Chapter 72 Chapter 71

"Target! Harikana, zero eighty-seven. Target! Monaloa, one three two." Byron squatted beside the locator, and was reporting the position to a navigation signal officer with a red flashlight for recording.At this time, the "Moray" was drawing a phosphorescent ripple on the calm sea.The warm breeze from the land brought Byron the faint scent that Janice used to have—no doubt a pleasant hallucination.The navigation signal officer went down to the cabin to measure the position, and reported the position through the microphone.Byron made a phone call and went to Esther's cabin.

"Captain, the moonlight is quite bright, so I can be said to have determined the position. We have now entered the restricted area of ​​the submarine." "Oh, good. Maybe these bastard pilots won't be bombing us early in the morning. Straighten up, speed up, on course at seven." "Yes, captain." "I said, Mr. Mate, I was reading your patrol report just now. It's excellent." "Oh, I did my best." "Your pen isn't bad, Blaney. It's not the same as it was earlier. Unfortunately, the clearer you write, the worse it turns out."

"Captain, we still have to patrol in the future:" On the way back, Esther's irritability and dejection made Byron feel uneasy.The captain shut himself up in the cabin all day, smoking boxes of cheap cigars, reading tattered ghost novels from the ship's library, and leaving the command of the submarine to the deputy. captain. "Nothing is always nothing, Byron." "They don't blame you for your daring. You volunteered to go to the Sea of ​​Japan." "That's right, and I'm going there again, but next time I'll have to bring electric torpedoes. Otherwise the admiral will send me ashore. I've had enough of Type 14 torpedoes," Byron heard. I could see the phone receiver snapping back into its holder.

The next day, Byron drove a military vehicle to Janice's cabin, desperately trying to hold his sister-in-law in his arms, forgetting about the patrol, the loneliness, the passing of time, and the disappearance of Natalie. , the warmth of Janice's home, the secret affection of this charming widow of his brother—all these elements blend into a tacit romance that always becomes sweeter every time he returns from sea.Although they are already very close, they haven't got what they want after all. These two emotions are mixed together to the point of igniting, fueling the fire of love in their hearts.The thought that he would live with Janice and Victor in case Nata never came back would cross Byron's mind, but the thought of it made him feel guilty again.He suspected that Janice was secretly harboring the same thought.The tension and separation created by war would have distorted or destroyed normal relationships.What Byron was feeling at the moment was commonplace everywhere in the world, but his pangs of conscience were a little different.

This time, something was wrong.As soon as she opened the door, he noticed her serious, unpainted face.She knew he was coming because he had called, but she didn't change her gray-blue home dress, and she didn't make up at all, and she didn't pass a glass of rum to him as usual. Come and welcome him.Maybe he happened to interrupt her cooking or cleaning.She immediately said, "Nata has a letter from the Red Cross." "Really! My God, has it come at all?" Earlier, he had written several letters to Baden-Baden through the International Red Cross, using this as an address for return letters.The envelope she handed him disturbed him in every way: the thin gray paper, the address to it, and the purple lettering of "Na Henry" in the corner, all but obscuring the Red Cross. Layers of coats of arms, rubber stamps of every color, every word, and most disturbing of all, the postmark. "Terezine? Where is this place?"

"In Teyuslovakia, near Prague. I've telephoned my father about it, Byron. He's talked to the State Department. You read the letter first." He sat down hastily in a chair, and with a pocketknife he cut open the envelope.It was written in purple print on the gray letter paper. Dearest Byron: "Celebrities" have special privileges and can write a short message of hundreds of words per month.Louis is very sensible.Ellen is fine.I am also in good spirits.Your letter was delayed on the way, but it was a pleasure to receive it.Send the letter here.The food parcels transferred by the Red Cross were very much needed.don’t worry.Theresienstadt is a special sanctuary for war heroes, artists, scholars and the like.Our sunny ground floor room was the best here.Ellen worked as a librarian, collecting Hebrew historical materials.Louis is the darling of the kindergarten and the king of trick or treat.My job at the Arsenal requires skill rather than physical strength.I love you with all my heart.Live for the day that embraces you.Call and tell my mother.Love you, love you Natalie.

September 7, 1943 Byron looked at his watch at Kurzerstrasse P 1, Theresienstadt. "Is your father still at the War Department?" "He wants me to send you a message to call a Sylvester Mr. Ahern from the State Department. The number is next to the telephone." Byron called the operator and gave him the number.The lunch he ate on his return from patrol has gradually become a joyous ceremony: a strong mixed drink made with rum, Chinese-style meals, and a pot of bright red wooden floor flowers on the table, the two of them chatting happily .But this time, neither the drink nor the delicious egg frangipani and pepper steak that Janice had cooked up could take away the shadow cast by the letter.Byron was not in the mood to talk about this fruitless patrol.They ate sullenly.When the phone rang, he jumped up to answer it.

