Submarine

While the convoy battles were raging in the Atlantic, Orcus. Farge's old diesel submarine, was maintaining her patrol and covering the gaps 250 miles north-east of Shetland. The battered HX — OS 1 convoy carrying the survivors of the Canadian Division to Oslo had fought its way through on 18 April but had almost been caught by the Soviet Northern Fleet saved only at the last minute by Carrier Striking Group Two's resolute attack. In Orcus, Farge had listened in to the battle Sifting the enemy reports, he itched to be down there with the other Nato boats; they were taking their first crack at the enemy submarines who were harassing the convoy as it turned at Position Juliett. But nothing had come Orcus' way, as perhaps intended by COMSUBEASTLANT: Orcus was one of the last of the Oberons and in peacetime would have been consigned to the scrap-yard long ago.

So it had been a surprise when, during that savage gale. Farge had stumbled upon a lone Russian Fleet replenishment ship with its Kashin escort. The destroyer was weaving ahead of its consort and Farge, allowing the Kashin to pass ahead, had taken Orcus in sixty degrees off the Russian's bow. He had not been enough off-track when he fired his salvo; in his mind's eye he could still see the shiver in the large ship's hull when the torpedoes struck, the hump of sea and then the heave upwards as she blew asunder: She must have been carrying ammunition, for she literally disintegrated into the darkening twilight Chunks of metal, glowing red and hissing, plunged steaming into the sea. Even though Orcus was at periscope depth, there was the clanging shock, the trembling throughput her hull as something struck her aft — then the cry from the motor-room, the water streaming in, the fire in the switchboard. The Kashin began her counter-attack immediately while they tried silently to cope with the emergency, but knowing that she too was vulnerable to the lurking submarine, the Kashin had broken off the hunt to pick up the replenishment ship's survivors.

A strained hinge on the after escape hatch was causing the leak in the pressure hull and, in spite of the chiefs efforts, could not be dealt with in the foul weather of the Norwegian Sea. Then, as Farge was making out his signal to COMSUBEASTLANT, the recall to Barrow came through, and two days later, the general signal re-imposing the rules of engagement and reporting truce negotiations with the Soviets.

All had gone well, until approaching the Butt of Lewis. The ship's company had been good news — not surprisingly, with Bill Bowles as their cox'n. And, though Tim Prout lacked experience and was inclined to stand on his dignity as Orcus' first lieutenant he had done well. And so had all the others, especially Eddie Foggon, the other two-and-a-half and the boat's MEO. He was a first-rate engineer officer and had done his best on that suicidal after casing, trying to repair the torn plates. Farge was lucky with his officers: his taciturn WEO, Davis Powys, was a Welshman, totally unperturbable, as the impeccable running of his torpedoes had proved. Alastair Murray, the Third Hand, was a competent navigating officer, steady and reliable, experienced with SINS and the new gear.

Farge's Fourth Hand, Chris Sims, the youngest lieutenant, was slightly built, a year junior to Alastair and a very different character. Born within the sound of Bow Bells and proud of the fact, he injected spice into what could have been a prosaic wardroom. When things were gloomy, the sight of Chris' jovial, freckled face cheerfully grappling with his sonar problems was infectious. The Fifth Hand, Sub-Lieutenant Bertrand Halby, was the TASO; he was a conceited and tactless young man whom the cox'n was gently trying to guide in the art of dealing with sailors ten years the sub's senior.

The lurching of the train across the points brought Farge back to his present surroundings. He was whacked but could not sleep: he was exhausted, but his mind relentlessly pursued the problem of Woolf-Gault. A last-minute, enforced addition to his wardroom before going on patrol, Denzil Woolf-Gault was a senior lieutenant, four years senior to Tim Prout, the first lieutenant. For some reason, Woolf-Gault had remained a spare squadron Jimmy for longer than his contemporaries; he had been unable to.get an operational boat and the experience necessary for recommendation to his 'perisher' and command. With Tim Prout's agreement, Farge had reluctantly accepted Woolf-Gault for two patrols as a passenger, an understudy to Orcus! first lieutenant.