Doctor Who_ Island of Death - Barry Letts [41]
But that was just playing with words, for God‟s sake. What difference did it make? It was the feeling of utter helplessness, that there was nothing he could do that...
The door of the port wing slammed open.
Man overboard! It‟s Sarah!‟
What!
„Where away?‟ sang out the Cox‟n.
„Port side,‟ came the Doctor‟s voice.
Even before the First Lieutenant could give an order, the Cox‟n was spinning the wheel to port, to swing the stern with its murderous screws away to starboard.
But by now the Brigadier was through the door, to find that the Doctor had flung off his cloak, and pulled off his boots, and was climbing up as if to dive into the water.
„What the devil?‟ cried the Brigadier, clinging onto the door jamb as the ship came broadside onto the swell, and rolled alarmingly to starboard.
„Look!‟
As the ship came to the crest of the wave and started to recover, Sarah‟s body could be seen briefly on the next wave to the south.
She was face down in the water.
The Doctor didn‟t dive in. As the ship rolled to port, on the downhill side of the wave, he held his nose like a seven-year-old jumping off the side of the swimming bath and plunged feet first some thirty feet into the sea.
„Bob! Get a scrambling net rigged.‟
„Aye aye sir. Which side?‟
„Port. No, better make it both sides.‟
The Navigating Officer shot off to see to it.
A scrambling net. The meaning of the term was self-evident. But couldn‟t they lower a boat? It had been quite obvious that there was no point in hurling a life buoy after the pair in the water, but surely... „What about a boat?‟ the Brigadier asked.
„Negative. No visibility so low in the water. At least we‟ve a chance of spotting them from up here.‟
Pete grabbed a pair of binoculars and vanished onto the wing of the bridge. The Brigadier tried to follow him, but the roll of the ship was so extreme that he lost his footing completely and landed on the deck.
When he regained his feet, he clung onto the ledge at the front and tried to see through the glass. He‟d soon lost sight of the Doctor, swimming away from the ship with the confident strong strokes of an Olympic gold medallist. How old had he said he was? Four hundred years? Seven hundred? But how could anybody survive in these conditions?
The Cox‟n‟s careful explanation of the danger of travelling with the waves had become fearsomely real. When the Hallaton was going precisely in the same direction as the swell, the rudder had no effect at all. But then, as her bow swung, it began to bite, and the Petty Officer spun the wheel hard over in the opposite direction, in an attempt to bring her back on course before she reached the critical point of utmost danger; and then he had to spin it back again, so that he wouldn‟t bring her round too far and let her roll over the other way.
The sum total was a series of near-fatal swoops and rolls, saved at the last moment, it seemed, by the hard-won skill of the man at the wheel.
„Okay, Cox‟n?‟ Pete Andrews had reappeared, and was scanning ahead through his glasses.
„All right so far, sir, as the man said when he fell off the Blackpool tower.‟
At least the Royal Navy lot seemed to know what they were doing, thought the Brigadier grudgingly.
„The trouble is that with our turning circle they‟ll have been swept quite a way off by now. Can‟t twizzle round like Margot Fonteyn. It takes time,‟ said Pete, who seemed as calm and in control as the Petty Officer. „Haven‟t had a sight of them yet,‟
he went on. „But it‟s early days. The theory is that if we keep on the reciprocal course, two hundred degrees - sou‟sou‟west near as dammit - we‟re bound to come across them. But in this weather...‟
As if to confirm his thought, the Hallaton heeled over so violently that even he staggered and had to catch hold to save himself.
„Cox‟n...‟