Sylvester.Ahern spoke in such a way that Byron imagined a little man in a pince-nez, with a pursed mouth, flicking his fingers on the table.When Byron told him the conviction, Ahern said: "Oh! . . . oh oh! oh oh! . . . .has given us some concrete clues to negotiate with. You must send us a copy by airmail at once." "Do you know anything about my family, Herr Ahern, about Theresienstadt?" Slowly and carefully, Ahern revealed that a few months ago, Natalie and Jastrow had disappeared suddenly after failing to report to the Swiss embassy in Paris.The Swiss and the Chargé d'affaires of Baden-Baden have repeatedly inquired, but so far have not received an answer from the Germans.Now that the government knows their true whereabouts, it can redouble their efforts on their behalf.Ever since Senator Raguqiu told him the news, Ai Zi has been inquiring about the situation in Theresienstadt.Red Cross records don't record anyone being released from the model ghetto, but he said the Jastrow case was extraordinary, and - he laughed out loud at the end - He always tended to be an optimist.

"Mr. Ahern, are my wife and children safe in that place?" "Considering the fact that your wife is Jewish, Captain, and that she was arrested traveling illegally in the German occupied territories - because, you know, her journalist's papers were forged in Marseilles - she was able to get there. It's a blessing. Didn't she also say in her letter that everything is fine now?" "Could you please transfer the call to another officer in your department, Mr. Leslie Sloot?" "Sniff—Leslie. Slote? It's been a while since Leslie resigned from the State Department."

"Where can I find him?" "I'm sorry, but I can't say that." Byron asked Janice to try to call his mother, because she might know where Slote was.Then he went back to the Moray with the heavy heart he usually had at such times. As soon as Byron left, Janice made up for the grooming routine she had neglected during his visit.Whether or not the passion between them would be heated up again, she couldn't tell, but she knew that for now she had to keep a distance.Janice feels bad for Natalie.It never occurred to her to take Byron from her.But what if she really doesn't come back?Janice felt that the letter from Theresienstadt was ominous.She sincerely hopes that Natalie can escape from the tiger's mouth and return safely with the child, but now this possibility seems to be fading away.During this period, whenever the "Moray" returned to port, she would confide her heart to two men at the same time, which gave her a sense of abundance.Generally speaking, she likes Byron more, but Esther also has his strengths, and after returning from the battle, he should also enjoy it.In fact, Janice is doing it all, and doing it fairly.She had given Byron the ceremonial lunch, and the next thing was the ceremonial rendezvous with Esther.

Byron saw Esther waiting in the wardroom of the "Moray", fully dressed and ready to go ashore, and pretending to be excited. "Hey, Braney, the admiral is a nice guy. He didn't blame me at all. We got a Type 18 torpedo embryo and a training target ship. Refit for two weeks and then go back to the Sea of ​​Japan." He made a commanding gesture with the cigar in his hand. "Tomorrow, the captain will inspect. On Friday, Admiral Nimitz will come on board to present a certificate of commendation for our first cruise on behalf of the fleet. We are sailing at six o'clock on Saturday for electric torpedo drills. Any questions?" "Hell, there is. How about the crew's vacation and entertainment?" "I'm about to get to this. A week in dry dock, putting in new sonar probes and repairing the stern exterior door. Everyone's off. Three more days of training and we're off to Midway and La Perouse Strait." "It's not enough for the soldiers to leave for a week." "No, that's enough," Esther snapped. "The pride of the crew is hurt. They need victory more than vacation and entertainment. But why are you so listless? How is Janice?" "She's fine. Look, captain, I thought we'd get a telephone line from