hull if you come up too fast — as I understand may happen with a sudden change in salinity and sea temperature — and you find out at the last minute that you’ve drifted away from the indicated area of thin ice and have ten solid feet of the stuff above you?’
‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Like you say, it’s the last minute. Don’t even think about such things, far less talk about them: I can’t afford to have nightmares on this job.’ I looked at him closely, but he wasn’t smiling any more. He lowered his voice. ‘I don’t honestly think that there is one member of the crew of the
Dolphin
who doesn’t get a little bit scared when we move in under the ice. I know I do. I think this is the finest ship in the world, Dr Carpenter, but there are still a hundred things that can go wrong with it and if anything happens to the reactor or the steam turbines or theelectrical generators — then we’re already in our coffin and the lid screwed down. The ice-pack above is the coffin lid. In the open sea most of those things don’t matter a damn — we just surface or go to snorkel depth and proceed on our diesels. But for diesels you need air — and there’s no air under the ice-pack. So if anything happens we either find a polynya to surface in, one chance in ten thousand at this time of year, before our standby battery packs up or — well, that’s it.’
‘This is all very encouraging,’ I said.
‘Isn’t it?’ He smiled, none too soon for me. ‘It’ll never happen. What’s the worthy Benson making all the racket about?’
‘Here it is,’ Benson called. ‘The first drift-block. And another. And another! Come and have a look, Doctor.’
I had a look. The stylus, making a faint soft hissing sound, was no longer tracing out a continuously horizontal line but was moving rapidly up and down across the paper, tracing out the outline of the block of ice passing astern above us. Another thin straight line, more agitated vertical movements of the stylus, and again another block of ice had gone. Even as I watched the number of thin horizontal lines became fewer and fewer and shorter and shorter until eventually they disappeared altogether.
‘That’s it, then,’ Swanson nodded. ‘We’ll take her deep now, real deep, and open up all the stops.’
When Commander Swanson had said he was going to hurry, he’d meant every word of it. In the early hours of the following morning I was awakened from a deep sleep by a heavy hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes, blinked against the glare of the overhead light then saw Lieutenant Hansen.
‘Sorry about the beauty sleep, Doc,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But this is it.’
‘This is what?’ I said irritably.
‘85° 35′ north, 21° 20′ east — the last estimated position of Drift Station Zebra. At least, the last estimated position with estimated correction for polar drift.’
‘Already?’ I glanced at my watch, not believing it. ‘We’re there already?’
‘We have not,’ Hansen said modestly, ‘been idling. The skipper suggests you come along and watch us at work.’
‘I’ll be right with you.’ When and if the
Dolphin
managed to break through the ice and began to try her one in a million chance of contacting Drift Station Zebra, I wanted to be there.
We left Hansen’s cabin and had almost reached the control room when I lurched, staggered and would have fallen but for a quick grab at a handrail that ran along one side of the passageway. I hung on grimly as the
Dolphin
banked violently sideways and round like a fighter plane in a tight turn. No submarine in my experience had ever been able to begin to behave even remotely in thatfashion. I understood now the reasons for the safety belts on the diving control seats.
‘What the hell’s up?’ I said to Hansen. ‘Avoiding some underwater obstruction ahead?’
‘Must be a possible polynya. Some place where the ice is thin, anyway. As soon as we spot a possible like that we come around
‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Like you say, it’s the last minute. Don’t even think about such things, far less talk about them: I can’t afford to have nightmares on this job.’ I looked at him closely, but he wasn’t smiling any more. He lowered his voice. ‘I don’t honestly think that there is one member of the crew of the
Dolphin
who doesn’t get a little bit scared when we move in under the ice. I know I do. I think this is the finest ship in the world, Dr Carpenter, but there are still a hundred things that can go wrong with it and if anything happens to the reactor or the steam turbines or theelectrical generators — then we’re already in our coffin and the lid screwed down. The ice-pack above is the coffin lid. In the open sea most of those things don’t matter a damn — we just surface or go to snorkel depth and proceed on our diesels. But for diesels you need air — and there’s no air under the ice-pack. So if anything happens we either find a polynya to surface in, one chance in ten thousand at this time of year, before our standby battery packs up or — well, that’s it.’
‘This is all very encouraging,’ I said.
‘Isn’t it?’ He smiled, none too soon for me. ‘It’ll never happen. What’s the worthy Benson making all the racket about?’
‘Here it is,’ Benson called. ‘The first drift-block. And another. And another! Come and have a look, Doctor.’
I had a look. The stylus, making a faint soft hissing sound, was no longer tracing out a continuously horizontal line but was moving rapidly up and down across the paper, tracing out the outline of the block of ice passing astern above us. Another thin straight line, more agitated vertical movements of the stylus, and again another block of ice had gone. Even as I watched the number of thin horizontal lines became fewer and fewer and shorter and shorter until eventually they disappeared altogether.
‘That’s it, then,’ Swanson nodded. ‘We’ll take her deep now, real deep, and open up all the stops.’
When Commander Swanson had said he was going to hurry, he’d meant every word of it. In the early hours of the following morning I was awakened from a deep sleep by a heavy hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes, blinked against the glare of the overhead light then saw Lieutenant Hansen.
‘Sorry about the beauty sleep, Doc,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But this is it.’
‘This is what?’ I said irritably.
‘85° 35′ north, 21° 20′ east — the last estimated position of Drift Station Zebra. At least, the last estimated position with estimated correction for polar drift.’
‘Already?’ I glanced at my watch, not believing it. ‘We’re there already?’
‘We have not,’ Hansen said modestly, ‘been idling. The skipper suggests you come along and watch us at work.’
‘I’ll be right with you.’ When and if the
Dolphin
managed to break through the ice and began to try her one in a million chance of contacting Drift Station Zebra, I wanted to be there.
We left Hansen’s cabin and had almost reached the control room when I lurched, staggered and would have fallen but for a quick grab at a handrail that ran along one side of the passageway. I hung on grimly as the
Dolphin
banked violently sideways and round like a fighter plane in a tight turn. No submarine in my experience had ever been able to begin to behave even remotely in thatfashion. I understood now the reasons for the safety belts on the diving control seats.
‘What the hell’s up?’ I said to Hansen. ‘Avoiding some underwater obstruction ahead?’
‘Must be a possible polynya. Some place where the ice is thin, anyway. As soon as we spot a possible like that we come around
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