Nick of Time

by Ted Bell

  Gunner had gone to retrieve the spent cannonball and now he entered the cabin and held the ball up, inspecting it closely. “It’s not the cannon he picked up in the future, Captain, it’s the powder. Look at these flash burns on the ball. Nitro.”

  “Nitro?” asked the captain, taking the ball and turning it in his hands.

  “Aye, nitroglycerine,” Gunner replied. “An explosive ten times more powerful than black powder, sir. It will be developed about fifty years from now. He’s gotten hold of some and is adding it to his powder supply. That’s why the ball reached us so easily. He can fairly pepper us at will, sir, and, by the looks o’ this, that’s just what the rogue intends!”

  CHAPTER XXV

  The Windowless Submarine

  · 7 June 1939 ·

  OFF PORTSMOUTH, ENGLAND

  Do you think Nicky and Lord Hawke are having as grand a time as we are, Hobbes?” Kate whispered.

  “Oh, I imagine they are, dear, although I do hope their boat isn’t sinking!” Hobbes pulled the collar of Kate’s jacket up around her ears. There was still a chill in the night air. He glanced back over his shoulder at the doomed Thor. She was settling rapidly down by the bow now, as seawater flooded her forward compartments. He turned away, unable to bear the sight of her slow death.

  They were aboard a large black rubber raft, an inflatable, with three wooden thwart seats. Hobbes and Kate sat in the bow, Klaus and Ingo were just behind them on the middle seat, paddling, with Dr. Moeller and his Luger sitting silently in the stern. Hobbes could not help marveling at the towering superstructure of the submarine growing ever larger on the moonlit sea. The U-boat had to be three times again as large as the biggest British sub. The thing was monstrous.

  The three Germans had been silent since boarding the raft and Hobbes could only wonder at their true intentions. He couldn’t prove it, but he was sure Klaus was responsible for their predicament. He’d had ample time alone up in the bow, after all. There were any number of ways to open a gaping hole in Thor’s wooden hull. But, why? She was lost, at any rate. He was worried about their personal safety, especially the child’s. But what could he do? They had no choice. They had to accept the doctor’s offer to return them to Greybeard Island aboard the U-boat.

  But what would happen to them once they were aboard the black monstrosity ahead was anybody’s guess. He needed a plan, and quickly.

  Surely, he reassured himself, no peacetime German submarine captain would allow any harm to come to two innocent English civilians. Ingo seemed a nice enough fellow, but both Moeller and Klaus were beneath contempt. Luckily enough, though they suspected he might be an English agent, they had no idea who he really was. Certainly not that he was a British naval commander engaged in his weekly mission, ferrying crucial intelligence to Churchill!

  Or, he thought with a smile, someone with a keen professional interest in the latest German submarines. Only days ago, he’d have been glad simply to catch a glimpse of one of these things through his binoculars. Now, he was about to board one!

  Indeed, Britain’s foremost naval intelligence expert was stunned to find himself minutes away from a six- or seven-hour passage aboard the most closely held secret in the German Navy! As an invited guest of the German Navy itself! Hawke would love the poetic irony of it, he thought, and wondered again how his dear friend was finding life in the early nineteenth century. Both had embarked on a remarkable pair of adventures, though the success of either was far from guaranteed.

  Somehow, he had to find a way to turn this incredible opportunity to his advantage without endangering Kate. He was considering the beginnings of a promising scheme when Klaus spoke up, in German. One more thing the arrogant little Gestapo agents didn’t know about him, Hobbes thought with a smile, was that their friendly lighthouse keeper spoke fluent German.

  “If he is a spy, Doctor, perhaps this is not so good an idea after all. To take him aboard our most secret submarine.”

  “Dummkopf! If he is a spy, you idiot, he won’t live to tell anyone about it. I’ll make sure of that. If he convinces Colonel Steiner that he is who he claims to be, we’ll simply return the two of them to their little lighthouse and continue our search for this elusive Hawke.”

  “Ja, this is true,” Klaus said. “Fancy yacht for a lighthouse keeper, though, isn’t it? I couldn’t find any papers on board her, but still I think he’s lying. What’s he doing at Hawke Castle if he’s not in league with Hawke?”

