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“And a good man, Aloysius was, even if he came from Waterford. The Irish make good submariners and no empty boast is that and if ever anyone should doubt that you just tell them about himself out there with a thousand ton tombstone and what he did. But don’t fret yourself, Captain. The other section is on the way, the replacement for that one, hours away but moving steadily, the thing will be done.”
“May it be the truth, O’Toole, the very truth.”
The next section had already appeared and was visible in the lights below and Gus knew that the final ones were waiting out there in the darkness, with the ultimate one coming as fast as the tugs could pull. Under his directions the sub moved along the length of the trench the short distance to the two completed sections of tu
“Take us up,” he ordered.
A floating dock was secured here and they rose next to it and there was the thud of the magnetic grapple striking the hull as they were hauled into position. O’Toole worked the controls that opened the hatches above and the fresh, damp ocean air struck moistly against Gus’s face as he climbed to the deck. The sun had set unremarked while he had been below the ocean’s surface and the fog, temporarily held at bay by the warming rays, was returning in all haste as though to make up for time lost. Streamers of it rolled across the dock, bearing with them a sudden chill in the northern September evening. A ladder had been lowered to the submarine and Gus climbed towards the sailor waiting above who saluted him as he stepped from it.
“Captain’s compliments, sir, and he says the ship is waiting and we’ll cast off as soon as you’re aboard.”
Gus followed the man, yawning as he did for it had been a long day, begi
She was a hovercraft, the newest addition to the Royal American Coast Guard, capable of fifty knots over even the most towering seas, or sand, or swamp, or solid ground for that matter, the revenue agent’s delight, the smuggler’s dread, at top speed she rode like a springless lorry on a washboard road so was not the vessel of choice when one wanted a good night’s sleep But speed was the point of this trip, not sleep, and speed was what this unusual Vehicle could certainly guarantee.
Captain Stokes himself was waiting at the top of the gangplank and his welcoming smile was sincere as he shook Washington’s hand.
“A pleasure to have you aboard, Captain Washington,” spoken quietly. “Cast off those lines,” exploded out like the shell from a gun towards the ratings on deck. “Reports say a moderate swell so we should be able —to maintain fifty-five knots for most of the night. If the seas stay that smooth, our ETA at Bridgehampton will be dawn. Reporter chap coming along for the ride, no way to stop him, hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, Captain. Publicity has been the making of this tu
The reporter stood up when they entered the officers’ mess, a sturdy, sandy man in a checked suit wearing a bowler, the traditional hat of all newsmen. He was one of the new breed of electronic reporters, the recording equipment slung on his back like a pack, with the microphone peeping over one shoulder, the lens of the camera over the other. “Biamonte of the New York Times, Captain Washington. And I’m pool man, too, drawer of the lucky straw.
Since only one reporter could come on this voyage I’m AP, UP, Reuters, Daily News, the lot. I have a few questions—“
“Which I will be more than happy to answer in a few moments. But I have never been aboard a hovercraft before and I would like to watch her when she pulls out.”
Scarcely a second was being wasted on the departure. The two great propellers mounted on towers in the stern were already begi
Biamonte sat across from him and touched buttons on his hand controller. “Are we going to win, Captain Washington, that is the question that is on everyone’s lips today? Shall we win?”
“It has never been a question of wi
“They certainly are and that is what makes this race, that you won’t call a race, so exciting. The American tu
“Not quite three times.”
“But still a good deal longer, you’ll have to admit, and to build our tu
“I have every expectation.” The hovercraft had reached its maximum speed now and was hammering along like a demented railway carriage, leaping from wave to wave. Biamonte swallowed and loosened his collar as a fine beading of perspiration appeared on his brow, for those of delicate tummies the-hovercraft is not a recommended form of transportation. But, sick or well, he was still a reporter and he pressed on.
“Does not the fact that one segment of the tu
“I wish you would not refer to wi