In light of that incident, he was not taking any chances. The British navy could destroy the Hatcher at any minute.
On the Amersham, Waring surveyed the waves through his binoculars. Then, suddenly, one of his crew announced a contact and bearing. Moving his binoculars to the location, he saw foam on the water, a tell-tale sign a submarine was surfacing. He ordered his crew to stand by.
As the Shackleton circled overhead, Rowse was looking out of the window at the destroyer, when Hornsby shouted to everyone through his headset. ‘Here she comes, just west of the Amersham.’
Swan climbed out of his seat to see, for the first time, the vessel he had spent the last twenty-five minutes communicating with. As he saw the strip of white water and the black cigar shape within it, he sighed. ‘Thank the heavens!’
The submarine was now cruising within the waves of the bright blue Mediterranean. The Royal Navy destroyer had stopped her engines, about to release a launch to meet with the strange new arrival.
The Royal Navy headquarters at Northwood, having just been informed, had advised Waring to personally lead the boarding party.
Aboard the submarine, Crossman put the order for all engines stop. He listened as, slowly, the hum of the two diesels ground to silence. He would now go and see Murphy, knowing that his captain would be well aware of what his acting ex-o had finally done.
Crossman ordered his men to exit and wait on deck for the British to board, and after watching them file towards the central hatch, he made his way to the staterooms.
The launch was now a few hundred yards from the submarine and the crew watched as one by one, men could be seen emerging from the aperture behind the big Portsmouth sail.
Suddenly, the forward part of the boat erupted in fire from an explosion, and the men on the deck were rocked into the water. This was followed twenty seconds later by another explosion. This had hit close to the area from where the crew had just alighted. Members of that crew were now swimming for their lives, trying to make for the sanctuary of the launch, which had now stopped at a safe distance.
On the bridge of the Amersham, Waring could not believe what he was seeing. What had happened? He tried hard to comprehend how what was supposed to have been a simple snatch, grab and secure task, had now suddenly become a rescue mission. What could have caused these explosions?
He looked through his binoculars at the men scrabbling in the water. He would to try and do what he could to save them. With no further explosions, he made the decision to proceed.
The submarine was now not only burning, but with most of the lower bulkheads breached by both impacts, it was now slowly beginning to sink.
In the sky above, Jack Rowse and Alex Swan had excitedly watched the crew clambering from the hatches into the fresh air. They were then almost blinded by the flash of the first explosion,
Rowse stared at the scene in amazement. ‘Please tell me the Amersham did not just fire on them.’
Swan was equally stunned, and just as he was going to discuss it with the others, the blinding flash of the second explosion almost knocked him back on top of Rowse. ‘What the hell is happening down there?’ he demanded.
Hornsby was instantly on to the radio, hailing the Amersham. He needed more information as to what was going on. Swan also listened in as the radio operator on the destroyer reported he was equally baffled by this latest incident, and to stand by while he tried to contact his captain.
Reynolds suddenly pointed to a camouflaged Wessex helicopter that had been scrambled from the carrier, and they all watched in amazement as it circled the blazing submarine, using its rotors to veer away the black smoke coming from the source of the two explosions.
Hornsby banked the Shackleton for a closer look, then saw the plumes of white water start to appear around its hull. ‘I think she’s starting to sink.’
Swan agreed. But what had caused this? Surely, it was not as Rowse had speculated, that the task force was responsible?
As he pondered on this, he was distracted by the sudden activation of the ALISS teleprinter, again.
Chapter 32
Crossman had got to Murphy, who seemed to be meditating on his bunk. Still thinking of his brother, Crossman assumed.
He had been about to inform Murphy they had surfaced, when the explosion caused him to ram into his captain. After recovering, both men had stood, wondering what could have happened. Had the British fired a torpedo into them, even though they had notified the man in the plane of their intentions to surrender?
The next explosion caused Crossman to smash his head into the bulkhead of the stateroom. He was now lying unconscious on the floor.
Murphy pulled him onto the bunk. He was still in shock, cursing the British for having taken this action. Assuming the submarine would now be sinking, he knew he had to get himself and Crossman out. He crouched down and, allowing his ex-o to flop over his shoulder, painfully lifted him.
Crossman had suddenly regained consciousness and started to assist by dragging his feet as Murphy, supporting his weight, pulled him along.
‘Come on, Will. We may have had our differences in this mission, but I ain’t leaving you to die.’
He struggled, as they moved slowly towards the bridge. Murphy then stopped in his tracks when he saw the wall of flame blocking his intended route out of the submarine.
He turned on his heel, bringing Crossman around with him. ‘Only way out now, Will, is through the forward torpedo room.’
Murphy and Crossman staggered past the two ex-Israeli mark 37 torpedoes that would have been used on the carrier. The Irish-American didn’t care about them now, he had a more important job to do.
The submarine was going down, steam bursting from the overhead pipes as the intense heat from the fire had started to affect them. He then saw the hatch, and having propped the injured Will Crossman, gently against the steps and climbed towards the cover. With all his strength, he gripped the wheel and pushed on it until it started to turn; outside, the front of the vessel was starting to list. The launch from Amersham had now been joined by a faster dirigible boat dispatched from the assault carrier, and men were now plucking the crew out of the water. Back inside the submarine, Murphy kept twisting the stiff steel wheel. ‘Hold on, Will, just a few more turns and she’ll be there.’
His hands slipped as he made the final turn, but the hatch popped open. He peered out, looking down the length of the submarine to see they were now sinking, fast. He then scrambled back down to Crossman, and taking hold of him, helped him climb the rungs.
Murphy was suddenly finding it hard to breathe and began to weaken. He needed another dose of tablets, but they were back in his cabin.
With one mighty push, he hoisted Crossman up to the rim of the hatch.
Crossman took a grip and allowed his captain to help him through.
The boat was now almost covered by the waves, and as Crossman emerged, he was seen by a sailor on the dirigible landing craft. The boat moved closer and jumping onto the deck, ran over to the man struggling to move across it. Gallons of water now started gushing into their escape hatch. Murphy had seen Crossman through, but in his weakened state, had lost his own footing on the steps and had fallen to the bottom, twisting his ankle.