  “If anyone can find that out, it’s me and Little Willy, isn’t it?” the doctor said, and for some unpleasant reason they both erupted into laughter.

  So the Germans had finally identified Hawke, Hobbes now knew, just as he’d always feared they might. He took Kate’s hand and squeezed it gently. He had the outline of a plan but somehow he needed to tell Kate about it before they reached the U-boat. She looked up at him, smiling bravely. “Horatio is very excited about going for a submarine ride, Father,” she said. “And I guess I am, too! I’m sorry about our pretty boat, though.”

  “Thank you, dear. I’m sorry, too.” He looked back once again at Thor and winced at the sight of her. Her bow was angled down at a precipitous angle and all of her cabin windows had gone dark, seawater having now shorted out her electricals. It wouldn’t be long before her stern came up and she slipped beneath the waves. He turned away, unable to bear the sight of her, and whispered in Katie’s ear. “Listen carefully to Hobbes now, all right? We’re going to play a secret game when we get aboard the submarine, won’t that be fun?”

  “I love secrets, Hobbesie,” Kate whispered back. “What are we going to play?”

  “Spy,” he said, and quickly began to outline his scheme, glad to see the child nod her head in understanding.

  In a few moments, all of Hobbes’s whispered plans were interrupted by the rubber bow of the raft bouncing gently against the great hull of the submarine. He looked Kate in the eye and another brief nod of her head said she understood exactly what to do.

  Hobbes reached out to grab a line dangling from the U-boat, and when he touched the hull, he discovered the steel sides were sheathed in black rubber. It explained the ghastly mess on his bow, but what was it for? Sound deadening, perhaps, to help her avoid the British destroyers’ listening devices? Yes, another brilliant notion for the Advanced Weapons chaps at Portsmouth. The loss of Thor might prove a small price to pay for such valuable intelligence. That is, if he should live to tell the tale.

  “Home sweet home!” Klaus said in English, and then he laughed.

  Moments later, Hobbes stood atop the submarine conning tower with Katie in his arms. He paused for a last breath of the sweet air, looking down sadly at his sinking vessel from this great height. Thor had only minutes to live. “Are you all right, Kate?” he whispered in the child’s ear. “Can you remember everything Daddy told you?”

  “Yes, Daddy, I remember. But I am a little sleepy, I guess,” Kate whispered back. “Do they have beds on submarines?”

  “I’m sure they do, dear,” Hobbes said, and then they were all silent, waiting for a crewman inside to acknowledge Ingo’s one-two knock on the hatch and open it.

  At their feet, the main hatch cover opened with a loud pop and a waft of dank air. Someone’s hand swung it up and open. A strange reddish light streamed up from the round hatch. A bald head, glistening with sweat, emerged and looked somewhat suspiciously at Ingo, then at the two strangers he’d brought back to the sub. Ingo barked at him and he backed down the steel ladder, motioning for Hobbes to follow.

  Hobbes took a deep breath and a last glance at Thor. Her stern had come up at a steep angle and most of her bow was already under water. She was not long for this world. With Kate still in his arms, he turned away and stepped down onto the first rung of the ladder.

  Descending slowly into the warm, stale air of the sub, Kate carefully cradled in one arm, he took the rungs of the ladder carefully and deliberately. Ingo was following behind them, with the cat Horatio in his arms. Klaus and
Dr. Moeller had gone to the bow for a quick smoke, it seemed. He had already decided that he would kill Moeller if he so much as laid a hand on Kate.

  Hobbes sensed many pairs of eyes below, watching them descend. He couldn’t worry about it. He could think only of how best to get them out of this predicament alive. Luckily, the plan he’d feverishly formulated while being rowed across to the submarine seemed like it might succeed. He’d need Kate’s help, of course, but if she was half the little actress he thought she was, it just might work indeed.

  When they were finally standing at the base of the ladder, the crewmen in the control room gathered around, craning their necks to get a good look at this great curiosity, an Englishman and his daughter.

  Hobbes knew it was time for his performance to begin and that executing his bold scheme would take every ounce of his ingenuity. He gave Kate a kiss on the cheek, and then turned to the crew.

  “My daughter and I would like to thank everyone aboard for your great kindness,” Hobbes said. “Indeed, had you not been here to rescue us, we—” Kate was tapping his arm.

