That shook him. For a moment I thought he was about to make a dramatic exit from the bridge in haughty Spanish style. Then a curious look crossed his face and he said, ‘I will announce my decision to the captain of the Almirante Storni' 'You do that,' I rejoined.
He came closer to where I stood. I ignored him and said over my shoulder to Kay, 'Stand by, will you? In a moment I'll want the optimum sail trim and rudder angles for the first mark. I'll also do a spot check with Paul right away.'
The destroyer's movements would determine any counter measures that became necessary in my plan. Only Paul could actually see what the warship was doing.
But Grohman was not finished. 'Your actions are an insult to my country's Navy’ he threw at me.
'Let Captain Irizar tell me that, not you. You are an officer under my command. Either you go along with me, or you don't. Take your choice — now.'
'I repeat my protest. You are risking the ship and its crew. I protest.'
'I'll log your protest officially. Now stand back.' I then consulted Brockton via the intercom about the destroyer's movements.
My immediate problem was to get the ship moving as fast as possible before turning head-on to face the Almirante Storni in The Narrows, and get Jetwind there to coincide with the warship's arrival. There were a series of predetermined marker points — the summits of the four hillocks which lay on the spit of land between the inner and outer anchorages. Jetwind's first leg being downwind, the optimum course was less critical than what Paul could tell me about the warship's movements. 'Paul, what's new?'
'First way-point, Goldsworthy Rock, abeam. Optimum speed made good, five knots. On course. Evaluation, ninety-five per cent of optimum performance. Some slight trim needed…'
'Skip it,' I interrupted. 'She's running near enough on target. What's our friend up to?'
'She's burning enough lights to make her look like Coney Island,' he replied. 'That flasher amidships is the complete give-away. Any moment now, she'll be making her turn to approach the entrance — hold it, here she comes — she's coming round, round…'
The warship was now obviously committing herself to the northern extremity of The Narrows, manoeuvring probably by the leading beacons on the mainland in order to pick her line through the gap. From her present position she would be able to sight one light — that of Engineer Point — but the second, opposite on Navy Point, would be obscured. While that light remained obscured, we would remain invisible.
'Destroyer steadying on new course’ reported Paul. 'One-eight-five degrees.'
That was the recommended approach to the port from seawards. The move brought the Almiranie Storni facing bow-on towards Jetwind’s port side.
I had a sudden fear about Grohman giving the game away. I wheeled round. He was standing near the door leading to the radio office; he seemed to have an air of controlled purpose. I fixed him with a stare while I spoke to the radio operator by phone.
'Arno! No transmissions without my express orders until the ship is clear of the land — understood?' 'Aye, aye, sir.' 'Any signals coming in?' 'Strong radar transmission, sir.' 'Relative bearing?'
He rattled off a series of figures which confirmed that Almirante Storni was using an instrumented as well as visual approach. Nonetheless, the destroyer was not yet fully committed to The Narrows. She was in deep water on its outer approaches. I knew she drew five and a half metres, and the depths all round her now were a comfortable ten to eleven metres. This meant that she could, if necessary, still turn safely and intercept Jetwind. Further towards the entrance gap, however, was where I aimed to put the cork in the bottle. Although the water was deep in the centre channel of The Narrows — over fifteen metres — it fell away on either side close to both Navy and Engineer Points to under five metres. Once in this channel, the destroyer could not turn without grounding. Another hazard was a broad fringe of kelp along this shallow line; if she did attempt a turn and tangled with the kelp her engine intakes would jam within minutes.
The kelp constituted a hazard for us as well, I reminded myself grimly, and even more so. It fringed a lee shore, the sailing ship's traditional nightmare. Jetwind could easily be thrust helplessly against the land by the powerful wind which was now blowing from astern but would come abeam once she made her own turn to negotiate The Narrows.
Chapter 15
Jetwind drove on and gathered speed. She had roughly a kilometre to go before making her turn into The Narrows. She was now between the first and second way-points or shore-line markers.
‘Paul…' I started, wanting more information, but he interrupted me.
