A Twist of Sand

by Geoffrey Jenkins

  The flames came tearing across the sea towards Trout. We were in deadly danger.

  "Break off the attack," I yelled down the voice-pipe. "Course three-oh degrees. Full ahead both."

  As the screws gripped Trout swung while the deadly flame chased across the anchorage. I had to get into that channel. It seemed an age before the water began to break to starboard and I knew 'there was a sand-bar between us and the fiery sea of flame, now shooting skywards. I could not see NP I now. Miles of sea seemed ablaze. She could not survive. I felt weak and limp.

  I had destroyed NP I.

  The flame flickered at the entrance channel, but came no farther. I gasped as Trout, off course, headed towards the line of breakers to starboard. I quickly altered course for the middle of the channel. We were almost abreast the causeway.

  Two figures came racing along the sand, waving frantically, arms tearing the air in terror. I could no longer see the causeway, however. The tide had covered it. The two men — sailors from NP I — tore along a narrow spit of sand, while the flames reached at them from behind. Trout was a biscuit-toss away.

  "Slow ahead both," I ordered.

  When the one sailor, glancing in terror at the flames behind him, saw me lean forwards to the voice-pipe, he sank on his knees and stretched his hands out in a frantic gesture of despair.

  In broken English he screamed: "For the love of God, Herr Kapitan…"

  No, I thought. There will be no one except three men who knew about NP I, and only myself to remember her fate.

  I swung the Oeriklon on its mounting.

  I fired a burst into the sailor's sagging face.

  That face haunts my nightmares.

  IX

  Trial at the Cape

  "Most irregular," interjected the president of the court martial.

  His cherubic face, which I had once known to become as mischievous as a schoolboy's when arranging a secret drink before lunch at Admiralty House, was stern.

  The five officers, divided by the rear-admiral in the middle, formed the proscenium, as it were, to the glorious backdrop of the Cape mountains behind Simonstown. Through the long windows behind them I could see a great wash of white arum lilies — they grow as wild as hedge-flowers in England during the Cape spring — for all the world like surf against the blue sea and the mountains, to which Drake paid immortal tribute when he rounded them four centuries ago.

  Elton stood, faintly self-conscious but smirking at being in the limelight, at the improvised "witness box" which had been rigged for the court martial. I and my defending officer, Lieutenant Gander, sat behind a table facing the captains, the two lieutenants and the Rear-Admiral Commanding South Atlantic. Elton was enjoying telling them about my savage assault on him before Trout went in to sink NP I.

  The court martial was, of course, inevitable. It followed my arrival as surely as the breakers of Curva dos Dunas snarl over the burnt-out remains of NP I at this moment. I suppose my return navigation of the tortuous channel-alone, utterly alone with nothing but my own thoughts-was one of the most automatic things I have ever done. Through the creaming welter of death I had conned the damaged Trout, past the invisible causeway to the shore, through the twisted whorls of the channel to the open sea. I have, to this day, no clear recollection of that night. Probably the reaction of seeing NP I come to such a ghastly end, followed by my own action in massacring a terror-stricken wretch with a machine-gun, had been too great. Vaguely the death-dealing breakers and sand-bars glided by and, my eyes aching from the whiteness of the surf under the whiteness of the moon, I stumbled down the conning-tower hatch and gave John a course for Simonstown.

  "Full ahead," I had told him in a toneless voice.

  I fell upon my bunk and slept like a dead man.

  There is, however, no escaping the vigil of the Royal Navy. I had sinned — or they thought I had — and the court martial was the natural sequel. Half a day after Trout had tied up in Simonstown and the signals had flown between Simonstown and London, I was relieved of my command. The Commander-in-Chief had decided that there was certainly something very fishy about Trout and her skipper.

  Elton was doing nothing to disillusion the court martial on that score.

  "When," asked the bland voice of the prosecuting officer, "did you have doubts about Lieutenant-Commander Peace's er — ah — mental state?"

  "The night we 'eard the whale… " his voice trailed away uncertainly.

  The Commander-in-Chief gazed at him questioningly.

  Certainly the court martial was providing its quota of surprises.

