Theil called, 'Supply boat's diving, sir!' He sounded breathless.
Great fountains of spray shot from the milch-cow's saddle tanks as water thundered into them, and her wash indicated a frantic increase in speed.
Hechler tore his eyes from the Arado as it reeled over the ship and then appeared to level off on an invisible wire. Not before he had seen the bright, starlike holes in the paintwork, some of which appeared to cross the cockpit itself.
‘Port twenty!' He wrapped his arms around the voice-pipes with such force that the pain seemed to steady his mind, the ache which that last sight had given him.
She had drawn enemy fire. There was no other possible reason but to warn the ship.
He felt the deck going over. Like a destroyer. 'Steady! Hold her!'
Voices yelled on every side and then the secondary armament recoiled in their mountings yet again, their shells flinging up thin waterspouts against the horizon where the enemy lay hidden in the swell.
'Shoot!' Again the urgent cry, and again the sharp, earprobing crashes.
'Torpedoes running to port!'
Theil jumped to the voice-pipe but Hechler snapped, 'As she goes!'
He looked quickly at the supply-boat. Her bows were already under water, her squat conning-tower deserted as she prepared to run deep and head away. She would not even be a spectator, let alone wait around to pick up survivors.
The explosion was like one great thunderclap which rendered men blind and deaf in a few seconds, as if shocked from every known sense.
Dense black smoke billowed across the water, so thick it seemed solid, then it rolled over the decks and through the superstructure and masts, and for a while longer it was like the dead of night. Through it all the intercom kept up its continual babble.
'Short!' Then, 'A straddle! Got the bastards!'
Hechler groped to the forepart of the bridge and almost fell over a young signalman. He could barely remember the boy's name as he was their newest addition. Logged as seventeen years old, Hechler guessed he was a good deal less.
He dragged him to his feet by the scruff of his tunic and shouted, 'Hold on, Heimrath!' He could hear his gasping and retching in the foul stench and dense smoke. 'It's not us this time!'
The torpedoes must have hit the big submarine just as she made to lift her tail and dive. There could be nothing left. Fuel, ammunition, spare torpedoes, they had all gone up together, scattering fragments for half a mile, while some had clattered across Prinz Luitpold’s forecastle and maindeck.
Target is diving, sir.'
Diving or sinking, it made no difference now. That last salvo would put her out of the fight. It was far more likely that she was tailing slowly into the depths, blacker than any death pall, until the weight of water crushed her and her crew into a steel pulp.
'Slow ahead.' Hechler dabbed his mouth with his sleeve. The smoke was streaming over and around them, and men were peering for one another, dazed and with eyes running while they sought out their friends.
Hechler gripped the rail with both hands. 'Tell the accident boat to stand by.' He saw Theil's disbelief, his eyes bulging in his smeared face. 'Lower to the waterline. Now!'
Reluctantly almost, training and discipline reasserted themselves. Like a great beast, rising and shaking itself before it had lime to consider the fate which had taken one and spared another.
Leitner wiped his binoculars and glared through the fading smoke.
'Another minute and we'd have shared the same end, Dieter.'
Hechler steadied his glasses as the Arado's bright paintwork gleamed through the smoke. It was settled on the water, and rocking like a wild thing in the powerful rollers.
He said, Stop engines. Slip the boat!'
He raised his glasses once more, thought held at bay while he searched for the aircraft, made himself ready for w'hat he might find.
A voice murmured on the intercom, 'Sounds of ship breaking up, sir.'
It must be the enemy submarine. There was not enough of the milch-cow to disturb their sonar.
He flinched as he saw the horrific face in the rear of the cockpit. Eyes of blood, hands in raised fists behind the slumped figure at the controls.
'Get the doctor on deck!' There was a new harshness in his tone.
Jaeger looked up from the voice-pipes. 'He's already there, sir.'
The motorboat ploughed into view across the lens, familiar faces he knew and respected leaping past his vision.
Leitner seemed to speak from miles away. It's afloat anyway. Good thing.'
