by Ted Bell
We find ourselves trapped. The cove on your island, where we hoped to make our repairs, is closed to us by seven vicious tentacles of reef. We were able to limp inside the haven, but now are unable to sail ourselves out. We are in dire need of someone with expert knowledge of these reefs and local waters as no reef is marked on our chart!
Our only escape route is a deepwater channel to the southeast, down around the southern tip of Greybeard Island, where stands Castle Hawke. But that way lies the Mystère, a seventy-four-gun French frigate under the command of William Blood, a traitorous rogue who once sailed under me as second in command. This dog now sails for our enemy Napoleon, but will sail under any flag as he is the most piratical and evil creature on the high seas.
The safe return of Merlin to England, now so close to home after six months on station in the Leeward Islands, is vital to an English victory. We possess crucial intelligence gained from a captured Spanish spy about an almost certain alliance between France and the king of Spain. Admiral Lord Nelson must have this knowledge before the fleet sails for France three days hence! We have reason to suspect the navies of both our enemies are laying a fatal trap for Nelson and the fleet.
We must reach England and forewarn Nelson!
Our situation is desperate. Our only hope is the golden ball you will by now have discovered in my chest. With this letter, I am bequeathing it solely to you. It is an instrument of great antiquity and power which was one of two captured when we sank Valais off Antibes in early June. We later learned the two instruments were en route to Emperor Napoleon himself. Blood was able to steal one of the machines from my cabin during his mutiny. He has sworn to deliver both to Napoleon in return for a fortune in gold and command of the entire French fleet against England, the traitorous dog! A warning: To gain the second golden ball, and with it the means to defeat England, William Blood will do anything!
Anything.
Although you may scarce credit it, the ball enables its owner to travel through time. This makes it a formidable weapon but, should both machines fall into the hands of Blood, all would be lost! Then his power would be limitless and put him beyond the reach of anyone! I have entrusted it to you, and placed you in peril, only because of the extremity of our situation. If we go to the bottom, Nelson and the fleet will sail into a deathtrap. And Blood will recover the second time machine and so rule the seas unchecked. As long as one machine remains in responsible hands, honorable hands, we have at least a prayer. Now, Nicholas, it is in your hands!
My second officer and navigator, now lost in battle, showed me its ease of use. Open the ball along its “equator” and you will instantly learn its secrets.
I used the machine this morning to locate you and can vouch for its safety and dependability. I’d use it, too, to travel to England and warn Nelson, but I won’t desert my post with my ship and shipmates in such a perilous state.
If you are inclined to come to the aid of your king, country, and our beloved Admiral Lord Nelson, my ship the Merlin is located off Greybeard Island, 49 degrees, 2 minutes latitude by 2 degrees, 2 minutes longitude.
You must enter that exact location into the machine.
The time here is four bells in the forenoon watch, third October, year of our lord, ’05.
We must warn Nelson!
Hurry.
Your most affectionate ancestor,
Captain Nicholas McIver
Nick finished reading aloud and looked up to see everyone staring at him. Were they all just as flabbergasted as he was? He started to say something but realized he’d been struck speechless by the amazing letter. If you could credit it, and he was beginning to, he was being asked to come to the aid of an ancestor from the last century and help navigate a burning man-of-war over what were certainly the Seven Devils!
No one in England knew those reefs as well as he did! If they succeeded and then managed to escape Billy Blood, they could reach England in time to save Admiral Nelson from a French and Spanish ambush! Nick McIver of Grey-beard Island coming to the rescue of Admiral Nelson? For once, words failed him.
Lord Hawke rose from the table and began pacing rapidly by the window, asking questions and issuing instructions to Hobbes. Nick noticed that he paced with a heavy foot, hands clenched behind his back, head down, like a captain on his quarterdeck upon the eve of battle.
“Do you know these reefs the captain is speaking of, Nick?” Hawke asked.
“Yes, your lordship, very well,” Nick answered. “The Seven Devils. They spread out from the base of Gravestone Rock. Just last week I was forced by weather to sail Stormy Petrel into the cove that lies inside them. And, at any rate, it was necessary to learn the reefs because I do a lot of sailing in that area. I’m sure it’s the cove he mentions in the letter. Sandy Cove, it’s called, and as treacherous a stretch of reef as there is, lies around that cove, sir. Twists and turns like a razor-backed serpent.”
