H. M. S. Ulysses by Alistair MacLean Page A

always sink. Probably a mine, though.’
    â€˜Suppose you’ll be telling me next what mark it is and when it was laid,’ Tyndall growled. But he was impressed in spite of himself. And the Invader was going astern, although slowly, without enough speed to give her steerage way. She still wallowed helplessly in the great troughs.
    An Aldis clacked acknowledgement to the winking light on the Invader . Bentley tore a sheet off a signal pad, handed it to Vallery.
    â€˜â€œ Invader to Admiral,”’ the Captain read. ‘“Am badly holed, starboard side for’ard, very deep. Suspect drifting mine. Am investigating extent of damage. Will report soon.”’
    Tyndall took the signal from him and read it slowly. Then he looked over his shoulder and smiled faintly.
    â€˜You were dead right, my boy, it seems. Please accept an old curmudgeon’s apologies.’
    Carpenter murmured something and turned away, brick-red again with embarrassment. Tyndall grinned faintly at the Captain, then became thoughtful.
    â€˜I think we’d better talk to him personally, Captain. Barlow, isn’t it? Make a signal.’
    They climbed down two decks to the Fighter Direction room. Westcliffe vacated his chair for the Admiral.
    â€˜Captain Barlow?’ Tyndall spoke into the handpiece.
    â€˜Speaking.’ The sound came from the loudspeaker above his head.
    â€˜Admiral here, Captain. How are things?’
    â€˜We’ll manage, sir. Lost most of our bows, I’m afraid. Several casualties. Oil fires, but under conrol. WT doors all holding, and engineers and damage control parties are shorting up the crossbulkheads.’
    â€˜Can you go ahead at all, Captain?’
    â€˜Could do, sir, but risky—in this, anyway.’
    â€˜Think you could make it back to base?’
    â€˜With this wind and sea behind us, yes. Still take three-four days.’
    â€˜Right-o, then.’ Tyndall’s voice was gruff. ‘Off you go. You’re no good to us without bows! Damned hard luck, Captain Barlow. My commiserations. And oh! I’m giving you the Baliol and Nairn as escorts and radioing for an ocean-going tug to come out to meet you—just in case.’
    â€˜Thank you, sir. We appreciate that. One last thing—permission to empty starboard squadron fuel tanks. We’ve taken a lot of water, can’t get rid of it all—only way to recover our trim.’
    Tyndall sighed. ‘Yes, I was expecting that. Can’t be helped and we can’t take it off you in this weather. Good luck, Captain. Goodbye.’
    â€˜Thank you very much, sir. Goodbye.’
    Twenty minutes later, the Ulysses was back on station in the squadron. Shortly afterwards, they saw the Invader , not listing quite so heavily now, head slowly round to the southeast, the little Hunt class destroyer and the frigate, one on either side, rolling wickedly as they came round with her. In another ten minutes, watchers on the Ulysses had lost sight of them, buried in a flurrying snow squall. Three gone and eleven left behind; but it was the eleven who now felt so strangely alone.
    1. Cam-ships were merchant ships with specially strengthened fo’c’sles. On these were fitted fore-and-aft angled ramps from which fighter planes, such as modified Hurricanes, were catapulted for convoy defence. After breaking off action, the pilot had either to bale out or land in the sea. ‘Hazardous’ is rather an inadequate word to describe the duties of this handful of very gallant pilots: the chances of survival were not high.

FIVE

Tuesday
    The Invader and her troubles were soon forgotten. All too soon, the 14th Aircraft Carrier Squadron had enough, and more than enough, to worry about on their own account. They had their own troubles to overcome, their own enemy to face—an enemy far more elemental and far more deadly than any mine or U-boat.
    Tyndall braced himself more firmly against the pitching,