Submarine

Ten minutes later Coombes had anchored Safari in twenty-one fathoms, half a mile to the east of Pabay. After checking his anchor bearings, he went below. He could hear the after hatch opening, the hands in good spirits as they hustled up the vertical ladder. When he reached the after casing himself, Punt was already supervising the coming alongside of the tender, abreast the fairing of the exhaust discharge. The skipper of the drifter was having difficulty as he nudged his boat against Safari's pressure hull. The bowman was working closely with his skipper and biding his time for the right moment to catch a fin turn with the headrope. Twice Punt yelled at the older man, finally:

'Hurry up, for'd. Turn up the rope round your cleat.'

The grey-haired man in the eyes of the drifter glanced up in disbelief.

'Hurry up, there,' Punt shouted excitedly. 'Secure at that.'

The deckie glared at the impatient young officer. 'See here, laddie,' he complained resignedly, 'look after your boat, mister, and I'll look after mine.'

In the amused silence, Coombes glanced from the corner of his eye at his senior ratings mustering on the after casing. They had heard the exchange too, but were staring nonchalantly towards the far horizons.

'Carry on,' Punt told the duty PO.

The libertymen started to nip across into the pitching drifter. The transfer took five minutes and then Coombes followed his only two officers to be going ashore, the midshipman and the instructor lieutenant who was still borne on Safari's books. Coombes joined the skipper in the wheelhouse and then the tender was wallowing towards the Kyle of Lochalsh. Through the window, Coombes watched his submarine growing smaller, her black, whale-like shape silhouetted against the rounded island.

'This fair weather's breaking up, skipper,' Coombes said.

'Aye, 'tis that, captain.'

'Are you running the 1900 trip back?'

'Aye.'

'Hold on for me, will you? I may be a few minutes late.'

'Sure, captain. That's what we're here for. Your lads could do with a run ashore.'

The boat chugged towards the Kyles, the shore road to Kyleakin now in sight, an occasional car moving ant-like along it.

Coombes watched his men, huddled on the lee side. They were in good cheer and he hoped that there would be no leave-breakers. Number One had piped that the ship was under sailing orders and that they must keep their mouths shut when approached by talkative strangers. And as for himself? He was nipping ashore early, but not solely to take advantage of the liberty-boat; an intriguing hour lay ahead of him, if what he had learned was correct.

Chapter 10

Skye, 7 May.

'Yes, Commander?' asked the kilted, grizzled Scot, from behind the reception desk of the Carnburn Hotel. 'What can I do for you?'

'I'm meeting a friend here at six-thirty,' Coombes said. 'Lieutenant-Commander Farge.'

'Ah, yes, they checked in early this morning. I think Mrs Farge is in her room, sir.'

Coombes smiled from the depths of his beard: 'That's fine. She's my sister. Could you tell her I'm here?'

The hotelier's experienced eyes flickered momentarily, giving nothing away:

'Whom shall I say, sir?'

'Commander Coombes.'

'Very good, sir.'

Coombes ensconced himself in one of the chintz-covered chairs behind the door of the airy lounge. The old-fashioned windows, high and narrow, gave a magnificent view towards the Cuillins. So mum had been right.

Then Lorna was tripping down the stairway and across the hall. She stood in the doorway for a second, strained and nervous, before spotting him.

'How's my kid sister? Mystery girl, aren't you?' Coombes smiled at her. 'Tell me what's up, while we have tea.'

He watched her, the stepsister he had once loved and always adored, but whom he had not spoken to for so long. She was tense, up-tight at first, giving nothing away.

'What are you doing here, Kevan? I thought you were on patrol in the Atlantic somewhere. Mum was terribly worried until this truce thing came along.'

He was non-committal. 'Exercising with another submarine.' He sensed her awareness of his connection with the SSK exercising up here. 'Onus is here too: she's coming into the loch this evening.'

'Is she?' She looked down, fiddled with her handbag. 'How long are you staying, Kevan?'

'Only a short time,' He tried to suppress a smile: beards sometimes had their uses. 'I'm meeting Onus' captain here at half-past six.'

He sensed her anxiety while she poured the tea.

'I'll introduce you,' he said. 'Julian Farge. You'll like him.'

He reached across and took her hand when the little cry escaped her lips.

He told her how he had rung up home to see how his stepmother was.

'You know how mysterious mum can be,' he said. 'She said you'd gone up to Scotland. She asked me not to let on, like she always does. You were in love, she told me, with a submariner called Farge.'

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. 'I'm happy, Kevan,' she said softly. 'We want to marry.'