lunge all at once. Jetwind went over on her side.
The bridge canted steeply to starboard. Tideman, Kay, Grohman and myself were nearly thrown off our feet.
I grabbed a console and hung on. 'Kay, how far can she go over?' 'Nine degrees maximum!'
Tideman intoned levelly, 'Eight and a half degrees inclination!'
'Let go something;, Peter!' Kay cried out. 'Half her freeboard is under! She's going clean over!'
But Jetwind did not. She spun round in a racing turn, shook herself upright, put her bows into one of the open-sea rollers coming through The Narrows in a burst of spray, and leapt forward as if I'd thrown a throttle wide. It was a fantastic, exhilarating performance.
Jetwind straightened still further as Tideman adjusted the yards. She tore at the gap. Twelve – nearly thirteen knots. 'All lights on!' I ordered. 'Burn all sidelights!'
Now I wanted the Almirante Storni to see Jetwind. It was part of my plan.
There was no doubt now that she had spotted us. The warship's silhouette elongated slightly as she turned aside a trifle to give Jetwind legal right of way – as little as she dared in that narrow channel. 'Paul?' I said tentatively. 'Yeah?' 'I myself am eye-balling the situation from now on’ 'jeez!' He let out a whoop. 'Whaddayaknow!'
A warning flare fired from the destroyer bathed the choppy waters in a baleful glare. The wind caught the floating light and carried it towards Jetwind. The climax, and crucial stage, of my plan was at hand.
In a minute or two the warship would be abeam Navy Point. We raced on for the next 200 metres or so to accelerate to maximum speed. We were heading – correctly, as the rule of the road required – on the side of The Narrows opposite the warship. Jetwind was now logging fourteen knots – soon she would make more. Under any circumstances The Narrows would be a tight fit for two ships, especially one being a sailer and travelling at Jetwind’s speed. The warship itself was not doing more than five knots. I set my secret plan in motion.
'Down helm – a point and a half!' I snapped. Then, to Tideman, 'Brace up all yards two points!'
Next, 'Reef the main-courses on all masts! Up, up, up!'
'Peter! In God's name, what are you doing!’ Kay exclaimed.
The checks and balances my plan required were razor-edged.
'Stow all main-yards – loading positions! Keep the fore-yard as it is!'
All lower yards were now flush with their masts as for cargo stowage, except the fore-yard from whose tip dangled the anchor. 'You're going to ram her!' gasped Tideman.
Jetwind bulleted towards the Almirante Storni, port side to port side – the side supporting the stay-mast supporting her electronic search gear. The idea may have been in Grohman's mind all along; certainly it was precipitated into action by Tideman's exclamation.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw his sudden movement. He reached for the 'chicken button' in its scarlet switchbox.
One touch of that button and the emergency explosive charges would blast away Jetwind's top-gallant and royal masts. She would go wildly out of control. Then anything could happen.
Grohman's fingers tugged at the clip securing the switchbox's glass panel. 'Grohman!'
I must have yelled, moved and hit him all at once. Certainly I have no recollection of three separate movements. The blow caught him at the curve of his jaw and neck, below his right ear. He sprawled untidily in front of the helmsman.
'Keep your eyes on your course!' I said automatically. With Jim Yell such a warning was superfluous.
I regained my balance and faced round. Tideman, with iron will, kept his eyes fixed on the warship ahead. All the colour had gone from Kay's face.
Jetwind's bow now pointed obliquely at Almirante Storm's. From that angle we would cut her in half just for'ard of her bridge.
I threw open Jetwind's bridge window for maximum vision. The warship's siren screamed above the roar of the gale. 'Up helm half a point!'
Jetwind's knifing bow veered slightly away from its target. High above it, all of thirty metres of the fore-yard projected over both sides of the ship. I had to go in close for the yard and its killer anchor to do its job. Too close, and both ships would sink after colliding; too far, and Jetwind's game would be up. 'Port, a couple of spokes!'
Tideman's choice of helmsman had been brilliant. Jim Yell was licking his dry lips, but standing up to my orders like the cool veteran he was. Jetwind drove at the warship.
'Hold her off’ I ordered Yell. 'Just graze the destroyer's stay with the yard-arm.'
When a collision seemed inevitable, Jetwind straightened out at the last moment. The distance between the warship's low side and Jetwind's high storm gunnels appeared to be paper thin. But Jetwind headed past.
I saw an officer on the other bridge screaming and brandishing his fists. All the time the warship's siren whooped like mad.
The yard-arm swept over the destroyer's side. I saw men on the bridge dive for cover as the anchor flailed at them. They weren't my target.
The anchor struck the warship's steel deck in a shower of sparks as she rose on a wave. It ricocheted high.
I shouted my orders as it struck the stay and snagged fast. 'Starboard! Two points! Hold her off!' There was a violent jerk. For a moment I thought the stay mast would hold, and the two ships, passing each other at a combined speed of nearly twenty knots, would be dragged together. They hung for an undecided millisecond, then the stay ripped loose. A few millions' worth of radar, radio antennae, and all the complex electronics of a modern warship were ripped out like a rotten tooth. A shower of debris scattered along the torpedo and depth-charge platform aft.
Jetwind was free. – The Almirante Storni fell astern, blind, helpless, emasculated.
The silence was broken by Paul's voice, stunned and hoarse with admiration. 'Now the shit will hit the fan!'
Jetwind drove clear of The Narrows, clear for Cape Pembroke and the open sea beyond, clear for Gough and the Cape.
Chapter 16
'Suspended First Officer Anton Grohman on grounds of…'
I stopped writing and stared at the ship's formal log. On grounds of… what? I looked round my cabin where the previous night we had held our council of war before Jetwind's break-out. It seemed light years away instead of a mere twelve hours. The illusion of night was still present, however, because of the storm – it was dark enough to need electric light. '… grounds of… dereliction of duty?'
Would any official inquiry consider that Grohman had failed in his duty by trying to stop his captain carrying out a crazy, outrageous action against a warship of a friendly power?
I scrapped the phrase and lit another cigarette. I wanted to get shot of the Grohman problem and return to Jetwind's bridge. In the insulated confines of the cabin I could not share in the splendid exhilaration of feeling the ship tear along at eighteen knots or hear the mad music of the mounting gale. Even the motion of the ship was damped, it seemed. Even I was surprised at how steady a platform the deck presented. Her mighty sail plan – I was carrying everything to royals – was holding the ship against the bursting wave crests just as spoilers and aerofoils hold down a Grand Prix racer against a track.
We were clear of the land mass of the Falklands now. With the forty-knot gale holding abaft her starboard beam – her best point of sailing – Jetwind seemed determined to show exactly what she was capable of. Blast Grohman!
I sat down and wrote quickly without pausing to weigh the words too judicially:
‘… on grounds of endangering the safety of the ship and the lives of the crew.'
Which, I thought ironically, had been exactly what Pd done. There was a peremptory knock at the cabin door. 'Come in!'
It was Grohman. I snapped the log book shut. I had already passed judgement on him. I scarcely wanted to
