But why, man, why?"
Vallery shook his head.
Tyndall groaned. "It's all a conspiracy, designed to rob old men like myself of their afternoon sleep," he declared.
"More likely a brainwave of Starr's to shake us up a bit," Turner grunted.
"No." Tyndall was decisive. "He wouldn't try that, wouldn't dare.
Besides, by his lights, he's not a vindictive man."
Silence fell, a silence broken only by the patter of sleet and hail, and the weird haunting pinging of the Asdic.
Vallery suddenly lifted his binoculars. "Good lord, sir, look at that! The Duke's slipped her anchor!"
There was no doubt about it.
The shackle-pin had been knocked out and the bows of the great ship were swinging slowly round as it got under way.
"What in the world------?" Tyndall broke off and scanned the sky. "Not a plane, not a paratrooper in sight, no radar reports, no Asdic contacts, no sign of the German Grand Fleet steaming through the boom------"
"She's signalling us, sir!" It was Bentley speaking, Bentley, the Chief Yeoman of Signals.
He paused and went on slowly:
"Proceed to our anchorage at once.
Make fast to north buoy."
"Ask them to confirm," Vallery snapped.
He took the fo'c'sle phone from the communication rating.
"Captain here, Number One.
How is she?
Up and down?
Good." He turned to the officer of the watch. "Slow ahead both: Starboard 10.", He looked over at Tyndall's corner, brows wrinkled in question.
"Search me," Tyndall growled. "Could be the latest in parlour games, a sort of nautical musical chairs, you know.... Wait a minute, though!
Look!
The Cumberland, all her 5.25's are at maximum depression!"
Vallery's eyes met his.
"No, it can't be!
Good God, do you think------?"
The blare of the Asdic loudspeaker, from the cabinet immediately abaft of the bridge, gave him his answer.
The voice of Leading Asdic Operator Chrysler was clear, unhurried.
"Asdic-bridge.
Asdic-bridge.
Echo, Red 30.
Repeat, Red 30.
Strengthening.
Closing."
The captain's incredulity leapt and died in the same second.
"Alert Director Control!
Red 30.
All A.A. guns maximum depression.
Underwater target.
Torps ", this to Lieutenant Marshall, the Canadian Torpedo Officer, "depth charge stations."
He turned back to Tyndall.
"It can't be, sir, it just can't!
A U-boat, I presume it is, in Scapa Flow.
Impossible!"
"Prien didn't think so," Tyndall grunted.
"Prien?"
"Kapitan-Leutnant Prien-gent who scuppered the Royal Oak."
"It couldn't happen again.
The new boom defences------"