“And how did you ‘learn the reefs,’ as you put it?” asked Hawke.
“I swam them, sir, in the mornings when I wasn’t helping my father to build the sloop. I used a diving mask and was able to map every square meter of reef. It took most of last summer, but I did it,” Nick said, smiling. “There are ways for any vessel to get in and out of that reef, sir. You just have to know where the problems are!”
“You mapped them, these reefs?” Hawke asked. “Do you still have this map?”
“Oh, of course, your lordship. I use it all the time! It’s in my chart locker on the Petrel. She’s moored now at your dock, down in the lagoon. It’s how we came to be here, sir, begging your pardon. By sea.”
Hawke cast a sharp eye at Hobbes. “By sea, Hobbes?”
“Seagate was opened accidentally, m’lord,” Hobbes said. “A silly accident.”
“A happy accident, I’d say! We must prepare to depart at once, my dear Hobbes, per Captain McIver’s instructions. I shall accompany young Nicholas to the Merlin in an attempt to rescue Captain McIver. We will need weapons, of course.”
“What would be appropriate, m’lord?” Hobbes asked with some excitement, weapons being one of his favorite topics. “Perhaps the .35 caliber gravity-feed machine gun I designed for you, sir? The Maharaja of Jaipur affair? Chaps at the War Office rejected it as too radical, I believe they called it.”
“Radical! Ha! We quite approve of the radical around here, don’t we, Hobbes? Still, the .35 might be a bit unsportsman-like for a mission of this nature, don’t you think, old chap? Simple pistol or sword for me, I should think,” Hawke replied. “Sword perhaps a more sporting choice than a pistol, but we’ll need both. Yes, swords and pistols definitely for this sort of work. Do you fancy a sword, Nick? Had any fencing at all, at your school, anything of that sort?”
Hobbes smiled in the direction of Nick, both of them finding the idea that fencing might be on the curriculum at the tiny island school the silliest notion. But Lord Hawke was ardent about the sport and simply assumed everyone else was, as well.
“His lordship was three times fencing champion up at Oxford, you know. Nineteen twenty-two was your third victory, wasn’t it, m’lord?” Hobbes asked. Hawke waved the question aside.
“Hobbes only mentions it because he was my fencing tutor,” Hawke smiled. “But, please, back to business. Have you done any fencing at all, Nick?”
“I’m afraid not, your lordship, never,” Nick said. He remembered Billy’s bone-handled dagger in his jacket and felt for it. Still there. Good. He just might get the chance to return it to Blood. In person, if he was lucky.
“A sword for the lad in any case, Hobbes. One never knows,” said Hawke, still pacing. “There could be close-in work, before this is over.”
“Pistols, swords. Very good, sir,” Hobbes said.
“Can I go, too?” Katie asked. “Back to the olden days?” She’d been so unusually quiet, they’d almost forgotten she was present. Hawke smiled at her.
“No, Kate, not this trip, I’m afraid. Perhaps the next,” Hawke said, look
ing out at the quiet, moonlit sea. “I say, I’ve got a splendid idea! Hobbes, the moon is out and I’ve seldom seen the channel so peaceful. Lovely night for a fast nip across, I should think. You’ve got young Nick’s report on the Alpha sub, and if you left immediately, it could be in Uncle Winston’s hands in time for his critically important speech to Parliament tomorrow evening!”
“Very good, sir,” Hobbes said. “And, perhaps Gunner and Kate might accompany me? Should be a most pleasant trip, over and back?”
“Oh, yes!” Kate squealed, clapping her hands together. “Oh, can we go, Gunner, please?”
“I—I suppose we could, little missy,” Gunner said, looking perplexed. “So long as the commander doesn’t feel we’d be a bother.”
“On the contrary, I should be glad of your company, Gunner,” Hobbes replied, picking Kate up in his arms. “I’ll provision Thor for a two-day voyage, stock the larder chock-full of cookies and crumpets! That way we can take our time coming home.”
