The Ocean Liner

SS Manhattan

‘They’re signalling again,’ George Symonds said urgently.

They all watched the flickering light, brilliant against the glowing dawn sky, and read out the letters as they were transmitted, slower than before: ‘A-P-O-L-O-G-Y. M-I-S-T-A-K-E. P-L-E-A-S-E C-O-N-T-I-N-U-E.’

Randall showed little emotion. ‘Ask him to confirm his message.’

The cadet relayed the query. A few moments later, the reply came: ‘M-I-S-T-A-K-E. G-O A-H-E-A-D P-L-E-A-S-E. G-O-O-D-B-Y-E.’

‘Signal “Received”. Start engines.’ The deep rumble of Manhattan’s engines began to throb under their feet. ‘Ahead slow.’

The tension hadn’t left the bridge. If anything, it had increased. ‘Should we get the passengers out of the lifeboats?’ Symonds asked.

‘No hurry,’ Randall replied calmly. ‘Let’s get some distance between Mister Mistake and us first.’

‘Aye-aye, Sir.’

Commodore Randall had his binoculars trained on the U-boat. ‘I’d give a lot to overhear the conversation that’s taking place on her bridge at this moment,’ he muttered.

As the Manhattan moved forward slowly in the water, they all watched the U-boat intently. The rim of the sun emerged from the horizon, sending a shaft along the surface of the sea. The tips of the millions of waves turned translucent green. It had become a sea of jade.

A bellboy ran on to the bridge, a boy of fourteen, the brass buttons on his uniform still awry from the haste with which he had dressed that morning.

‘Sir! There’s another submarine on the port beam.’

The officers moved in a body to the port deck to look. Without doubt, several miles away, another submarine had surfaced, her shape gilded in the flat light of the rising sun. They could see her hull and the lump of her conning tower.

‘Has she seen us?’ Symonds asked.

‘I don’t care to find out,’ the Commodore retorted. ‘And I don’t want any more conversations with undersea boats. Swing us into the sun, helmsman. Full ahead all engines.’

The manoeuvre brought the second visitor to their stern. Manhattan’s one hundred and sixty-five thousand horses began to gallop, pushing her to her full speed of twenty knots and heading straight into the brilliance of the rising sun. The great liner settled her stern in the water and drove ahead. Either blinded or uninterested, the second submarine soon fell astern and vanished.

‘I believe I’ve aged ten years in the last hour,’ Commodore Randall remarked. ‘Shall we secure lifeboat stations, George?’

‘Aye-aye, Sir.’ Symonds went on rather shaky legs to let the passengers out of the boats.