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The story is fantasy loosely based on events from WW2. Your comments are greatefully accepted at juzjamie20@yahoo.com.au all emails are answered except flames which are extinguished on arrival.
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Atlantic Express, Chapter 33 by justjames17.
Foxhound and the badly damaged tanker San Pedro limped slowly along the North African coastline near Algiers as they plodded through the darkness hoping to elude any further attacks by the Axis forces. The tanker steamed slowly astern her pumps working flat out trying to keep the flooding seawater down in her bilges, she was taking water all the time as she steamed dragging her badly damaged hull backwards. The tanker struggled along valiantly making slow progress as her helmsman struggled to maintain a straight course, the destroyer steamed about her in circles searching the inky waters for any sneaky submarines.
The night passed quietly and dawn found them just out of sight of land as the sky lightened turning the sea a metallic grey, both crews' eyes searched the sea and sky for any threat as Foxhounds crews manned their dawn action stations. Binoculars swept the horizon looking for anything disturbing but all was quiet and a sigh of relief was heard on the respective bridges. The crews stood down leaving the watch on duty and one gun manned as they went below to the messes for their breakfasts. Charles ate standing on the bridge when Bradley appeared carrying a tray and placed it on the locker top at the windbreaker in front of the captain's stool. Charles rubbed his weary eyes looking haggard from the 48 hours without sleep as Bradley quietly said, "Captain you need some rest it will do the ship and crew no good if you collapse from exhaustion."
Charles smiled weakly at his confidant and friend saying, "Bradley we are in dire peril until we make Malta I cannot leave the bridge."
Bradley tut tutted and said, "Well you can take a nap in the chart room at least there you will be still on the bridge if your needed urgently."
Charles smiled at Bradley's persistence and said, "Ok after I've eaten I'll go and put my head down in the chart room for half an hour will that satisfy you my friend?"
Bradley stood beside his captain while he slowly ate the meal he'd prepared for him the hot sweetened porridge, fresh tea and toast, Charles ate it all then turned to the steward and said, "As always old friend you excelled yourself in that tiny galley, thank you now I'll go and put my head down for a short time."
Charles shuffled tiredly into the chart room and lay on the floor where Bradley had placed a blanket and pillow for him to rest on, in seconds his overwrought body and mind switched off and he was deeply asleep. Bradley stood there watching his captain for a minute then he turned to the first officer saluted and said, "Sir, let him have a sleep don't disturb him unless necessary."
Lieutenant Harbury nodded and replied, "The captain can sleep as long as he needs we won't disturb him unless something drastic happens."
The sun raced up the sky burning down on the blue calm sea as the two ships limped on to the west, the steel decks were hot enough to burn skin on bare feet as the day progressed, the watches changed and at the noon change Charles stirred on the hard floor in the chartroom. He opened his dark ringed sunken eyes and blinked in the glare, he looked at the clock above the chart table and saw he'd slept for 5 hours. He struggled to his feet and stomped out onto the bridge glaring about him, as he demanded a report from guns the duty officer. He was mollified by the report, all was well and the enemy had been conspicuous by their absence while the tanker was still maintaining her steady but slow progress.
Charles picked up his binoculars and stared across at the San Pedro, he shook his head in wonder again at her damages and the huge gaping hole in her hull was big enough to drive Foxhound through. Charles was amazed that she hadn't broken her back and snapped in half but there she was steaming slowly along streams of water spurting from the outlets of her racing pumps. Their luck held, the sun sank over the horizon ahead and the blessed darkness covered the sea hiding the two ships from any prying eyes. The two vessels plodded on through the darkness all was quiet until the early hours when Foxhound achieved a return signal on her asdic set.
The operator reported to the bridge and Charles called for full speed ahead and the destroyers engines rumbled shaking her slender hull as her huge propellers thrashed the sea driving her rapidly ahead. The ship sped down the bearing towards the skulking enemy as they strained to close the distance before the sub could evade them; the lone ship was at the disadvantage in this conflict as the underwater vessel could shift direction much faster even though her underwater speed was considerably slower. The destroyer slowed as she reached the estimated position lowered her asdic transducer and began sounding the depths immediately searching for the boat. Back and forth she steamed hoping to either locate the target or at least make them keep their heads down while the tanker limped away.
Charles knew that they were at the disadvantage while knowing that they couldn't hunt for too long and leave the San Pedro to her own devices. Charles drove the ship back and forth to no avail the submarine was not to be found and he hoped the crafty devil wasn't following the tanker getting into position to fire a brace of torpedos at the limping San Pedro. After two hours Charles broke off the search and once again set course to rejoin the tanker, he kept the asdic sounding as he steamed to the west in the hope he might catch the submarine as he approached from astern.
The Foxhound knifed through the flat calm sea her asdic sending electronic pings through the black depths, suddenly a return signal they had stumbled on the either the first submarine or a second one, unlikely in these waters, and Charles ordered the depth charge crews to make ready. The ship rapidly overhauled the slower submarine, which was closing to firing distance on the tanker, the destroyer blasted over the top of the boat sending her charges tumbling off the rails into the depths. The charges sank water seeping into the mechanisms till they reached the set depth then the primers fired setting off the explosives. The submarine was shaken like a dog shakes a rat as the charges exploded around the hull, the captain ordered a change of course to the south while Foxhound sped on slewing about as she turned trying to come about.
