Rendezvous-South Atlantic

by Douglas Reeman

  Stannard seemed to stagger against the voicepipes. `But that's only sixty miles from Singapore, for God's sake! It can't be true. No army could move that fast!'

  Paget said timidly, `It's in the south-west corner of Malaya, sir.'

  Stannard looked at him unseeingly. `I know.'

  Paget nodded eagerly. 'I read somewhere that there's a prosperous coastal trade for rubber and....'

  Lindsay said, `Would you ask the chief bosun's mate to Lindsay looked away. `Some people never read the words, Pilot. They just check the commas!' He rubbed his eyes. `Forget that. They're probably doing their best.'

  Paget returned. `C.P.O. Archer cher is coming right up, sir.'

  `Good.' Lindsay settled down again on the chair. `Now - I'll have to think of something to tell him.'

  `Yes, sir.' Paget looked completely lost.

  A signalman shouted, `Signal from escort, sir! Merlin has strong contact at zero-nine-zero. Closing!'

  Paget stared at him, his mouth hanging open.

  Lindsay snapped, `Sound action stations!' He felt the . sweat gathering under his cap. `Well, jump to it, man!'

  As bells shrilled through the ship he stood up and walked to the port wing where Maxwell was still looking at the ammunition ship.

  `What's the matter, Guns? Didn't you hear that?'

  Maxwell stared at him. 'Yessir. Sorry, sir.' He turned and ran for the control , position as Hunter and the spotting team came pounding up the other ladder from the boat deck.

  Ritchie was already here, brushing crumbs from his jacket and still chewing as he snatched his telescope and shouted, `From commodore, sir. Alter course to two-fivezero!'

  'Acknowledge.'

  Lindsay gripped the screen, feeling the ship vibrating under his fingers as the voicepipes and telephones burst into life once again.

  Ritchie's telescope squeaked as he readjusted it on the leading ships. `Execute in succession, sir!'

  Stannard was already at the gyro compass, his face expressionless while he studied the column wheeling slowly to starboard. The ship directly ahead was the convoy's remaining oil-tanker, a smart, newly built vessel which had already narrowly avoided a torpedo in the earlier attacks.

  come to the bridge, please?'

  As the lieutenant scurried for the rack of telephones Stannard said, `Thanks, sir. You didn't have to do that. He didn't mean anything by it.'

  `I know.' Lindsay watched him gravely. `But sometimes one extra word is enough to drive a man mad.' He smiled. `I expect your brother has been pulled out by now anyway. If Singapore Island is to be the real holding-point it would be the obvious thing to do.'

  Stannard nodded. `I guess so. But all these reports.' He shook his head. `Surely to God the people in charge out there can see what's happening?'

  Ritchie said, `Merlin's got'er black pennant'oisted, sir! She's goin' in for a kill!'

  A messenger muttered, `We hojef

  `Starboard ten.' Stannard's mouth twitched as a pattern of depth-charges exploded somewhere on the port quarter. The Merlin was moving at full speed and swinging in a wide arc while the sea erupted in her curving wake like some. impossible waterspout.

  'Midships.' Stannard twisted his head quickly to watch the straight black stem of the Demodocus following round . in obedience to the signal. More explosions, and a second escort came tearing back down the column, racing for the great spreading area of churned water where the last charges had exploded.

  As she ploughed through the white froth Lindsay saw the charges fly lazily from either beam, while two more rolled from her quarterdeck rack into her own wash. He could picture them falling through the untroubled depths, ten feet a second, and then.' ... Even though he was expecting it he flinched as the charges detonated and hurled their fury skyward How long the columns of water seemed to hang there before subsiding into the growing area of foam and dead fish.

  `Madagascar's signallin', sir!'- The man's voice was almost shrill. `Torpedoes approachin' from starboard!'

  Already the cruiser was turning her" grey bulk towards .the invisible torpedoes, while far away across the commodore's bows, a destroyer was turning to race in to give additional cover.

  `Must be two of the bastards, sir!' Stannard raised his glasses and added sharply, `Watch the ship ahead, Cox'n. Follow her like a bloody sheepdog, no matter what happens!'

  `Aye, aye, sir.' Jolliffe eased the spokes and kept his eyes fixed on the oil-tanker.

