Rendezvous-South Atlantic

by Douglas Reeman

  Ritchie watched him curiously. `I did 'ear they was sendin' some Wrens to Canada, sir. Wouldn''ave minded an instructing job out there.'

  Lindsay stood up. `Get back to the bridge, Yeo, and tell the W/T office I want every channel open. Anything,' he paused,, holding Ritchie's eyes with his own, `anything they hear I want to know about. Then pass the word for Lieutenant Stannard to report to me.'

  Ritchie looked as if he were about to ask a question, but as he glanced past Lindsay he saw Jupp give an urgent shake of the head and decided against it.

  Jupp watched the door close and asked, `More coffee, sir?' When Lindsay remained staring at the bulkhead he added gently, `She'll be safe, sir. They'll not take chances with a ship full of women.'

  Lindsay turned slowly and looked at him. Poor Jupp, what did he know of the Atlantic?

  He said quietly, `I expect you're right. And thank you.'

  Jupp had been expecting Lindsay to fly at him for his foolish comments and had been prepared for it. But he had been determined Lindsay should not be dragged down by the sudden despair which was stamped on his face. The fact that Lindsay had spoken so quietly was in some ways much worse. Jupp' was deeply moved by the discovery, as he was troubled by the realisation he could do nothing to help.

  In his private office below the bridge Lieutenant Philip Aikman carefully locked the secret code books inside his safe and took a quick glance at himself in the bulkhead mirror. He was past thirty, and occasionally worried about a certain flabbiness around his chin and waist. He liked to take care of himself whenever possible, but with the Benbecula rolling drunkenly through trough after trough it was not easy to exercise in comfort and work up a sweat without being watched by prying eyes.

  Unlike most of the other officers aboard, Aikman really enjoyed his appointment to the ship. Benbecula was not involved with complicated manoeuvres of fleet actions. She was remote from all but the rarest chances of air or U-boat attack, which suited him just fine.

  He slipped into his duffel coat and arranged his cap carefully on his fair hair at what was a jaunty angle, but. not enough to draw sarcasm or a harsh reprimand from Goss.

  In civilian life Aikman had been manager of a small but busy travel agency in the London suburbs. Holidays for middle class families in Brighton and Torquay. Weekends for the less fortunate in Southend and Selsey Bill. It never varied very much except when someone came to see him for advice on something more daring. France or Italy. A cruise to the Greek Islands or the ski slopes of Switzerland-Aikman knew every place, almost as if he had visited each one himself.

  His education was scanty, but he made up for it by his sharp attention. to detail and manner. He watched and listened to those who came to his shop to book their holidays, and never pushed. himself further than was necessary to gain more information from them when they returned to tell him of his satisfactory, or otherwise, arrangements.

  Deep inside he yearned to be part of the world he sold and traded in his shop. That unreal world of laughing girls on posters holding beach balls and calling you to sunshine and endless enjoyment. Of the white-hulled :liners anchored in glittering bays and harbours, surrounded by boats of eager wogs and, of course, more smiling girls.

  When war came he volunteered for the Navy without really knowing why. He never lost a chance in seeking someone who could help him reach his new goal, a commission, and when luck came his way he seized it with both hands. In the early months, the phoney war as it was called by all those not made to fight in it,-there was much confusion, as a peacetime Navy became swollen. in size "and purpose. By chance he saw and confronted one of his old customers, a retired captain of some age who was now back in the Service, and like it had become larger than life. Aikman had always flattered him, and when the old captain asked casually if he was interested in a job on Contraband Control, Aikman jumped at it.

  One advantage Aikman had over the younger officer candidates was that he had experience of life outside the Navy or some public school. Without a blush he completed his forms, adding a list of languages which he spoke fluently and more of which - he had a fair knowledge. In fact he spoke only one, his own, and even that was limited. But as he had told his customers often enough. `Everyone speaks English!' His supreme confidence and smooth acceptance of his new work somehow carried him through. In the early part of the war, when maritime neutrals still outnumbered the combatants, he was required to board and search'their ships to make sure no war materials were being smuggled to the enemy. To his surprise, he found everyone did speak English, well almost, and when a rare' ignorance spoiled his approach Aikman would soon discover another officer or a steward who could give him his necessary information. In fact, he did so well he gained a second stripe almost before the first one had become tarnished.