the pier today, but Hanson just couldn't tell me. Can you give her a call when you get ashore? Let She called me at the officers' club about ten o'clock." "Sure," Esther said with a weird grimace, and left. Byron guessed that Aster had a woman in Honolulu; but it never occurred to him once that the woman would be Janice.So far, Esther and Janice have been keeping this from Byron, but he doesn't like it.He thought she was taking her uncle for a fool.Byron's innocence troubled him.Was he not aware of all this?Esther doesn't think there's anything wrong with what he and Janice are doing.Both of them were alone, and neither of them wanted to get married.He didn't think Byron would care, but Janice insisted that he'd be shocked and alienated if he found out, and she insisted on being cautious.That's it.It's a subject they haven't talked about for a long time. But he was in a bad mood, and a lot of wine didn't help.At ten o'clock, when she called to the officers' club, he felt very upset. She sat naked on the bed, her skin was still shining with sweat after a lot of tenderness. "Oh, Braney. Leslie. Slote is waiting for your call in his office at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon," she said softly and quietly, as if she were sitting at home with her plaid on her lap. Like wool. "You know, that means seven o'clock in the morning where we are. That's the number." She read the number from a little piece of paper. "Have you spoken to Slote?" "No. Actually, a lieutenant commander named Anderson found him and called me back. Do you know him? Simon Anderson. He seems to be staying at your mother's place temporarily. I think he lives there." There was a fire in the flat, and she sent him in for two or three weeks." "Simon Anderson is an old lover of Madeleine." "Hey, that might explain the problem. Your mother isn't home. Madeleine answered the phone first, sounding very happy. She was going to call someone on a business trip, so she called Anderson." "So, Madeleine went back to Washington?" "It seems so." "Hey, that would be great." "Brani, you're coming to lunch tomorrow, okay?" "I can't come. The captain inspected." "Call and tell me what Sloot said." "it is good." Esther has seen many women.In the past, he had sex with other people's lovers, and even with a married woman.Usually, he felt sympathy tinged with contempt for the poor creature on the other side, but this time Janice coyly insisted on hiding it, and it was Byron who was deceived.Henry. "Jesus Christ, Janice," Esther said after she hung up. "Natalie's in a goddamn concentration camp, are you and Byron still playing the game?" "Oh, shut up!" All night, Esther had been so bad-tempered that she couldn't handle it.He said nothing about the patrol, and he was too drunk; thus, their flirtation had to be hasty.Janice also felt very irritable. "I didn't say she was in a concentration camp." "You must have. You said it was in Czechoslovakia." "Look, you're so drunk you don't know what I said. I feel sorry for you when you got nothing on this patrol. It'll be better next time. I'll go home right away, you Say what?" "Whatever you want, girl." Esther fell asleep on her side.After thinking for a while, Janice fell asleep too. The next morning, a telephone was improvised on board the Moray.It took several hours for Byron to get on the phone and find Leslie.Slote.The call was unclear, and for a long time after he finished reading Natalie's letter, he heard only noise, so he asked, "Leslie, are you still listening?" "Here I am." Sloter sighed, almost like a moan. "What can I do for you, Byron? Or, for her? Who can help? If you ask my opinion, I advise you to put it all out of your mind for the time being." "How can I let it go?" "That's up to you. No one quite knows what the model ghetto is like. It does exist, and maybe it really was a sanctuary for her. I don't know either. Go on writing to him, go on Sending her packages through the Red Cross and continuing to sink Japanese warships is the only way to go. It's no good getting lost in thought." "I'm not in a