  `Missed her anyway!' Dancy swung round as a double explosion rattled the-bridge screen and brought down some flecks of paint on to his cap.

  The freighter astern of the cruiser had been hit. The torpedoes must have passed between the two troopships' in the starboard column, missed the cruiser, and struck the other vessel as she attempted to follow her leader in the turn.

  She was already staggering to port, thick smoke billowing from her side, her bridge wing hanging towards the sea in a tangle of twisted metal and broken rigging.

  A great flurry of froth rose around her counter and Stannard said, `She's going astern. Her skipper. must be trying to get the way off her to save the bulkhead.'

  Lindsay held the glasses jammed against his eyes while the gratings jerked and vibrated to the thunder of depthcharges. He saw tiny figures running along the freighter's boat deck, while further aft there were others struggling to slip one of the heavy rafts over the side. There was a sudden internal explosion, so that the bridge superstructure appeared to lift and twist out of alignment, the funnel buckling and pitching into the smoke as if made of cardboard.

  Whatever had caused- the explosion must have' killed everyone on the bridge, Lindsay thought. Or else the controls had been shattered by the blast. Whatever it was, the ship was still churning astern, her engine room probably too dazed or desperate to know what had happened on deck.

  The freighter which had been following the torpedoed ship had at last understood the danger and her captain was reducing speed, his bow-wave dropping while the distance between him and the runaway freighter continued to diminish.

  One of the lifeboats had reached the water, only to be upended by the reversed thrust, hurling-its occupants, overboard to vanish instantly in the churned wash from the propellers.

  The other seamen had at last succeeded in releasing the liferaft, but could only stand huddled by the guardrails as their ship continued to forge astern. She was heeling very slightly and certainly sinking, but as the convoy fought to maintain formation she was still a very real menace.

  `Commodore's signalled Rios to take evasive action, sir!'

  The Rios was the one astern of the torpedoed freighter, and with something like a prayer Lindsay watched her turn unsteadily and head diagonally from the broken column.

  `Torpedo to port, sir!' Dancy had the masthead telephone gripped in his fist so tightly his knuckles were white. `Two cables!'

  Lindsay lifted his -glasses and saw the flurry of excitement on the ammunition ship's bridge. It must be running straight for her.

  A man screamed, `If she goes up we'll go with her!V 'Silence on the bridge!' Jolliffe's voice was like a saw, but his eyes stayed, on the ship ahead.

  It was more of a sensation than a sound. Lindsay saw the other ship stagger, her foremast and derricks falling in tangled confusion even as the tell-tale column of water shot violently above her fore deck.

  In those few seconds nobody spoke or moved. Even breathing seemed to have stopped. As the Demodocus started to slow down and fall past Benbecula's port beam, to those who were able to watch her it felt as if there were just seconds left to live. The sea and sky, the depthcharges and fast-moving destroyers, none of them counted for anything now.

  The torpedoed freighter, her screws still dragging astern, ploughed, very slowly beneath the surface, her hull breaking up as she dived for the bottom. But it was doubtful if any man on Benbecula's decks even saw her last moments or the few struggling figures caught in the last savage whirlpool above her grave.

  Lindsay lowered
his glasses and rubbed his eyes, the movement making Dancy jerk with alarm.

  The old Demodocus was still there. There was plenty of smoke rising above the hidden wound, and as he held his breath he heard the discordant grinding of her port anchor cable running out. The explosion must have blasted away a capstan or sheered right, through the forepart of the lower hull.

  `They're callin' us up, sir.' Ritchie cradled the Aldis on his arm and watched a small winking light from the other ship's bridge.

  `Have fire in forrard hold.' He took another breath. 'Am -holed port side but pumps are coping.' He, gasped and then shuttered an acknowledgement before saying thickly, `An' 'e says that there is a God after all!'

  A telephone had been buzzing for some seconds. Or minutes. Nobody seemed to understand anything any more.

  Then a messenger said, 'W/T office reports that the escorts have sunk another U-boat, sir. Definite kill.'

  Lindsay wiped his face with his hand. It was clammy.

  `That will keep them quiet for a bit.' He felt unsteady on his feet. As if he was recovering from some terrible bout of fever.

  `From commodore, sir.' Ritchie was very calm, "E's callin"up the ammo ship.' He smiled grimly. `Can't never pronounce 'er name, sir. 'E's enquirin' about damage, sir.'

