Date: Sun, 18 Mar 2007 04:09:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: James Robinson <juzjamie20@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Atlantic Express Chapter 33

This tale contains sex between males so if you dont enjoy such material
leave now, if you are under age or it is illegal where you reside then it
is your choice to read or not.

The story is fantasy loosely based on events from WW2. Your comments are
greatefully accepted at juzjamie20@yahoo.com.au all emails are answered
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 Atlantic Express, Chapter 33 by justjames17.


Foxhound and the badly damaged tanker San Pedro limped slowly along the
North African coastline near Algiers as they plodded through the darkness
hoping to elude any further attacks by the Axis forces. The tanker steamed
slowly astern her pumps working flat out trying to keep the flooding
seawater down in her bilges, she was taking water all the time as she
steamed dragging her badly damaged hull backwards. The tanker struggled
along valiantly making slow progress as her helmsman struggled to maintain
a straight course, the destroyer steamed about her in circles searching the
inky waters for any sneaky submarines.

The night passed quietly and dawn found them just out of sight of land as
the sky lightened turning the sea a metallic grey, both crews' eyes
searched the sea and sky for any threat as Foxhounds crews manned their
dawn action stations. Binoculars swept the horizon looking for anything
disturbing but all was quiet and a sigh of relief was heard on the
respective bridges. The crews stood down leaving the watch on duty and one
gun manned as they went below to the messes for their breakfasts. Charles
ate standing on the bridge when Bradley appeared carrying a tray and placed
it on the locker top at the windbreaker in front of the captain's
stool. Charles rubbed his weary eyes looking haggard from the 48 hours
without sleep as Bradley quietly said, "Captain you need some rest it will
do the ship and crew no good if you collapse from exhaustion."

Charles smiled weakly at his confidant and friend saying, "Bradley we are
in dire peril until we make Malta I cannot leave the bridge."

Bradley tut tutted and said, "Well you can take a nap in the chart room at
least there you will be still on the bridge if your needed urgently."

Charles smiled at Bradley's persistence and said, "Ok after I've eaten I'll
go and put my head down in the chart room for half an hour will that
satisfy you my friend?"

Bradley stood beside his captain while he slowly ate the meal he'd prepared
for him the hot sweetened porridge, fresh tea and toast, Charles ate it all
then turned to the steward and said, "As always old friend you excelled
yourself in that tiny galley, thank you now I'll go and put my head down
for a short time."

Charles shuffled tiredly into the chart room and lay on the floor where
Bradley had placed a blanket and pillow for him to rest on, in seconds his
overwrought body and mind switched off and he was deeply asleep. Bradley
stood there watching his captain for a minute then he turned to the first
officer saluted and said, "Sir, let him have a sleep don't disturb him
unless necessary."

Lieutenant Harbury nodded and replied, "The captain can sleep as long as he
needs we won't disturb him unless something drastic happens."

The sun raced up the sky burning down on the blue calm sea as the two ships
limped on to the west, the steel decks were hot enough to burn skin on bare
feet as the day progressed, the watches changed and at the noon change
Charles stirred on the hard floor in the chartroom. He opened his dark
ringed sunken eyes and blinked in the glare, he looked at the clock above
the chart table and saw he'd slept for 5 hours. He struggled to his feet
and stomped out onto the bridge glaring about him, as he demanded a report
from guns the duty officer. He was mollified by the report, all was well
and the enemy had been conspicuous by their absence while the tanker was
still maintaining her steady but slow progress.

Charles picked up his binoculars and stared across at the San Pedro, he
shook his head in wonder again at her damages and the huge gaping hole in
her hull was big enough to drive Foxhound through. Charles was amazed that
she hadn't broken her back and snapped in half but there she was steaming
slowly along streams of water spurting from the outlets of her racing
pumps. Their luck held, the sun sank over the horizon ahead and the blessed
darkness covered the sea hiding the two ships from any prying eyes. The two
vessels plodded on through the darkness all was quiet until the early hours
when Foxhound achieved a return signal on her asdic set.

