‘I am not looking despondent, Admiral. I am looking thoughtful. The next step is to hoist the bomb from the plane. After that, we have to load it aboard the Angelina. And then the Angelina sails away. Correct?’ Hawkins nodded and Montgomery wet his forefinger and held it up. ‘To sail away you require wind. Unfortunately and most inconveniently, the Mekemi has died completely.’
‘It has, hasn’t it?’ Hawkins said. ‘Most inconsiderate, I must say. Well, if we manage to get the bomb aboard the Angelina without blowing ourselves to smithereens we’ll just tow it away.’
‘How will we do that, sir?’ Van Gelder said.
‘The Ariadne’s whaler. Not the engine, of course. We row.’
‘How do we know that the cunning little brain of this explosive device can differentiate between the repeated creaking of oars and the pulse of an engine? After all, sir, it is primarily an acoustic device.’
‘Then we’ll go back to the naval days of yore. Muffled oars.’
‘But the Angelina displaces between eighty and a hundred tons, sir. Even with the best will and the strongest backs in the world it wouldn’t be possible to make as much as one nautical mile in an hour. And that’s with men continuously pulling with all their strength. Even the strongest, fittest and most highly trained racing crews — Oxford, Cambridge, Thames Tideway – approach complete exhaustion after twenty minutes. Not being Oxbridge Blues, our limit would probably be nearer ten minutes. Half a nautical mile, if we’re lucky. And then, of course, the periods between successive onsets of exhaustion would become progressively shorter. Cumulative effects, if you follow me, sir. A quarter of a mile an hour. It’s close on a hundred miles to the Kasos Strait. Even assuming they can row night and day, which they can’t, and discounting the possibility of heart attacks, it’s going to take them at least a fortnight to get to the Kasos Strait.’
‘When it comes to comfort and encouragement,’ Hawkins said, ‘I couldn’t ask for a better man to have around. Bubbling over with optimism. Professor Wotherspoon, you live and sail in these parts. What’s your opinion?’
‘It’s been an unusual night, but this is a perfectly normal morning. Zero wind. The Etesian wind — the Meltemi as they
it in these parts — starts up around about noon. Comes from the north or north-west.’
‘What if the wind comes from the south or south-west Brad?’ Van Gelder said. ‘It would be impossible for the rowers to make any headway against it. The reverse, rather. Can’t you just picture it, the Angelina being driven on to the rocks of Santorini?’
‘Job’s comforter,’ Hawkins said. ‘Would it be too much to ask you kindly to cease and desist?’
‘Not Job, sir, nor his comforter. I see myself more in the role of Cassandra.’
‘Why Cassandra?’
‘Beautiful daughter of Priam, King of Troy,’ Denholm said. ‘The prophecies of the princess, though always correct, were decreed by Apollo never to be believed.’
‘I’m not much of a one for Greek mythology,’ Montgomery said. ‘Had it been a leprechaun or a brownie, now, I might have listened. As it is, we have work to do. Mr Danforth — ‘ to his chief officer ‘ — detail half-a-dozen men, a dozen, haul the Angelina round to our port quarter. Once the bomb has been removed we can pull the fuselage for’ard and Angelina can then move for’ard in her turn to take its place.’
Under Montgomery’s instructions, the derrick hook was detached from the lifting ring and the derrick itself angled slightly aft until the hook dangled squarely over the centre of rectangular opening that had been cut in the fuselage. Montgomery, Van Gelder and Carrington descended the companionway to the top of the fuselage, Van Gelder with his stilson, Carrington with two adjustable rope grommets to which were attached two slender lengths of line, one eight feet length, the other perhaps four times as long. Van Gelder Carrington lowered themselves into the cargo bay and lipped and secured the grommets over the tapered ends of the mine while Montgomery remained above guiding the winch driver until the lifting fork was located precisely over the centre of the mine. The hook was lowered until it was four feet above the mine.
