A Ravel of Waters

by Geoffery Jenkins

  'My function is to monitor the passage of Red submarines rounding Cape Horn via the Drake passage,' he replied levelly. 'The Royal Navy yachts I've sailed there have been a cover. Sonar buoys are planted in advance by R.N. ships - you remember HMS Endurance, which sheep-dogged the passage of the Whitbread Round the World yachts in those waters? It was given out that she was there in case the yachts ran into trouble. It was a bluff. Endurance and three other Navy ships belong - officially -to the British Antarctic Survey. So they have a legitimate purpose in hanging round the Drake Passage and Cape Horn. Their true function, however, is to plant secret sonar buoys which detect Red subs negotiating the Horn and relay their movements to monitoring instruments aboard Services yachts such as mine. The yacht is the perfect vehicle for the job - silent, immune from counter-detection by Red subs' underwater listening devices. Every one of the boats I have commanded has had enough secret equipment on board to make a Russian spy's mouth water. I and four sailor-paratroopers are a top secret team.' He toyed with the dagger. 'I intend to see we remain top secret.'

  'I got to hand it to you, John,' said Brockton slowly. 'It's an approach we never thought about. We're comrades-in-arms, I guess.' He reached out and shook Tideman's hand. Tideman seemed slightly embarrassed by the gesture.

  'The term comrades-in-arms implies an enemy,' I said. 'What you're doing seems rather less hostile-watch-dogs.' 'Never!' retorted Brockton. 'The Reds think in terms of

  sea denial, we in the West in terms of sea control. The Red aim is to build a naval infra-structure round the entire world - and they're busy doing it.'

  I must have looked sceptical, for he asserted, 'Let's take a look at the Drake Passage to start with. Got a chart handy?'

  I indicated one on my desk. He spread it out. It was on a small scale, showing the top of South America, Cape Horn, the ocean southward to Antarctica, and the Southern Ocean as far as the Cape of Good Hope.

  Brockton laid his hand across the sector south of Cape Horn.

  'The Drake Passage is five hundred nautical miles wide,' he said, picking his words. 'It's what we call in terms of global naval strategy a "choke point". Narrow, easily controlled access points in the oceans - such as the Strait of Hormuz leading from the Persian Gulf to the Indian Ocean, or the Gulf of Aden and the Horn of Africa, or again the Straits of Malacca at Singapore, or the Cape of Good Hope...'

  'All of them now Red dominated,' broke in Brockton. 'Hardly the Cape,' I said.

  'No?' went on Brockton. 'Sixty per cent of the West's oil flows round the Cape. What did the United States do when the Red threat was directed towards it? Gave its tacit blessing to Marxist regimes in Angola and Mozambique with their naval and air bases able to dominate the sea-way, one of the world's most important feed routes. Pah! It makes me want to throw up!'

  He looked indeed as if he wanted to throw up. But he resumed, 'The Reds gain their naval objectives by establishing puppet regimes in states adjoining strategic choke points. The way is then open for their naval squadrons - and make no mistake, there are one hell of a lot of them - to block these routes. The West is then forced to its knees and is subject to political blackmail. It's a technique they've perfected. I don't have to tell you the sorry story of each one of these global choke points - you know it already. The last one that still remains undominated is - the Drake Passage. It's a free-for-all submarine alley for American, British and Soviet nuclear-armed subs. Yet it's in mortal danger of going the way of those other choke points.'

  Tideman added gravely, 'The Drake Passage, is not a straight logistics problem, Peter. It's greatly bedevilled and complicated by political factors.'

  'You mean Argentina?'

  'Argentina is up to the neck,' he answered. 'You must get the overall picture clear. The Drake Passage is dominated geographically to the northeast by the British-owned Falklands Islands, and to the south by the South Shetland Islands, which are also British, as you know. I want you to visualize the Drake Passage problem from the point of view of deep-diving nuclear subs...'

  'Hold it for a moment, John,' Brockton broke in, 'I'm going to get something for you two to see. If I don't come back within three minutes come and look for me with that dagger of yours, John. It's as top secret as all that.'

  He jumped up and was gone. Neither Tideman nor I knew how to handle the awkward silence which followed.