trance." "That's good! I wouldn't either. I'm different now. I've done skydiving five times. Five times! Do you remember what happened on Brahe Road?" "What's going on?" Byron asked, though every time he spoke to Slote he recalled the horror he'd lost under the bombardment outside Warsaw. "Don't you remember? I bet you do. Do you think I'd skydive anyway?" "I'm in the submarine fleet, Leslie, but I've never liked the navy." "Pah, you come from a military family. I'm a diplomat, a linguist, and a silvery wax gun head with spectacles. Every time I jump, it's like dying forty times. But though I'm terrified, And yet feel happy.” "What are you skydiving for?" "OSS. Espionage. The best way to forget what war is, is to be in it, Byron. It's a novel feeling for me, and very enlightening." "Leslie, is there any hope of Natalie coming back?" After stopping for a long time, only the noise of cha cha was heard. "Leslie?" "She's in a bad place, Byron. She's been in a bad situation since Ellen refused to leave Italy in 1939. You remember I begged her to go. You too Sit there. They've done some careless follies, and now they're in trouble. But she's strong, and she's strong, and she's smart. Fight your battles, Byron, and forget your wife for a while. Forget her. , and forget about all the other jews too. That's what I do. Fight your battles and forget about the things you can't do. If you're religious, say your prayers. I wouldn't be telling you that if I was still in the State Department. goodbye." When the "Moray" sailed again, there were more deserters among the officers and soldiers than had appeared on all previous patrols combined: those who applied for transfer, those who were ill, and even a few who left their posts without authorization. . It was overcast over Midway, with low clouds and a cold wind blowing wetly.Fuel is almost full.With his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker, Byron was pacing the deck, which smelled strongly of diesel, making one last inspection of the deck before looking away at Ben.Every time he left Midway, he fell into long, gloomy meditations.Somewhere around here, in the wreckage of an airplane on the ocean floor, lay the bones of his brother.Leave Midway.It means attacking from the most forward base and going deep alone for a long distance.It means making careful estimates of distances, opportunities, fuel consumption, food stores, and the state of mind of the captain and crew.Esther appeared on the bridge in a brand new khaki uniform and navy cap.After going out to sea without drinking for a few days, his eyes cleared up and his complexion recovered.Byron thought he was the bloodthirsty submarine captain again, even a little bit to cheer up his demoralized and nervous sailors. "I say, Braney, Mullen's coming with us after all," he called down to the forecastle. "Has he really come? What has made him change his mind?" "I talked to him." Mullen was the top clerk on the Moray.His transfer order to the Naval Academy had come, and he was supposed to fly back to the United States from Midway.But the officers and soldiers on the "Moray", like all sailors on submarines, are a bunch of superstitious guys.Many of them believed that the clerk was the lucky star of the submarine, simply because of his nickname "Horseshoe".The name had nothing to do with his luck.Mullen always lost at cards and craps, fell off a rope ladder, got caught by the Coast Guard himself, and so on.But his horseshoe is well-deserved.He earned the nickname a few years ago when he won a horseshoe at boot camp.Byron had heard much prophetic talk among the soldiers about Mullen's transfer, but he was still startled to hear that Esther had made the man change his mind.He found Mullen typing away in the small clerk, with a round, red face, and a cigar, if Byron was not mistaken, the captain's Havana. cigar.The pudgy little sailor had put on his white uniform for disembarkation, but now he had on his faded dungaree uniform. "What's the matter, Marlon?" "Just want to stay on this damn ship and go out on patrol