Another voice said, The boat will tow it to the hoisting gear, sir.'
Was that all Leitner cared? Was it perhaps unimportant to him when so many men had died horribly just moments ago?
He gripped the binoculars harder as the motorboat's bowman clambered on to one of the plane's floats and hauled himself on to the fuselage. He wrenched open the cockpit and faltered. It must be a hundred times worse close to, Hechler thought despairingly.
Then he saw the man turn and signal. One dead.
She was alive. Alive.
He lowered his glasses to his chest and made himself walk slowly to the chart-table.
Around him, smoke-grimed and dazed by the cruel swiftness of destruction, the watchkeepers watched him dully.
Hechler said, 'As soon as the boat is hoisted inboard, get under way and alter course as prearranged.' He saw Gudegast nod. 'I want a complete inspection of hull and upper deck. We could have sustained some minor damage.' He touched the rail again. Even as he said it, he sensed that the Prinz would be unscathed.
He looked at Theil. Take over.' He half-turned to the rear-admiral. 'With your permission of course, sir?'
Leitner looked away. 'Granted.'
Bells jangled softly and the ship gathered way again.
Hechler hesitated at the top of the ladder to watch as the Arado was swung over the guardrails on its special derrick. The doctor and his assistant were there, and some men with stretchers. He hesitated again and looked into the bridge. His world. Now he was sharing it. Hopeless? Perhaps it was. But she was alive. Because of what she had done, they had all survived. He glanced at the admiral's stiff shoulders. He had made an enemy there, but it no longer mattered.
He nodded to Theil and then hurried down the ladder. This world could wait. The Prinz Luitpold's spacious wardroom was almost deserted. It was halfway through the first watch, and the officers who would be called to stand the middle watch were snatching all the sleep they could. Then the hand on the shoulder, the unfeeling voice of boatswain's mate or messenger, a mug of stale coffee if you were lucky, and off you went to the wretched middle watch.
A few officers sat in deep armchairs, dozing but unwilling to leave their companions, or quietly discussing the explosion which had destroyed the supply submarine and everyone aboard. One man suggested it was lucky they had pumped off most of the fuel. Otherwise both ships might have been engulfed in the same inferno. But most of them, especially the older ones, were thinking of the miles which were hourly streaming away astern. The ship had made a violent turn and was now heading south-east, further and still further from home. If they continued like this, even at their economical speed of fifteen knots, they would cross the Equator in two days' time, and into the South Atlantic.
Viktor Theil as the senior officer in the mess stood with his back to the bar, a glass of lemon juice in his hand. He was conscious of his seniority, the need to set an example at all times in a wardroom where the average age was so low. His immediate subordinate, Korvettenkapitan Werner Froebe, tall, ungainly, and unusually solemn, clutched a tankard of something in one of his huge hands and asked, 'Do you think it went well today?'
Theil eyed him warily. An innocent enough question, but the delay in casting-off from the doomed milch-cow had been his responsibility. It could have been a criticism.
He replied. 'We saved the new plane anyway. Only superficial damage. Pity about the observer.'
Froebe grimaced.
'And the woman. Caught a splinter, I'm told.'
Theil swirled the juice around his glass. 'Could have been much worse.'
He looked at the red-painted bell on the bulkhead. Like an unblinking eye. As if it was watching them, waiting for them to relax, lose their vigilance even for a minute. Then the clamour would scream out here and in every watertight compartment throughout the hull. You never really got used to it.
Even in bis bed at home, sometimes in the night - he gritted his teeth. He must not think about it. It would all solve itself. He tightened his jaw. But Britta would have to come to him. She had been in the wrong. He could see it. In the end he would forgive her. They would be reunited as never before.
Froebe watched him dubiously. 'I just hope they know what they're doing.'
'Who?' Theil wanted to finish it but something in Froebe's tone made him ask.
'I don't know. The staff, the high command, OKM, everybody who doesn’t have to pick up the bloody pieces!'
Two of the very junior officers hovered closer and one said, 'At home, our people will know about us, and of Lubeck's great sacrifice!'