  Jetwind gave me the opportunity to shift to neutral ground, so to speak. The ship gave a heavy jar as the bow slammed into a wave; the sea crashed along the deck. Both of us glanced automatically at the speed log.

  'Twenty knots,' said Tideman. 'I've never had her so fast as this before.'

  'She must be starting to steer like a bitch,' I replied. 'I hope the wheel will hold her. She's putting her head down deep. She won't achieve her true maximum this way.'

  'During the wind-tunnel tests I asked for staysails between the masts just for the sake of the steering,' he said. 'The experts all opposed the idea, Aerodynamically inefficient, they maintained. I agree with that, but it isn't the complete answer in relation to ship handling.'

  'Did Kay agree too?'

  'I think she went along with the majority because she couldn't argue against the scientific line-up without having the practical knowledge herself.'

  'What this ship needs now is some sailoring know-how ...' Then Brockton reappeared.

  I had never seen a chart like the one he smoothed out for us to examine. It was made of tissue-thin paper with a kind of silvered backing.

  It didn't need the superscription 'Zone SS 2 Top Secret' to tell me what it was all about. Undersea channels, depths, underwater mountain ranges and ocean bottom contours were all demarcated. Here and there a small cross in purple ink showed the location of an underwater electronic beacon.

  It was a nuclear submarine chart of the Drake Passage.

  Both men craned over my shoulder; Brockton was breathing heavily.

  He traced a clearly marked channel which negotiated a maze of underwater mountain peaks. 'This is the route American subs use,' he explained. 'As you see, it runs zigzag through the centre section of the Drake Passage. It's roughly one thousand fathoms or two thousand metres deep. It finally emerges here - near South Georgia in the east. That's the sort of route the Reds aim to seal.'

  Tideman added, 'The immediate Cape Horn area is no bet for the deep-diving subs - it's too shallow, only a hundred fathoms in places. They have to stay well south to negotiate the passage, beyond Diego Ramirez Island.'

  I said, 'Accordingly, that's the route your yachts took,'

  'Aye,' he agreed. 'That was the route.'

  Brockton pointed again, this time to a shallow area near the Falklands. 'This is the Burdwood Bank. It is ninety nautical miles south of the Falklands. Logistically, it's of great importance. It completely blocks the northeastern approaches to the Drake Passage as far as nuclear subs are concerned.'

  'Why?'

  'The Bank is so shallow,' Brockton replied. 'Its depth ranges from a mere forty-six to a hundred and forty-five metres'. It would be straight suicide for a nuclear sub to . attempt it - we've got the whole area, two hundred miles long and fifty wide, taped with electronic sensors.'

  'It seems to me that, tactically speaking, the West holds all the aces’ I said. 'The entire area can be air and sea patrolled from the Falklands, or from the islands on the southern and eastern flanks.'

  'I wish it were as simple as that,' answered Tideman. 'You forget that the land mass of South America at its southern tip belongs to two countries - Argentina and Chile. These two have carried on a border dispute for over a century. It flared up recently over the ownership of three tiny islands claimed by Chile which bar the eastern or Atlantic entrance to the Beagle Channel, one of the main waterways through th^ mass of islands near Cape Horn.'

  'Tiny little islands like that can't be of any value to anyone, strategically or politically,' I objected.

  'You don't know these Latin types, Peter,' said Brockton. 'They'd fight to their
last drop of blood over a sombrero if that were an emotive issue.'

  'The reason why those three little Chilean islands are so important is a question of principle,' Tideman explained. 'Argentina claims them according to the principle that she has the traditional right of access to the Atlantic Ocean. Chile equally claims right of access to the Pacific. Chile maintains a small naval base in the Beagle Channel at Puerto Williams - on one of the disputed islands.'

  I burst out laughing. 'Puerto Williams! A naval base! What a joke! I staged south to Cape Horn in Albatros past Puerto Williams - it's a tin-pot little anchorage with a couple of houses!'

  'That makes no difference,' Tideman said. 'It is the principle Argentina and Chile are disputing. The same thing applies to the Falklands. Argentina is strongly anti-British, as you no doubt gathered,' he went on with a slight smile. 'That white card business is one of the pin-pricks to keep the political pot boiling.'

