Hungry as the Sea

by Wilbur Smith

  sweep of the horizon in an unbroken wall.

  Only directly overhead was it open, and the sky was an angry unnatural

  purple, set with the glaring, merciless eye of the sun.

  The sea was still wild and confused, leaping into peaks and troughs and

  covered with a thick frothy mattress of spindrift, whipped into a

  custard by the wild winds. But already the sea was subsiding in the

  total calm of the eye and Golden Dawn was rolling less viciously.

  Nicholas turned his head stiffly to watch the receding wall of racing

  cloud. How long would it take for the eye to pass over them, he

  wondered.

  Not very long, he was sure of that, half an hour perhaps an hour at the

  most - and then the storm would be on them again, with its renewed fury

  every bit as sudden as its passing. But this time, the wind would come

  from exactly the opposite direction as they crossed the hub and went

  into the far side of the revolving wall of cloud.

  Nicholas jerked his eyes away from that racing, heavenhigh bank of

  cloud, and looked down on to the tank deck.

  He saw at a single glance that Golden Dawn had already sustained mortal

  damage. The forward port pod tank was half torn from its hydraulic

  coupling, holding only by the line of bows and lying at almost twenty

  degrees from the other three tanks. The entire tank deck was twisted

  like the limb of an arthritic giant, it rolled and pitched out of

  sequence with the rest of the hull.

  Golden Dawn's back was broken, It had broken where Duncan had weakened

  the hull to save steel. Only the buoyancy of the crude petroleum in her

  four tanks was holding her together now, expected to see the dark,

  glistening ooze of slick leaking from her; he could not believe that not

  one of the four tanks had ruptured monitor, Loads and and he glanced at

  the electronic cargo gas contents of all tanks were still normal. They

  had been freakishly lucky so far, but when they went into the far side

  of the hurricane he knew that Golden Dawn's weakened spine would give

  completely, and when that happened it must pinch and tear the thin skins

  of the pod tanks. He made a decision then, forcing his mind to work,

  not certain how good a decision it was but determined to act on it.

  Duncan/ he called to him across the swamped and battered bridge. 'I'm

  sending you and the others off on one of the life-rafts. This will be

  your only chance to launch one. I'll stay on board to fire the cargo

  when the storm hits again.

  The storm has passed., Suddenly Duncan was screaming at him like a

  madman.

  The ship is safe now. You're going to destroy my ship, - you're

  deliberately trying to break me. He was lunging across the heaving

  bridge - It's deliberate, you know I've won now. It's the only way can

  stop me now. e swung a clumsy round arm blow. Nicholas ducked under it

  and caught Duncan around the chest.

  Listen to me/ he shouted, trying to calm him. This is only the eye!

  You'd do anything to stop me. You swore you would stop me - 'Help

  me/Nicholas called to the two seamen, and they grabbed Duncan's arms. He

  bucked and fought like a madman, screaming wildly at Nicholas, his face

  contorted and swollen with rage, sodden hair flopping into his eyes.

  You'd do anything to destroy me, to destroy my ship Take him down to the

  raft deck/ Nicholas ordered the two seamen. He knew he could not reason

  with Duncan now, and he turned away and stiffened suddenly.

  Wait he stopped them leaving the bridge.

  Nicholas felt the terrible burden of weariness and despair slip from his

  shoulders, felt new strength rippling through his body, recharging his

  courage and his resolution for a mile away, from behind that receding

  wall of dreadful grey cloud, Sea Witch burst abruptly into the sunlight,

  tearing bravely along with the water bursting over her bows and flying

  back as high as her bridgework, running without regard to the hazard of

  sea and storm.

  Jules, Nicholas whispered.

  Jules was driving her like only a tugman can drive a ship, racing to

  beat the far wall of the storm.

  Nicholas felt his throat constricting and suddenly the scalding tears of

  relief and thankfulness half-blinded him - for a mile out on Sea Witch's

  port side, and barely a cable-length astern of her, Warlock came

  crashing out of the storm bank, running every bit as hard as her sister

  ship.

  David, Nicholas spoke aloud. You too, David. He realized only then

  that they must have been in radar contact with him through those wild

  tempestuous hours of storm passage, hovering there, holding station on

  Golden Dawn's crippled bulk and waiting for their first opportunity .

  Above the wail and crackle of static from the overhead loud-speaker

  boomed Jules Levoisin's voice. He was close enough and in the clear eye

  the interference allowed a readable radio contact.

  Golden Dawn, this is Sea Witch. Come in, Golden Dawn. Nicholas reached

  the radio bench and snatched up the microphone.

  Jules., He did not waste a moment in greeting or congratulations.

  We are going to take the tanks off her, and let the hull go. Do you

  understand? I understand to take off the tanks,, Jules responded

  immediately. and clear again, he could see Nicholas brain was crisp

  just how it must be done. Warlock takes off the port tanks first - in

  tandem. in tandem, the two tanks would be strung like beads on a

  string, they had been designed to tow that way.

