The Burning Shore - Smith Wilbur (электронную книгу бесплатно без регистрации .txt) 📗

Estimated range? Horsthauzen kept all his attention on his attack table.

Estimated range 4,000 metres."Up periscope. She was still there, exactly where he had expected her she had not turned away. Kurt felt almost nauseated with relief. At any time that she suspected his presence the chase could simply turn and run away from him, without even bothering to increase speed, and he would be helpless to stop her. But she was coming on unsuspectingly.

It was fully dark in the world above the surface, and the sea was breaking and tumbling with white caps. Kurt had to make the decision which he had postponed to the last possible moment. He made one last sweep of the entire horizon, swinging the handles of the periscope the full 36o degrees, shuffling around behind the eyepiece, satisfying himself that there was no other enemy creeping up behind his stern, no destroyers escorting the cruiser, and then he said, I will shoot from the bridge. Even Horsthauzen glanced up momentarily, and he heard the sharp intake of breath from his junior officers when they realized they were going to surface almost under the bows of an enemy battle cruiser.

Down periscope! Kurt ordered his senior helmsman. Reduce speed to five knots and come to tower depth.

He saw the needles on the control dials tremble and then begin to move, the speed dropping back, the depth decreasing gently, and he moved across to the ladder.

I am transferring to the bridge, he told Horsthauzen, and stepped on to the ladder. He climbed nimbly and at the top spun the locking wheel of the main hatch.

As the submarine broke through the surface, the internal air pressure blew the hatch open and Kurt sprang through it.

The wind lashed him immediately, tugging at his clothing and blowing spray into his face. All about him the sea was breaking and boiling, and the ship rolled and wallowed. Kurt had relied on the turmoil of waters to disguise the disturbance that the U-32 would make as she surfaced. With one glance, he satisfied himself that the enemy was almost dead ahead and coming on swiftly and unswervingly. He bowed to the aiming table at the forward end of the bridge, unstoppered the voice pipe and spoke into it. Prepare to attack! Stand by bow tubes. Bow tubes closed up, Horsthauzen answered him from below, and Kurt began to feed him the details of the range and bearing, while on the deck below, the lieutenant read off from the attack table the firing heading and passed it to the helmsman. The submarine's bows swung gradually as the helmsman kept her on the exact aiming mark.

Range 2,5oo metres, Kurt intoned. She was at extreme range now, but closing swiftly.

There were lights burning on her upper decks but apart from that she was merely a huge dark shape. There was no longer any definite silhouette against the night sky, although Kurt could make out the shapeless loom of her triple funnels.

The lights troubled Kurt. No Royal Naval captain should be so negligent of the most elementary precautions. He felt a small chill wind of doubt cool his excitement and battle ardour. He stared at the enormous vessel through the spray and darkness and for the first time in a hundred such dangerous nerve-racking situations, he felt himself hesitant and uncertain.

The vessel before him was in the exact position and on the exact course where he had expected to find the inflexible. It was the right size, it had three funnels and a tripod superstructure, it was steaming at 22 knots, and yet it was showing lights.

Repeat range mark! Horsthauzen spoke through the voice tube, gently prodding him, and Kurt started. He had been staring at the chase, neglecting the rangefinder.

Quickly he gave the decreasing range and then realized that within thirty seconds he would have to make his final decision.

I will shoot at 1,000 metres, he said into the voice tube.

It was pointblank range; even in this confused sea there was no question of missing with one of the long sharklike missiles.

Kurt stared into the lens of the rangefinder, watching the numerals decreasing steadily as hunter and hunted came together. He drew a deep breath like a diver about to plunge into the cold black waters and then he raised his voice for the first time. Number one tube, ]Os! Almost immediately Horsthauzen's voice came back to him, with that slight catchy stutter that always afflicted him when he was over-excited. Number one fired and running. There was no sound, nor recoil. No movement of the submarine's hull to signal the release of the first torpedo.

In the darkness and the breaking white waters Kurt could not even distinguish the wake of the speeding torpedo.

Number two tube, Ms! Kurt was firing a spread of torpedoes, each on a minutely diverging course, the first aimed forward, the second amidships, the third aft.

Number three tube, lose All three fired and running! Kurt raised his eyes from the aiming table and slitted them against the flying spray and the wind as he gazed down the track of his torpedoes. It was standard service procedure to crash dive immediately all torpedoes were fired and to await the explosions of the hits down in the safety of the depths, but this time Kurt felt compelled to remain on top and watch it happen.

Running time? he demanded of Horsthauzen, watching the tall bulk of his victim festooned with lights like a cruise ship, so that she paled out the fields of stars that sprinkled the black curtain of the sky behind her.

Two minutes fifteen seconds to run, Horsthauzen told him, and Kurt clicked down the button of his stopwatch.

Always in this time of waiting after his weapons were sped upon their way, the remorse assailed Kurt. Before the firing there was only the heat of the chase and the tingling excitement of the stalk, but now he thought of the brave men, brothers of the sea, whom he had consigned to the cold dark and merciless waters.

The seconds dragged, so that he had to check the luminous dial of his stopwatch to assure himself that his torpedoes had not sounded or swerved nor run past.

Then there was that vast blurt of sound which even when expected made him flinch, and be saw the pearly fountain of spray rise against the bulk of the battle cruiser, shining in the starlight and in the decklights with a beautiful iridescent radiance.

Number one, hit. Horsthauzen s shout of triumph came from the voice pipe, followed immediately by another thunderous roar as though a mountain had fallen into the sea.

Number two, hit And yet again, while the first two tall shining columns of spray still hovered, the third leapt high in the dark air beside them. Number three, hit. As Kurt still watched, the columns of spray mingled, subsided and blew away on the wind, and the great ship ran on, seemingly unscathed.

Chase is losing speed, Horsthauzen exalted. Altering course to starboard. The doomed ship began a wide aimless turn into the wind. It would not be necessary to fire their stern tubes.

Lieutenant Horsthauzen to the bridge, Kurt said into the voice tube. It was a reward for a task perfectly performed. He knew how avidly the young lieutenant would relate every detail of the sinking to his brother officers later. The memory of this victory would sustain them all through the long days and nights of privation and hardship that lay ahead. Horsthauzen burst from the hatch and stood shoulder to shoulder with his captain, peering at their monstrous victim.

She has stopped! he cried. The British ship lay like a rock in the sea.

We will move closer, Kurt decided, and relayed the order to the helmsman.

The U-32 crept forward, butting into the creaming waves, only her conning tower above the surface, closing the range gradually and gingerly. The cruiser's guns might still be manned and only a single lucky shot was needed to hole the submarine's thin plating.