Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [194]
It is also theoretically possible that while the captain may want to turn his ship in one direction, the wind will be pushing so hard in the other direction that the full force of the engines will not suffice to bring the ship’s head around. In that case the vessel will wallow, broadside to, in very bad shape indeed. But it is unlikely. A modern warship, functioning properly and handled with wisdom, can probably ride out any typhoon.
The storm’s best recourse in the contest for the ship’s life is old-fashioned bogeyman terror. It makes ghastly noises and horrible faces and shakes up the captain to distract him from doing the sensible thing in tight moments. If the wind can toss the ship sideways long enough it can probably damage the engines or kill them-and then it wins. Because above all the ship must be kept steaming under control. It suffers under one disadvantage as a drifting hulk, compared to the old wooden sailing ship: iron doesn’t float. A destroyer deprived of its engines in a typhoon is almost certain to capsize, or else fill up and sink.
When things get really bad, the books say, the best idea is to turn the ship’s head into the wind and sea and ride out the blow that way. But even on this the authorities are not all agreed. None of the authorities have experienced the worst of enough typhoons to make airtight generalizations. None of the authorities, moreover, are anxious to acquire the experience.
The TBS message was so muffled by static and the noise of wind and waves that Willie had to put his ear to the loudspeaker: Chain Gang from Sunshine. Discontinue fueling. Execute to follow. New fleet course 180. Small Boys reorientate screen.
“What? What was it?” said Queeg at Willie’s elbow.
“Discontinuing fueling, sir, and turning south. Execute to follow.”
“Getting the hell out, hey? About time.”
Maryk, squat and enormous in his life jacket, said, “I don’t know how she’ll ride, sir, with her stern to the wind. Quartering seas always murder us-”
“Any course that takes us out of here is the right course,” said Queeg. He peered out at the ragged waves, rearing and tossing everywhere as high as the ship’s mast. The flying spray was like a cloudburst. A few hundred yards beyond the ship the gray mountains of water faded into a white misty wall. The spray was beginning to rattle against the windows, sounding more like hail than water. “Kay, Willie. Call Paynter and. tell him to stand by his engines for some fast action. Steve, I’m going to conn from the radar shack. You stay here.”
The TBS ‘scratched and whined. The voice came through gurgling, as though the loudspeaker were under water: “Small Boys from Sunshine. Execute reorientation. Make best speed.”
“Kay. All engines ahead full. Right standard rudder. Steady on 180,” said Queeg, and ran out of the wheelhouse. The Caine went plunging downhill into a foaming trough. Stilwell spun the helm, saying, “Christ, this wheel feels loose.”
“Rudder’s probably clear out of the water,” Maryk said. The nose of the ship cut into the sea and came up slowly, shedding thick solid streams. The wheelhouse trembled.
“Rudder is right standard, sir,” said Stilwell. “Jesus, she’s getting shoved around fast. Heading 010, sir-020-” Like a kite taking the wind, the minesweeper heeled, and swept sharply to the right. Fear tingled in Willie’s arms and legs as he was swung against the wet windows. “Heading 035, sir-040-”
Hanging increasingly to starboard, the Caine was rising and falling on the waves, blown sidewise, riding more like flotsam again than