  "Heard a whale?" snapped the gold braid at the high table. "What d'ye mean — heard a whale?"

  "Well, sir," stumbled Elton, growing pink round the It came out with a rush. "I don't like to say in front of the lady, sir." He gestured towards the Wren who was taking the proceedings down in shorthand.

  "You mean…" the rear-admiral snorted, incredulously. "Anything you have to say, say it, by God, and let us hear, even in front of a lady."

  "Well, sir," said Elton. "The night we heard a whale farting over the hydrophones."

  A slight tremor in her pencil was the only indication the Wren showed that the shock had not passed unnoticed.

  "Heard a whale… er…" gasped the rear-admiral.

  "There seem to have been some strange occurrences in H.M.S. Trout," said the senior captain, his voice like a file.

  "Explain yourself, Elton," said the Commander-in-Chief.

  "Well, sir, we was listening, Bissett and me, on the 'ydrophoncs and there comes this noise. Strike a light, I says, that bleedin' whale must be getting the same sort of grub as we get in Trout. 'E's got a guts-ache, all right."

  The Wren's pencil faltered, but she carried on gamely, brown head bent over her notebook.

  Elton paused while the drama sank in.

  But the old seadog presiding wasn't going to let him away with it.

  "And then?" he asked in his quarter-deck voice.

  "Lieutenant-Commander Peace come in and he seemed to think it was a U-boat." The contempt for my judgement was obvious.

  "Could it not have been H.E muffled, or distorted?" asked the senior captain.

  "Not a… beg pardon, no sir," replied Elton. "I never 'eard H.E like that."

  The junior captain on the other side chipped in.

  "You're not the senior hydrophone operator in Trout are you?"

  "No sir," said Elton, "but…"

  "That's all," snapped the officer. Here at least, I thought wanly, was someone with a judicial turn of mind.

  "Yes, and then?" asked the rear-admiral, usurping the prosecuting counsel's function.

  "The skipper, I mean Lieutenant-Commander Peace, told Bissett to keep on to it. I 'eard 'im giving orders to follow it."

  "Thank you," said the prosecution. "We shall now pass on to the occasion when Trout stood at action stations for — how many hours, Elton?"

  "Must 'ave been about eight hours, sir," he replied.

  "Between the time of your first hearing this extraordinary noise and the time you stood to action stations all day, did you have any cause to suspect that Lieutenant-Commander Peace was not himself."

  "Oh yes, sir," smirked Elton. "We all knew 'e was nuts — shouting and screaming orders down the voice-pipe, and 'im up alone there with no look-outs… "

  The Commander-in-Chief and the senior captain exchanged whispers.

  "I presume you will be bringing evidence on this point, Lieutenant?" asked the president.

  "Yes, sir, I am afraid so," he replied.

  "Don't be afraid," snapped the old seadog. "I want The whole story of Trout's mission." I knew what was passing through my unwilling tormentor's mind — I've got a cast-iron case against this poor bastard in the dock, but he's had a bloody fine record and I'll let him off the little bits as much as possible.

  The judicial captain on the rear-admiral's right came to my rescue.

  "Elton, did you have any actual orders from Lieutenant-Com
mander Peace during this time?"

  "No sir," said Elton, falling into the trap. "'E kept Bissett going something cruel, sir. Said Bissett 'ad the best ears in the boat."

  "So all this you are saying is merely crew's gossip — Lieutenant-Commander Peace in fact never gave you personally orders during this period?"

  "No sir, but…"

  "That is all I wanted to know," he said and leaned back. I needed a friend pretty badly, too.

  "Now, Elton, tell us about this alleged assault," said the lieutenant.

  Elton darted a venomous glance at me. They said he'd been unconscious for two hours after I'd hit him.

  "We'd been at action stations all day, sir, and not a sound on the 'ydrophones," he said. "Then the skipper — I mean Lieutenant-Commander Peace, sir, comes and I seed in his face…"

  "Only the facts, Elton," said the junior captain.

