Mayo’s fingers worked busily, his beard only inches above the chart. He said, ‘We’re on a converging course, unless Malange’s altered hers.’ Mayo brushed a crumb from his lips. ‘We’ll be within twenty miles of her in two and a half hours,’

  Wolfe said, ‘She may have turned inshore, sir. Just to be on the safe side.’

  Jermain shook his head. ‘If her captain has heard of this skirmish he’s bound to think he’s safe. The PT boats will be two or three hundred miles from his passage route by now. Anyway, he’s probably used to it. The Reds don’t interfere with local shipping much. It’s too useful to them, as you remarked.’

  Wolfe grimaced. ‘Except that this one has a V.I.P. aboard.’

  Jermain eyed him searchingly. Behind Wolfe’s controlled features there was something more. Almost as if he was enjoying the situation.

  There were no further alterations of course, and apart from a sudden increase of speed, which Temeraire matched without effort, the other vessels seemed settled on their objective.

  Jermain listened to the quiet reports and watched their combined progress translated into pencilled lines across the chart. Suppose Wolfe’s casual remark was right? Would the Chinese really risk an open battle to search out and destroy the Aialange? Or was their operation merely planned as a complementary one to the PT boats in the north?

  If they attacked the freighter it might take all of an hour for help to arrive. An hour in pitch darkness was a lifetime. And if Temeraire flashed a radio signal too soon everything would be lost. The two darkened ships might even turn on the submarine with depth-charges. In these shallow waters there was not much Jermain could do then. Except turn tail and run.

  He stared hard at the silent figures around him, and knew what he must do.

  ‘We may have to surface later on, Number One.’ He was speaking fast, as if he were afraid he might change his mind. ‘I shall require a full boarding party to be ready for a sudden emergency. None of the usual gear will be necessary. I want each man armed with a Stirling, and each man to be a volunteer.’ He saw the incredulity brighten and then fade in Wolfe’s eyes.

  Wolfe said, ‘Can I say something, sir?’

  For an instant Jermain could imagine Wolfe just as he remembered him so long ago. There was concern in his voice. ‘Go ahead.’

  Wolfe looked away. ‘This boat is all that you hoped for. What I hoped for, too. Do you realise what might happen if you are openly challenged by these bastards?’ He did hot pause. ‘You can’t fight them with Stirlings. You can’t even ask your men to die for nothing! If it comes to an open confrontation what have you left?’

  Jermain tightened his jaw. ‘I cannot stand by and allow a British merchant ship to be challenged ánd interfered with, no matter who is on board. If these ships attack the Temeraire I shall hit back and hard.’ His eyes flashed dangerously. ‘The tubes are loaded, and I have no doubt that Lieutenant Drew is only too willing to use them after what happened to Victor!’

  Wolfe studied him as if for the first time. At length he said softly, ‘If you make a mess of this you’ll never clear your yardarm! The brass will crucify you!’

  Jermain tried to smile. ‘That’ll be the least of my worries, Number One!’

  He stared at the clock. ‘We should make contact with the Mdartge at four o’clock. I shall then make a signal and report what we are doing. After that we’re on our own for a while.’

  He walked away, and Mayo said quietly to Wolfe, ‘Does he mean it?’

  Wolfe nodded slowly. ‘It’s become something personal for him.’

  He ignored the mystified expression on Mayo’s face and walked slowly towards the diving panel. He had seen the momentary flash of anxiety in Jermain’s eyes when Harris had reported Conway’s presence aboard the Malange. Conway and his daughter, no doubt.

  Wolfe looked sideways at Jermain’s shoulders stooped across the chart table and felt the old wildness returning to his mind. Now you know what it feels like!

  With a start he realised he was grinning and that a rating was watching him with fixed fascination. Angrily he barked, ‘Tell Lieutenant Drew to report to the control room at once!’

  He ran his hand across his face and felt the sweat on his fingers like warm blood.

  11

  Rank and File

  ’Down periscope!’ Jermain wiped the palms of his hands on his thighs and peered quickly at the control-room clock. The time was twenty minutes to four. He walked the three steps to the plot table and stood frowning for a few seconds. Around him in the weird orange glow of the action lights the men on watch looked unreal and ghost like.

