Captain Delongue would have explained the situation to
his
superiors and would receive either a pat on the back or a court-martial.
The
latter was a real possibility, and Springfield felt a certain distaste
about
requesting Delongue, a man he did not know, to take that risk.
Slowly
the two subs moved into the Strait. The course marked by the
beacons included three turns, the last of which curved around dangerous
shoals
off the Iles Lavezzi, a cluster of islets a mile off the tip of
Corsica.
Sorensen locked his side-to-side sweeping array to the left in order to
report
instantly any maneuvering by Sirène ,
and fed the data to the navigator in the control room. Fogarty
monitored the bottom scanner to make sure the depth under the keel
corresponded
with the chart. The captain stood at the sonar repeater in the control
room and
kept his eyes on both screens while giving orders to the helm.
The
first turn headed the ship on a southwesterly course that paralleled
the Italian passage through the Strait. In the belly of the ship the
inertial
navigation gyros spun on their axes, sending the digital readouts of
longitude
and latitude on the navigator's console spinning dizzily until the turn
ended.
They
were at periscope depth, but no periscope from Barracuda broke the surface. Springfield navigated on gyros and sonar alone.
Sirène also ran without benefit of periscope, radar
or communication gear. In his log Delongue cited sea conditions and
the
presence of merchant ships in the Strait. No submarine captain would
ever risk
damage to his precious surface gear, but Delongue's real reason was
that he
didn't want to answer any questions until he cleared the Strait.
The
second turn,
to the right, brought them
within half a mile of the main Italian fixed-arrays. Pings echoed back
and
forth between the two subs, and off the bottom and the surface, sending
a weird
and confusing signal back to the Italian operators on Sardinia.
Sorensen
imagined them listening to this strange mix, scratching themselves and
trying
to puzzle it out. He was sure they could hear coolant pumps and they
probably
were asking themselves if the French had secretly developed a nuclear
attack
submarine.
As
the ships
eased into the final turn, the
depth gauge on Fogarty's bottom scanner suddenly began to rise.
"Sorensen,
look
at this...?"
Sorensen
twisted
around to look at Fogarty's
screen and recognized the rising pattern of bottom sand. He immediately
unlocked the side-to-side sweepers from the French sub and started
looking for
obstructions. If there was anything big resting on the bottom, they
were going
to hit it, but the screen showed nothing but the rising shoal a half
mile away.
Sorensen
spoke
into the intercom. "Sonar
to control. Shoals bearing two nine seven, depth one two zero feet and
rising.
One one five feet."
"Control
to
sonar," said the
captain, "we have it on the screen. Mr. Pisaro, take her up to
sixty-five
feet."
"Depth
sixty-five
feet, aye. Rig for
steep angles."
The
command
rippled throughout the ship.
Sailors in every compartment grabbed whatever was close and held on.
"Stern
planes up twenty degrees."
"Up
twenty degrees, aye."
"Pump
forward trim tank number one to aft trim tank number
two."
The
bow rose sharply and the prop drove the sleek hydrodynamic hull
toward the surface. Sirène began to rise alongside,
but not nearly so
quickly. The diesel-electric sub did not have the power to drive
herself
rapidly up or down in a state of neutral buoyancy.
The
shoals continued to rise. Springfield realized he would have to
surface or reduce speed, steer to the left and fall in behind the
French sub in
order to avoid grounding on the shoals.
"All
stop," he said. "I'll be damned if I'm going to
surface in the Strait."
From
his diving console Pisaro said, "That French captain is
covering his ass, protecting himself from a court-martial sure as hell."
"Sonar
to control. Sirène is moving deeper into the
channel.
Range one one zero yards,
his
superiors and would receive either a pat on the back or a court-martial.
The
latter was a real possibility, and Springfield felt a certain distaste
about
requesting Delongue, a man he did not know, to take that risk.
Slowly
the two subs moved into the Strait. The course marked by the
beacons included three turns, the last of which curved around dangerous
shoals
off the Iles Lavezzi, a cluster of islets a mile off the tip of
Corsica.
Sorensen locked his side-to-side sweeping array to the left in order to
report
instantly any maneuvering by Sirène ,
and fed the data to the navigator in the control room. Fogarty
monitored the bottom scanner to make sure the depth under the keel
corresponded
with the chart. The captain stood at the sonar repeater in the control
room and
kept his eyes on both screens while giving orders to the helm.
The
first turn headed the ship on a southwesterly course that paralleled
the Italian passage through the Strait. In the belly of the ship the
inertial
navigation gyros spun on their axes, sending the digital readouts of
longitude
and latitude on the navigator's console spinning dizzily until the turn
ended.
They
were at periscope depth, but no periscope from Barracuda broke the surface. Springfield navigated on gyros and sonar alone.
Sirène also ran without benefit of periscope, radar
or communication gear. In his log Delongue cited sea conditions and
the
presence of merchant ships in the Strait. No submarine captain would
ever risk
damage to his precious surface gear, but Delongue's real reason was
that he
didn't want to answer any questions until he cleared the Strait.
The
second turn,
to the right, brought them
within half a mile of the main Italian fixed-arrays. Pings echoed back
and
forth between the two subs, and off the bottom and the surface, sending
a weird
and confusing signal back to the Italian operators on Sardinia.
Sorensen
imagined them listening to this strange mix, scratching themselves and
trying
to puzzle it out. He was sure they could hear coolant pumps and they
probably
were asking themselves if the French had secretly developed a nuclear
attack
submarine.
As
the ships
eased into the final turn, the
depth gauge on Fogarty's bottom scanner suddenly began to rise.
"Sorensen,
look
at this...?"
Sorensen
twisted
around to look at Fogarty's
screen and recognized the rising pattern of bottom sand. He immediately
unlocked the side-to-side sweepers from the French sub and started
looking for
obstructions. If there was anything big resting on the bottom, they
were going
to hit it, but the screen showed nothing but the rising shoal a half
mile away.
Sorensen
spoke
into the intercom. "Sonar
to control. Shoals bearing two nine seven, depth one two zero feet and
rising.
One one five feet."
"Control
to
sonar," said the
captain, "we have it on the screen. Mr. Pisaro, take her up to
sixty-five
feet."
"Depth
sixty-five
feet, aye. Rig for
steep angles."
The
command
rippled throughout the ship.
Sailors in every compartment grabbed whatever was close and held on.
"Stern
planes up twenty degrees."
"Up
twenty degrees, aye."
"Pump
forward trim tank number one to aft trim tank number
two."
The
bow rose sharply and the prop drove the sleek hydrodynamic hull
toward the surface. Sirène began to rise alongside,
but not nearly so
quickly. The diesel-electric sub did not have the power to drive
herself
rapidly up or down in a state of neutral buoyancy.
The
shoals continued to rise. Springfield realized he would have to
surface or reduce speed, steer to the left and fall in behind the
French sub in
order to avoid grounding on the shoals.
"All
stop," he said. "I'll be damned if I'm going to
surface in the Strait."
From
his diving console Pisaro said, "That French captain is
covering his ass, protecting himself from a court-martial sure as hell."
"Sonar
to control. Sirène is moving deeper into the
channel.
Range one one zero yards,
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