“All right Eng, let’s get this show on the road. Lower the outboard, shift to remote and train to port zero-nine-zero degrees” Jon Hunter said.
“Aye, sir,” Sam Stuart acknowledged and repeated the order over the 7MC announcing system to the control room supervisor, thirty feet below in the ship’s control room.
The order was relayed to the engineering officer of the watch (EOOW) in the maneuvering room, back in the engineroom. He, in turn, relayed it to a watch-stander at the aft elliptical bulkhead, as far aft as you could get and still be inside the boat. The operating station for raising and lowering the outboard was mounted on the bulkhead just to the starboard side of the massive main shaft. The watch-stander pressed a button that actuated the hydraulic controller. Out in the ballast tank, on the other side of the elliptical bulkhead, the outboard lowered smoothly until it extended four feet below the submarine’s hull. A green light flashed at the ship's control panel, telling the helmsman that the outboard was lowered and he had control. He held a switch near his left leg in the “Port” position until the dial indicator showed that the outboard had rotated to a position of "Port 90" degrees. Finally, the Helmsman reported, "The outboard is lowered, shifted to "REMOTE" and trained to port zero-nine-zero."
"Eng, single up all lines," Hunter directed.
"Skipper, we can't," LCDR Stuart reported, frustration dripping from his voice. "The lines-forward phone talker just reported that Weps ordered the capstan line put over line one rather than under. They won't be able to cast off line one with the capstan line in the way. They will have to run it again.”
He shook his head slowly. “I don't know what Weps was thinking. Just looking at it, even an idiot could see you can’t get a line off the cleat with a taut line over top it."
"What the hell!" Hunter snatched the JA handset. "XO, get topside and straighten this mess out. Talk to me about the Weps after we secure the maneuvering watch."
"Yes, sir. I’ve just sent the COB forward to take care of it. Five minute delay." Bill Fagan answered.
Hunter could already see men straining to move the line. They unwound it from the capstan, lugged the heavy hawser forward and then manhandled it under line one. When it was rewound around the capstan, all was really ready.
Finally, Stuart ordered, "Single up all lines. Slack lines one, three and four. Hold two." This left a single thread holding SAN FRANCISCO to the pier at each cleat. All lines draped loose except line two. It was a spring line. Instead of stretching to a bollard directly across from the cleat, it was stretched from a cleat just forward of the sail, aft alongside the ship, to a bollard directly across from number three cleat. It prevented the ship from moving forward into the mud, coral and stone beach scant inches away from her tender fiberglass bow. Line two was held taut.
“Take a strain on the capstan,” Stuart ordered. The line stretching from the capstan, forward to the number one cleat and across to pier sierra nine came taut. Seawater sizzled as it was squeezed out of the line. It groaned under the load. .
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the bow started to swing away from the pier. The large soft inflatable camel that had been wedged tightly between the bow of the massive submarine and the pier floated free, while the after camel squealed in protest as the force of the ship’s pivoting movement was felt.
Stuart pressed the key on the 7MC microphone and ordered, “Start the outboard.” The stern of the sub started to move ponderously away from the pier.
As soon as motion to port was perceptible, he ordered, "Stop outboard. Ease the capstan." Slowly SAN FRANCISCO slid into the center of the slip and came to a halt with the gentle restraining force of the still singled lines.
“Train the outboard to port one-eight-zero, cast off all lines and back out into the harbor.”
Precisely as the last line slid into the water, Hunter heard a faint rustle behind him and looked back to see Old Glory proudly waving in the glow of the pier lights. SAN FRANCISCO was underway.
The black submarine glided silently out of the pool of light between the piers into the inky blackness of the central turning basin. Sam Stuart used the rudder and outboard to turn her so that she faced the waiting ocean. He ordered the main engines warmed as the few men topside carefully, yet quickly, rigged for submerged operations. Every piece of topside equipment was checked twice. Nothing about the examination was cursory; a rattle caused by a loose fixture or the coke-bottle sound of water flowing over an uncovered opening could mean the difference between being the hunter or the hunted.
The required half-hour seemed to stretch to eternity as they sat rolling in the almost imperceptible swell of the inner harbor. In the maneuvering room, Lieutenant junior-grade Rich Baker stood, observing the throttleman spin the large chrome hand-wheel to open the Ahead turbine throttle. Just as the roaring steam rolled the turbine, the throttleman flung the hand-wheel shut and spun the Astern hand-wheel open. This process was repeated every minute.
Baker, who had just recently finished the difficult qualification process to be an EOOW, reveled in finally having charge of the engine-room himself. This was great, but he really wanted to be up on the bridge, driving SAN FRANCISCO out to sea. He knew that he would have to spend almost another year of qualifying before he saw that day.
Finally LTJG Baker reported, "The mains are warmed and the bridge has control."
Sam Stuart ordered “Ahead one third, steer course three-three-one,”