  Elton bridled. "I was saying to Bissett, sir, that the skipper wasn't looking too good and 'ere we'd been eight hours listening for a fartin' whale… Then the skipper — I mean Lieutenant-Commander Peace, sir — was standing there looking as if he'd bloody well murder me and then 'e 'it me. When I comed round we was moving."

  "What did you say to provoke Lieutenant-Commander Peace into such an extraordinary act for a commanding officer?" asked the rear-admiral.

  Elton coloured. "'E overheard me saying 'e was crackers," he mumbled.

  The senior captain cut short his narrative, which, told thus coldly in court, sounded too damning.

  "You were with Lieutenant-Commander Peace in the Mediterranean, were you not, Elton?"

  He looked suspicious. "Yes, sir, I was."

  "He was a good commanding officer and — if I may say so at this stage — a very brave one, too, was he not?"

  "Yes, sir, 'e was."

  "Is it true Trout's crew had a nickname for him?"

  "Yes sir. We called 'im ' The Mountie,' because he always got his man."

  The court smiled. One up to me, I thought. A past record would only count in mitigation.

  "A very brave and daring commanding officer, with the D.S.O. and now two Bars?" persisted the senior captain.

  "Yes sir."

  "And you never had occasion to query his actions then?"

  "No sir."

  "And why in this instance, then?"

  Elton shuffled. Perhaps he remembered the sinkings and the glory in the Mediterranean.

  "I don't want to say nothing against Lieutenant-Commander Peace," he said haltingly. "But this time 'e was different — I thought…"

  "You thought, if I may use colloquial language, that he was round the bend?"

  "Yes, sir, that's it. I ain't saying nothing against him…."

  "Thank you, Elton, that will be all," said the president.

  Elton looked across at me half apologetically as he came out of the witness box. He's said enough, I thought.

  Bissett, supremely uncomfortable, took his place. After the routine questions, the incident of my striking Elton came to the fore.

  "You were the only witness to this extraordinary action," said the lieutenant. "Tell the court what happened — in your own words."

  "I'm afraid I can't sir," Bissett said hesitatingly.

  "You can't?" echoed the prosecutor, glancing at his sheaf of papers.

  "No, sir. You see, I was busy on the hydrophones. I couldn't hear what was being said between Lieutenant-Commander Peace and Elton, sir. The earpieces were over my ears. I only saw him against the bulkhead afterwards."

  Good, loyal Bissett!

  The Commander-in-Chief surveyed him with frosty eyes.

  "Is that all you have to say about it, Bissett?"

  "Yes sir."

  The admiral knew his ratings well enough to know Bissett was lying like a sick baby. His glance travelled slowly between Bissett, the prosecuting officer and myself. We all knew.

  "Very well," he said coldly. "Get on with this question of the whale."

  The lieutenant refreshed himself from his notes.

  "The night before the long stand-to at action stations — when did you first hear this extraordinary noise on the hydrophones?"

  "It must have been about getting dark up above," said | Bissett. "I heard noises and so I called the captain."

  "Why?"

  Bissett looked puzzled. "Well sir, any extraordinary noise and I report it at once. That's the way it works in a submarine." His gibe touched the lieutenant.

  "What was different about this noise from any other — you could have been mistaken, couldn't you? Might it not have been a confused echo back from the warships — the ones which stopped and gave you mail?"

  Bissett smiled, the smile of a man who really knew what he was talking about.

  "No sir, definitely not; I never heard a noise like that — before or since."

  "Can you describe it?"

  "Yes sir. It was a sort of regular gurgling — a sort of thumping and a gurgle, but quite regular, sir."'

  The judicial captain leaned forward.

  "Not once or twice — like ah… a whale?"

  The Wren's pencil trembled slightly.

  Bissett smiled. "No sir. I listened to it moving left to right, travelling at first maybe at about ten knots. Then it slowed."

  "Did Lieutenant-Commander Peace hear it too?"

  "Yes sir, he listened at the hydrophones. Then he changed course and we followed it."

  "How long?"

  "Near two hours, sir."

  "Now tell the court, when Lieutenant-Commander Peace heard it for the first time, what was his reaction?"

  "He seemed interested, but puzzled, like I was, sir."

