‘Tantamount to being home and dry, is that it, Bo’sun?’
‘I wouldn’t quite say that, sir. There are always the U-boats.’ McKinnon paused and considered. ‘As I see it, sir, four things. No British pilot is going to attack a British hospital ship. We’d probably be picked up by a patrol plane like a Blenheim which wouldn’t waste much time in calling up fighter support and no German bomber pilot in his senses is going to risk meeting up with Hurricanes or Spitfires. The patrol plane would also certainly radio Scapa to have them open a minefield passage for us. Lastly, they’d probably send out a destroyer or frigate or sloop – something fast, anyway, with enough depth-charge to discourage any U-boat that might be around.’
‘Not a very enviable choice,’ Bowen said. ‘Three days to Scapa, you would say?’
‘If we manage to shake off this U-boat which I’m pretty sure is following us. Five days to Reykjavik.’
‘What if we don’t manage to shake off our shadower? Aren’t they going to become very suspicious indeed when they see us altering course for Scapa Flow?’
‘If they do succeed in following us, they won’t notice any course alteration for a couple of days or more. During that time we’ll be on a direct course to Aberdeen. Once we get south of the latitude of Fair Isle we’ll alter course south-west or west-south-west or whatever for Scapa.’
‘It’s a chance. It’s a chance. You have any preference, Mr Patterson?’
‘I think I’ll leave my preference to the Bo’sun.’
‘I second that,’ Jamieson said.
‘Well?’
‘I’d feel happier in Scapa, sir.’
‘I think we all would. Well, Bo’sun, suggestion number one dealt with. Number two?’
‘There are six exits from the hospital area, sir, three for’ard and three aft. Don’t you think it would be wiser, sir, if we had everybody confined to the hospital area, except, of course, for those on watch in the engine-room and on the bridge? We know our latest Flannelfoot is still with us and it seems a good idea to confine his sphere of operations – if he has any left, which we don’t know – to as limited an area as possible. I suggest we seal up four of those doors, two aft, two for’ard and post guards at the other two doors.’
‘Weld them up, you mean?’ Jamieson said.
‘No. A bomb might hit the hospital. The two doors not sealed off might buckle and jam. Everyone would be trapped. We just close the doors in the usual way and give them a couple of moderate taps with a sledge.’
Patterson said: ‘And maybe Flannelfoot has access to his own private sledgehammer.’
‘He’d never dare use it. First metallic clang and he’d have the whole ship’s company on his back.’
‘True, true.’ Patterson sighed. ‘I grow old. YOU had a third point?’
‘Yes, sir. Involves you, if you will. I don’t think it would do any harm if you were to assemble everybody and tell them what’s going on – not that you can get across to Captain Andropolous and his crew – because I’m sure most have no idea what’s going on. Tell them about Dr Singh, the transceiver and what happened to Limassol. Tell them that another Flannelfoot is at large and that’s why we’ve closed all four doors so as to limit his movements. Please tell them that although it’s not a very nice thing, they are to watch each other like hawks – it is, after all, in their own survival interests – and to report any suspicious behaviour. It might just cramp Flannelfoot’s style and it will at least give them something to do.’
Bowen said: ‘You really think, Bo’sun, that this – the sealing off of the doors and the warning to the ship’s company – will keep Flannelfoot in check?’
‘On the basis of our performance to date,’ McKinnon said gloomily, ‘I very much doubt it.’
The afternoon and the early evening – and even although they were now more than three hundred miles south of the Arctic Circle early evening in those latitudes was still very early indeed – passed away as peacefully as McKinnon had expected. There was no sign of the U-boat but he had been certain that the U-boat would not show itself. There was no sign of any reconnaissance Condor, which only served to confirm his belief in the enemy concealed below, nor did any Heinkels or Stukas appear over the eastern horizon, for the hour of the coup de grace had not yet come.
Half an hour after sunset the night was as dark as it was likely to become on the Norwegian Sea. Cloud cover was patchy and the rest of the sky hazy although a few pale stars could be seen.
‘Time, I think, George,’ McKinnon said to Naseby. ‘I’m going below. When the engines stop – that should be in seven or eight minutes’ time – bring her round 180º till we’re heading back the way we came. You should be able to pick up our wash even though it is dark. After that -well, we can only hope that you’ll pick up a star. I should be back in about ten minutes or so.’
On his way down he passed the Captain’s cabin. There was no longer anyone there to guard the sextant and chronometer: with two of the for’ard exits from the hospital area closed off and the third under guard it was impossible for anyone to reach the upper deck and so the bridge. On the deck it was so dark, the Bo’sun was pleased to note, that he had to use the guideline to find his way to the hospital. Stephen, the young stoker, was there, acting the part of sentry: McKinnon told him to join the others on the mess-decks. When they got there McKinnon found Patterson waiting for him.
‘Everybody here, sir?’
‘Everybody. Not forgetting Curran and Ferguson.’ Those two had been holed up in the carpenter’s shop in the bows. ‘Riot Act duly read. Anybody making the slightest sound after we stop – after the engines have stopped, rather -inadvertently or not, will be silenced. Talking only in whispers. Tell me, Bo’sun, is it really true that you can pick up the sound of a knife and fork on a plate?’
‘I don’t really know. I don’t know how sensitive the listening devices on a modern U-boat are. I do know that the sound of a spanner being dropped on a steel deck is easily detectable. No chances.’
He went into the two wards, checked that everybody had been told of the need for absolute silence, switched on the emergency lamps and went down to the engine-room. Only Jamieson and McCrimmon were there. Jamieson looked at him and switched on an emergency lamp.
‘Now, I take it?’
‘It’s as dark as it’s going to get, sir.’
Even by the time McKinnon had reached the mess-decks the engine revolutions had fallen away. He sat down at a mess table next to Patterson and waited in silence until the engines had stopped and the sound of the generator had died away. With the complete silence and only the feeble light from the emergency lamps to illuminate the area, the atmosphere held the elements of both the eerie and the sinister.
Patterson whispered: ‘No chance that the U-boat will think that their listening apparatus has failed?’
‘No, sir. You wouldn’t have to be a very efficient Asdic operator to know when engine revolutions are falling, then dying away.’
Jamieson and McCrimmon appeared, each carrying an emergency lamp. Jamieson sat beside McKinnon.
‘All we need now, Bo’sun, is a ship’s chaplain.’
‘A few prayers wouldn’t come amiss, sir. Especially a prayer that Flannelfoot hasn’t got a bug sending out a location signal.’
‘Please. Don’t even talk about such things.” He was silent for some moments, then said: ‘We’re heeling, aren’t we?’
‘We are, yes. Naseby is making a 180º turn, heading back the way we came.’
‘Ah!’ Jamieson looked thoughtful. ‘So that he will overshoot us. Turning back on our tracks. But won’t he do the same? I mean, wouldn’t that be the first thing that would occur to him?’
‘Quite honestly, I don’t and wouldn’t have the faintest idea as to what his first, second or tenth thoughts are. His first thought might be that our reversing course is so obvious a ploy that he’s not even going to consider it. He might even think that we’re carrying straight on for the Norwegian coast, which is so ludicrous a possibility that he may even be considering it. Or we might be heading back north-east again for the Barents Sea. Only a madman would do that, of course, but he’ll have to consider the fact, whether we think he thinks we’re mad — or not. Alternatively – and there are a lot of alternatives – he may figure that once we figure we’re clear of his Asdic clutches we’ll just continue on our course to Aberdeen. Or some place in north Scotland. Or the Orkneys. Or the Shetlands. There are an awful lot of options open to us and the chances are that he will pick the wrong one.’