None of the eight securing clamp nuts offered more than a token resistance to Van Gelder’s stilson and as each clamp came free Carrington tightened or loosened the pressure on the two shorter ropes which had been attached to the hook. Within three minutes the atomic mine was free of all restraints that had attached it to the bulkhead and floor of the cargo bay and in less than half that time it had been winched upwards, slowly and with painstaking care, until it was clear of the plane’s fuselage. The two longer ropes attached to the grommets were thrown up on to the deck of the Kilcharran, where they were firmly held to ensure that the mine was kept in a position precisely parallel to the hull of the ship.
Montgomery climbed aboard and took over the winch. The mine was hoisted until it was almost level with the ship’s deck and then, by elevating the angle of the derrick, carefully brought alongside until it was resting against the rubber-cushioned sides of the Kilcharran, a manoeuvre that was necessary to ensure that the mine did not snag against the port stays of the foremast of the Angelina when that vessel was brought alongside.
It took what seemed like an unconscionably long time — in fact, it took just over half an hour – to bring the Angelina alongside. Hauling the plane’s fuselage forward to leave space for the lugger had been a quick and simple task, but then, because of the supporting air bags the fuselage was in a state of neutral buoyancy and one man could have accomplished the task with ease. But the Angelina displaced upwards of eighty tons and even the dozen men assigned to the task of towing it found it a laborious task just to get it under way, a difficulty that amply confirmed Van Gelder’s assertion that towing it any distance at all by a whaler propelled only by oars was a virtual impossibility. But eventually, brought alongside it was, the mine gently lowered into its prepared cradle and clamped into position.
‘Routine,’ Montgomery said to Hawkins. If he was experiencing racing any feelings of relief and satisfaction, and he would I have been less than human not to have done, he showed no signs of them. ‘Nothing should have gone wrong and nothing did go wrong. All we need now is a tiny puff of wind, the lugger’s on her way and all our troubles are over.’
‘Maybe all our troubles are just beginning,’ Van Gelder said.
Hawkins looked at him suspiciously. ‘And what, may we ask, are we expected to gather from that cryptic remark?’
‘There is a tiny puff of wind, sir.’ Van Gelder wetted a I forefinger and held it upwards. ‘Unfortunately, it’s not from the north-west, it’s from the south-east. The beginning, I’m afraid, of what is called the Euros.’ Van Gelder had assumed a conversational tone. ‘Reading about it last night. Rare in the summer months but not unknown. I’m sure Professor Wotherspoon will confirm this.’ Wotherspoon’s unsmiling nod did indeed confirm it. ‘Can turn very nasty, very stormy. Gusting up to Force 7 or 8. I can only assume that the radio operators on the Kilcharran and the Ariadne have — what shall I say? – relaxed their vigilance a bit. Understandable, after what they’ve been through. Must have been something about it in the weather forecasts. And if this wind increases, and according to the book there is no doubt it will, any attempt to sail or row the Angelina anywhere will end up in her banging not against the rocks of Santorini, as I suggested, but against those of Siphinos or Folegandros, which I believe are rather sparsely populated. But if the Euros backs more to the east, which I understand it occasionally does, then it would bang into Milos. Five thousand people on Milos. So it says in the book.’
‘I speak with restraint, Van Gelder,’ Hawkins said. ‘I don’t exactly see myself in the role of an ancient Roman Emperor but you do know what happened to messengers who brought bad news to them?’
‘They got their head chopped off. “Twas ever thus, sir. A prophet hath no honour in his own country.”‘
Bearers of bad news were having a hard time of it on both sides of the Atlantic that morning.
The President of the United States was no longer a young man and at half past five on that morning in the Oval Office he was showing every year of his age. The lines of care and concern were deeply entrenched in his face and the skin, beneath the permanent tan, had a greyish tinge to it. But he was alert enough and his eyes were as clear as could be expected of an elderly man who had had no sleep whatsoever that night.