  But when he was transferred to a troopship and later to Benbecula he felt a pang of relief. Luck could not last forever, and here he was really safe. The officers were nicely mixed, and only a few like Maxwell, the gunnery officer, and Goss, the first lieutenant, ever bothered him. He had not a 'specified job, other than as boarding officer, until of course the captain had made him his senior decoding officer, an untouchable and unreachable position. It suited him very well indeed.

  He stepped over the cabin coaming and winced as the wind smashed, him back on the wet steel. Over the weather rail the sea was sinking and then surging high against the hull, and he had to run like mad to reach the bridge ladder, without getting soaked.

  He entered the chart room and shook his cap carefully on the deck. Stannard was not there, and only Midshipman Kemp and Squire, the navigator's yeoman, were working on the two charts.

  Kemp was well bred, you could see it in the fine clear skin and sensitive mouth. He had an important father too, Aikman had learned from someone, and he guessed there might be a next step for him there if he played it carefully.

  He said casually, `I've just decoded that last top secret one.' He laid the pad on the chart. `It states, two repeat two of the German heavy units have entered the Skagerrak, so you'd better riote it in the pilot's log.'

  Kemp looked up, his eyes rimmed with fatigue. `Just two of them?'

  Aikman gave a grave smile. `It stands to reason that if two of them have gone to earth the other will be close behind.' He shrugged. `If not, I imagine the Home Fleet can take care of that bugger!'

  Kemp thrust the pad to-Squire. `You do it, will you?'

  `I said as much to Pilot.' Aikman yawned hugely. `When he got me out of my pit at the crack of. dawn. Still, -there you are.'

  He walked to a salt-stained scuttle and peered down at the leaping, jarring wave crests. It was just past noon, yet the sky was dull grey, like a London fog in winter. He watched the rivulets of spray running down the glass and freezing into small distorted worms.

  `Nasty. But I've seen worse.'

  Behind his back Squire looked up and grinned. Pompous twit. Sounded like a proper old sea-dog. He lowered his head again and reached for his pencil. Squire had been a merchant seaman, but now that he was officially in the Royal Navy for the duration of the war was - as determined as Aikman to better himself. There the similarity ended. He was a dark haired seaman of twentyeight years, with the quiet good looks of a scholar rather - than a sailor. He had worked hard and had gained the coveted appointment as Stannard's personal yeoman, astep, as the Australian had explained more than once, which would land him a bit of gold lace if he kept his nose clean. So there it was.

  He paused, the pencil in mid air. He was too tired. Too worn out by the cold and damp of his endless visits to the bridge. He tried again.

  As Aikman walked across the passage to visit the W/T office Squire said quietly, `These two Jerry ships, sir. How can they be in the Skagerrak?'

  Kemp, who had been brooding about his father and their last angry confrontation, turned and looked at him warily. `Why not?'

  Squire studied him thoughtfully. He liked Kemp, but as an officer he was bloody useless.

  Patiently
he said, `If three of them left Tromso last night, how can two have reached as far south as Denmark in that time?' He put down the pencil. `It's not possible, sir, unless they grew wings!'

  Aikman's voice was loud in the passageway and Squire said, `You'd better tell him, sir. It could be important.'

  `Tell him what?' Aikman was back, smiling at them with assured ease.

  Kemp looked at the signal pad. `The yeoman says that these ships could not have reached the Skagerrak so quickly, sir.'

  `What?' Aikman was still smiling. `That's bloody rubbish; lad.' He crossed to the table. `If their lordships tell us they've got there, then who are we to question them, eh?' He laughed. `Would you like me to make a special signal to the First Sea Lord? Tell him that Mr Midshipman Kemp and Acting Able Seaman Squire are of the opinion his information is all to hell?'

  Kemp dropped his eyes. `I was only saying what Squire interrupted, `I think you should check the original signal, sir.'

