HMS Boxer
In his day cabin, Captain Graham Bennie read the signal and at once dashed to the bridge.
"Officer of the Watch. Recover the sonar gear." Bennie started sorting through the charts on the chart table. "And when it is safe to do so", he pointed. "Head for this position. Let me know when we are on our way."
An experienced man of the old school, Bennie was uneasy. The weather was changing, not that it would damage his ship. He knew that at this time of year, the Atlantic gales arrived without much warning. Countless times, they had passed through a gale force eight with little or no effect. Grimly, he remembered the tragic Fastnet Yacht Race several years before, when scores of yachts had met with disaster. He pictured the Fastnet Lighthouse, a symbol of hope jutting out of the Atlantic like a finger pointing to the stars. For many sailors, it had been the end.
HMS Blackbird
At 1410 hrs, they entered the busy westbound separation lane of the English Channel. Adrian, his navigator and special sea duty men, were on the bridge. He read the weather forecast for the next twenty-four hours, pinned to the chart table. His eyes studied the barometer and observed it was falling. It did not bode well, and he knew the wind speed of the approaching storm from the Atlantic was increasing.
He called Jim to the bridge. "Have you seen the weather forecast?"
"Yes, I have, and it doesn't look good," said Jim. "It's reported as an occluded front which should be interesting. I guess it's 'batten down the hatches', Captain."
"Your impersonation of Long John Silver is crap, Jim. Anyway, let's hope we get to our man before the storm does."
Allende
Miguel did not need modern meteorological instruments or navigation aids to warn of a storm. He could tell by looking at the sky and the colour of the sea. It did not worry him, for he had placed a silver coin under the masthead to ensure a profitable voyage. Most of his life had fished for a living. He would be under arrest in an English harbour in two days, and his family would receive enough money to survive the following year.
Miguel noted that Isabel Alfonin had remained in his cabin since leaving. When he checked on her, she said, "This boat will be the death of me."
He had taken her food, but the smell made her wretch. In downtown Spanish, she muttered, "Fuck off and let me die."
Throughout the day, the weather deteriorated. Dark storm clouds covered the sky. The sea grew wild, and every wave washed the decks from stem to stern.
José's efforts were paying dividends. The engine ran with a constant, reassuring beat. Day turned into night, and the storm increased. With no going back, they pressed on. Sleep became impossible. The boat twisted and slammed into every trough.
Davy listened as Miguel explained about his crew. "Senor, forgive them. Their English is poor; however, they are good men. For me, they have poured wine on the deck. That is a good sign and will bring good luck."
Day Two
Allende
The following day saw no respite; if anything, the waves were higher and the clouds darker. Miguel was uneasy as waves broke over the bow and ran the entire length of the deck before disappearing astern. Repeatedly he said, "Senor Davy, thanks to you, in less than a day, I will be a rich man."
HMS Boxer
Boxer and Blackbird made contact 200 miles due east of Land's End. Captain Graham Bennie ordered a comfortable course, which kept them close to the pick-up point and five miles inside UK territorial waters. The pilot of the RAF, Nimrod shadowing Allende, advised on her progress. Blackbird followed at a distance of two thousand yards.
