`Full ahead! Steer oh-two-oh!’

  He had said it. They were suddenly moving more rapidly towards the narrow opening in the gate. The buoys which supported the nets bobbed darkly, like the heads of tired swimmers, and the boom-vessel grew larger and sharper in detail. He could see her long, spindley funnel and the bulky shapes of her winches and hoisting gear. He heard clearly the thud of her engine as she began to draw the buoys together again.

  We’re not going to make it! He watched in rising anguish, as the gap became narrower and more distorted.

  He could see the rust-dappled sides of the ship, and caught the glow of a cigarette from her narrow bridge. Thirty feet, fifteen feet, there seemed to be no entrance any more.

  He saw the high, jagged stem rising over him like an axe, and wanted to hide his eyes from the impenetrable wall of metal which loomed across their path in a solid barrier.

  `Hard a-starboard!’ His voice was a sob.

  He saw the vessel sheer away, and heard the grate of metal along the hull, as the casing ground against one of the buoys. A final jerk, which made Taylor gasp and cling more fiercely to the wheel, and then they were curving round, away from the net. They were through.

  `In!’ said Curtis. He couldn’t trust his voice for more.

  Duncan spoke from between his teeth, `Well, there’s no turning back now, is there?’

  ‘Was there ever?’ Jervis was massaging his raw hands and watching Duncan curiously.

  Duncan laughed shortly. `Could be, fan. Could be.’

  At minimum speed the boat prowled across the harbour, while Curtis hurriedly checked the chart and measured the distances between the piers and jetties. Jervis knelt at his side, studying Curtis’s quick, skilful movements.

  `You did that for me, didn’t you, Skipper? You didn’t want me to go out and cut another net?’ He spoke very quietly and saw Curtis stiffen.

  Curtis turned his face so that they were only inches apart. `Questions! Nothing but damn questions! For Christ’s sake shut up and let me get on with my job!’

  Jervis coloured, and lowered himself shakily to the deck. Duncan glanced casually at him and shrugged. `A hard life, ain’t it?’

  Curtis twisted a pencil between his strong fingers and closed his eyes tightly, forcing his reeling thoughts to grapple with the attack. Jervis, the young fool! Did he really think I wanted to make it easier for him? Hadn’t it occurred to him that I can’t stand the suspense of waiting any longer? Steve knew. He sees right through me. He knows I can’t hold out much longer.

  He crawled back to the periscope and raised it cautiously, thinking as he did so how quiet it seemed in the boat.

  The long grey finger of the loading jetty lay before him, its sharp outline broken in places by the bulky shapes of moored vessels. They passed softly down the side of a high freighter, a dim arc-lamp giving him a quick view of some army lorries lashed across her decks. The lamplight filtered across the water in a pale silver sheen, too weak to endanger the tiny black stick which moved so purposefully through the uneasy, lapping wavelets.

  They don’t seem to be very worried about the blackout here, he thought absently; perhaps the Allied invasion has been delayed. Surely something must be happening in the south by now. `Damn!’ He pressed the button as another patrol boat chugged slowly amongst the ships. Some uniformed figures squatted around a small gun on the boat’s foredeck, their uniform buttons glinting under the arc-lamp.

  He listened to the engine fading away, and Taylor began to whistle softly between his teeth.

  Curtis took another quick look and edged the boat even closer to the nearest merchantman.

  The submarine sank like a sounding whale, and dipped under the ship’s fat bilge, scraping the sand and muck on the harbour bottom, and once, with a sharp metallic screech, actually colliding with the stonework of the jetty.

  Silently the boat settled on the bottom and the engine died away.

  `We there?’ Duncan sat back heavily in his small seat.

  `The dock is about fifty feet ahead of us.’

  Curtis’s words dropped like pebbles in a still pool. He waited while each of the crew digested them.

  `What’ll we do, Skipper?’ Jervis suddenly checked himself, afraid that Curtis would turn on him again. But his captain merely looked at him unseeingly and bit his lip.

  `There doesn’t seem to be much water here.’ Duncan spoke slowly, as if he, too, were being cautious. `If that flamin’ dock is a bit low in the water, we might find it a bit of a squeeze!’