  Then you will take off the starboard side you must save the hull. Duncan

  still fought the two seamen who held him. Goddamn you, Berg. I'll not

  let you destroy me. Nicholas ignored his ravings until he had finished

  giving his orders to the two tug masters. Then he dropped the

  microphone and grabbed Duncan by the shoulders. Nicholas seemed to be

  possessed suddenly by supernatural strength, and he shook him as though

  he were a child. He shook him so his head snapped back and forth and

  his teeth rattled in his head.

  You bloody idiot, he shouted in Duncan's face. Don't you understand the

  storm will resume again in minutes? He jerked Duncan's body out of the

  grip of the two seamen and dragged him bodily to the windows overlooking

  the tank deck.

  Can't you see this monster you have built is finished, finished! There

  is no propeller, her back is broken, the superstructure will go minutes

  after the wind hits again. He dragged Duncan round to face him, their

  eyes were inches apart.

  It's over, Duncan. We will be lucky to get away with our lives. We'll

  be luckier still to save the cargo., But don't you understand - we've

  got to save the hull without it, Duncan started to struggle, he was a

  powerful man, and quickly he was rousing himself, within minutes he

  would be dangerous - and there was no time, already Warlock was swinging

  up into her position on Golden Dawn's port beam for tank transfer.

  I'll not let you take off - Duncan wrenched himself out of Nicholas

  grip, there was a mad fanatic light in his eyes.

  Nicholas swivelled; coming up on to his toes and swinging from the

  s
houlders he aimed for the point of Duncan's jaw, just below the ear and

  the thick sodden wedge of Duncan's red-gold sideburns. But Duncan

  rolled his head with the punch, and the blow glanced off his temple, and

  Golden Dawn rolled back the other way as Nicholas was unbalanced.

  He fell back against the control console, and Duncan drove at him, two

  running paces like a quarter-back taking a field goal, and he kicked

  right-legged for Nicholas'lower body.

  I'll kill you, Berg/he screamed, and Nicholas had only time to roll

  sideways and lift his leg scissoring it to protect his crotch. Duncan's

  kick caught him in the upper thigh.

  An explosion of white pain shot up into his belly and numbed his leg to

  the thigh, but he used the control console and his good leg to launch

  himself into a counterpunch, hooking with his right again, under the

  ribs - and the wind went out of Duncan's lungs with a whoosh as he

  doubled.

  Nicholas transferred weight smoothly and swung his left fist up into

  Duncan's face. It sounded like a watermelon dropped on a concrete

  floor, and Duncan was hurled backwards against the bulkhead, pinned

  there for a moment by the ship's roll. Nicholas followed him, hobling

  painfully on the injured leg, and he hit him twice more.

  Left and right, short, hard, hissing blows that cracked his skull

  backwards against the bulkhead, and brought quick bright rosettes of

  blood from his lips and nostrils. As his legs buckled, Nicholas caught

  him by the throat with his left hand and held him upright, searching his

  eyes for further resistance, ready to hit again, but there was no fight

  left in him.

  Nicholas let him go, and went to the signal locker. He snatched three

  of the small walkie-talkie radios from the radio shelves and handed one

  to each of the two seamen.

  You know the pod tank undocking procedures for a tandem tow? he asked.

  We've practised it/ one of them replied.

  Let's go, said Nicholas.

  It was a job that was scheduled for a dozen men, and there were three of

  them. Duncan was of no use to them, and Nicholas left him in the pump

  control room on the lowest deck of Golden Dawn's stern quarter, after he

  had closed down the inert gas pumps, sealed the gas vents, and armed the

  hydraulic releases of the pod tanks for undocking.

  They worked sometimes neck-deep in the bursts of green, frothing water

  that poured over the ultra-tanker's fore-dec. They took on board and

  secured Warlock's main cable, unlocked the hydraulic clamps that held

  the forward pod tank attached to the hull and, as David Allen eased it

  clear of the crippled hull, they turned and lumbered back along the

  twisted and wind-torn catwalk, handicapped by the heavy seaboots and

  oilskins and the confused seas that still swamped the tank-deck every

  few minutes.

  On the after tank, the whole laborious energy-sapping procedure had to

  be repeated, but here it was complicated by the chain coupling which

  connected the two haff-milelong pod tanks. Over the walkie-talkie

  Nicholas had to coordinate the efforts of his seamen to those of David

  Allen at the helm of Warlock.

  When at last Warlock threw on power to both of her big propellers and

  sheered away from the wallowing hull, she had both port pod tanks in

  tow. They floated just level with the surface of the sea, offering no

  windage for the hurricane winds that would soon be upon them again.

  Hanging on to the rail of the raised catwalk Nicholas watched for two

  precious minutes with an appraising professional eye. It was an

  incredible sight, two great shiny black whales, their backs showing only

  in the troughs, and the gallant little ship leading them away. They

  followed meekly, and Nicholas anxiety was lessened. He was not

  confident, not even satisfied, for there was still a hurricane to

  navigate - but there was hope now.

