A Ravel of Waters

Chapter 14

'Hands to make sail!'

I found myself shouting over the ship's public address system — Paul's bitch-box — as if I were roaring orders on an open deck in a gale. 'All hands! All hands! At the double!'

Jim Yell leapt to the wheel as if a shot of adrenalin had picked him up bodily from his lounging-stool. Tideman moved swiftly to station at the big central walkaround console. 'Break out the anchor!' I ordered.

He spoke into a voice-tube. 'Bridge here! Full power for all hydraulics!'

He banged down the voice-pipe and manipulated the sail and mast controls, watching expectantly for my next command.

'Back all yards on Numbers One and Two masts: Trim Numbers Three, Four, Five and Sixthree-zero degrees off the wind. Make all sail to the top-gallants — no royals. Stern thruster — full ahead port; bow thruster — . full ahead starboard!'

The purpose of my orders was to box Jetwind's head hard round to face in exactly the opposite direction to which she now lay, bow to the west wind. I would employ the backed sails to swing her bows, while the other sails, in normal position, gave her momentum forwards and sideways. Add to this ten tons of solid shove from the two thrusters and Jetwind would pivot on her heels like a dancer.

She came alive as Tideman's hands played the toggles and push-buttons. Kay was at my side with her calculations.

I snapped into the biich-box mike, 'Captain here! Black out the ship. No lights to be shown. Emergency illumination only.'

Tideman's racing fingers followed my commands. Next moment the bridge was dark except for the binnacle and green-yellow glow of the console dials. I added, 'Black out the sidelights.'

Tideman hesitated fractionally. The law of the sea required a sailing ship under way to carry red and green sidelights, but unlike a steamship no white mast-head lights. This put me legally in the wrong in relation to the Almirante Storni. 'Out!' I repeated.

Jetwind swung round like a racehorse being manoeuvred into its starting-box with only one idea in its head — to streak the hell down the course. The speed of the ship's pivot-turn was electrifying.

'Cut the bow and stern thrusters!' I ordered. 'What depth of water under her?' I asked Tideman.

He checked the fathomer. 'Nine-eight metres, making nine-nine.'

That meant deep enough, but Jetwind had a deep hull, whose grip on the water could be supplemented by two drop-keels, one in the bows and the other in the stern. These could be raised and lowered at will. Nowhere was the anchorage deep enough to use them to advantage. To allow for Jetwind's natural depth I would, in any event, have to follow an irregular course to The Narrows. A slight deviation would ground the ship on the muddy, sticky harbour bottom. 'Wind angle?' I asked. 'Two-seven-zero, true.' So far, so good.

'Steer six-zero,' I told Jim Yell at the wheel. 'Handsomely, as she comes.' To Tideman, 'Brace all yards as she steadies.'

The ship was in the final stage of completing her turn, the great yards above swinging with it. The thrust of over 9000 square metres of aerodynamic dacron was like shove-in-the-back acceleration.

It wasn't the sudden acceleration but a commotion which directed my attention behind me. It was Grohman. He had hastily thrown on his clothes — his shirt was not yet buttoned. His previous neat, rather sinister Spanish grandee air had given way to a savage intensity reminiscent of a stooping giant condor. His head and nose were thrust forward like the Andean bird of prey; his eyes above his stuhbled cheeks seemed to burn.

He came at me with his sleeves rolled roughly to the elbows, like a fencer about to lunge. 'Did I hear — Hands to make sail?’

It wasn't a question, it was an accusation. There was even more arrogance in it than he had displayed at Comodoro Rivadavia.

'You're not on watch,'.! responded roughly. 'And I'm the captain of this ship!'

He behaved as if he hadn't heard. 'You're taking the ship out!' 'You're damn right. Straight to the Cape.' 'You can't sail without clearance!' 'Says who?' 'It's illegal! The inquest!'

My attention was on the compass needle. 'Steady as she goes,' I told Jim Yell. 'Hold her like that!' In manoeuvring the ship, I missed the feel of the wind on the nape of my neck; I wanted instinctively to tell Yell to keep his eye on the weather leech of the foresail in order to steer by the wind. Instead, I had to interpret a complex series of read-outs before acting. More accurate, perhaps, but much less human.

My blood was up. Jetwind had a wonderful racing feel — there is nothing to match a ship which responds like that, except perhaps planing full-bore down a Southern Ocean super-wave.