  `We’re going in now! We’ve got to drop a charge at each end of the target, to make quite sure!’ He turned to Jervis. `Get into the “W and D”, Ian; you might have to go out and assist things in a minute.’

  The submarine moved forward once more. Curtis counted off the seconds, visualizing the giant, factory-shaped floating dock towering over them. There was a sharp metallic clang, and the control-room rocked violently.

  `We’re underneath,’ he announced flatly.

  `Christ, they must be bloody deaf up there!’ The words were forced from Taylor’s twisted lips. His whole face looked sunken and shone with sweat.

  The boat stopped.

  Curtis checked the fuse-settings of the charges and began to wind the big basket-wheel on the port side. They heard the charge fall away, and each man imagined the deadly shape falling like a giant leaf, to settle practically alongside the hull.

  They began to bump their way along the bottom of the dock, Curtis checking the time and trying to estimate when they had covered about three hundred feet.

  `Stand by!’

  Curtis swung the starboard release wheel and held his breath. Overhead he could hear the steady beat of several engines, probably generators on the dock, or maybe some repairs being carried out.

  `Charge gone V

  Curtis looked wildly around the control-room as a fresh grating on the hull cut the words from his mouth. The boat shivered and settled down again. There was a strange groan from the metal overhead.

  Duncan sat bolt upright. `Jesus! They’re floodin’ the dock! We’ll be pinned underneath an’ go up with the charges!’

  Curtis pulled desperately at his jacket, as if stifling to death. `Full ahead!’ He tapped Taylor sharply on the arm, so that the man jumped in his seat. `Use the wheel all you can to free us!’

  The motor whined and shuddered on its bed, and as the sturdy little hull twisted under power and rudder they heard the clinging pressure of the massive dock on their casing, as it tried to hold and destroy its own killer.

  Through the glass ports in the periscope dome Curtis saw a break in the black wall of disturbed mud and overhanging shadows. One more thrust. We’ve got to get clear!

  Over his shoulder he said, `Watch it, Steve! Don’t let her break surface and give the whole game away!’

  `Hark who’s talking!’ Duncan’s voice sounded breathless with the effort of controlling the boat’s savage motion. `I guess I’m not in the mood for a ruddy sermon!’ he added jerkily.

  Curtis momentarily forgot the danger and the grinding of metal against the hull. A wave of sickness coursed through his taut limbs, and he stared wildly at the other man’s intent and angry face.

  `What did you mean by that?’ He had to hold his stooped body close to the periscope to prevent himself from falling. `What the hell are you implying?’

  `Forget it till later!’

  `Damn you! I’m asking you now!’ His voice rose to a shout, and Taylor wrenched his eyes from the compass to stare miserably from one to the other.

  Curtis reached out and gripped Duncan’s shoulder. `Come on, spit it out while you’ve got the chance! Tell me what you’ve been thinking all this time! Now’s your chance to get it off your ruddy chest!’ He glared round the boat, seeing only a misty picture of the wet, glistening plates and Taylor’s bent shoulders at the wheel. Of Jervis’s white face framed in the open door, and lastly Duncan’s tight lips and lowered head.

  As the Australian remained silent, Curtis shook his shoulder and shouted even louder. `You think I’m scared, lost my nerve, is that it? Or are you afraid to tell me that I’m a murderer, too?’ He fell back weakly, his blue eyes suddenly dead.

  Duncan’s hands were rigid. `I said forget it, Ralph. For Christ’s sake get a hold of yourself.’ His tone had changed and he sounded uneasy. `Right now, I guess we have a job to finish. The rest’ll keep.’

  At that moment the submarine cleared the overhanging end of the dock and moved awkwardly towards the centre of the harbour.

  Duncan licked his lips. `Looks as if the Eye-ties didn’t get a tip that we were comin’ after all,’ he said slowly. `I guess we’re all born lucky.’

  Curtis ran his palm along the periscope, heedless of the thick grease which clung to his skin. You finally did it, he told himself. You finally cracked. It was almost a relief. He was dimly aware of Jervis’s quiet voice behind him, talking to Taylor.

  `Steer one-five-five. We should be clear of the main jetties in about ten minutes.’

