Ship of Force by Alan Evans

Smith saw Dunbar’s head turning like his own, sharing his uneasiness. They were both aware that
Sparrow
made a prime target as she ran down on the drifter. The flare did not light
Sparrow
yet but to any craft or U-boat astern of her she would be silhouetted against its glare. A second was too long to be that kind of target. Geordie Byers and the other men aboard
Judy
had been lucky. But they would have to learn not to rely on luck if they were to survive in the Channel war.
    Smith said, “We’ll have a word with Skipper Byers.”
    Dunbar grunted acknowledgment, a hand to his head. Smith saw him wince.
    The flare was dying, but still painfully bright…
    The spurt of flame came fine on the port bow, beyond and to seaward of the drifter, a flash that burned itself on the eye and then was gone, but before that instant was past the shell burst on
Judy
and
that
flash was bigger, lighting her up again as they saw the wheelhouse blown away and breaking apart as it flew. Darkness closed in briefly and then flames flickered on the drifter.
    Smith set the glasses to his eyes. “Full ahead, Mr Dunbar! Load!”
    “Full ahead both!” The bosun’s mate yanked over the handles of the engine-room telegraphs and Dunbar ordered, “All guns load!”
    Sanders repeated the order in a high yell, “
All guns load
!”
    The killick, the leading-seaman gunner on the twelve-pounder echoed “-
load
!” The breech was thrown open, the shell rammed and the charge in its case inserted.
    Dunbar swore. “Bluidy
wars
!” He shouted at Sanders, “Any word of Jerry having destroyers at sea?”
    “No, sir!”
    “It could still be a destroyer. If it’s one o’ those big boats…”
    Dunbar did not finish but Smith knew what he was thinking. If that shell had come from one of the big, new German destroyers with four-inch guns then God help
Sparrow
. The enemy would not have seen
Sparrow
beyond the lake of light cast by the drifter’s flare, the thirty-knotter being hidden in the outer darkness. So far. But
Sparrow
was racing down on that lake of light. A turn to starboard or port and she could run for her life. Nobody would ask her to take on one of those big, modern boats. It was ridiculous. But neither could she leave the drifter to her fate.
    Another gun flash. A second between the flash and the flaming, thumping
crash
! as the shell exploded in
Judy
, and hurled blazing timbers into the sky in a shower of sparks and set new fires burning and rolling down smoke across the sea. Aboard
Sparrow
they heard the popping of the drifter’s three-pounder.
Judy
was a wooden boat. She burned and in the light of her burning they could see the men working the gun.
    Time of flight of the shell about one second, Smith thought, so range between one and two thousand yards and closing. About twenty seconds between rounds so only one gun firing. Why? It could be a destroyer bows-on to the drifter so that only the one gun on the foredeck would bear but he didn’t believe it. Why didn’t she turn to fire broadsides? But if it
was
a destroyer then
Sparrow
was roaring up to shove her head in the lion’s mouth and it wouldn’t come out again. Smith could lose half his flotilla right now. And he was commanding
Sparrow
, in the excitement he’d almost forgotten that. He gulped and somehow managed to drawl out. “Stand by to depth-charge.”
    Dunbar glanced at him but Sanders shouted into the voice pipe that led to the torpedo-gunner aft, “Stand by to depthcharge!”
    Smith said to Dunbar, “I think it’s a U-boat on the surface.” It
had
to be. “If it is then he will see us before we see him.”
    Sparrow
stood high out of the sea while the U-boat would be almost awash except for the conning-tower. And
Sparrow
was working up to fifteen knots now, throwing up a big white bowwave, and in seconds she would be running into the light from the burning drifter. Smith went on, “So try the searchlight. Dead ahead.” To Sanders he said, “Range about one