  `Do you?' Aikman felt a sudden twinge of alarm. They were all reacting wrongly. He was losing control. `As it happens, Squire, I do not require any advice on my department!V

  'Sir.' Squire looked away, hurt and suddenly angry. What the hell was the matter with Aikman? He glanced at Kemp's strained face. And he was little better. He should have spoken out, done the job Stannard had entrusted him with.

  He said stubbornly, `When the navigating officer returns, sir, I shall have to tell him.'

  `You do that small thing, Squire!' Aikman shot him a withering stare. `I may have some things to tell him, too!' He stamped out of the chart room and slammed the door.

  Kemp shrugged. `Phew, you've really upset him now.'

  Squire did not look at him. The first thing he had done wrong. Spoken out against an officer. He must be mad. Even Stannard would be unable to wipe that from his record.

  At that very moment Stannard was standing beside Lindsay's tall chair, his eyes fixed beyond the bows and the steady panorama of cruising wave crests.

  He said, `Well, sir, I have to tell you thatwe should make a turn. Even allowing for dead reckoning and little else, I'm sure we're miles over our patrol line.'

  Lindsay nodded slowly: Stannard was right, of course. All the forenoon as he had sat or paced the creaking, staggering bridge he had listened to the intermittent stream of incoming signals. The convoy had made another turn to westward, its commodore apparently satisfied the U-boats had given up the chase. There had been several reports of ice to the south and south-east of Cape Farewell from the American ice patrols, but every captain had to be prepared to take avoiding action in these waters.

  He replied, `Well, if anything had happened we'd have been better placed to go and assist.' It sounded as lame as he knew it was.

  Aikman strode on to the bridge and reported, `Two enemy units have been sighted in their own waters, sir. The third is still unaccounted for.'

  Stannard grinned. `That settles it then. I'll go and lay off a new course.'

  Lindsay glanced at Dancy. `Ring for half speed.'

  He settled down again in the chair and thought of the convoy and the party of Wrens who were probably quite unaware of their momentary danger.

  He realised that Aikman was still beside him, and when he turned saw his face was deathly pale, as if he was going to bee sick. `What's wrong?'

  Aikman spoke between his teeth. `There's been a mistake, sir. Not important now as the enemy ships are back in safe waters, but Lindsay asked, `What sort of mistake?'

  `I was called here this morning and told to decode that first signal.' He- was speaking mechanically, as,if he had lost control over his voice. `I was tired, I'd been overworking, .you see, sir, and I must have confused the times of origin.

  Lindsay gripped the arms of the chair. `You did what?'

  `Well, sir, it was just a small slip.' A bead of sweat ran from under Aikman's cap. `But the three German ships left Tromso twenty-eight hours earlier than I calculated.'

  Lindsay saw Dancy watching him over the gyro, his face like a mask.

  `But two of them are back in their own waters.' Lindsay forced himself to speak gently, knowing Aikman was near breaking. `Is that part right?'

  Aikman nodded. `Yes, sir.'

  The sliding door at the rear of the wheelhouse crashed open and Stannard said harshly, `Own waters be damned! They're in the Skagerrak, and that was how Squire knew he,' Stannard pointed angrily at Aikman's rigid shoulders, `had made a cock of the decoding!'

  `Easy, Pilot!' Lindsay slid from the. chair, his mind working wildly. `This won't help anything.'

  Stannard crossed the bridge and said to Aikman, `You stupid bastard! Why the hell did you take so long to find out?'

  Aikman faced him, his lips ashen. `Well, they're back now, so what are you trying to make trouble for?' Lindsay's voice silenced all of them. `In twenty-eight

  hours quite a lot might have happened.' He looked at Stannard. `See what,you can find out about the convoy.' Then he looked at Aikman. `I just hope to God I'm wrong. If not, you'd better start praying!'

  Aikman walked from the wheelhouse, his eyes unseeing as Stannard came back from the W/T office.

  He said quietly, `Convoy is now steering two-seven-five, sir. Fifteen knots. Should pass within fifty miles of our southernmost leg at 2000.'

  Lindsay waited, knowing there was more.