again, sir. The food is terrible. I will lose weight. The domestic girls will like it better if they are thinner." "If you want to leave, just say so, and you can go." The clerk took a long puff of the premium cigar, and his amiable countenance hardened. "To hell with it, Mr. Henry, I'm going with Captain Este. He's the greatest captain in Subcommand Pacific, and now that we've got those Type 18 torpedoes, this patrol will be 'sea The Eel's greatest ever. I don't want to miss this opportunity. Where's Tarawa, sir?" "Tarawa? Over there in the Gilbert Islands. What?" "The Marines are in trouble over there. Look at this." He was copying the latest from the Pearl Harbor broadcast.The tone of the news briefing was low: "Faced with tenacious resistance ... heavy casualties ... the outcome is uncertain ..." "Oh, the first day of landing is always the worst." "People think our task is very difficult." "Horseshoe" shook his head. "Those Marines paid a real price for fucking ending this war." The Moray left Midway in a cloudy drizzle.For several days in a row, the weather became worse and worse.The submarine has been turbulent on the sea surface; in this windy, rainy and cold area, life on board has become a schedule of collisions and injuries: it is difficult to stand still at every step, seasick, half-eaten and half-splashed cold meals, and disturbed sleep in the monotonous, interminable days and nights.In the northwest of the Pacific Ocean, there is a large desolate, lonely, dangerous and dark waters. The Japanese are not good at patrolling in this area, and the visibility is very poor.But Esther remained on combat alert all day long.Frozen surveillance posts and duty officers came off every shift, and the eyes of the clothes were covered with ice. Aster ordered fifteen knots to sail across the rocky Kuril Islands within range of the Japanese Air Force plane.He just doubled the lookout post.He was fond of saying, 'The Moray' wasn't a submarine. It was a 'submarine'—that is, a surface craft capable of diving—that was always lurking under the sea, Getting nowhere. Byron agrees, but he thinks Aster sometimes blurs the line between bravery and recklessness. So far, a few subs have patrolled the Sea of ​​Japan: "The Finfish "That's where it went missing; the enemy may well have deployed an air patrol. Thankfully the Moray sailed most of the time in fog and rain. Byron's dead reckoning was put to the test. Seven days after leaving Midway, the wind turned and the fog thinned.The mountains of Hokkaido loom in the gray sky ahead.On the starboard side, a higher and darker mass appeared: the mountain corner of Sakhalin Island. "Soya Strait!" Esther jokingly cheered towards the La Perouse Strait by its Japanese name, and patted Byron on the shoulder. "Well, Mr. Navigator." The "Moray" was bumping forward in the huge waves rolling in from behind the ship.A gust of cold wind blowing from the stern of the ship shook the thick blond hair of the captain looking towards the land. "Now, how far can we go before we wind up and dive? Have the Japanese installed radar in those mountains?" "Don't go into that just yet," Byron said. "Not yet." Esther nodded reluctantly but hesitantly: "Agreed. Withdraw from the bridge." After a week of turbulence and tossing, it was a rest to sail at periscope depth.The seasick sailors got up from their bunks and ate sandwiches and hot soup at the stable table.Facing the periscope, Byron was fascinated by the magnificent scenery in the lens.As the Moray approached the eastern gorge, the setting sun shone red through the low clouds, and the rosy mist formed a rosy halo around the Hokkaido peak called Maruyama.A lovely vision of an early age flitted through Byron's mind.As a college student he had been fond of Japanese art; Japanese paintings, novels, and poems made him fantasize about fairyland landscapes, exquisite and exotic buildings, and small people of good taste, eccentric clothes, and good manners.The picture doesn't fit the Japanese—the barbarians who bombed Pearl Harbor, sacked Nanking, captured the Philippines