Dive in the Sun by Douglas Reeman Page A

floating dock towering over them. There was a sharp metallic clang, and the control-room rocked violently.
    ‘We’re underneath,’ he announced flatly.
    ‘Christ, they must be bloody deaf up there!’ The words were forced from Taylor’s twisted lips. His whole face looked sunken and shone with sweat.
    The boat stopped.
    Curtis checked the fuse-settings of the charges and began to wind the big basket-wheel on the port side. They heard the charge fall away, and each man imagined the deadly shape falling like a giant leaf, to settle practically alongside the hull.
    They began to bump their way along the bottom of the dock, Curtis checking the time and trying to estimate when they had covered about three hundred feet.
    ‘Stand by!’
    Curtis swung the starboard release wheel and held his breath. Overhead he could hear the steady beat of several engines, probably generators on the dock, or maybe some repairs being carried out.
    ‘Charge gone!’
    Curtis looked wildly around the control-room as a fresh grating on the hull cut the words from his mouth. The boat shivered and settled down again. There was a strange groan from the metal overhead.
    Duncan sat bolt upright. ‘Jesus! They’re floodin’ the dock! We’ll be pinned underneath an’ go up with the charges!’
    Curtis pulled desperately at his jacket, as if stifling to death. ‘Full ahead!’ He tapped Taylor sharply on the arm, so that the man jumped in his seat. ‘Use the wheel all you can to free us!’
    The motor whined and shuddered on its bed, and as the sturdy little hull twisted under power and rudder they heard the clinging pressure of the massive dock on their casing, as it tried to hold and destroy its own killer.
    Through the glass ports in the periscope dome Curtis saw a break in the black wall of disturbed mud and overhanging shadows. One more thrust. We’ve
got
to get clear!
    Over his shoulder he said, ‘Watch it, Steve! Don’t let her break surface and give the whole game away!’
    ‘Hark who’s talking!’ Duncan’s voice sounded breathless with the effort of controlling the boat’s savage motion. ‘I guess I’m not in the mood for a ruddy sermon!’ he added jerkily.
    Curtis momentarily forgot the danger and the grinding of metal against the hull. A wave of sickness coursed through his taut limbs, and he stared wildly at the other man’s intent and angry face.
    ‘What did you mean by that?’ He had to hold his stooped body close to the periscope to prevent himself from falling. ‘What the hell are you implying?’
    ‘Forget it till later!’
    ‘Damn you! I’m asking you now!’ His voice rose to a shout, and Taylor wrenched his eyes from the compass to stare miserably from one to the other.
    Curtis reached out and gripped Duncan’s shoulder. ‘Come on, spit it out while you’ve got the chance! Tell me what you’ve been thinking all this time! Now’s your chance to get it off your ruddy chest!’ He glared round the boat, seeing only a misty picture of the wet, glistening plates and Taylor’s bent shoulders at the wheel. Of Jervis’s white face framed in the open door, and lastly Duncan’s tight lips and lowered head. As the Australian remained silent, Curtis shook his shoulder and shouted even louder. ‘You think I’m scared, lost my nerve, is that it? Or are you afraid to tell me that I’m a murderer, too?’ He fell back weakly, his blue eyes suddenly dead.
    Duncan’s hands were rigid. ‘I said forget it, Ralph. For Christ’s sake get a hold of yourself.’ His tone had changed and he sounded uneasy. ‘Right now, I guess we have a job to finish. The rest’ll keep.’
    At that moment the submarine cleared the overhanging end of the dock and moved awkwardly towards the centre of the harbour.
    Duncan licked his lips. ‘Looks as if the Eye-ties didn’t get a tip that we were comin’ after all,’ he said slowly. ‘I guess we’re all born lucky.’
    Curtis ran his palm along the periscope, heedless of the thick