  `A Swedish freighter reported sighting an unidentified ship in the Denmark Strait the night before last, sir. That is all the information :available.'

  Lindsay walked past him and gripped the rail beneath a clearview screen. Almost to himself he said, `So while every available ship is out searching for the three from Tromso, one other slips quietly through the Denmark Strait. He's been there, sitting patiently and waiting while the U-boats did the hard part for him.' He swung round on Stannard and slammed one fist into his palm. `Like beasts to the slaughter!'

  Stannard stared at him `Oh, my Christ!'

  Lindsay turned away,. `Bring her round on to your new course. Maximum revs again, and I'll want the hands to exercise action stations in thirty minutes before the light goes!'

  He gestured to a bosun's mate. `Get the first lieutenant and gunnery officer.' As the man ran to his telephone he looked at Dancy. `And you, 'Sub, pray for a snowstorm, anything, if you've nothing else to do.'

  Below in his small office Aikman sat on the edge of his chair, the knuckle of one finger gripped tightly between his teeth to keep himself from sobbing aloud. The mistake which he had anticipated and then ignored had at last found him out. He still did not understand exactly what had happened up there on the bridge, but knew it was far more terrible than even he imagined.

  Overhead a tannoy speaker blared, `Hands will exercise action in thirty minutes. Damage control parties will muster on A deck.'

  Aikman stared at the speaker, his eyes smarting from the strain. What the hell was happening? There was no real danger now, surely? Two ships had been found, and probably the, other one too by now.

  Tears ran unheeded down his cheeks. That fool Stanhard and his stupid, crawling yeoman were responsible.' The signal could have been filed and forgotten like so many others. And now, whatever happened, his small world was broken and lost to him forever.

  9

  The trap

  L indsay made himself sit very still in his chair as the deck lifted, hesitated and then swayed through another steep roll. Apart from the shaded compass lights the bridge was in total darkness, and because the sea had moderated during the afternoon and evening the shipboard noises seemed all the louder. Steel creaked and groaned as if in pain, and above the bridge the long necklaces of iced spray on stays and rails rattled -and tinkled in tuneless chorus.

  The Benbecula had turned in a great arc, so that she was now heading once again towards the southern extremity of Greenland. All afternoon they had listened to the crackle of morse from the W/T office and watched the mounting clips of signals. The third German ship, a cruiser, had at last been sighted entering the Skagerra
k like her consorts, so whatever doubt had remained in Lindsay's mind had almost gone. This was no slapdash operation for morale or propaganda purposes. The German navy was showing what it could do when it came to co-operation between all arms of the service.

  But for the twenty-eight hours delay things might have been very different. He could have taken Benbecula at full speed to the northern span of her patrol area, where there was the best chance of contacting any ship which might come through the Denmark Strait. If only the neutral freighter had reported seeing the fourth ship earlier, but/the unknown vessel had made good use of time and the carefully planned ruse to draw. off the Home Fleet's reserves, and by now could be almost anywhere.

  Th 'Admiralty was suspicious, too. Benbecula had received more signals giving details of the convoy's course and approximate position. The best Lindsay could do was to keep on a slowly converging track, putting his ship between the convoy and whatever was likely to come down from the north-east.

  The ten ships and their escort were now in a position on Benbecula's port bow. It was impossible to fix the exact distance. It could be thirty or one hundred miles away.

  He watched the spray lift over the stem and drift lazily towards the revolving screens, saw the quick pinpoint of light from one of the guns as a quarters officer made some frantic inspection in the freezing air. The sea was very much calmer, moving towards them in a great humped swell with only an occasional whitecap to betray its anger. There were several reports of ice, and Lindsay knew the smoother surface was evidence enough that there was some quite near. He half listened to the engines' muted beat and imagined Fraser on his footplate, watching the dials set to the present reduced speed and waiting to throw open the throttles at a second's warning.

  He thought too of the girl out there in the blackness. It seemed incredible that it could be so. She was probably fully dressed- and in her lifejacket, talking quietly and listening to the unfamiliar orders and sounds around her. One good thing was that the convoy consisted of fast ships. It was not much but...