The destroyer settled on course and headed back towards the frothing disturbed area Charles tossed a mental coin port or starboard? He chose starboard towards the African coast and soon picked up the hidden boat again depth charges rained down on the water, the eruption of spray surged high in the air as the charges exploded, the sub was in range of the crushing force and she was struck a heavy blow forcing her down and cracking her pressure hull. Inside the boat the crew were flung about as water began spurting into the compartments. Panic ensued as the skipper ordered them to surface and compressed air hissed and roared into the ballast tanks driving out the water making the hull buoyant as it slowly rose towards the surface.
The skipper ordered the gun crew to be ready to men her 88mm cannon as the sub lifted up and broke the surface wallowing there like a duck. Foxhound was still heading away attempting to turn about again when the gun crew raced out onto the wet deck of the submarine, they cleared the gun and rammed a round into the breech then aimed at the faint black shape of the destroyer, a bright flash split the night sky as the 88mm fired sending its explosive shell screaming away into the night. Foxhound began to turn when the shell slammed into the water almost along side her racing hull sending a wall of water into the air drenching her deck and superstructure.
Her gun crews closed up and prepared to fire as Charles gave the order her forward guns blasted away sending two 4inch shells soaring back towards the wallowing boat which fired again both vessels avoided the shells and Foxhound raced down on the stricken submarine. The sub was rapidly filling as it sank lower and lower into the dark sea, her crew below hastened to climb on deck as she settled and filled with water. The skipper ordered abandon ship as they launched rubber dinghies over the side and jumped after them, Foxhound saw the sub list over as it's stern lifted high into the sky. Charles altered course to swing away from the sinking vessel and turned back steaming away after the San Pedro leaving the submariners bobbing about in her wake. He knew they were in no danger and would be picked up by their own forces if they didn't make it to the African coast.
Foxhound steamed on rapidly overhauling the struggling San Pedro and she once again took up her security patrol around the sluggishly moving straining tanker. The two ships steamed through the night but before daylight the tanker signalled the destroyer that her steering engine had broken down under the strain of sailing in reverse, she slewed off course as the captain stopped her engines. Charles closed alongside the wallowing tanker and used the loud hailer called across the water asking if the ship could get underway again, her tired angry captain replied that they were working on the problem and he would let Charles know if it was possible.
Charles acknowledged the captain's reply and Foxhound moved away to patrol about the stricken tanker, the tanker's engineers frantically worked below in the bowels of the ship stripping the steering engine down and finding a stripped gear searched through the spare parts looking for a replacement. A gear was found but the shaft size was larger than the one needing replacement, the chief engineer decided that they could weld the centre and adapt the gear to fit the shaft of the engine.
The tanker signalled Foxhound what they were doing and the estimated time it would take to carry out the repairs, Charles agreed and continued patrolling knowing that daylight would be upon them long before the tanker would be able to get under way again. He prayed silently that they would be left in peace until the task was finished. Aboard the San Pedro the men were sweating as the worked flat out trying to repair the steering gear, the area bright with the blue glare of the welder as the gear was worked on. The captain paced the bridge grumbling to himself as he puffed on a pipe of foul smelling tobacco, his head wreathed in smoke as he stomped from bridge wing to bridge wing.
Work went on apace below in the stinking belly of the wallowing ship while the long sleek shape of the guarding Foxhound prowled in circles through the darkness. The sun rose over the horizon lighting up the scene, the San Pedro still without power rolled sluggishly on the slow swells as her crew frantically struggled with the repair task. Charles and the bridge crew were sweeping the horizon and sky in search of any enemy craft but luck was still with them and they were thankfully still on their own. Finally just before noon the tanker signalled all was well and the shimmer fumes from her funnel increased as she puffed dark smoke as if coughing, the sea at her stern frothed as her engines turned over. She slowly returned to the course and began to move astern, her crew and the destroyer's breathed a huge sigh of relief.
The rest of the voyage was a non-event as the enemy left them alone probably they were concentrating on the convoy and the continued demolition of Malta. They two ships arrived off Malta in darkness and they made their way slowly into the crowded harbour, the whole population heard the news and the surrounds were filled with people all cheering the arrival of the stricken tanker. Her arrival meant the fuel supply was guaranteed and the brave old biplanes could still carry on their incredibly brave defence of the battered island. Daylight saw the ships moored to the battered wharf as the fuel was quickly pumped ashore into the underground holding tanks; Charles watched the task as he tiredly rested his head on his arms leaning on the bridge windbreak. He saw a small group of officers approach the Foxhound, they climbed aboard and headed to the bridge, Charles straightened his uniform to greet them and turning saw the scrambled eggs on the cap peak appear as the naval commander climbed onto the bridge, Charles saluted him and then his hand was grasped as the senior officer shook his hand eagerly saying, "Congratulations captain, you have performed an incredible task getting the San Pedro here, I have put you in for a DSC for a job well done. I heard of your battles with the E-boats and the sinking of the submarine, the tanker's captain is singing your praises to the sky."
Charles smiled tiredly thanking the man as the sirens sounded wailing across the harbour announcing an air attack approaching, the visitors quickly left the Foxhound as Charles ordered the gun crews to close up. They could hear the droning hum of the approaching aircraft as the men ran to their stations.
To be continued.
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Hugs, James x