Dive in the Sun by Douglas Reeman Page B

grease which clung to his skin. You finally did it, he told himself. You finally cracked. It was almost a relief. He was dimly aware of Jervis’s quiet voice behind him, talking to Taylor.
    ‘Steer one-five-five. We should be clear of the main jetties in about ten minutes.’
    ‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Taylor’s answer was automatic and subdued. All the life seemed to have gone from him.
    Curtis eyed them moodily. They already think I’m redundant, something to be tolerated until we get back. He watched Jervis moving uncomfortably by the chart table, his shining diver’s suit hanging on him like an obscene skin.
    ‘I’ll give the necessary orders, thank you.’ His flat voice made Jervis start and move clumsily towards the diving compartment. ‘When I’ve got the boat back to the rendezvous you can all do what you like. Until then,’ he paused wearily, ‘you’ll obey orders. All of you!’
    The boat slid silently through the water, and no roar of engines overhead, or the sudden crashing detonation of depth charges, pursued their slow and cautious passage. It had been a perfect attack. Curtis almost groaned aloud at the mockery of his thoughts.
    As if reading his mind, Duncan stirred his cramped body. ‘Pretty smooth, Ralph. I’d say there’s not much wrong with your touch that a good rest won’t cure. We’ve all been over-doin’ things a bit.’
    ‘Periscope depth!’ Curtis fiddled impatiently with the switch and ignored Duncan’s words. He felt strangely calm and resigned; it was a feeling which his self-made loneliness only helped to strengthen as he glared bleakly at the crouched figures grouped about him. Each man was wrapped in his own private thoughts.
    The periscope hissed slowly upwards.
    He searched the harbour eagerly, a feeling of crazy recklessness making his head swim. He saw a small motor boat moving like a shadow towards the top of the anchorage. With childish defiance he kept the periscope raised and looked back at the fading shape of the dock.
    But for you everything might have been different. But the lie died in his brain as his eye turned back across the black water and fastened on a small bobbing float. He stared at it blankly, forcing himself to concentrate once more and aware of some rising sense of warning.
    A thin grey streak probed faintly across the sky, and the outlines of the distant ships became harsher. Soon a new day would dawn in Vigoria, and with it would come disaster when the charges exploded. He watched the float bobbing towards him. We’re on the right course for a quick exit. We should be up to the nets soon, but not as quickly as this. Then he saw another group of floats. He chilled. It must be another net.
    ‘Thirty feet! Another net!’
    The deck tilted obediently, but at the same instant they heard the clatter of wire across the hull. He realized he was still holding the periscope switch in his hand and he pressed it frantically. Even as the tube hissed down he heard the sharp groan of metal, and a thin trickle of water ran across his wrist. He stared at it for some moments before he could bring himself to realize that the periscope had been caught in the net. The scraping of the wire ceased and the boat skimmed under the net.
    ‘Only an anti-torpedo net,’ said Taylor quietly. ‘Luck’s still with us!’
    Curtis wrenched desperately at the hoist. The periscope was jammed solid, and the water still seeped threateningly down the greased tube.
    ‘Take her up. Surface!’ He stood upright under the dome, his hair pressed against the rough metal.
    Duncan eyed him strangely.
    ‘Surface,’ he repeated heavily. ‘We’re blind. We’ll have to run out on the surface!’
    He opened the hatch, gasping as the salt air struck him in the face and a stream of spray broke over the coaming. Heavily he climbed up on to the casing, leaving the others behind in the darkened control-room. Wearily he strapped himself to the twisted periscope standard and braced his feet on the