  `Aye, aye, sir.’ Taylor’s answer was automatic and subdued. All the life seemed to have gone from him.

  Curtis eyed them moodily. They already think I’m redundant, something to be tolerated until we get back. He watched Jervis moving uncomfortably by the chart table, his shining diver’s suit hanging on him like an obscene skin.

  `I’ll give the necessary orders, thank you.’ His flat voice made Jervis start and move clumsily towards the diving compartment. `When I’ve got the boat back to the rendezvous you can all do what you like. Until then,’ he paused wearily, `you’ll obey orders. All of you!’

  The boat slid silently through the water, and no roar of engines overhead, or the sudden crashing detonation of depth charges, pursued their slow and cautious passage. It had been a perfect attack. Curtis almost groaned aloud at the mockery of his thoughts.

  As if reading his mind, Duncan stirred his cramped body. `Pretty smooth, Ralph. I’d say there’s not much wrong with your touch that a good rest won’t cure. We’ve all been overdoin’ things a bit.’

  `Periscope depth!’ Curtis fiddled impatiently with the switch and ignored Duncan’s words. He felt strangely calm and resigned; it was a feeling which his self-made loneliness only helped to strengthen as he glared bleakly at the crouched figures grouped about him. Each man was wrapped in his own private thoughts.

  The periscope hissed slowly upwards.

  He searched the harbour eagerly, a feeling of crazy recklessness making his head swim. He saww a small motor boat moving like a shadow towards the top of the anchorage. With childish defiance he kept the periscope raised and looked back at the fading shape of the dock.

  But for you everything might have been different. But the lie died in his brain as his eye turned back across the black water and fastened on a small bobbing float. He stared at it blankly, forcing himself to concentrate once more and aware of some rising sense of warning.

  A thin grey streak probed faintly across the sky, and the outlines of the distant ships became harsher. Soon a new day would dawn in Vigoria, and with it would come disaster when the charges exploded. He watched the float bobbing towards him. We’re on the right course for a quick exit. We should be up to the nets soon, but not as quickly as this. Then he saw another group of floats. He chilled. It must be another net.

  `Thirty feet! Another net!’

  The deck tilted obediently, but at the same instant they heard the clatter of wire across the hull. He realized he was still holding the periscope switch in his hand and he pressed it frantically. Even as the tube hissed down he heard the sharp groan of metal, and a thin trickle of water ran across his wrist. He stared at it for some moments before he could bring himself to realize that the periscope had been caught in the net. The scraping of the wire ceased and the boat skimmed under the net.

  `Only an anti-torpedo net,’ said Taylor quietly. `Luck’s still with us!’

  Curtis wrenched desperately at the hoist. The periscope was jammed solid, and the water still seeped threateningly down the greased tube.

  `Take her up. Surface!’ He stood upright under the dome, his hair pressed against the rough metal.

  Duncan eyed him strangely.

  `Surface,’ he repeated heavily. `We’re blind. We’ll have to run out on the surface!’

  He opened the hatch, gasping as the salt air struck him in the face and a stream of spray broke over the coaming. Heavily he climbed up on to the casing, leaving the others behind in the darkened control-room. Wearily he strapped himself to the twisted periscope standard and braced his feet on the slippery deck. He bent his head until his lips brushed against the speaking tube, his eyes on the white tower of the harbour entrance.

  Why not just step over the edge? Finish the whole damned business once and for all? What was the point of trying to escape now? As soon as the dock blew up, every destroyer and aircraft for miles around would be looking for them.

  The first line of net buoys loomed ahead, and he conned the boat round until the shape of the boom-vessel was lost in the gloom. The boat moved smoothly between the first two nodding buoys, while Curtis gritted his teeth and waited for the net to grip them. They passed cleanly over the top of the sagging net and he breathed again. It was a race now. The next net must be reached before it became any lighter. Already the sky had brightened alarmingly, and somewhere across the harbour he heard the scream of a train whistle.

  He spoke carefully down the pipe. `Give me full revs!’ He was amazed at the calmness in his voice. `Once over the next net we should be O.K.’