  ‘The Malange is early.’ He spoke what was uppermost in his mind. Minutes earlier Oxley’s delicate listening devices had reported the heavy, thrashing beat of a single screw almost dead ahead of the submerged submarine. Moving slowly from right to left. It could be no other ship, but even allowing for miscalculation on Mayo’s part she seemed well ahead of time.

  Wolfe said, ‘I make her present course three two zero, sir.’

  Jermain tried not to listen to the other ship’s muffled beat. ‘That would account for her crossing our course at this point.’ He stared at Wolfe’s shadowed features. ‘But it would mean that she’s hopelessly off her proper route!’

  Mayo said, ‘She is, sir. According to my reckoning she’s steering almost north west.’ He did not sound as if he believed himself. ‘It’s ridiculous, sir! She’s heading away from Korea!’

  Jermain swallowed hard. ‘Keep checking, Pilot. And let me have any information you can about the other ships.’

  Oxley called over the intercom, ‘Both other vessels have turned away to the north, sir. Range about six thousand yards.’

  Jermain stared hard at the plot table. Like counters on a staff officer’s map the ships were moving inexorably in a strange and meaningless formation. He said, ‘Alter course, Pilot. We’ll close the Mciange from astern but keep on her starboard quarter.’ He walked to the periscope. ‘I want to get a better look at her.’

  The boat began to’ swing on her new track as the periscope broke the surface. Jermain screwed his eye tight against the pad and stared for several seconds at the hard black shape of the other ship. He could see the high white froth at her stern and the paler rectangle of her upperworks framed against the sky. The stars were still there, but even now the sky seemed to be brightening.

  ‘Course two two zero, sir.’ Twine sounded tense.

  Through the hatch at the end of the control room came the faint dick of equipment and the subdued mutter of voices as the boarding party assembled. Volunteers had been taken from each part of the boat and included stokers and signalmen as well as a small handful of seamen.

  Jermain snapped, ‘Keep those men quiet, Number One! There’ll be time for letting off steam later on!’ He saw a momentary flash of surprise on Wolfe’s face and cursed himself inwardly.

  He was getting rattled, and worse, he was showing it to the others. In a steadier tone he added, ‘We will raise the periscope every thirty seconds, Number One. In the meantime you can tell the boarding party to finish checking their gear and muster up here below the fin.’

  Wolfe replied flatly, ‘Do you think you should be sending Colquhoun, sir?’

  ‘Who else is there?’ Jermain tore his mind from the nagging problem of the Malange’s alteration of course. ‘With ten ratings and a good petty officer he should be all right.’ He added coldly, ‘I can only send those who can be spared.’

  Mayo, who had been looking through the periscope, called, ‘I think we’re running towards a fishing fleet again, sir.’

  Jermain took his place and peered at the tiny pinpricks of light which reflected across the lens like fireflies. It was another part of the same nightmare, he thought. All it needed now was for Oxley to pick up those nerve-racking sounds from the fish-buoys.

  He stepped clear as the periscope hissed down. ‘It will make our approach better this time. The Malange’s screw is making enough racket as it is, but the additional craft will help, too.’ He forced a smile. ‘Maybe the other ships were put off by the freighter’s appearance.’

  Oxley called, ‘The freighter is fine on the port bow now, sir. Range down to one thousand yards.’

  Jermain brushed the hair from his forehead. Nothing was making sense. The Melange must have slowed down to cut the range in such a short time.

  He saw Colquhoun standing with his men by the bulkhead door and noted the tight set of his mouth. He was carrying a Stirling with both hands, as if his life depended on it.

  Jermain called, ‘Just take it easy, Sub. When it gets a bit lighter up top I may want you to go across to the Malange to bolster morale. You could stop anyone from boarding her with your party, and I will deal with the other opposition until help arrives.’

  He saw Jeffers, the second coxswain, tighten his webbing belt and grin broadly. ‘Like old times, sir! I ain’t shot anyone since I was in Borneo!’

  Some of the men tittered and Jermain was thankful. ‘Well, I hope that won’t be necessary this time.’

  Mayo sounded excited. ‘Sir! I saw a flash on board the freighter!’ He was clinging to the periscope, his beard smeared with grease.