and Singapore, murdered their fellow men, and invaded an empire.He took a ruthless pleasure in torpedoing the Japanese.But the foggy view of Maruyama under the setting sun in front of him reminded him of the illusion in his early years.It suddenly occurred to him that these Japanese also regarded Americans as barbarians?He didn't think he was a savage.The sailors on duty in their dungaree uniforms didn't look savage either.But the Moray is closing in on this bizarre wonderland, furtively trying to kill as many Japanese as possible. In a word, this is war. Byron called the captain over and told him to look through the periscope at two ships heading east with their navigation lights on.In the twilight, the red, green and white lights are very dazzling. "Russian, no doubt," Esther said. "Are they on the designated Russian course?" "Exactly," Byron said. "That's good. There will be no mines on this road." Last time, Esther had commented sarcastically on this strange phenomenon in the war: the defeat of Germany was bound to drag down Japan, but Soviet ships loaded with leased supplies were able to pass in and out of Japanese waters on a regular basis without incident.Now, looking through the periscope, he said in a lean and down-to-earth tone: "Hey, why don't we go over there with the lights on? If the Japanese installed radar here, it would be better to hide them than to sail with the lights dark. " "What if we were questioned?" "Then we're stupid Russians who didn't understand the password." "I approve of it, captain." An hour after dark, the coast of Japan was all in plain sight, and the lights of the Moray, rising dripping from the water, came on.Byron stood on the bridge against the strong cold wind.For him it was the most bizarre moment of the war.He had never sailed on a brightly lit submarine.The bright lights on the bow and stern mastheads shone like daylight, and the traffic lights on the starboard and starboard sides seemed to shine half a mile away.Such a clear, such a formidable submarine!But it was only seen from the bridge. From the Japanese mountain corner ten miles away, I couldn't see anything, at most I could only see these lights. The lights are to be seen. As the Moray bumped through the dark strait, a signal searchlight on Hokkaido flickered on and off.Esther and Byron waved and stamped their feet on the bridge.The signal light flashed again.And then again. "We don't understand Japanese," Esther said strangely. The signal lights are no longer on. The Moray continued on, into the Sea of ​​Japan, extinguished its lights, and dived to the surface before daylight. Just before noon, as they were sailing slowly southward, they spotted a small cargo ship of about eight hundred tons.Esther and Byron discuss whether to shoot or not.It would be worthwhile to torpedo it, but an attack might set off a distress call and lead to a full-fledged air and sea search for the sub in the Sea of ​​Japan.If the Japanese are not alarmed now, it will be easier to achieve greater results by going south tomorrow.Esther planned to plunder for three days and then slip away in one day. "You can try a Type 18 torpedo." He finally lit a Havana cigar and said, "Mr. Navigator, let's approach it. Let's launch a torpedo." Responding to Byron's inquiring gaze, he A cold, contemptuous grin answered. "The Eighteen doesn't have a wake. If it misses, the Japanese friend over there won't know anything, will he? If it hits, he might be too busy to send any signals." Esther carried out the attack in a cut-to-nose, down-to-earth fashion.Byron was also encouraged by the spirited response of the entire army.This electric torpedo has a longer range than the Type 14, but is a bit slower.Byron wasn't used to the time it took to hit impact.He looked in the periscope and was about to report a miss when he saw a plume of smoke and a jet of white water from the cargo ship; about a second later, that devastating rumble shook the Moray. "Hull.He had never seen a ship sink so quickly.Less than five minutes after the hit, while he was still taking