  ‘We over a net already then?’ Taylor’s voice rattled tinnily up the tube. ‘Cor, fancy that!’

  He heard Taylor pass the information to the others, and without warning he began to tremble violently. He knew then that he couldn’t desert them whatever he had done, or whatever they thought of him.

  They passed over the last net, within two hundred yards of a sleeping destroyer, and turned for the open sea.

  3

  C U R T I S locked his fingers tightly behind his head and lay back uncomfortably on the small bunk across the chart table. He tried to relax his body and concentrate on the steady, monotonous pulse-beat of the motor.

  The shaded light in the control-room seemed to have lost some of its brilliance and shed a yellow, sickly glow across the instruments and dials, and twisted Duncan’s intent face into a mass of shadows, from which his cold eyes stared fixedly at the depth gauge and the clock.

  Taylor was still at the wheel, while Jervis was trying to find sleep in the forward battery compartment.

  Curtis again resisted the temptation to look at the brass clock. It must be nearly six, he thought. Soon, the charges would explode and turn the peaceful harbour into a raging hell. He swallowed hard, tasting the bitter coating of oil and grime in his throat.

  The submarine had dived as soon as it had cleared the harbour approaches, and as the sun rose above the horizon like a solid gold ball they had groped their way down to a depth of thirty feet and steered purposefully across the open bay.

  He pressed his eyes shut and tried to calculate the situation more clearly. They would have to lie on the bottom soon and rest. As soon as the charges exploded he knew from past experience that every craft and plane would be alerted, and their slightest movement in the shallow coastal waters would invite attention and attack. He heard the wheel creak, and he was reminded of his new worry. The gyro compass had started to play up. Both he and Duncan had carried out the usual

  check, but. the rapid alteration and sudden deviation pointed to one thing. The severe grinding which the boat had received’ beneath the floating dock had caused more damage than any of them was prepared to admit. He bit his lip hard. The boat was blind, and with a faulty compass as well, the possibility of making a rendezvous with the towing submarine in the middle of the night seemed hopeless. Apart from that, he knew that by taking his time over his approach to the rendezvous, and by keeping the other, larger craft helpless on the surface, he was doubling the risk to their lives, as well as those of his own crew.

  His aching mind shied away from the obvious solution, from which there was no real alternative. We shall have to ditch the boat, he told himself, and try to make it overland. He had heard of other crews doing the selfsame thing in the past. But that was in Norway, an occupied country, not in Italy. He shuddered.

  `Damn!’ Taylor spun the spokes again, and craned forward over the compass. `She’s not answerin’, Steve!’

  Duncan waited a moment before replying. `Bring the cow round to due east again. Then ease ‘er off to your course slowly. We’ve got to keep goin’ for a bit, just to put a few miles between us an’ the big bang.’

  The wheel creaked, and Curtis felt his heart beginning to thud painfully against his ribs. Duncan knows, he thought. He knows we’re going to ditch.

  `Course steady on oh-nine-oh.’ There was a pause. `Oh, sod it! She’s payin’ off again!’

  Curtis forced his eyes open and slowly eased his legs down to the deck.

  `Keep trying,’ he said quietly. `I’m going to set her down on the bottom shortly. But keep trying for a bit longer.’

  Duncan looked up, his eyes searching. ‘Feelin’ better, Ralph?’

  Curtis nodded vaguely.

  `Good. I reckon I was right about this bein’ a crook deal.’

  Curtis stiffened, but the other man shook his head briefly, a small smile breaking through his dirty, stubbled face.

  `We were all right, Ralph. It was the job which was stupid! I reckon you did real well to get us out like that, and on the surface, too!’ His grin broadened. `I thought we was all goin’ at each other’s throats for a bit, eh?’

  Curtis felt a tremor of emotion coursing behind his eyes, and he looked away.

  `Sorry about that, Steve. It’s all been playing on my mind a bit.’ He groped for the right words. `I’ve never forgotten how young Roberts died. It was my fault. I killed him as surely as if I’d shot him.’ He found that the relief of confiding in someone was almost more than his mind could stand, and he slumped heavily against the useless periscope. `And now all this happening.’ He waved one hand around the boat. `I don’t mind telling you, we’re in a jam.’