Theil smiled. 'Of course. We are honoured to serve in this way.'
A figure moved heavily into the light. It was the doctor, jacket unbuttoned, his tie crooked.
He looked at them each in turn, his eyes tired. To Theil he said, 'There are ten casualties below. All doing well.'
Theil nodded. They were the men who had been cut or injured by falling debris on the upper deck after the explosion.
The same young officer exclaimed, 'They are lucky to be free of standing their watch!'
The doctor looked past him. 'The Liibeck didn't go down gallantly with guns blazing, by the way.' He returned his gaze to Theil. 'She was scuttled.'
Theil felt as if his collar had suddenly become too tight. Figures in nearby chairs were stirring and turning towards the small group by the bar. From torpor between watches the air had become electric.
Theil exploded, 'What are you saying? How dare you tell such lies in this mess!'
Stroheim gave him a sad smile. I was in the W/T office. One of the operators broke a finger when he lost his balance as the supply boat blew up. They were monitoring an English-speaking broadcast, from Bermuda it may have been. But that was what I hoy said.' His voice hardened and he leaned forward, his eyes on Theil's outraged face. 'And something else to fill your pipe with.
the Tommies and their allies are up to the Rhine, do you hear me?' He swayed and glared around the wardroom at large. Ivan is coming at us from the East, and they're up to the Rhine!' He looked at Theil again. 'Don't you see, man? We're on the bloody run!'
Theil snapped, 'Keep your voice down! How dare you spread
Stroheim made a sweeping gesture. 'What is the matter with everyone? It was the W/T office! What are they in there, a separate navy, or something?'
Froebe interrupted unhappily, ‘Easy, Doctor - this won't help!'
Stroheim removed his glasses and massaged his eyes savagely. I hen what will, eh?' He stared at the sideboard at the end of the bar, Adolf Hitler's profile in silver upon it with the ship-builder's crest and launch-date underneath.
All lies. Raised on them, led by them, and now going to hell because of them!'
Theil said sharply, 'I must ask you to come with me.' He could feel his grip returning, although his anger was matched by a sense of alarm.
The doctor laughed, a bitter sound. 'Follow you? Of course, sir. Does the truth disturb you that much?
Froebe saw another figure rise from a chair and then slip through a curtained door.
It was the flag-lieutenant. He suppressed a groan. In about three minutes the admiral would know all about this.
The doctor moved after Theil and said mildly, 'Don't any of you get sick until I return!'
Froebe leaned on the bar and stared at the steward. 'You didn't hear that.'
The man bit his lip. 'No, sir.'
Froebe saw the curtain sway across the doctor's back. The poor sod was drunk too. God, what a mess.
Suppose it was true. If it was, would it make any difference if they held up another convoy, or two dozen of them, really make a difference in the end?
He thought suddenly of his wife and two children. Near the Dutch frontier.
He felt like a traitor as he gave silent thanks that the Allies and not the Russians would reach there first.
Hechler clipped the door behind him and stood inside the admiral's bridge. It was illuminated only by the light immediately above the main table against which Leitner was leaning, his hands flat on the chart.
'You sent for me, sir?'
Leitner glanced up. 'I like to know where you are. At all times, eh?'
Hechler watched him as he peered down at the chart again. He had expected Leitner to lose control, to scream at him. It was obvious that he must know about Theil and the doctor.
Hechler had been in his quarters when Theil had come searching for him, his eyes ablaze with anger and indignation. Hechler had closed the door to his sleeping cabin where the girl lay drugged and unconscious after being treated by the doctor. One of Stroheim's attendants had sat nearby, and Hechler had stood beside the bunk, not moving, hardly daring to breathe as he looked down at her. She had seemed so much younger, like a child's face, eyes tightly shut, beads of perspiration on her upper lip and forehead.
A splinter had hit her in the side, just above the left hip. Stroheim had explained that she had lost a lot of blood, and a bone had been chipped, how badly he did not yet know.