  Lindsay walked out on to the port wing and looked at the other column. The cruiser, the Rios, which had narrowly avoided being rammed by the sinking freighter, and now, dropping still further astern, the ugly bulk of the ship whose name Ritchie could not pronounce.

  Eleven left of the seventeen which had headed so bravely from Liverpool,

  Ritchie said suddenly, `She's tellin' the commodore she can only manage five knots till they've carried out repairs, sir. But the fire's almost under control. There: was no ammo in that 'old, sir.' He watched the slow winking light. 'But the next 'old is filled to the brim with T.N.T.'

  Lindsay looked at Stannard. 'Near-thing. She may still have to abandon. Tell Number One to warn the boat crews and lowerers.'

  A destroyer was edging past the Demodocus's hidden side, her raked masts and funnel making a striking contrast to the bulbous hull and outdated upperwor-ks of the ammunition ship. As she moved into full view Lindsay saw she was the Merlin.

  Her loud-hailer squeaked and then boomed into life. 'I have a message for you, Captain!'

  Lindsay trained his glasses on the slow moving destroyer. The open bridge with the officers and lookouts standing down from their last battle, their last kill.

  Her captain's face swam into the lenses, reddened by sea and wind, but the same man he had seen in the office at Scapa. He, at least, had something to be proud of. He had sunk a U-boat and damaged at least one other.

  Lindsay picked up the megaphone and shouted, `Well done, Merlin!'

  As he said the words he felt a new upsurge of resentment and despair. To this young destroyer officer Benbecula would not be seen as anything more than just another charge to be escorted and protected. A big, vulnerable liability.

  The loud-hailer continued, 'From the commodore. You will stand by Demodocus and act as her escort. He feels the risk to the troopships is too great to slow down.' He added almost apologetically, 'The cruiser too is somewhat naked under these conditions.'

  Behind him Lindsay heard Dancy whisper fiercely, 'What's he saying? No escort? We're being left behind?'

  The destroyer was starting to gather speed again. The voice called, 'By dawn tomorrow you should be joined by other escorts. But I'm pretty sure there are no more U-boats in the vicinity now. If there are, they'll keep after the convoy.'

  Lindsay lifted one hand to him. 'Good luck!'

  He watched the destroyer surging ahead. Good luck. That young man certainly had that, and more. But it was hard to hide the hurt, the knowledge that he could have been on that bridge. Being useful.

  He turned his back on the other ships. 'Signal Demodocus to take station astern. Find out her exact speed and reduce revs accordingly.'

  Stannard was still watching the oil-tanker. She was drawing away so fast it made it appear as if Benbecula was going astern. Lights were flashing and more signal flags were breaking from the commodore's yards. The escorts re-formed and the cruiser altered course to lead the single line of merchantmen like an armoured knight watching over his private possessions. In fifteen minutes the convoy was so far away that the,ships which had been old friends had lost their meaning and personality. In an hour there was little to see at all. Just a smudge of smoke on the horizon, a single bright flash of sunlight on the bridge screen of an escort as she turned in another sweep for echoes from below.

  Ritchie said quietly, 'Now 'ere's a fine thing, Swain.'

  Jolliffe darted a glance at the officers and nodded. 'I know. A D.S.O. for the commodore, D.S.C. for the escort commander, and medals all round, I shouldn't wonder.' He grinned. 'An' us? We'll be lucky if we sees the bloody dawn tomorrow, let alone a soddin' escort!'

  Stannard said, 'Look at the damage, sir.'

  Lindsay followed him on to the port wing and studied the ship astern. It was a great gash, as if another vessel had rammed her at fulll speed. Smoke was still billowing from the hole and the deck immediately above. But there was less of it, and he could see plenty of activity on the forecastle where men were working to clear away some of the debris from the fallen derricks. It must be like standing on one gigantic floating bomb, he thought. And if the fire got out of hand again or the next bulkhead became overheated, that would be that.

  He said, `Fall out action stations.'

  Stannard looked surprised.

  `Well, Pilot, if there is a U-boat about we can't see it, and we can't damn well hear it, so where's the point of wearing everyone down for nothing.' He touched Stannard's arm: `Anyway, if there was one of the commodore's Huns about, I think he would have announced his presence by now.'