“Oh, won’t it be fun, Gunner?” Kate asked, her arm around her new friend’s neck. “Please say we can go!”
Gunner smiled at Katie, but he looked troubled, too. He cleared his throat to gain everyone’s attention.
“If I might, your lordship,” Gunner said, “I think I could be more helpful to you and the young master on yer rescue mission. I’ve got some twenty years of experience in naval matters of this kind under me keel and I think with me gunnery I could help get some o’ the Merlin’s cannonades back in firin’ order, sir, if I could be so bold, your lordship, as to toot me own horn, sir. Also, as I knows how to hand, reef, and steer any vessel that floats as well, your lordship, I’d like to offer me humble services.”
Hawke stopped pacing and looked at Gunner. Gunner felt those appraising eyes of Hawke’s that Nick had felt earlier. “The child was placed in your charge while Angus and Emily McIver are in London, Gunner,” he said, looking at little Kate now happily perched on Hobbes’s shoulders. “And that’s a serious responsibility. Still, I suppose Hobbes would make an eminently suitable guardian while we’re off to the past, eh, Hobbes?”
“Indeed, I’d be delighted,” Hobbes said, bouncing Kate up and down on his shoulders. “I think the two of us can manage well enough. But, before you go, there’s a Ministry letter inside my jacket pocket that I think you should read, your lordship. Nick gave it to me for safekeeping, sir. Bit of trouble for our friend Angus McIver, I’m afraid.”
Hawke extracted the letter from the inside pocket, scanned it quickly, and replaced it in Hobbes’s jacket.
“Dreadful business, dreadful,” Hawke said. “So that’s why they’re off to London. Well, we must find a way to help, mustn’t we, Hobbes? And we shall, we shall!”
“Have you made a decision then, sir?” Gunner asked, his eyes full of hope. “Can I join the expedition?” Hawke regarded him closely as Nick went to stand beside his friend and lend his support.
“I believe Gunner would be a great help to us, sir,” Nick said, earning Gunner’s undying gratitude. “He truly would! And, I’m sure my parents would not object to Katie being left in the care of someone like Commander Hobbes, sir.”
Hawke’s face broke into a broad grin and he clapped both Gunner and Nick on the back.
“Capital, dash it all! I think it’s a capital idea, Gunner, a splendid notion! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself! Yes, I must admit you look a man who’d bring a great deal of gunpowder to the party, as they say. What is your weapon of choice, may I ask?” Hawke asked.
“That would be anything at all makin’ good use of powder and lead, m’lord.”
“Marvelous!” Hawke said. “Well. It’s the three of us, then! All for one, as I believe that D’Artagnan fellow used to say!”
“And one for all!” Nick added, embarrassed as soon as he said it. And, unable to stop himself from adding, “And all for Jipper!”
“I beg your pardon?” said Hawke. “Jipper?”
“My dog, Jip, your lordship. I’m afraid he’s been harmed … or worse. It’s just gone eight o’clock and my meeting at the Old North Wharf with Billy Blood was two hours ago. If we can go back a hundred and thirty-four years with this machine, surely going back two hours can be done first, sir?”
“Of course we can go to the wharf, Nick,” Hawke said. “It would make an excellent dry run. Give the machine a shakedown cruise, as it were. But I must warn you not to expect to find Jip there. I know Blood. He wants to ransom Jip. He’s going to demand the chest and the orb of gold in exchange for your dog. But he’d never bring the dog with him, lad. He’s keeping him somewhere else, until he gets the chest, I’m sure of it.”
“There’s nowhere on this island where he could hide that dog from me, sir. Nowhere!” Nick said, the steely resolve strong in his voice. “I’ll find my dog, I will, you can bet on that!”
“Nick, I don’t think Jip’s on the island anymore,” Hawke said. “I daresay I’m quite sure he’s not, in fact. It wouldn’t be Billy’s way. No, I warrant you’ll find your dog under lock and key aboard Blood’s frigate, Mystère, Nick, in the year 1805. That’s where we’ll find your Jip. Still and all, I’ll gladly go to the wharf first, if it will ease your mind, my dear boy.”