  'In addition,' said Brockton, sketching a large sector on the map, 'Argentina lays claim to all this vast area from the South Sandwich Islands in the Atlantic in the east through to the Pacific side of the Drake Passage - plus all the islands along its southern flank!'

  Think of those claims in terms of nuclear sub logistics and maybe something starts to stink’ said Brockton.

  'Complete control of the Drake Passage’ I suggested.

  'Exactly’ said Tideman. 'Plus the Falklands themselves with an airfield which could be expanded to take heavy maritime reconnaissance planes. You get the picture, Peter. Also, as you know, Argentina has proclaimed a two-hundred-mile territorial limit round all the islands she claims. That makes - in their terms - the Drake Passage Argentinian waters. Add to that the entire sea-passage you flew over between the South American mainland and the Falklands.'

  'They can't be serious’ I said. 'It's surely nothing more than a lot of flag-waving.'

  'It's a great deal more than that, Peter’ said Tideman. 'Some years ago a party of Argentinian patriots who styled themselves Group Condor staged a token invasion of the Falklands after hijacking a plane and forcing it to crash-land at Stanley. The incident was finally smoothed over diplomatically but it's left a nasty aftertaste.'

  Brockton laughed. 'Just wait and see what you've stirred up by mucking about with their Almirante Storni, Peter.'

  'Just an unfortunate accident.'

  'You tell Argentina that’ he replied wryly.

  'What Washington is deeply concerned about is that the Russians may attempt to instal a pro-Red Argentinian puppet regime in the Falklands. Then, with the cooperation of Argentina, a "friendly" Soviet Navy would effectively seal the Drake Passage. The last major link in their global choke point chain would then be complete. The United States and Britain would then have been totally out-manoeuvred.'

  'There's a price tag to everything’ I replied. 'What is it in this case?'

  'The price of Argentinian cooperation would be support by Russia for her claims to the Falklands-Cape Horn area as well as for her claims against Chile in the same region -backing for the principle of sole access to the South Atlantic by Argentina.'

  'You've mentioned only Argentina’1 said. 'What about the attitude of Chile?'

  'From the Upited States' point of view, Chile seems safe enough,' answered Brockton. 'The reactionary regime there is unlikely to cooperate with the Reds. There are no naval or air bases of any significance on Chile's western Pacific coast - it's too wild and rugged southwards - which could counter closure of the Drake Passage by the Soviet Navy.'

  I eyed both men. 'Since we're putting our cards on the table, let me ask you both something. Paul, why were you so keen to travel aboard Jetwind?’

  He hesitated a fraction of a second. 'I had to know exactly what you saw when the Orion went in.'

  'That doesn't mean you had to make the run from the Falklands to the Cape.'

  'True,' he answered. 'But as I said before, a crack team from Naval Securities Group Activities was specially moved from the Azores to Tristan because of a build-up of Red signals emanating from the Southern Ocean. We lost out over the Orion's deep probe. There are no ships at all in these waters, no aircraft routes. Jetwind is a once-only chance that something might turn up.'

  'Why should it?'

  'Your route stakes us right across the area we're interested in.'

  'You weren't to know that when you first came aboard Albatros. You didn't even know then that I had been given command of Jetwind.'

  He seemed a little taken aback by my cross-questioning. 'All I had to go on was that last sighting by the Orion of a yacht whose description fitted Albatros. I played it by ear from there.'

  'What do you hope to learn still?'

  'Who knows?'

  I turned to Tideman. By hindsight later, I realized that he had had time to work on his story while Brockton was explaining his.

  'John, your stamping-ground is Cape Horn, by your own

  from it. What do you hope to get out of Jetwind? You, plus four paratroopers?'

  'Our Navy got tipped off by the U.S. Navy of a build-up in the South Atlantic,' he replied. 'We're even more handicapped by lack of ships and aircraft than the U.S. We're a shoestring outfit. Like Paul, I'm also taking a chance on something turning up.'

  There was an imperative knock at the door.

  'Come in!