'What gives down there, Peter?' he burst out. 'Is this tub dragging lead from her ass? You're only sailing seventy-five per cent of potential! You'll never make The Narrows in time for the warship! And she's running right on schedule! At this rate she'll be through before you make your approach turn! Give her the gun, man!'
Kay saw the look on my face at Paul's news. In one stride I was at Tideman's console. Six knots, I read.
'Kay! John!' I snapped. 'Something's wrong! She should be doing eight knots by now!'
Tideman indicated the wind direction indicator. "The wind's changing — it's veered ten degrees astern.'
'We've struck a flat spot in her sailing performance,' Kay added, 'The wind's too far aft for her to be at her best — it's almost dead astern now.'
'The after sails are blanketing those for'ard at this angle of wind,' said Tideman. 'The proper way to cope would be to tack downwind to increase her speed.' 'I can't tack in these confined waters,' I replied. 'Kay?' I hoped she might come up with some solution.
'She's doing the best she can under the circumstances,' she replied. 'Stealing the wind.'
Perhaps my acute anxiety threw the fragment of old clipper lore to the forefront of my mind. When the clippers found themselves in such a situation they reefed the sails aft to allow a flow of air to those in front. I couldn't vouch for the aerodynamics of such a tactic, but I knew it had worked. There was no time now to discuss the merits of such a method.
'Reef all sails on Number Five and Six masts aft!' I ordered Tideman.
As his fingers reached for the control switches, Kay protested. 'No, Peter, no! It won't work!'
I would know in a moment. 'Paul,' I said, 'give me a minute-by-minute speed read-out.'
It was impossible to tell simply by feel whether my desperation throw had come off. We waited. Then Paul's voice came through. 'Six and a half knots.' Was it working or was it purely a momentary fluctuation of wind which had won us the extra half knot? 'Where's the destroyer, Paul?' 'Abreast Tussac Point.'
'Ah!' The cork was heading for the neck of the bottle! Where she was now, the warship could still turn for a pursuit, but within the next few hundred metres the shallows would lock her in.
'She's slowing — down to about four knots. Guess she's feeling her way.'
Then he exclaimed excitedly. 'Hey! Seven knots on the log — picking up, what's more.'
After what seemed an eternity, Paul reported again. 'Eight and a half knots nearer nine. Second way-point now abeam.'
Half a kilometre now to our turn! Then the direction of the wind would switch to abeam, Jetwind's best sailing conditions. Then I would throw in the full power of the after sails as well as the royals, now reefed out of sight at her mast-heads. The time for concealment would then be over. We would be in full view of the destroyer through The Narrows entrance.
I gave Kay a knowing smile and she responded with a thumbs-up sign.
When I spoke again to Paul, my voice was hoarse with strain. 'Paul — what's happening out there?'
'Target half a kilometre, maybe a little more, north of The Narrows.'
The cork was in the bottle! The warship could no longer turn to pursue us!
The two ships converged on the narrow gap from opposite directions — the warship at four knots and Jetwind driving along now at over ten. 'Way-point three abeam,' reported Paul. The final marker!
The next crucial stage was our ninety-degree turn into the mouth of The Narrows.
I waited. The silent dark bridge waited. Grohman was drawn to the vicinity of the wheel by my terse orders. Suddenly a shore light stood out to port. Navy Point!
My heart raced as I made out beyond it a white masthead light. Silhouetting upperworks and guns, a flashing light also swept into view. The Almirante Storni! Now she could see us!
Grohman let out an oath in Spanish. 'There she is, Captain Rainier. It will be better for you to stop playing games now.' 'Set the royals! All sail! All sail!' I ordered. 'How far to our turn, Paul?' 'One hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty metres.' 'Speed?' 'Ten and a half knots — nudging eleven.'
'Stand by!' I told Jim Yell at the wheel. I felt him tense. Tideman's eyes left his instruments and he gave me a long inquiring look. What I did next was anyone's guess. 'Ready about!' I snapped. 'Turn!' It was Paxil. 'Down helm!' Jim Yell spun the spokes. 'Steer zero-zero-five!' 'Kay-quick!'