  Jermain asked sharply, ‘Some sort of signal?’

  Mayo swallowed. ‘It looked like a shot to me, sir Í’

  Jermain pushed him aside, his body already stooped over the lens. There was the freighter again. He blinked the sweat from his eye. She looked huge in the crosswires and distorted above her encircling wake of churned spray. He stiffened. There was no mistaking the sudden ripple of orange flashes from her maindeck. They lit up the tall, spindly funnel and the black, eyeless windows of the bridge beyond.

  ‘Down periscope!’ He swung round, his mind suddenly ice cool. Either there was already a boarding party aboard the Malangey or some sort of mutiny had broken out. Most solitary merchant ships went with fear and caution of pirates and terrorists alike. Their bridges were usually protected with barbed wire and steel gates, behind which their officers were expected to hold out until help was available. But the freighter’s absence of distress signals showed that this was no clumsy attack This was well organised and well planned.

  He barked, ‘Stand by to surface, Number One. I will want the boarders up on the casing abaft the fin as we go alongside. There won’t be much time, so two ladders and grapnels will have to suffice.’ He stared at Colquhoun’s glistening face. ‘You take one ladder and Petty Officer Jeffers the second one, right?’ He saw Colquhoun nod dazedly. ‘My guess is that the sight of the Black Pig right alongside will do the trick.’ He wished he felt as calm as he sounded. ‘Keep listening to the other two ships and watch the nearest fishing boats. I don’t want to foul any nets if I can help it!’

  Mayo jumped to obey him and he saw the lights flicking obediently above the diving panel.

  ‘Take the con, Number One. As soon as we surface I shall go to the upper bridge and supervise the boarding from there.’

  He climbed up the ladder and knocked off the clips of the lower hatch. Behind him the boarding party milled around uncertainly, fingering their weapons and staring around the control room as if appreciating what awaited them above.

  Jermain peered at his watch. ‘Surface!’ He was already at the upper hatch as the deck tilted sharply, and with a thunder of cascading water the submarine heaved herself bodily through a maelstrom of surging water and bursting air bubbles and broke surface.

  Everything was running with water and ice-cold to the touch, but gasping and stumbling the men moved like automatons as they opened the fin door and staggered into the night’s clammy embrace.

  Even as he reached the open cockpit above the fin, Jermain’s ear became attuned to the outside world. The sigh of spray, the rumble of water alongside the submarine’s shining flank, and then, sharply insistent, the brittle clatter of small-arms fire.

  He wiped his sleeve across the gyro repeater and shouted, ‘Port ten! Steer three one five I’ The old freighter seemed to hang over him like a cliff and for a heart-stopping moment he imagined that he had misjudged the distance. The lifeboats in their davits, the single line of scuttles, even the sagging guard-rail were visible in the stabbing light and the faint brightening from the sky.

  He ground his jaws together with concentration. If the freighter had been a larger ship he would never have managed it. But she was barely ten feet higher than the Temer aire’s casing. Even so, the boarders would have to watch out. One false step and a man could fall and be ground between the two hulls.

  A lookout at his side nudged him excitedly and levelled a Stirling over the screen. Jermain gauged the final distance and marvelled that no one had noticed the submarine’s approach.

  ‘Starboard ten! Stop engine!’ He felt the deck quiver and watched narrowly as the black bows began to swing slightly to cut across the freighter’s sluggish backwash. The momentum carried the Temeraire up and past the high poop, and from the casing he heard Jeffers yell, ‘Stand by with them lines!’

  Jermain saw the trapped spray leaping like a pack of phantoms right alongside as the two hulls idled together. It was now or never…. He shouted, ‘Boarders away!’ From the corner of his eye he saw the gleaming hooks soaring over the rusting rail, heard the clatter and scrape of weapons as his men waited and then leapt for the twin ladders The deck quivered again, and with a dull boom the rounded hull grated against the freighter’s plates.

  Jermain realised that he was shaking, and he had to grip the screen with both hands to control it. It seemed crazy and impossible to realise that this was happening. That only feet away were men dedicated to open murder, to whose mercy he had just sent a mere handful of his anew. And Jill, too. He tore his mind away.

