The Good Shepherd by C.S. Forester

Nourse! “
    Three hundred yards at a combined speed of say eighteen knots; thirty seconds. Deduct fifteen for an ash-can to sink to medium depth. A ten-second spread before and after.
    “Fire one! “ said Nourse.
    Viktor was close, her bows pointed straight at Keeling; she had wheeled right round and was aiming to cross close behind Keeling’s stern. If this were a peace-time manoeuvre that Polish captain would be bawled out for endangering both ships. The “K” guns were going off on either side, their coughing explosions coinciding with the loud hollow boom of the first depth-charge. Wait fifteen more seconds.
    “Come right, Mr Watson.”
    No delay this time, no wasting of valuable moments idly watching depth-charge explosions before beginning to circle back again. Now with Keeling beginning her turn he could step out on to the wing of the bridge. The last upflung column of water was falling back to the foaming sea. Viktor was beginning her run at the edge of the area Keeling had searched with her charges; Krause saw the first of Viktor’s depth-charges drop.
    “Meet her, Mr Watson! Steady as you go! “
    Better not to come too close for a moment, better to hover on the outskirts where Keeling’s sonar would be less seriously deafened, and where he would be free to turn in either direction at the first new contact. The sea exploded again, the huge columns rising towards the grey sky. Krause was watching Viktor closely; with the dropping of her last depth-charge she was turning to starboard too. The last charge flung up its column of water. Now was the time to continue the circle.
    “Come right, Mr Watson! “
    The two destroyers were circling about each other. It was to be hoped that the U-boat was within the area enclosed by the intersection of the two circles. Krause’s eyes were still on Viktor; he was standing at the end of the bridge when the starboard side look-out yelled, not two yards from him.
    “There he is! Sub. on the starboard beam! “
    Krause saw it. A thousand yards away the long, conical bow of a U-boat was rearing out of the tortured water. It levelled off as a wave burst round it in a smother of spray. It lowered and lengthened. A gun came into sight. A rounded bridge. The sub. shook itself as though in torment--as indeed it was. Keeling’s guns went off, like doors being slammed intolerably loudly. Wang-o. Wang-o. Wang-o. The look-out was screaming with excitement. It was hard to focus the glasses on the thing. A wave seemed to run along it, and it was gone.
    Krause sprang back into the pilot-house.
    “Right rudder, Mr Watson.”
    “Rudder’s hard over sir,” said Watson. Keeling had been turning at the moment of sighting.
    A talker was trying to make a report. At first he jumbled his words with excitement, but he managed to steady himself.
    “Gunnery control reports sub. sighted broad on starboard bow, range one thousand. Fifteen rounds fired. No hits observed.”
    “Very well.”
    Lieutenant Fippler’s first attempt to kill a man had ended in failure.
    “Did you get the bearing, Mr Watson?”
    “Only approximately, sir. We were turning at the time.”
    Speak every man truth with his neighbour. Far better to be honest than to pretend to knowledge one did not have.
    “We’re coming to course one-nine-five, sir,” added Watson.
    “Better make it one-eight-five.”
    “Aye aye, sir.”
    The U-boat when sighted had been nearly on the same course as Keeling. Even if she turned instantly on submerging she would need time and distance to effect the turn. Better head to intercept. And would she turn to starboard or port? Hard to guess. Would she go deep or stay close under the surface? That might be easier to guess.
    “Sonar reports contact bearing one-eight-zero. Range approximately four hundred yards.”
    “Very well. Come left ten degrees, Mr Watson. Deep setting, Mr Nourse.”
    The submarine’s instinct after involuntarily surfacing would be to go deep; and the crew would have