She rapid-fired our predetermined calculations; I passed them on to Tideman. ' Sail trim — thirty degrees! 'Rudder angle — thirty degrees! 'Course angle to true wind — seventy degrees! 'Angle of inflow of sail — ten degrees!'
The low loom of Engineer Point and its light — twin to Navy Point — came up out of the half light, fronted by the fatal barrier of kelp. It wasn't more than 100 metres away. We must not be pushed sideways into it. 'Drift?' I inquired peremptorily. 'Ten degrees.' Jetwind swung at right angles towards the mouth of The Narrows. The wind switched abeam. Then it happened.
I had not taken into account just how powerful were her aerofoils. I felt the smash of the gale and her wild lunge all at once. Jetwind went over on her side.
The bridge canted steeply to starboard. Tideman, Kay, Grohman and myself were nearly thrown off our feet.
I grabbed a console and hung on. 'Kay, how far can she go over?' 'Nine degrees maximum!'
Tideman intoned levelly, 'Eight and a half degrees inclination!'
'Let go something;, Peter!' Kay cried out. 'Half her freeboard is under! She's going clean over!'
But Jetwind did not. She spun round in a racing turn, shook herself upright, put her bows into one of the open-sea rollers coming through The Narrows in a burst of spray, and leapt forward as if I'd thrown a throttle wide. It was a fantastic, exhilarating performance.
Jetwind straightened still further as Tideman adjusted the yards. She tore at the gap. Twelve — nearly thirteen knots. 'All lights on!' I ordered. 'Burn all sidelights!'
Now I wanted the Almirante Storni to see Jetwind. It was part of my plan.
There was no doubt now that she had spotted us. The warship's silhouette elongated slightly as she turned aside a trifle to give Jetwind legal right of way — as little as she dared in that narrow channel. 'Paul?' I said tentatively. 'Yeah?' 'I myself am eye-balling the situation from now on’ 'jeez!' He let out a whoop. 'Whaddayaknow!'
A warning flare fired from the destroyer bathed the choppy waters in a baleful glare. The wind caught the floating light and carried it towards Jetwind. The climax, and crucial stage, of my plan was at hand.
In a minute or two the warship would be abeam Navy Point. We raced on for the next 200 metres or so to accelerate to maximum speed. We were heading — correctly, as the rule of the road required — on the side of The Narrows opposite the warship. Jetwind was now logging fourteen knots — soon she would make more. Under any circumstances The Narrows would be a tight fit for two ships, especially one being a sailer and travelling at Jetwind’s speed. The warship itself was not doing more than five knots. I set my secret plan in motion.
'Down helm — a point and a half!' I snapped. Then, to Tideman, 'Brace up all yards two points!'
Next, 'Reef the main-courses on all masts! Up, up, up!'
'Peter! In God's name, what are you doing!’ Kay exclaimed.
The checks and balances my plan required were razor-edged.
'Stow all main-yards — loading positions! Keep the fore-yard as it is!'
All lower yards were now flush with their masts as for cargo stowage, except the fore-yard from whose tip dangled the anchor. 'You're going to ram her!' gasped Tideman.
Jetwind bulleted towards the Almirante Storni, port side to port side — the side supporting the stay-mast supporting her electronic search gear. The idea may have been in Grohman's mind all along; certainly it was precipitated into action by Tideman's exclamation.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw his sudden movement. He reached for the 'chicken button' in its scarlet switchbox.
One touch of that button and the emergency explosive charges would blast away Jetwind's top-gallant and royal masts. She would go wildly out of control. Then anything could happen.
Grohman's fingers tugged at the clip securing the switchbox's glass panel. 'Grohman!'
I must have yelled, moved and hit him all at once. Certainly I have no recollection of three separate movements. The blow caught him at the curve of his jaw and neck, below his right ear. He sprawled untidily in front of the helmsman.
'Keep your eyes on your course!' I said automatically. With Jim Yell such a warning was superfluous.
I regained my balance and faced round. Tideman, with iron will, kept his eyes fixed on the warship ahead. All the colour had gone from Kay's face.
Jetwind's bow now pointed obliquely at Almirante Storm's. From that angle we would cut her in half just for'ard of her bridge.