  ‘Midships! Slow astern!’ The boat began to slide free, her fin almost brushing the overhanging lifeboats.

  A messenger at the intercom yelled, ‘The two ships is turnin’, sir! Swingin’ around the fishin’ fleet!’ He made an effort to control the break in his voice. ‘Bearin’ red four five! Range six thousand!’

  Jermain watched the Malange’s wallowing shape swinging across the bows and nodded. ‘We will remain surfaced. Tell the first lieutenant to prepare tubes One and Two for firing!’

  He had a brief, impossible picture of Sir John Colquhoun’s watchful expression when they had taken part in that last exercise. Jermain felt the anger washing away his pent-up anxiety like a cold shower. Perhaps now he would be satisfied, he thought savagely.

  He had wanted the Temeraire to be baptised, and it looked as if his wish was about to be granted.

  The intercom muttered, ‘Tubes One and Two ready!’

  *  *  *

  Colquhoun’s limbs felt like lead as he pulled himself the las! few feet up and over the freighter’s bulwark. Below him the taut ladder quivered and then swung heavily against the ship’s side as the last of his five men kicked himself clear of the Temermre’s hull and allowed the struggling cluster of dangling figures to pound painfully on the pitted plates.

  Colquhoun stumbled down on to the unfamiliar deck and was instantly aware of the sudden and eerie silence. There was a brief, subdued swish of water behind him as the submarine idled astern, and then as the men on the other ladder pounded over the rail he was also conscious of a terrible feeling of loneliness. After nearly a week sealed within the tight world of the submarine the sudden rush of events left him panic-stricken and naked.

  Petty Officer Jeffers pushed him unceremoniously to the deck and dropped on his knees beside him. He was already cocking his gun and peering forward towards the bridge. Between sharp breaths he gasped, ‘What now, sir? Shall we split up?’

  ‘I—I suppose so!’ Colquhoun tried to project his tumbling thoughts beyond the small dark patch of deck below the tall derricks, but he could find nothing but a void of uncertainty and fear.

  Jeffers snapped, ‘Right! Rider, you take the port side witb Stone and Lancing. Cover the bridge and shoot if anything moves this way.’

  Colquhoun managed to say, ‘But what about the officers up there?’

  Jeffers snorted. ‘Too late to worry about them, sir. Anyway, I reckon the other bastards are in charge up there. Otherwise the ship’d be on course!’

  They both ducked as a sudden burst of automatic fire swept down from a small catwalk abaft the bridge, the flying bullets striking sparks from the hold coamings.

  Jeffers yelled, ‘See what I mean?’ Then to the crouching seamen, ‘For Chrissakcs open fire 1 This is no frigging garden party!’

  The Stirlings opened up nervously and then joined as one in a dancing pattern of fire across and around the shadowed bridge structure.

  Colquhoun rested his head against the cool steel of a hold coaming and tried to control his fierce breathing. It was a nightmare. It could not be happening. He saw the savage fusilade finding and holding the rear of the bridge and heard the clatter of glass as the fast-firing Stirlings swept away the windows. His lungs seemed full of cordite fumes and he had to hold himself physically from hiding his head below the protective steel.

  Jeffers roared, ‘Move up, lads! We’ll cover you from this side!’ In a savage whisper he added, ‘Come on, sir! Get a grip of yerself!’ He shook Colquhoun’s arm. ‘The lads will be lookin’ to you!’ Then he rose to his feet, the Stirling jumping in his hands as he poured a blind volley across the exposed deck. ‘Take that, you bastards! His voice was wild and unreal. Like a madman’s, Colquhoun thought. Then he found that he too was on his feet, running with the others, his voice mocking him in its own insane excitement.

  They reached the final hold between themselves and the bridge ladders. Jeffers looked up and jammed another magazine into his smoking gun. He said in an almost matter-of-fact tone, ‘We’ve got’em foxed for a bit, sir. They can’t fire down on us without showin’ their’eads against the white paint up there. Right now we’ve got to decide what to do next.’ He stared sideways at Colquhoun.

  The latter looked momentarily over his shoulder as if he still expected to see the Temeraire’s fin looming alongside.