pictures from the periscope, it sank in a cloud of smoke, flames and fog. Esther grabs the microphone of the speaker. "Listen now. A Japanese cargo ship has been wiped out. The Type 18 torpedo was successful in its first trial, and the Moray will have to keep going!" This cry excited Byron all over.It's been a long time since he's heard this masculine, deep cry of victory, this submarine cry. That night, Esther ordered to sail south, across the shipping lane to North Korea.They had encountered so many targets there on their last patrol, and the results had been so disappointing.When it was about to light up, the officer on duty reported that a navigation light was found ahead.That said, despite their attack on the cargo ship, no submarine precautions had been taken in the Sea of ​​Japan.Esther ordered the dive.As the sky grew brighter, the periscope saw what he called a "mouth-watering" scene: no matter which direction the periscope turned, there were ships sailing peacefully, without a warship escort.Byron found himself confronted with a problem of how to act in a manner comparable to a nautical lesson in Annapolis: how to attack one target after another so that the victims received the least warning and he himself had the most. results. On the "Moray", everyone from the captain down to life came back to life.The killing machine is alive again.Aster decided to attack a large tanker first; he ordered a dive to a depth of nine hundred yards, dropped a torpedo, and hit.The hit ship burst into flames and sank, a thick puff of black smoke belching from its cargo of inflammables.Esther left it alone, and ordered the ship to turn around and approach a distant ship.The ship appeared to be a large troop transport, the largest target ever seen.It took several hours to try to get close to this prey.Esther paced back and forth in the conning tower, walked down to his cabin, and walked up and down again.Later, on the chart table, he wolfed down a large steak from the kitchen and flipped through an illustrated magazine with pictures of half-naked girls.He turned the pages too hastily and tore the pictorial.Finally, in attack position, Byron watched in the periscope, Esther ordered to release three torpedoes in quick succession from the furthest range.After waiting for a long time, Byron yelled, "For God's sake, it's gone!" When the mist and water vapor had dissipated, the boat was still there, with its stern raised high. , tilted to one side, obviously hopeless.The good news announced by Esther aroused even more enthusiastic cheers. When he selected this target, he also took a fancy to two other large cargo ships sailing not far away on the same channel.The two ships now turned their bows, leaving the hit troop carrier behind, and sped away. "I can't live with them while submerged. After dark we go out to sea to chase them," Esther said. "They're heading east toward home country, where there's air cover. It's going to be trickier tomorrow. But"—he patted Byron on the shoulder—"not a bad day's work today!" This euphoria was everywhere on board the submarine: in the conning tower, in the central control room, in the officers' meeting room, even in the engine room, where Byron went down for a routine inspection.Half-naked, sweaty, greasy sailors greeted him with grins and grins, like football players after a big victory.While he was below, the sub surfaced and the diesel engines revved deafeningly.He hurried to the deck.Qatar.Esther, wearing a parka and mittens, was eating a thick sandwich on the bridge.It was a starry night, and there was still a faint afterglow of the setting sun on the horizon. There were two small black spots on the horizon directly ahead, which were the two cargo ships. "By daylight. We'll take both boats," said the captain. "How about our fuel?" "And fifty-five thousand gallons." "Pretty good. This roast beef is delicious. Ask Haines to get you a sandwich." "I want to take some time to sleep for a while." "You still can't change your old temper, can you?" In recent weeks, Esther hadn't laughed or cracked a joke with Byron.In fact, Byron hadn't had a good rest at all these days, but his snooze had always been the stuff of jokes.He was also very happy to see that Esther was in the mood to tell jokes now. "Oh, ma'am, it's a tailgating. There won't be much to do before three o'clock." Byron leaned on the side of the boat and looked up at the sky.He felt relaxed and in no hurry to go down to the cabin. “多好的夜晚。” “美极了。