I threw open Jetwind's bridge window for maximum vision. The warship's siren screamed above the roar of the gale. 'Up helm half a point!'
Jetwind's knifing bow veered slightly away from its target. High above it, all of thirty metres of the fore-yard projected over both sides of the ship. I had to go in close for the yard and its killer anchor to do its job. Too close, and both ships would sink after colliding; too far, and Jetwind's game would be up. 'Port, a couple of spokes!'
Tideman's choice of helmsman had been brilliant. Jim Yell was licking his dry lips, but standing up to my orders like the cool veteran he was. Jetwind drove at the warship.
'Hold her off’ I ordered Yell. 'Just graze the destroyer's stay with the yard-arm.'
When a collision seemed inevitable, Jetwind straightened out at the last moment. The distance between the warship's low side and Jetwind's high storm gunnels appeared to be paper thin. But Jetwind headed past.
I saw an officer on the other bridge screaming and brandishing his fists. All the time the warship's siren whooped like mad.
The yard-arm swept over the destroyer's side. I saw men on the bridge dive for cover as the anchor flailed at them. They weren't my target.
The anchor struck the warship's steel deck in a shower of sparks as she rose on a wave. It ricocheted high.
I shouted my orders as it struck the stay and snagged fast. 'Starboard! Two points! Hold her off!' There was a violent jerk. For a moment I thought the stay mast would hold, and the two ships, passing each other at a combined speed of nearly twenty knots, would be dragged together. They hung for an undecided millisecond, then the stay ripped loose. A few millions' worth of radar, radio antennae, and all the complex electronics of a modern warship were ripped out like a rotten tooth. A shower of debris scattered along the torpedo and depth-charge platform aft.
Jetwind was free. — The Almirante Storni fell astern, blind, helpless, emasculated.
The silence was broken by Paul's voice, stunned and hoarse with admiration. 'Now the shit will hit the fan!'
Jetwind drove clear of The Narrows, clear for Cape Pembroke and the open sea beyond, clear for Gough and the Cape.
Chapter 16
'Suspended First Officer Anton Grohman on grounds of…'
I stopped writing and stared at the ship's formal log. On grounds of… what? I looked round my cabin where the previous night we had held our council of war before Jetwind's break-out. It seemed light years away instead of a mere twelve hours. The illusion of night was still present, however, because of the storm —
it was dark enough to need electric light. '… grounds of… dereliction of duty?'
Would any official inquiry consider that Grohman had failed in his duty by trying to stop his captain carrying out a crazy, outrageous action against a warship of a friendly power?
I scrapped the phrase and lit another cigarette. I wanted to get shot of the Grohman problem and return to Jetwind's bridge. In the insulated confines of the cabin I could not share in the splendid exhilaration of feeling the ship tear along at eighteen knots or hear the mad music of the mounting gale. Even the motion of the ship was damped, it seemed. Even I was surprised at how steady a platform the deck presented. Her mighty sail plan — I was carrying everything to royals — was holding the ship against the bursting wave crests just as spoilers and aerofoils hold down a Grand Prix racer against a track.
We were clear of the land mass of the Falklands now. With the forty-knot gale holding abaft her starboard beam — her best point of sailing — Jetwind seemed determined to show exactly what she was capable of. Blast Grohman!
I sat down and wrote quickly without pausing to weigh the words too judicially:
‘… on grounds of endangering the safety of the ship and the lives of the crew.'
Which, I thought ironically, had been exactly what Pd done. There was a peremptory knock at the cabin door. 'Come in!'
It was Grohman. I snapped the log book shut. I had already passed judgement on him. I scarcely wanted to hear his story.
His quick move across to my desk had something of a South American jaguar in it — lithe, muscular, sinister. I could almost imagine muscles rippling under his tight black polo-necked sweater. The collar did not reach high enough to mask the bruise and swelling on his jawbone where I had hit him.
'You're going ahead with this crazy business?' he blurted before I had time to speak.
'Listen,' I snapped. 'I don't consider I owe you any more explanations. As for an answer, take a look at Jetwind's course.' 'You are still in Malvinas' territorial waters.'
A Ravel of Waters Page 12