Hechler had turned down the sheet and stared at the neat bandages, a small red stain in the centre. She was dressed in a pyjama jacket, and he pulled it across her breasts, one of which was exposed in the bunk light.
He remembered the touch of her skin against his fingers as he did so. Burning hot, like some inner fire, or fever. Otherwise, apart from bruising from her harness when she had made a desperate attempt to steady the aircraft as it had smashed down in a deep trough, she was unmarked. It was a miracle.
He thought of Theil's outrage, and Stroheim's apparent indifference. He was still not sure what he would have done, but the telephone had called him here. It might give him time.
Leitner was saying, 'Lieutenant Bauer just brought me a new
batch of signals. I have been working on them, plotting what we shall do.'
Hechler studied his glossy head and waited. So it was Bauer.
He said abruptly, 'He is one of my officers, sir, and as captain I expect to be informed of every signal which affects this ship.'
Leitner looked up, his eyes cold. 'His first responsibility is to me. I will decide
Hechler could feel the armoured sides of the bridge closing in, just as he could sense his rising anger and disgust.
'So it's true about Lubeck?
Leitner straightened his back, his face moving into shadow as he snapped, 'Yes, I knew about it. What had happened.'
'You told our people she had gone down in battle.'
Leitner replied, 'Do not adopt that tone with me. It was the right decision. Afterwards, they can believe what they like!'
I can't believe it.'
Leitner smiled gently. 'Because Rau was another captain, is that it? Death before dishonour? I can read you like a book. You've not changed, you with your outdated ideals and fancies!'
Hechler met his eyes. ‘Graf Spee would have fought back. Her captain was ordered to scuttle too. It did more damage than losing the ship to the enemy. It was madness.'
Leitner banged his hand on the table. 'I believe he shot himself after that, eh? Hardly the act of a gallant captain]'
He moved back into the shadows, his voice barely under control. I will be questioned. I command here, so remember it. And
if that idiot Theil cannot keep order in his own wardroom, and shut the mouth of any foul, defeatist rumour, I will have him removed!' He strode about the small bridge, his shadow looming against the grey steel like a spectre. 'God damn
it, I could order a man shot for such behaviour!' He swung round and said, 'After .ill 1 did for him, the ungrateful bastard!'
I lechler said, 'He brought the doctor to me, sir.'
And I suppose you gave him a pat on the back! He can do no wrong, not one of your officers, oh no! Ingratitude, that's what it is. 1 am betrayed on every side
Tin sure he acted as he thought right, sir.'
'Not before half the ship's officers heard what Stroheim said.' Leitner paused by the table, his chest heaving with exertion. 'I should have known, should have overridden your belief in the man, damn him. No wonder his bloody wife was taken away
He paused at that point, his eyes staring, as he realised what he had said.
Hechler pressed his hands to his sides. 'When was that, sir?' He leaned forward. 'I must know!'
Leitner ran his fingers through his hair and replied vaguely, 'When we were at Vejle.'
All that time, while Theil had gone around the ship like a man being driven mad by some secret worry, Leitner had known.
'What had she done?'
Leitner took his calm voice as some kind of understanding. 'She had been making trouble. Her parents were arrested. Terrorists, I expect.'
'Is she in prison, sir?'
Leitner's gaze wavered. 'The Gestapo took her.' He looked at the chart without seeing it. That's all I know.'
Hechler thrust his hand into his pocket and gripped his pipe. He felt sick, unable to believe what he had heard. Gestapo.
Leitner picked up a telephone and added, 'Well, you wanted the truth, Dieter. Sometimes not an easy thing to share, is it?'
Does Bauer know about it?'
'Yes.' It sounded like of course.
'Anyone else?'
Leitner smiled very gently. 'Only you.'
Leitner spoke into the telephone and asked for the navigating officer to be awakened and sent to the bridge.
He put down the telephone and said, 'The war goes on, you see. Within the week we shall carry out an attack which will throw the enemy into utter confusion.'
’Are you going to tell me about it, sir?' He was surprised that he should sound so level. If he had had a Luger in his hand instead of a pipe he knew he could have killed him.
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