  "Was there anything — er — abnormal about him at that stage?"

  Bissett's face grew red.

  "There ain't anything wrong with the captain," he broke out. "He's the best bloody skipper I ever sailed with…"

  "Bissett!" growled the gold lace in the middle.

  Bissett swung and faced him. "It's true, sir. Ask any of the crew. He's on the mat because young Elton here got what he deserved. We still dunno what he was up to, but any of us would go to sea tomorrow with him if you asked us."

  The judicial captain said ironically: "A very fine spontaneous tribute and I hope it was not too quick for the record. We want facts, Bissett. The court will ask for your opinion if it requires it. Meanwhile you can save it."

  "He saved us often enough," said Bissett rather wildly.

  The lieutenant stepped into the breach.

  "Now, Bissett," he said. "You had been following this strange noise on a steady bearing for two hours, correct? Then what happened?"

  "Lieutenant-Commander Peace rushed in, excited-like and told me to switch off everything."

  "What was he excited about?"

  "I don't know, sir. He don't usually consult me about an attack. I'm only a rating."

  A heavy frown split the Commander-in-Chief's face at this uncalled for sarcasm. But he kept quiet.

  "And then?"

  "After I had switched off, he told me not to use the hydrophones again without his express permission, sir."

  "What would you deduce from that?"

  "That Trout was in danger — in big danger, sir. He knew what he was doing."

  "The court will decide that," said the lieutenant grimly.

  "And when did you next use the hydrophones?"

  "Next day, when we went to action stations."

  "What did you hear?"

  "No transmissions, sir," said Bissett woodenly.

  "Until when?"

  "After he knocked Elton out, sir. The transmissions was the same. Lieutenant-Commander Peace was with me at the time."

  "Same as what?"

  "As the previous night, sir. No mistaking it. Regular, gurgling. Not H.E, sir."

  "And Lieutenant-Commander Peace intended to fire a torpedo salvo on this bearing?"

  "I dunno what the skipper was going to do, sir. All I know is that the noises were the same."

/>   The prosecuting officer sighed. Bissett was certainly no help to him.

  "Was Lieutenant-Commander Peace quite normal when he heard the transmissions again?"

  "Yes, sir, quite normal. We were both pleased."

  "Why were you pleased?"

  Bissett looked at him contemptuously. "We'd found the enemy again, that's why."

  The judicial captain leaned forward.

  "You say ' enemy,' Bissett. What makes you say that?"

  "It was the enemy all right, sir," muttered Bissett, neatly caught.

  There was a short silence.

  "You must think over this next question very carefully before answering," said the captain. The way he said it sent a thrill through the court. Bissett felt it, too. I hoped he wouldn't be stupid and try and cover up for me again.

  "You say enemy. That means what you heard was — machinery?"

  Bissett looked across at me, hopelessly. There was a long pause. Bissett shuffled and then looked up suddenly.

  "Yes, sir, it was machinery."

  The tension broke.

  "But not H.E?"

  "No, not H.E, sir."

  The rear-admiral smiled frostily at my counsel.

  Bissett went, with a last appealing glance at me.

  The prosecuting officer fumbled with his papers for a moment, producing the necessary air of drama before the entrance of his key witness.

  "Lieutenant John Garland," he called.

  Someone at the door repeated it and I heard it again down the corridor. Since the moment I had "frozen "John on Trout's bridge that night, we might have been strangers.

  John came in and made his way, smartly uniformed, to the witness box. He was sworn and looked aloofly round the court. His preliminary answers were dry, clipped, official. He looked as cool as he always was under fire.

  Then came the questions about what had happened after Bissett had first heard NP I. I would have to cure myself of thinking of the noise as NP I, in case it should slip out, I thought grimly to myself.

  The prosecutor consulted his notes.

  "On orders from Lieutenant-Commander Peace, you altered course sharply, did you not, Lieutenant?"

  "Yes, sir, I did," replied John.

  "Why?"

  "Because I was ordered to do so."

  "That's no answer, Lieutenant — what was the reason for the sharp alteration — it was nearly right about face, wasn't it?"