  “May I ask them a question, Papa?”

  “Certainly, dear. Anything you’d like,” Hobbes said, and saw Kate turn and favor the crewmen with her most winning smile.

  “Well, I was just wondering if this old boat had any windows,” the little girl asked sweetly. “Because if it does, you ought to open one of them up right away! It’s dreadfully stinky in here, don’t you gentlemen think?”

  There was a loud burst of laughter from all those crewmen who understood English, and then more as they translated it for all those who didn’t. Hobbes knew his idea couldn’t succeed without Kate’s help, but the little girl astounded him. She was every bit as good an actress as the popular young American star, Shirley Temple. Together, he thought, they had a chance. A slim one, perhaps, but a chance.

  “Silence, you fools!” Dr. Moeller shouted as he descended the ladder. “Silence! Where is Colonel Steiner?” he asked a crewman standing at the periscope. “We have brought him a little surprise. Here is the Englishman whose powerboat we spotted leaving the castle earlier!”

  Suddenly, a short, stubby officer with close-cropped blond hair and steamed-up glasses stepped from the shadows into the pool of red light. He elbowed men roughly aside to get to Hobbes and then addressed him directly.

  “I’m terribly sorry about the loss of your vessel,” the man said to Hobbes. “I am Lieutenant Steiner, second in command aboard this submarine. I understand our unfortunate accident has had tragic results. Fortunately, of course, we were nearby and able to offer safe passage for you and your daughter back to Greybeard Island.”

  “Of course,” Hobbes replied, eyeing the man carefully. “Very fortunate. You’ll forgive us, Lieutenant. This adventure has been most upsetting. My daughter is very sleepy. Do you have a bed where she might rest?”

  “Indeed,”Willy said. “I’m sure this is all most distressing for both of you. I will arrange sleeping accommodations for our voyage back to the island. We are preparing to dive now and should have you home by tomorrow morning.”

  “Most kind, Lieutenant. We’re very tired.”

  “Ingo!” Steiner called. “Won’t you show our guests back to their stateroom? I believe Chief Torpedoman Ober’s quarters, sadly, are now available. Twin bunks, as I remember? Small, but you and your daughter should be quite comfortable for the overnight crossing.”

  Suddenly, a loud klaxon horn wailed loudly throughout the ship and red lights mounted on the various bulkheads dimmed and then began to flash rapidly. Kate grabbed Hobbes’s hand as they felt the deck beneath their feet pitch forward at a sharp downward angle.

  “DIVE! DIVE! DIVE! ” shouted the officer of the deck and Kate looked up at Hobbes with a mixture of worry and excitement.

  “We’re going under the ocean now, aren’t we, Daddy? I hope someone remembers to close all the windows!” Kate said, earning another titter of laughter from the control room audience.

  “Yes, darling, we’re submerging. Isn’t it exciting? Thank you, Lieutenant, for your generosity,” Hobbes said, as Kate yawned right on cue. “It’s been a long night. You’re not offended if we call it an evening?”

  “I would be offended if you do, but only because I’ve some hundred-year-old schnapps in the wardroom and no one to share it with. Will you allow Ingo to show your lovely daughter to your quarters while you join me in the officers’ ward-room, yes?” Hobbes looked at Kate. He could tell she was going to be fine. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was actually having fun.

  “Are you quite all right, little Kate?” Hobbes asked, ruffling her curls. “Do you mind if Father has a quick schnapps with the lieutenant?”

  “Don’t worry about me, Father. I’m fine.” She stood on tiptoe for a kiss, and Hobbes, who of course had little experience with fatherly things, wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he bent and kissed the top of her head.

  “Good night,” he whispered, “and thank you.”

  “Good night, Papa,” she said and, with the white cat in her arms, looked up at Ingo with a smile. Hobbes was grateful that she seemed to have found a new friend in the young submariner. Holding Ingo’s hand, Kate made her way past all the admiring glances of the crew. Clearly, she’d already won their hearts. So far, so good, he mused.

  “Shall we adjourn to the wardroom, Lieutenant?” Hobbes asked cheerfully. “I’ve a weakness for schnapps that I’m sure you can understand. An occupational hazard among lonely lighthouse keepers!”