再象今儿这样搜索一天，勃拉尼，那么他们随时随刻都可以送我回国内休假去了。” “心里自在多了，是不是？” “基督啊，是的。你怎么样？” “哦，象今儿这样来上一天，我还不错。否则的话，兴致可不太高。” There was a long silence.只听见汹涌的涛声和呼啸的风声。 “你在想娜塔丽。” “是啊，我老在想她。还想到那孩子。因为想他们，所以也想到杰妮丝。” “想到杰妮丝？”埃斯特犹疑了一会儿，问。“为什么想到杰妮丝呢？” 在星光下，他们几乎看不见彼此的脸。值日军官拿着望远镜对准了天边，就站在挨他们很近的地方。 拜伦的回答几乎听都听不见。“我太对不起她了。” 埃斯特大声吩咐下面再来一份三明治和咖啡，然后说：“看在圣彼得份上，你怎样对不起她呢？我觉得你在杰妮丝身边简直就象加拉哈德爵士一样。”拜伦没回答。“好吧，你不愿意讲，就别讲了。” 可是经过长期的紧张之后，拜伦现在松弛下来，倒愿意谈谈这件事，虽然这些话很难说出口。“我们在相爱，夫人。这你没看出来吗？这都怪我不好，是一场愚蠢的恶梦。娜塔丽那封信才叫我清醒过来。我非断掉这种关系不可，这对我们两个都糟透啦。这几个月，我真不知道让什么鬼给缠住了。” “你瞧，拜伦，你很寂寞，”过了一会儿，埃斯特用一种不象他平时的、温和的低音说。“她是个挺美的女人，你也是个堂堂的男子汉。你们一起大声哭泣，睡在同一所屋子里！你要是问我的话，你在忠实于娜塔丽这一点上真可以得青铜勋章了。” 拜伦轻轻捅了一下艇长的肩膀。“嘿，这只是你的想法，夫人。你觉得这是太合理不过的一件事了。可是从我这方面看来，她爱上我是因为我挑逗了她。在这一点上我做得太明显了。可是娜塔丽既然还活着，这是没指望的事，是不是呢？难道我希望娜塔丽死吗？我真他妈的该死。” “耶稣基督和杰克逊将军在上，”埃斯特说。“别扯淡了。勃拉尼，在某些事情上我很佩服你，可是总的说来，你真可怜。你好象是住在另一个星球上，要不就是你一直没长大，我不知道究竟是怎么回事，可是——” “哦，你说这些话干什么？” 拜伦和埃斯特正肩并肩地站在一起，用胳膊肘儿倚在船舷上，眺望着大海。埃斯特回过头去望望那个值日军官的朦胧身影。 “听着，你这个傻瓜。我已经跟杰妮丝睡了一年啦。你难道真的瞎了眼，一点儿也没瞧出来吗？” 拜伦挺直了身体。“什——什——什么？”他的声音象是动物的嚎叫。 “这是真的。也许我不该告诉你，可是你刚才——” 正在这时，军官室的勤务兵顺着梯子走上来，手里端的盘子里放着一份三明治，还有一只热气腾腾的大杯子。埃斯特拿起三明治，喝了一大口咖啡。“谢谢你，海恩斯。” 拜伦站在那儿直眉瞪眼地盯着埃斯特，象个上了电刑的人一样僵硬。 勤务兵离开之后，埃斯特又说了下去：“基督啊，老弟，瞧你这么烦恼，你还以为自己引诱了杰妮丝而伤心透顶！要是这件事不这么伤感的话，倒总得是一件开心事哩。” “一年了吗？”拜伦重复说，一面茫然地摇摇头。“一年了？你？” 埃斯特咬了一口三明治，嘴里一边嚼着一边说。“耶稣啊，我可是饿了。不错，大概有一年啦。自从她患登革热好了以后。在那以前，你哥哥死了，你又远在地中海，那时候她可真是个伤心透顶的漂亮姑。娘。不过，别弄错我的意思，她是喜欢你的，拜伦。你在地中海的时候她很想念你。也许她真是爱上你啦，但是基督在上，她也是个人啊！我意思是说，我们这样又有什么不好呢？她是个大孩子。我们一块儿过得很快活。她很怕你和你父亲。她觉得你们不会赞成的。”他喝了口咖啡，又咬了一口三明治，凝视着默不作声、一动不动的拜伦。“哈，可你也许确实不赞成。是不是呢？我还是弄不明白你心里究竟怎么个想法。不过别再白花精力去觉得自己对不住杰妮丝了。懂吗？” 拜伦兀地一下离开了舰桥。 清晨三点钟，他走进中央控制室，看到埃斯特抽着一支便宜的细长雪茄烟，正和标图人员一起呆在标图板旁边，脸色苍白，神情紧张。“哦，勃拉尼。SJ雷达可真他妈的不凑巧，偏偏这会儿失灵了。咱们又给困住啦。可见度下降到了一千码。我们想用声纳追踪它们，可是监听条件又糟透了。我们最后一次测定它们的位置已经是两小时以前的事了，要是他们改变航向的话，咱们也许就会失去它们。”埃斯特透过烟雾望着拜伦。“不过我猜他们大概不会改变航向。你说呢？” “要是他们是回港口去的话，那么他们就不会改变航向。” “对。我们同意。我还保持着原来的航向和速度。” 他跟着拜伦走进了军官集会室。他们喝着咖啡，经过一段长时间的沉默后，他问道：“睡了一觉吗？” "of course." “还在生我的气吗？” 拜伦直瞪瞪地盯着他望了一眼，使埃斯特想起了维克多。亨利上校。“为什么？你从我心上卸下了一个重担。” “我正是这意思。” 黎明时分，他们在甲板上用望远镜尽力了望。雷达还没修好。能见度有所改善，尽管海面上还是重重云雾。那两条货船全看不见了。后来还是他们最好的监视哨“马蹄铁'吗伦从舰桥后的露天甲板上高声报告：”发现目标！船头右舷横向，距离一万码！ " “一万码？”埃斯特说，一面把望远镜转过来对着右舷那面。“狗娘养的。他们真的改变了航向。有一条已经不见啦。” 拜伦从他的望远镜里看到了那个暗淡、微小的灰色船影。“对，是那两条货船里的一条。同样的吊杯柱。” 埃斯特对舱口下面高声叫道：“侧前方！右满舵！” “相距五海里，”拜伦说。“除非他们再弯弯曲曲地走。要不他们可逃脱了。” “怎么见得？咱们赶得上他们！” 拜伦转过脸来盯着他望望。“你的意思是说在海面上追吗？” 埃斯特翘起大拇指来指了一下又低又密的云层。“这种天气，他们能进行什么样的空中搜索？” “夫人，这两条货船采取了规避动作。很可能已经对潜艇实行了全面戒备。你应当考虑到，这条货船整夜都在报告它的航向、速度和位置，而且这一带是在飞机航程之内。” “航向一七五，不变！”埃斯特喊。 拜伦力争说：“他们可以从云层的随便哪一个缝隙里蜂拥而下。而且，咱们连他们是不是有空中雷达都不知道。” 潜艇加快速度，在后追赶。碧波冲击着低低的前甲板，浪花把舰桥上的人都打湿了。埃斯特朝拜伦咧开嘴笑笑，拍了下他的胳膊，猛地吸了一口气。“好一个早上，是吗？快乐的猎号吹响了。” “你听我说，咱们还在这条航道上，夫人。还会有许多其他目标出现的。咱们还是潜下去好。” “这条货船就是咱们的袭击目标，勃拉尼。咱们已经跟了它一整夜啦，咱们这就要打中它。” 海面的追逐进行了将近一个小时。天色越亮，拜伦就越感到紧张，虽然头顶上的云层还是又低又密。他们已经快要赶上那条货船，已经近得可以证实它确实就是昨天的那条了。拜伦始终没看到飞机。他只听见马伦高声嚷道：“正船尾方向发现飞机，低空飞行。”接着又嚷道：“左舷发现飞机——”其余的喊声在许多发子弹的哒哒、哒哒的呼啸声中给淹没了。他连忙扑倒在甲板上，刚扑下去就听见一声巨大的爆炸，几乎震破了他的耳鼓。一枚投得很近、险些儿打中潜艇的炸弹或是深水炸弹所溅起的大股海水哗啦啦地淋了他一身。 “快潜下去！快潜，快潜！”埃斯特高声喝道。 子弹砰砰地扫遍了这条颠簸翻腾的船只。官兵们摇摇晃晃地向着舱门奔去，按着惯例自动地一个接一个迅速钻了下去。几秒钟内，司令塔里已经挤满了水淋淋的舱面值班人员。 boom! 又是一枚炸弹。只差一点儿，几乎命中。 咯——咯——咯！boom!boom!甲板上弹如雨下。巨浪从敞开的舱门倒灌下去，甲板上也全给打湿了。拜伦齐膝盖往下湿了个透。 “艇长！艇长在哪儿？”他放声大叫。 一个痛苦的声音在甲板上高声呼喊，好象是回答他似的：“拜伦，我中弹了！我不行啦！快潜下去！” 刹那间拜伦吓呆了，接着急切地朝四下里看了一眼，对着士兵们大声问道：“还短少什么人没有？” “'马蹄铁'死了，亨利先生，”航信官高声回答。“他刚才正在露天甲板上。脸上中了弹。我想把他背下来，可是他已经死啦。” 拜伦大喝了一声：。艇长，我接你来了！“他一个箭步蹿进从梯子上灌下来的海水里，开始往上爬。 “拜伦，我垮了。我不能动啦！”埃斯特的声音变成了嘶哑的尖叫。“你帮不了我的忙。有五架飞机向我们俯冲下来。快潜下去！” boom! “海鳗号”向右舷一侧猛地翻腾了一下。一股瀑布般的盐水从舱口倒灌下来，涌到了控制仪器四周。烟雾之中闪着火星，突然发出一阵臭味。水兵们在水涡中磕磕撞撞，眼圈发白，盯着拜伦。他拼命在估计冲上甲板、把受了重伤的艇长拖到安全地方所需要的时间。在这场攻击中，也许就在几秒钟之内，“海鳗号”几乎肯定会连人带船全部覆没。 “快潜下去，拜伦！我完了。我快死啦。”埃斯特的声音越来越微弱“了。 拜伦顶着白沫翻滚的瀑布，顺着梯子作了最后一次冲上甲板的努力。He failed.他以惊人的力气好不容易总算把舱盖砰地一声关上。他浑身湿透，呛着盐水，伤心得声音都变了。这时，他发出了他指挥一条潜艇的第一道命令。 “潜到三百英尺下边！” 为埃斯特艇长敲的唯一的丧钟，也许是他最最喜爱的声音，可是没人能知道他究竟听到了没有。 阿——呜鸣嘎……阿——呜呜嘎……阿——呜呜嘎……