“It truly would, sir,” Nick answered solemnly.
“Right then, Hobbes. Open the machine!”
CHAPTER XVIII
Das Kapitän Cabbages
y 6 June 1939 ·
OFF HAWKE POINT
Silence, you idiot!” the captain hissed in the darkness.
“Can’t you see I’ve got the sonarphones on?”
“Sorry, mein Kapitän !” came the meek reply from somewhere amidst the whispered chatter of the darkened submarine control room.
“Ach! Now I’ve lost him! Schweinehund! ” he said. “I want absolute silence!”
Suddenly, it became deadly quiet and still inside the steel hull lurking beneath the mirrored moonlit surface of the sea. The only noise was the constant ping from the radar screen, a ghostlike green oval in the shadowy red light of the control room. The screen showed a jagged point of land, jutting into the sea, in brilliant detail. On the German naval charts, that point of land was marked Hawke Point, and it was here that U-33 had been spending most of her time lately.
Like everything else aboard the submarine, the sonarphones the captain was wearing were the most advanced available from German scientists. U-33 was also equipped with highly experimental turbopowered engines, which converted hot exhaust gases into supercooled liquid propellants that drove a giant turbine aft. It took four of the giant engines to power the massive submarine.
“Project Crossfire,” a top secret German Kriegsmarine program to develop new submarine propulsion systems, had produced the magnificent engines, capable of more than triple the horsepower of conventional submarine engines.
The power plants were coupled to an even more radical breakthrough, the Hydro-Propulsion system. This entailed water entering the sub at the bow, being superheated, then fed through an impeller, supercooled, only to be expelled at great force from the stern. To Berlin’s delight, the design almost doubled the sub’s submerged running speed.
The only remaining question was, could U-33’s steel hull survive double the stress-loads of the high-output, high-torque, high-speed Crossfire propulsion system?
U-33’s mission to the Channel Islands was, in part, a shake-down cruise to assess the new Crossfire system’s impact on a conventional sub hull. Her other mission, known only to a few men on board, was to confirm the existence of a network of English spies on tiny Greybeard Island. Spies who’d somehow been getting highly accurate information about Nazi naval movements in the Channel to Hitler’s nemesis, Winston Churchill.
Churchill’s speeches in the British Parliament were a daily source of irritation to the Führer, and he wanted the flow of information to the old bulldog stopped, at any cost. That’s why U-33 spent most of her time lying off Hawke Point, the believed base of the espi
onage group.
Finally, the experimental U-boat was to scour the island coastlines and map them for possible infantry landing sites. Berlin’s plan for the German invasion of these tiny English islands was already in the final stages. Hitler planned to launch his invasion of the English mainland from these four islands, so it was imperative he capture them first.
The new sub, entrusted with all these important missions, was the pride of the whole German Navy—the largest, fastest, deadliest undersea weapon Germany had yet produced. She was officially called U-33, but her crew had already given her a nickname that looked like it was going to stick.
She was called Der Wolf, a tribute to her skipper, Wolfgang von Krieg, the “wolf ” himself.
Von Krieg was watching and waiting, his eye glued to the black rubber eyepiece of the periscope. Framed in the center of his lens was the dark outline of Castle Hawke, sitting high above the pounding black sea on its rocky cliffs, lit by jagged flashes of lightning from an approaching squall. The lights at the top of the castle tower had been burning since sundown, which was unusual. The eye knew. The eye was here night after endless night. Waiting for something, anything. Watching.
The human eye blinked away a tear, but it wasn’t sadness or even fatigue that caused that solitary eye to water. It was cabbage.
“Ach! Zose cabbages! Zose cabbages!” the shrill voice of Kapitän von Krieg reverberated throughout the silent ship.
It was Monday, cabbage night aboard U-33. Pungent vegetable smells permeated the length of the vessel, from the torpedo rooms fore and aft to the control room amidships. Even a submarine this advanced was no place for a sailor with a sensitive nose. And the pungent smell of boiled cabbage now seemed especially powerful amidships where von Krieg stood with his eye to the periscope. Kapitän von Krieg, while not a sensitive man, had an extremely sensitive nose.
