of predetermined marker points – the summits of the four hillocks which lay on the spit of land between the inner and outer anchorages. Jetwind's first leg being downwind, the optimum course was less critical than what Paul could tell me about the warship's movements. 'Paul, what's new?'
'First way-point, Goldsworthy Rock, abeam. Optimum speed made good, five knots. On course. Evaluation, ninety-five per cent of optimum performance. Some slight trim needed…'
'Skip it,' I interrupted. 'She's running near enough on target. What's our friend up to?'
'She's burning enough lights to make her look like Coney Island,' he replied. 'That flasher amidships is the complete give-away. Any moment now, she'll be making her turn to approach the entrance – hold it, here she comes – she's coming round, round…'
The warship was now obviously committing herself to the northern extremity of The Narrows, manoeuvring probably by the leading beacons on the mainland in order to pick her line through the gap. From her present position she would be able to sight one light – that of Engineer Point – but the second, opposite on Navy Point, would be obscured. While that light remained obscured, we would remain invisible.
'Destroyer steadying on new course’ reported Paul. 'One-eight-five degrees.'
That was the recommended approach to the port from seawards. The move brought the Almiranie Storni facing bow-on towards Jetwind’s port side.
I had a sudden fear about Grohman giving the game away. I wheeled round. He was standing near the door leading to the radio office; he seemed to have an air of controlled purpose. I fixed him with a stare while I spoke to the radio operator by phone.
'Arno! No transmissions without my express orders until the ship is clear of the land – understood?' 'Aye, aye, sir.' 'Any signals coming in?' 'Strong radar transmission, sir.' 'Relative bearing?'
He rattled off a series of figures which confirmed that Almirante Storni was using an instrumented as well as visual approach. Nonetheless, the destroyer was not yet fully committed to The Narrows. She was in deep water on its outer approaches. I knew she drew five and a half metres, and the depths all round her now were a comfortable ten to eleven metres. This meant that she could, if necessary, still turn safely and intercept Jetwind. Further towards the entrance gap, however, was where I aimed to put the cork in the bottle. Although the water was deep in the centre channel of The Narrows – over fifteen metres – it fell away on either side close to both Navy and Engineer Points to under five metres. Once in this channel, the destroyer could not turn without grounding. Another hazard was a broad fringe of kelp along this shallow line; if she did attempt a turn and tangled with the kelp her engine intakes would jam within minutes.
The kelp constituted a hazard for us as well, I reminded myself grimly, and even more so. It fringed a lee shore, the sailing ship's traditional nightmare. Jetwind could easily be thrust helplessly against the land by the powerful wind which was now blowing from astern but would come abeam once she made her own turn to negotiate The Narrows.
Chapter 15
Jetwind drove on and gathered speed. She had roughly a kilometre to go before making her turn into The Narrows. She was now between the first and second way-points or shore-line markers.
‘Paul…' I started, wanting more information, but he interrupted me.
'What gives down there, Peter?' he burst out. 'Is this tub dragging lead from her ass? You're only sailing seventy-five per cent of potential! You'll never make The Narrows in time for the warship! And she's running right on schedule! At this rate she'll be through before you make your approach turn! Give her the gun, man!'
Kay saw the look on my face at Paul's news. In one stride I was at Tideman's console. Six knots, I read.
'Kay! John!' I snapped. 'Something's wrong! She should be doing eight knots by now!'
Tideman indicated the wind direction indicator. 'The wind's changing – it's veered ten degrees astern.'
'We've struck a flat spot in her sailing performance,' Kay added, 'The wind's too far aft for her to be at her best – it's almost dead astern now.'
'The after sails are blanketing those for'ard at this angle of wind,' said Tideman. 'The proper way to cope would be to tack downwind to increase her speed.' 'I can't tack in these confined waters,' I replied. 'Kay?' I hoped she might come up with some solution.
'She's doing the best she can under the circumstances,' she replied. 'Stealing the wind.'
Perhaps my acute anxiety threw the fragment of old clipper lore to the forefront of my mind. When the clippers found themselves in such a situation they reefed the sails aft to allow a flow of air to those in front. I couldn't vouch for the aerodynamics of such a tactic, but I knew it had worked. There was no time now to discuss the merits of such a method.
'Reef all sails on Number Five and Six masts aft!' I ordered Tideman.
As his fingers reached for the control switches, Kay protested. 'No, Peter, no! It won't work!'
I would know in a moment. 'Paul,' I said, 'give me a minute-by-minute speed read-out.'
It was impossible to tell simply by feel whether my desperation throw had come off. We waited. Then Paul's voice came through. 'Six and a half knots.' Was it working or was it purely a momentary fluctuation of wind which had won us the extra half knot? 'Where's the destroyer, Paul?' 'Abreast Tussac Point.'
'Ah!' The cork was heading for the neck of the bottle! Where she was now, the warship could still turn for a pursuit, but within the next few hundred metres the shallows would lock her in.
'She's slowing – down to about four knots. Guess she's feeling her way.'
Then he exclaimed excitedly. 'Hey! Seven knots on the log – picking up, what's more.'
After what seemed an eternity, Paul reported again. 'Eight and a half knots nearer nine. Second way-point now abeam.'
Half a kilometre now to our turn! Then the direction of the wind would switch to abeam, Jetwind's best sailing conditions. Then I would throw in the full power of the after sails as well as the royals, now reefed out of sight at her mast-heads. The time for concealment would then be over. We would be in full view of the destroyer through The Narrows entrance.
I gave Kay a knowing smile and she responded with a thumbs-up sign.
When I spoke again to Paul, my voice was hoarse with strain. 'Paul – what's happening out there?'
'Target half a kilometre, maybe a little more, north of The Narrows.'
The cork was in the bottle! The warship could no longer turn to pursue us!
The two ships converged on the narrow gap from opposite directions – the warship at four knots and Jetwind driving along now at over ten. 'Way-point three abeam,' reported Paul. The final marker!
The next crucial stage was our ninety-degree turn into the mouth of The Narrows.
I waited. The silent dark bridge waited. Grohman was drawn to the vicinity of the wheel by my terse orders. Suddenly a shore light stood out to port. Navy Point!
My heart raced as I made out beyond it a white masthead light. Silhouetting upperworks and guns, a flashing light also swept into view. The Almirante Storni! Now she could see us!
Grohman let out an oath in Spanish. 'There she is, Captain Rainier. It will be better for you to stop playing games now.' 'Set the royals! All sail! All sail!' I ordered. 'How far to our turn, Paul?' 'One hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty metres.' 'Speed?' 'Ten and a half knots – nudging eleven.'
'Stand by!' I told Jim Yell at the wheel. I felt him tense. Tideman's eyes left his instruments and he gave me a long inquiring look. What I did next was anyone's guess. 'Ready about!' I snapped. 'Turn!' It was Paxil. 'Down helm!' Jim Yell spun the spokes. 'Steer zero-zero-five!' 'Kay-quick!'
She rapid-fired our predetermined calculations; I passed them on to Tideman. ' Sail trim – thirty degrees! 'Rudder angle – thirty degrees! 'Course angle to true wind – seventy degrees! 'Angle of inflow of sail – ten degrees!'
The low loom of Engineer Point and its light – twin to Navy Point – came up out of the half light, fronted by the fatal barrier of kelp. It wasn't more than 100 metres away. We must not be pushed sideways into it. 'Drift?' I inquired peremptorily. 'Ten degrees.' Jetwind swung at right angles towards the mouth of The Narrows. The wind switched abeam. Then it happened.
I had not taken into account just how powerful were her aerofoils. I felt the smash of the gale and her wild
