Jack Higgins – Wrath of the Lion 1964 The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God. WILLIAM BLAKE

“I wonder what went wrong?”

Fenelon shrugged. “Perhaps you damaged her engines with the machine-gun, or even holed her. Does it matter?

Shall I surface? We should be able to board her with very little trouble.”

Jacaud shook his head and something glowed in the cold eyes. “I’ve got a better idea. Remember theKontoro ?You said that one torpedo was all it would take. Let’s see what you can do.”

Fenelon felt the blood surge to his temples and his heart pounded wildly. “My God, it’s perfect! They won’t even know what hit them.”

“I don’t mind that,” Jacaud said, “as long as there’s nothing left afterwards.”

L’Alouettecarried two twenty-one-inch torpedoes, both mounted in the bow. Fenelon took a deep breath, pulled him-self together and started to issue firm, crisp orders.

“Enemy’s bearing, one-two-five. Course, one-three-one. Speed, six knots. Range, one thousand five hundred.”

These facts, fed into a complicated electrical device, pro-vided the angle of deflection, enabling the torpedoes to be aimed the right distance ahead of the target so that both should arrive in the same place at the same time.

A moment later the petty officer called, “Deflection, one-three degrees right, sir.”

Fenelon raised the periscope handles, his face pressed to the rubber eyepiece. “Stand by both tubes.”

“Both tubes ready, sir.”

Fenelon could feel the sweat trickling down his face and his heart seemed to leap inside him. So often he had heard of this moment, had it described to him by men who knew. But for him this was the first.

“Stand by to fire.”

Fleur de Lysseemed to leap into focus, every line of her clear and clean. His hands tightened on the handles. “Fire one.”

The submarine lurched as the missile shot away and the hydrophone operator reported, “Torpedo running,”

“Fire two.”

Again the submarine shuddered. “Torpedo running. ”

Fenelon turned to Jacaud. “Care to watch?” The big man pushed him roughly to one side and bent to the handles.

On boardFleur de Lys, Guyon still sweated at the pump and the boat ran on, the automatic pilot in control while Mallory stood on top of the wheelhouse and swept the sea with a pair of glasses.

ThatL’Alouette’s would catch up with them now was cer-tain. They were making no more than six knots and barely holding back the water. Submerged, the submarine had three or four knots on them. They were well out of the main shipping lane, he knew that. Their only hope was the chance of an odd fishing boat putting in an appearance, hardly likely considering the weather.

He swung the glasses again in a wide arc and stiffened as something lifted out of the water to starboard. It was a peri-scope, the tell-tale bow wave giving it away, and then he saw the great, surging streak of foam boiling under the surface of the water as it ran towards them.

“Torpedo!” he cried, and jumped to the deck, losing his balance and rolling over. He picked himself up, scrambled into the wheelhouse and grabbed for the wheel. He spun it round desperately, and slowly she started to turn. Guyon appeared beside him, adding his weight, shoving the wheel over, and then a great swell, rolling in from the west, gave them the final push.

Mallory left Guyon at the wheel and rushed to the rail. He was just in time to see the wash of the torpedo passing to starboard. A few seconds later it was followed by the second.

In the submarine Jacaud gave a growl of rage, turned and grabbed Fenelon by the jacket. You missed, damn you! You missed!”

“But that’s impossible.”

Fenelon bent to the periscope and Jacaud pulled him away. “From now on I’m giving the orders. Take her in close and surface. I’m going to finish Mr. Bloody Mallory off per-sonally.”

On theFleur de Lys Mallory was back at the wheel and Guyon worked the pump furiously. But it was no good. The boat rolled heavily, waves breaking across her prow, the weight of the water inside holding her down.

L’Alouettehad fired both her tubes and no additional tor-pedoes were carried by Type XXIII submarines,, Mallory knew that. He looked out of the window, watching the fog roll in again in patches. There was no other vessel in sight, and his heart sank. Under the circumstances Jacaud’s next move seemed obvious.

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