  It was Arno, his face expressionless. He gave me a half-formal salute as if to underline the importance of the signal he handed to me. It was in plain language. It was from the Argentinian Navy.

  TO RAINIER, JETWIND, JWXS, POSITION...'

  I gasped - our position was stated exactly as it was half an hour before! I thought I had.brushed Jetwind’s tracks clean!

  RETURN TO PORT STANLEY IMMEDIATELY. SURRENDER TO ALMIRANTE STORNI. NONCOMPLIANCE WITH THIS ORDER WILL BE FOLLOWED BY APPROPRIATE AIR AND NAVAL ACTION.

  I read the signal over to Tideman and Brockton. Tideman noted the position fix give-away even before Brockton.

  'How the hell could the Argentinian Navy possibly know our position?'

  'It tallies with the satellite navigator's read-out barely half an hour ago,' I replied. 'I mean to find out more about this.'

  'Do you intend to comply with the order?' asked Brockton.

  'What the hell do you think?' I retorted. 'It's a bluff. "Appropriate air and naval action"!' I snorted derisively. 'In this kind of storm? This is the sort of weather to exploit the sailing ship's built-in advantage over power. We're doing better all the time. I mean to get even more out of this ship still once I get on the bridge!'

  'Good man!' Tideman said with warm sincerity.

  Brockton paced the cabin excitedly. 'We'll lick these Red sonsofbitches yet - just the three of us! No goddam Soviet Fleet is going to seal the Drake Passage!'

  My reply was aimed at throwing a bucket of water over his fervour.

  'Both of you talk as if there's a war on.'

  My remark had the desired effect on Brockton. His excitement vanished. The gravity which took its place was all the more striking by contrast. Tideman nodded agreement when he said,

  'The war is on, Peter. It's not a shooting war - yet. It's a silent war. It's a war of move and counter-move deep under the oceans - deep as the nuclear subs run. The Drake Passage is the West's last great bastion. I am at war, John is at war’

  I indicated the Argentinian signal.

  'It looks as if Jetwind is also at war.'

  Chapter 19

  A radio phone call I had put through to Thomsen in Cape Town broke up our meeting. Brockton and Tideman left the cabin, Tideman under orders to get some rest as soon as I could relieve him on the bridge.

  My news left Thomsen ecstatic. He brushed aside the implications of the Almirante Storni. His enthusiasm was unbounded when he heard Jetwind's progress and speed. There was a tough, Pll-show-them admiration in his voice when I told him the route I was taking. Fastest, but most perilous - the Trolltunga route. I cut short his congratulations. A lot could happen in 2100 miles t
o Gough, I told him before I rang off. What I wanted most now was to icoax Jetwind up to her maximum.

  I made for the door. As I reached it, it was thrown open as if the gale had suddenly burst its way below-decks.

  It was Sir James Hathaway.

  The impetus of his entry and a lurch from the ship caused him to stagger and trip over the old ship's bell on the floor which Robbie Lund had given me at Comodoro Rivadavia. Sir James stood glaring at me and the bell, as if torn between which he should curse first.

  'Rainier! Why the devil do you hide yourself away? I've been trying to get hold of you all morning!'

  I bit back my retort; he was Jetwind's potential purchaser.

  I said as civilly as I could, 'My job is to keep this ship moving. That comes first.'

  Maybe he wasn't used to being answered back, but what I had to say seemed to mollify him. He reached for my hand. His grip was like a welter-weight's at a fight weigh-in.

  It cost him an effort to say, 'Congratulations! You've done well, Rainier. Yesterday I couldn't have imagined myself saying that to any skipper who took over this ship.'

  'Thanks.'

  'Everyone on board is full of what you did to that bloody dago warship.'

  'There may be more people than those aboard talking about it soon,' I said. 'The Argentinian Navy, for example.'

  'The hell with them,' he rejoined cheerfully. 'The United Nations included., They'll blow it up and make capital of the incident before the international forum, make no mistake. Lots of tub-thumping from the Reds into the bargain. That's my view. Take it or leave it.'

  'They won't leave it, you can be sure.'

  His attention seemed divided between me and the old bell.