  In the wardroom, Hobbes sat at a round table covered with dark green baize, while Willy poured them each a healthy dollop of fruit brandy from a heavy crystal decanter. Hobbes took a sip and murmured his appreciation. “I’m glad you like it,” Willy said, and delicately placed a fragrant yellow cigarette in a long black holder. He then lit it, politely blowing the smoke away from Hobbes’s face as he did so.

  “Excuse me, how rude of me! Would you like a cigarette as well?” Willy said, sliding the pack across the table to Hobbes. “They’re quite good, Egyptian in fact. I buy them from my man in Cairo. Egyptian Deities they’re called.”

  The little officer was strutting back and forth with the cigarette holder stuck at a jaunty angle in his teeth. Hobbes was sure he imagined that the effect was quite grand, but in truth Hobbes was having difficulty suppressing a laugh. He was reminded of the popular moving picture star Charlie Chaplin in the film The Great Dictator.

  Suddenly, the German stopped, pivoted on his boot heel, and regarded Hobbes with an expression meant to convey authority, but which struck the British commander as comically absurd.

  “Your real name, sir, if you would be so kind?” said Willy behind a cloud of exhaled smoke and in his best imitation of upper-class English speech.

  “Not at all,” Hobbes said with an even smile. “My real name is Angus McIver, as I told your two minions before. And your real name, if you’d be so kind?”

  The man gave him a hard look and considered his words carefully before he replied.

  “Steiner is my real name, Mr. McIver,” Willy said. “Lieutenant Steiner, as you may observe from my uniform insignia. But that is only my naval rank. In the SS, I am a full colonel.” He watched Hobbes’s face for a reaction to his revelation about being Secret Service. When none was forthcoming, he continued. “You may call me Colonel Steiner. Yes, Steiner. From the German word stein, meaning stone, or rock in English. A stonemaker. Strength that endures, wouldn’t you agree, is the quality of rock?”

  “Strong, but exceedingly dense, wouldn’t you also agree?” said a smiling Hobbes.

  Reaction was swift. Willy pulled his sidearm from the leather holster under his shoulder, not the Luger on his hip, but a small, evil-looking automatic, and leveled it between Hobbes’s eyes. “Insult me once and you see what happens! Do it again and you are merely an early English casualty in a war that hasn’t even started yet! No stones, no matter how dense, will ma
rk your watery grave, McIver! Do I make myself entirely clear?”

  “Entirely, sir. I’m sorry,” Hobbes said smiling. “I was only testing you. I’ve learned what I needed to know. You are clearly not a man to be trifled with, Lieutenant Steiner.”

  “Colonel Steiner,” Willy said, irritated.

  “I’m sorry, I said ‘lieutenant,’ didn’t I?” Hobbes said. “Foolish of me. Only a fool would mistake you for a mere lieutenant.”

  Willy smiled, flattered, and said, “You are an intelligent man, Mr. McIver. Obviously perceptive. Cultured. I find it odd that such intelligence and good breeding is wasted in a remote lighthouse in the English Channel—odd, and, how shall I say this, difficult to believe?”

  “A lot of time to read, I suppose. One does pick up a good deal in books,” Hobbes replied, cautiously. “Such is the life of the poor lighthouse keeper. But of course, I had no choice, Colonel. You see, I inherited the bloody thing. In my family for generations. Yes, five generations of lighthouse keepers. Ah, well, such is life.”

  “You’re not happy there, Mr. McIver?” said Steiner. “In your cozy little lighthouse? It is quite pretty, standing up there above the sea. We often use it as a navigational landmark.”

  “I’ve been happy,” Hobbes said, taking a deep breath and plunging ahead with his bold plan. He had, after all, nothing to lose and England would soon have a war to win. “At least, until recently. Now, I find myself involved in—other—activities. More interesting. More, how shall I say this, more exciting.”

  The German stopped in his tracks and looked at him. Hobbes saw that his dangling hook, if not set, was at least poised above the little Nazi in midair like a fat mayfly above a swiftly rising trout.

  “Precisely what do you mean by that, Mr. McIver?” he said, leaping to the bait just as Hobbes had hoped he would.