My attention snapped back to Grohman. I told him briefly, 'This is my responsibility. ‘

I saw the cords in his throat knot. Anger blazed in his eyes, then died as he said contemptuously, 'The Almirante Storni is waiting outside. You won't get past her.'

'She is not outside,' I replied. 'She is on her way in. You can have a closer look at her very soon — as we go by.'

For a moment he looked taken aback and then he laughed derisively.

'All this up-and-away action is very dashing — like a movie,' he sneered. 'It is also very unrealistic, Captain Rainier. The Almirante Storni will intercept you, now or later. It is an empty gesture.' He added with a touch of pomposity, 'I wish to publicly dissociate myself from the illegality of your escape.'

'Fine,' I retorted. 'You've said it publicly. Do you also wish to be relieved of your duties publicly?'

That shook him. For a moment I thought he was about to make a dramatic exit from the bridge in haughty Spanish style. Then a curious look crossed his face and he said, ‘I will announce my decision to the captain of the Almirante Storni' 'You do that,' I rejoined.

He came closer to where I stood. I ignored him and said over my shoulder to Kay, 'Stand by, will you? In a moment I'll want the optimum sail trim and rudder angles for the first mark. I'll also do a spot check with Paul right away.'

The destroyer's movements would determine any counter measures that became necessary in my plan. Only Paul could actually see what the warship was doing.

But Grohman was not finished. 'Your actions are an insult to my country's Navy’ he threw at me.

'Let Captain Irizar tell me that, not you. You are an officer under my command. Either you go along with me, or you don't. Take your choice — now.'

'I repeat my protest. You are risking the ship and its crew. I protest.'

'I'll log your protest officially. Now stand back.' I then consulted Brockton via the intercom about the destroyer's movements.

My immediate problem was to get the ship moving as fast as possible before turning head-on to face the Almirante Storni in The Narrows, and get Jetwind there to coincide with the warship's arrival. There were a series of predetermined marker points — the summits of the four hillocks which lay on the spit of land between the inner and outer anchorages. Jetwind's first leg being downwind, the optimum course was less critical than what Paul could tell me about the warship's movements. 'Paul, what's new?'

'First way-point, Goldsworthy Rock, abeam. Optimum speed made good, five knots. On course. Evaluation, ninety-five per cent of optimum performance. Some slight trim needed…'

'Skip it,' I interrupted. 'She's running near enough on target. What's our friend up to?'

'She's burning enough lights to make her look like Coney Island,' he replied. 'That flasher amidships is the complete give-away. Any moment now, she'll be making her turn to approach the entrance — hold it, here she comes — she's coming round, round…'

The warship was now obviously committing herself to the northern extremity of The Narrows, manoeuvring probably by the leading beacons on the mainland in order to pick her line through the gap. From her present position she would be able to sight one light — that of Engineer Point — but the second, opposite on Navy Point, would be obscured. While that light remained obscured, we would remain invisible.

'Destroyer steadying on new course’ reported Paul. 'One-eight-five degrees.'

That was the recommended approach to the port from seawards. The move brought the Almiranie Storni facing bow-on towards Jetwind’s port side.

I had a sudden fear about Grohman giving the game away. I wheeled round. He was standing near the door leading to the radio office; he seemed to have an air of controlled purpose. I fixed him with a stare while I spoke to the radio operator by phone.

'Arno! No transmissions without my express orders until the ship is clear of the land — understood?' 'Aye, aye, sir.' 'Any signals coming in?' 'Strong radar transmission, sir.' 'Relative bearing?'

He rattled off a series of figures which confirmed that Almirante Storni was using an instrumented as well as visual approach. Nonetheless, the destroyer was not yet fully committed to The Narrows. She was in deep water on its outer approaches. I knew she drew five and a half metres, and the depths all round her now were a comfortable ten to eleven metres. This meant that she could, if necessary, still turn safely and intercept Jetwind. Further towards the entrance gap, however, was where I aimed to put the cork in the bottle. Although the water was deep in the centre channel of The Narrows — over fifteen metres — it fell away on either side close to both Navy and Engineer Points to under five metres. Once in this channel, the destroyer could not turn without grounding. Another hazard was a broad fringe of kelp along this shallow line; if she did attempt a turn and tangled with the kelp her engine intakes would jam within minutes.

The kelp constituted a hazard for us as well, I reminded myself grimly, and even more so. It fringed a lee shore, the sailing ship's traditional nightmare. Jetwind could easily be thrust helplessly against the land by the powerful wind which was now blowing from astern but would come abeam once she made her own turn to negotiate The Narrows.