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.
Listen! Kurt ordered abruptly, turning his head to catch the sounds that came to them faintly above the clamour of the wind.
I hear nothing.
Stop engines! Kurt ordered, and the vibration and hum of the diesels ceased. Now they could hear it more clearly.
Voices! Horsthauzen whispered. It was a pathetic chorus, borne to them on the wind. The shouts and cries of men in dire distress, rising and falling on the vagaries of the wind, punctuated by a wild scream as somebody fell or leapt from the high deck.
She is listing heavily. They were close enough to see her against the stars.
She's sinking by the bows. The great stem was rearing out of the black. She's going quickly, very quickly They could hear the crackle and rumble of her hull as the waters raced through her, and twisted and distorted her plating.
Man the searchlight, Kurt ordered, and Horsthauzen turned to stare at him.
Did you hear my order? Horsthauzen roused himself.
It went against all a submariner's instincts to betray himself so blatantly to the eyes of the enemy, but he crossed to the searchlight in the wing of the deck.
Switch on! Kurt urged him when he hesitated still, and the long white beam leapt out across half a mile of tempestuous sea and darkness. It struck the hull of the ship and was reflected in a dazzle of purest white.
Kurt threw himself across the bridge and shouldered his lieutenant from the searchlight. He gripped the handles and swung the solid beam across and down, slitting his eyes against the dazzling reflection from the ship's paintwork; he searched frantically and then froze, with his fingers hooked like claws over the searchlight handles.
In the perfect round circle of the searchlight beam, the scarlet arms of the huge painted cross were outflung, like the limbs of a condemned man upon the crucifix.
Mother of the Almighty God, Kurt whispered, what have I done? With horrid fascination he moved the beam slowly from side to side. The decks of the white ship were canted steeply towards him, so he could see the clusters of human figures that scurried about them, trying to reach the lifeboats dangling from their davits. Some of them dragging stretchers or leading stumbling figures dressed in long blue hospital robes, and their cries and supplications sounded like a colony of nesting birds at sunset.
As Kurt watched, the ship suddenly tipped towards him with a rush, and the men on the decks were sent sliding across them, piling up against the railings. Then singly and in clusters they began to fall overboard.
