Alistair MacLean Sea Thrillers 4-Book Collection: San Andreas, The Golden Rendezvous, Seawitch, Santorini

‘Turbulence aft must have died away quite a lot by this time. That should make him happy.’

‘He’s lowered his glasses,’ Naseby said. ‘Message coming.’

The message didn’t say whether the U-boat captain was happy or not but it did hold a certain degree of satisfaction. ‘Man says we are very wise,’ Naseby said. ‘Also orders us to lower our gangway immediately.’

‘Acknowledge. Tell Ferguson to start lowering the gangway immediately but to stop it about, say, eight feet above the water. Then tell Curran and Trent to swing out the lifeboat and lower it to the same height.’

Naseby relayed both messages, then said: ‘You think we’re going to need the lifeboat?’

‘I quite honestly have no idea. But if we do, we’re going to need it in a hurry.’ He called the engine-room and asked for Patterson.

‘Chief? Bo’sun here. We’re slowing a bit, as you know, but that’s only for the moment. The U-boat is closing in on us. We’re lowering both the gangway and the lifeboat, the gangway on the U-boat’s instructions, the lifeboat on mine … No, they can’t see the lifeboat – it’s on our port side, their blind side. As soon as they are in position I’m going to ask for full power. A request, sir. If I do have to use the boat I’d appreciate it if you’d permit Mr Jamieson to come with me. With your gun.’ He listened for a few moments while the receiver crackled in his ear, then said: ‘Two things, sir. I want Mr Jamieson because apart from yourself and Naseby he’s the only member of the crew I can trust. Show him where the safety-catch is. And no, sir, you know damn well you can’t come along instead of Mr Jamieson. You’re the officer commanding and you can’t leave the San Andreas.’ McKinnon replaced the receiver and Naseby said, plaintive reproach in his voice: ‘You might have asked me.’

McKinnon looked at him coldly. ‘And who’s going to steer this damned ship when I’m gone?’

Naseby sighed. ‘There’s that, of course, there’s that. They seem to be preparing some kind of boarding party across there, Archie. Three more men on the conning-tower now. They’re armed with sub-machine-guns or machine-pistols or whatever you call those things. Something nasty, anyway.’

‘We didn’t expect roses. How’s Ferguson coming along? If that gangway doesn’t start moving soon the U-boat captain is going to start getting suspicious. Worse, he’s going to start getting impatient.’

‘I don’t think so. At least, not yet awhile. I can see Ferguson so I’m certain the U-boat captain can too. Ferguson’s having difficulty of some kind, he’s banging away at the lowering drum with a hammer. Icing trouble for a certainty.’

‘See how the boat’s getting on, will you?’

Naseby crossed the bridge, moved out on to the port wing and was back in seconds. ‘It’s down. About eight feet above the water, as you asked.’ He crossed to the starboard wing, examining the U-boat through his binoculars, lowered them and turned back to McKinnon.

‘That’s bloody funny. All those characters seem to be wearing some kind of gas-masks.’

‘Gas-masks? Are you all right?’

‘Certainly I’m all right. They’re all wearing a horseshoe-shaped kind of life-jacket around their necks with a corrugated hose attached to the top. They’re not wearing it at the moment, it’s dangling down in front, but there’s a mouthpiece and goggles attached to the end of the tube. When did German submariners start using gas?’

‘They don’t. What good on earth would gas be to a U-boat?’ He took Naseby’s binoculars, examined the U-boat briefly and handed the glasses back. ‘Tauchretter, George, Tauchretter. Otherwise known as the Dräger Lung. It’s fitted with an oxygen cylinder and a carbon dioxide canister and its sole purpose is to help people escape from a sunken submarine.’

‘No gas?’ Naseby sounded vaguely disappointed.

‘No gas.’

‘That doesn’t look like a sunken submarine to me.’

‘Some U-boat commanders make their crews wear them all the time they’re submerged. Bit pointless in these waters, I would have thought. At least six hundred feet deep here, maybe a thousand. There’s no way you can escape from those depths, Dräger set or not. How’s Ferguson coming along?’

‘As far as I can tell, he’s not. Still hammering away. No, wait a minute, wait a minute. He’s put the hammer down and is trying the release lever. It’s moving, Archie. It’s coming down.’

‘Ah!’ McKinnon rang for full power.

Some seconds passed, then Naseby said: ‘Half way.’ A similar length of time elapsed, then Naseby said in the same matter-of-fact voice: ‘It’s down, Archie. Eight feet, give or take. Ferguson’s secured it.’

McKinnon nodded and spun the wheel to starboard until he had maximum rudder on. Slowly, ponderously at first, then with increasing speed, the San Andreas began to come round.

‘Do you want to get your head blown off, George?’

‘Well, no.’ Naseby stepped inside, closed the wing door behind him and peered out through the little window in the door. The San Andreas, no longer riding with the sea, was beginning to corkscrew, although only gently so: but the entire superstructure was beginning to vibrate in a rather alarming fashion as the engines built up to maximum power.

‘And don’t you think you ought to lie down?’

‘In a minute, Archie, in a minute. Do you think they’ve gone to sleep aboard that U-boat?’

‘Some trouble with their eyes, that’s for sure. I think they’re rubbing them and not believing what they’re seeing.’

Except that there was no actual eye-rubbing going on aboard the U-boat, McKinnon’s guess was very close to the mark. The reactions of both the submarine commander and his crew were extraordinarily slow. Extraordinarily, but in the circumstances, understandably. The U-boat’s crew had made both the forgivable and unforgivable mistake of relaxing, of lowering their guard at the precise moment when their alertness and sense of danger should have been honed to its keenest edge. But the sight of the gangway being lowered in strict compliance with their orders must have convinced them that there was no thought or possibility of any resistance being offered and that the taking over of the San Andreas was no more than a token formality. Besides, no one in the history of warfare had ever heard of a hospital ship being used as an offensive weapon. It was unthinkable. It takes time to rethink the unthinkable.

The San Andreas was so far round now that the U-boat was no more than 45° off the starboard bow. Naseby moved from the starboard wing door to the nearest small window let into the front of the bridge.

‘They’re lining up what it pleases you to call that little itsy-bitsy gun, Archie.’

‘Then maybe we’d both better be getting down.’

‘No. They’re not lining up on the bridge, they’re lining up on the hull aft. I don’t know what they intend to –’ He broke off 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?’