  Stannard nodded. `I guess so.'

  `But double the lookouts and keep all short-range weapons crews closed up.'

  Stannard hurried away as Goss mounted the bridge ladder and stood breathing heavily for several seconds. Then he swivelled his head slowly from side to side as if still unable to grasp that the convoy had vanished.

  Ritchie called, `Ammo ship 'as R/T contact now, sir.'

  Lindsay strode quickly to the W/T office where Hussey and his telegraphists slumped wearily in their steel chairs.

  Hussey said, `Here you are, sir.' He handed a microphone to Lindsay and added shortly, `Permission to smoke, sir? My lads are just about dead beat.'

  Lindsay nodded and snapped down the button. 'Benbecula to Demodocus. This is the captain speaking. How is it going?'

  The telegraphists looked up at the bulkhead speaker as a tired voice replied, `Thanks for staying with us. We're not doing too bad. But the collision bulkhead is weeping a bit and I've got the hands shoring it up as best they can. There's still a fire in the forrard hold,-and we've no breathing apparatus. Nobody can work down there for more'n minutes at' a time.' They heard his sigh very loud on the speaker. `Can't make much more'n four knots. If

  that bloody bulkhead collapses the hold will flood. With the weight of cargo forrard it'll damn near lift my arse out of the drink! Then he laughed. `Still, better that way than how the Jerry intended, eh?'

  Lindsay said, `Keep a good lookout astern, Captain. I'm going to drop a boat and send some breathing gear and extra hands.'

  `I'm obliged.' A pause. `A doctor too if you can spare him. Mine was killed by the blast and I've twelve-lads in a bad way.'

  `Will do.' Lindsay saw Ritchie in the doorway. `Tell the first lieutenant. Quick as you can.'

  He hesitated and then spoke again into the microphone. `At the first sign of trouble, Captain, bale out. I'll do what I can.'

  The speaker went dead and he returned to the bridge wing.

  Goss said, `I've got things going, sir. Boat will be ready for lowering in five minutes. I'm sending Lieutenant Hunter to take charge. Doc's already on the boat deck.', He added, `I'll go myself if
you like.'

  'No.' Lindsay watched the port motor boat swinging clear of its davits. `I need you here.'

  Goss shrugged. `Won't make much difference anyway if another U-boat arrives.'

  It took another half-hour to ferry the required men and equipment to the other ship and recover the motor boat. Groups of unemployed seamen and marines crowded the Benbecula's poop to watch the activity as hoses were brought to bear on the burning hold and a winch came to life and started to haul some of the debris clear of the fore deck.

  All afternoon the work continued while the two ships ploughed across the blue water at little more than a snail's pace.

  Aboard Benbecula the atmosphere was unreal and strangely carefree. In close convoy, with U-boats reported in every direction, death had seemed very near. But like most men in war, it had to happen to others, never to you. Now, without escort or aid of -any kind, the mood was entirely different. Men went about their duties with a kind of casual indifference. Like people Lindsay had seen in the London air-raids. They could do nothing, so what the hell, the mood seemed to suggest.

  C.P.O. Archer and his men had checked the liferafts for instant lowering, and as the sun began to dip towards a hazy horizon most of the ship's company appeared to accept the inevitable.

  The last dog watch had almost run its course when a signalman said sharply, `There's someone callin' us up, sir!'

  Ritchie had been squatting on a flag locker, legs outstretched as if asleep, but he was across to the open wing before Lindsay could move from his chair.

  `I don't see nothin'1'

  The signalman pointed. `There. On the upper bridge, Yeo.'

  Lindsay trained his glasses and saw one of the ammunition ship's, officers dimly outlined against the outdated compass platform, his arms moving very slowly like a child's puppet.

  Ritchie raised his telescope and muttered, 'Bleedin' semaphore! 'Ow the 'ell does 'e expect me to read that in this light?'

  Lindsay steadied his feet on the gratings. There was a lazy swell and the breeze had dropped considerably. At such slow speed it was difficult to hold the glasses on the tiny dark figure.

  Ritchie gasped and said, "E says there's somethin' astern, sir. Five miles or thereabouts.' He looked quickly at Lindsay's set features. `Could be a submarine.'