  Sea Witch/ he spoke into the small portable radio. Are you ready to

  take on tow? Jules Levoisin fired the rocket-line across personally.

  Nicholas recognized his portly but nimble-figure high in the

  fire-control tower, and the rocket left a thin trail of snaking white

  smoke high against the backdrop of racing, grey hurricane clouds.

  Arching high over the tanker's tankdeck, the thin nylon rocket-line fell

  over the catwalk ten feet from where Nicholas stood.

  They worked with a kind of restrained frenzy, and Jules Levoisin brought

  the big graceful tug in so close beside them that glancing up Nicholas

  could see the flash of a gold filling in Jules'white smile of

  encouragement. It was only a glance that Nicholas allowed himself, and

  then he raised his face and looked at the storm.

  The wall of cloud was slippery and smooth and grey, like the body of a

  gigantic slug, and at its foot trailed a glistening white slimy line

  where the winds frothed the surface of the sea. It was very close now,

  ten miles, no more, and above them the sun had gone, cut out by the

  spiralling vortex of leaden cloud. Yet still that open narrow funnel of

  clear calm air reached right up to a dark and ominous sky.

  There was no hydraulic pressure on the clamps of the starboard forward

  pod tank. Somewhere in the twisted damaged hull the hydraulic line must

  have sheared. Nicholas and one of the seamen had to work the emergency

  release, pumping it open slowly and laboriously by hand.

  Still it would not release, the hull was distorted, the clamp jaws out

  of alignment.

  Pull/ Nicholas commanded Jules in desperation. Pull all together. The

  storm front was five miles away, and already he could hear the deadly

  whisper of the wind, and a cold puff touched Nicholas uplifted face.

  The sea boiled under Sea Witch's counter, spewing out in a swift white

  wake as Jules brought in both engines.

  The tow-cable came up hard and straight; for half a minute nothing gave,

  nothing moved - except the wall of racing grey cloud bearing down upon

  them.

  Then, with a resounding metallic clang, the clamps slipped and the tank

  slid ponderously out of its dock in Golden Dawn's hull - and as it came

  free, so the hull, held together until that moment by the tanks'bulk and

  buoyancy, began to collapse.

  The catwalk on which Nicholas stood began to twist and tilt so that he

  had to grab for a handhold, and he stood frozen in horrified fascination

  as he watched Golden Dawnbegin the final break-up.

  The whole tank deck, now only a gutted skeleton, began to bend at its

  weakened centre, began to hinge like an enormous pair of nutcrackers -

  and caught between the jaws of the nutcracker was the starboard after

  pod tank. It was a nut the size of Chartres Cathedral, with a soft

  liquid centre, and a shell as thin as the span Of a man's hand.

  Nicholas broke into a lurching, blundering run down the twisting,

  tilting catwalk, calling urgently into the radio as he went.

  Shear! he shouted to the seamen almost half a mile away across that

  undulating plane of tortured steel. Shear the tandem tow!

  For the two starboard pod tanks were linked by the heavy chain of the

  t
andem, and the forward tank was linked to Sea Witch by the main

  tow-cable. So Sea Witch and the doomed Golden Dawn were coupled

  inexorably, unless they could cut the two tanks apart and let Sea Witch

  escape with the forward tank which she had just undocked.

  The shear control was in the control box halfway back along the tank

  deck, and at that moment the nearest searn -in was two hundred yards

  from it.

  Nicholas could see him staggering wildly back along the twisting,

  juddering catwalk. Clearly he realized the danger, but his haste was

  fatal, for as he jumped from the catwalk, the deck opened under him,

  gaping open like the jaws of a steel monster and the seaman fell

  through, waist deep, into the opening between two moving plates, then as

  he squirmed feebly, the next lurch of the ship's hull closed the plates,

  sliding them across each other like the blades of a pair of scissors.

  The man shrieked once and a wave burst over the deck, smothering his

  mutilated body in cold, green water. when it poured back over the ship

  s side there was no sign of the man, the deck was washed glisteningly

  clean.

  Nicholas reached the same point in the deck, judged the gaping and

  closing movement of the steel plate and the next rush of sea coming on

  board, before he leapt across the deadly gap.

  He reached the control box, and slid back the hatch, pressing himself

  into the tiny steel cubicle as he unlocked the red lid that housed the

  shear button. He hit the button with the heel of his hand.

  The four heavy chains of the tandem tow lay between the electrodes of

  the shear mechanism. With a gross surge of power from the ship's

  generators and a flash of blue electric flame, the thick steel links

  sheared as cleanly as cheese under the cutting wire - and, half a mile

  away, Sea Witch felt the release and pounded ahead under the full thrust

  of her propellers taking with her the forward starboard tank still held

  on main tow.

  Nicholas paused in the opening of the control cubicle, hanging on to the

  sill for support and he stared down at the single remaining tank, still

  caught inextricably in the tangled moving forest of Golden Dawn's

  twisting, contorting hull. It was as though an invisible giant had

  taken the Eiffel Tower at each end and was bending it across his knee.