclair is attending to them.’

      ‘Not Dr Singh?’

      ‘He was in the recovery room with the two injured seamen from the Argos. Door’s jammed and we can’t get inside.’

      ‘Shell explode in there?’

      ‘Nobody seems to know.’

      ‘Nobody seems – but that’s the next compartment to A ward. Are they all deaf in there?’

      ‘They were. It was the first shell that exploded between the two wards. That deafened them all right.’

      ‘Ah. Well, the recovery room

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