Shout at the Devil - Smith Wilbur (лучшие книги .TXT) 📗

"Yes," agreed Charles softly.

Summoned by Bloodhound's frantic radio transmissions, Pegasus and

Renounce, the two heavy cruisers of the northern squadron, were racing down the East African coast, cutting through the five hundred miles of water that separated them.

Kyller. Ask the chief how he's making out." Von Kleine was fretting beneath the calm set of his features. Night was Closing, and in the darkness, even the frail little English destroyer was a danger to him.

There was danger all around, danger must each minute be approaching from every quarter of the sea. He must have power on his port side engine before nightfall; it was a matter of survival; he must have speed to carry him south through the hunting packs of the British south to where Esther waited to give him succour, to replace the shells he had fired away, to replenish his coal bunkers which were now dangerously depleted. Then once more Blucher would be a force to reckon with. But first he must have speed.

"Captain." Kyller was beside him again. "Commander Lochtkamper reports they have cleared the oil line to the is main bearing. They have stripped the bearing and there is no damage to the shaft. He is fitting new half shells. The work is well advanced, sir." The words conjured up for von Kleine a picture of half-naked men, smeared to the elbows with black grease, sweating in the confined heat of the drive shaft tunnel as they worked. "How much longer?" he asked.

"He promised full power on both engines within two hours, sir."

Von Kleine sighed with relief, and glanced over his stern at the

British destroyer that was shadowing him. He began to smile.

"I hope, my friend, that you are a brave man. I hope that when you see me increase speed, you will not be able to control your disappointment. I hope tonight you will try with your torpedoes, so that I can crush you, for your eyes always on me are a dangerous embarrassment." He spoke so softly that his lips barely moved, then he turned back to Kyller. "I want all the battle lights checked and reported."

"Aye, aye, sir" Von Kleine crossed to the voice-tubes.

"Gunnery officer," he said. "I want "X" turret guns loaded with star shell and trained to maximum elevation..." He went on listing his preparations for night action and then he ended, "... stand all Your gun crews down. Let them eat and rest. From dusk action stations onwards they will be held in the first degree of readiness."

"commander, sir!" The urgent call startled Commander Charles

Little, and he spilled his mug of cocoa. This was the first period of rest he had allowed himself all day, and now it was interrupted within ten minutes. "What is it?" He flung open the door of the chart room,

and ran out on to the bridge.

"Blucher is increasing speed rapidly."

"It was too cruel a blow, and the exclamation of protest was wrung from Charles. He darted to the voice pipe

"Gunnery officer. Report your target." A moment's delay, and then the reply. "Bearing mark, green oh-oh. Range, one-five-oh-five-oh.

Speed, seventeen knots." It was true. Blucher was under full power again, with all her guns still operable. Orion had died in vain.

Charles wiped his mouth with the open palm of his hand, and felt the brittle stubble of his new beard rasp under his fingers. Beneath the tan, his face was sickly pale with strain and fatigue. There were smears of dark blue beneath his eyes, and in their corners were tiny lumps of yellow mucus. His eyes were bloodshot, and the wisp of hair that escaped from under the brim of his cap was matted on to his forehead by the salt spray, as he peered into the gathering dusk.

The fighting madness which had threatened all that day to overwhelm him, rose slowly from the depth of his belly and his loins.

He no longer struggled to suppress it.

"Turn two points to starboard, pilot. All engines full ahead together." The engine telegraph clanged, and Bloodhound pivoted like a polo pony. It would take her thirty minutes to work up to full speed,

and by that time it would be dark.

"Sound action stations." Charles wanted to attack in the hour of darkness before the moon came up. Through the ship the alarm bells thrilled, and without taking his eyes from the dark dot on the darkening horizon, Charles listened to the reports coming into the bridge, until the one for which he waited, "Torpedo party closed up,

sir!" Now he turned and went to the voice-tube. "Tarps," he said,

"I

hope to give you a chance at Blucher with both port and starboard tubes. I am going to take you in as close as possible." The men grouped around Charles on the bridge listened to him say "as close as possible, and knew that he had Pronounced sentence of death upon them.

Henry Sargent, the navigating lieutenant, was afraid.

Stealthily he groped in the pocket of his overcoat until he found the little silver crucifix that Lynette had given him.

It was warm from his own body heat. He held it tightly.

He remembered it hanging between her breasts on its silver chain,

and the way she had lifted both hands to The chain had the back of her neck as she unclasped it.

caught in the shiny cascade of hair as she had tried to free it,

kneeling on the bed facing him. He had leaned forward to help her, and she had clung to him, pressing the warm smooth bulge of her pregnant stomach against him.