The operator reported to the bridge and Charles called for full speed ahead
and the destroyers engines rumbled shaking her slender hull as her huge
propellers thrashed the sea driving her rapidly ahead. The ship sped down
the bearing towards the skulking enemy as they strained to close the
distance before the sub could evade them; the lone ship was at the
disadvantage in this conflict as the underwater vessel could shift
direction much faster even though her underwater speed was considerably
slower.  The destroyer slowed as she reached the estimated position lowered
her asdic transducer and began sounding the depths immediately searching
for the boat. Back and forth she steamed hoping to either locate the target
or at least make them keep their heads down while the tanker limped away.

Charles knew that they were at the disadvantage while knowing that they
couldn't hunt for too long and leave the San Pedro to her own
devices. Charles drove the ship back and forth to no avail the submarine
was not to be found and he hoped the crafty devil wasn't following the
tanker getting into position to fire a brace of torpedos at the limping San
Pedro. After two hours Charles broke off the search and once again set
course to rejoin the tanker, he kept the asdic sounding as he steamed to
the west in the hope he might catch the submarine as he approached from
astern.

The Foxhound knifed through the flat calm sea her asdic sending electronic
pings through the black depths, suddenly a return signal they had stumbled
on the either the first submarine or a second one, unlikely in these
waters, and Charles ordered the depth charge crews to make ready. The ship
rapidly overhauled the slower submarine, which was closing to firing
distance on the tanker, the destroyer blasted over the top of the boat
sending her charges tumbling off the rails into the depths. The charges
sank water seeping into the mechanisms till they reached the set depth then
the primers fired setting off the explosives. The submarine was shaken like
a dog shakes a rat as the charges exploded around the hull, the captain
ordered a change of course to the south while Foxhound sped on slewing
about as she turned trying to come about.

The destroyer settled on course and headed back towards the frothing
disturbed area Charles tossed a mental coin port or starboard? He chose
starboard towards the African coast and soon picked up the hidden boat
again depth charges rained down on the water, the eruption of spray surged
high in the air as the charges exploded, the sub was in range of the
crushing force and she was struck a heavy blow forcing her down and
cracking her pressure hull. Inside the boat the crew were flung about as
water began spurting into the compartments. Panic ensued as the skipper
ordered them to surface and compressed air hissed and roared into the
ballast tanks driving out the water making the hull buoyant as it slowly
rose towards the surface.

The skipper ordered the gun crew to be ready to men her 88mm cannon as the
sub lifted up and broke the surface wallowing there like a duck. Foxhound
was still heading away attempting to turn about again when the gun crew
raced out onto the wet deck of the submarine, they cleared the gun and
rammed a round into the breech then aimed at the faint black shape of the
destroyer, a bright flash split the night sky as the 88mm fired sending its
explosive shell screaming away into the night. Foxhound began to turn when
the shell slammed into the water almost along side her racing hull sending
a wall of water into the air drenching her deck and superstructure.

Her gun crews closed up and prepared to fire as Charles gave the order her
forward guns blasted away sending two 4inch shells soaring back towards the
wallowing boat which fired again both vessels avoided the shells and
Foxhound raced down on the stricken submarine. The sub was rapidly filling
as it sank lower and lower into the dark sea, her crew below hastened to
climb on deck as she settled and filled with water. The skipper ordered
abandon ship as they launched rubber dinghies over the side and jumped
after them, Foxhound saw the sub list over as it's stern lifted high into
the sky. Charles altered course to swing away from the sinking vessel and
turned back steaming away after the San Pedro leaving the submariners
bobbing about in her wake. He knew they were in no danger and would be
picked up by their own forces if they didn't make it to the African coast.

Foxhound steamed on rapidly overhauling the struggling San Pedro and she
once again took up her security patrol around the sluggishly moving
straining tanker. The two ships steamed through the night but before
daylight the tanker signalled the destroyer that her steering engine had
broken down under the strain of sailing in reverse, she slewed off course
as the captain stopped her engines. Charles closed alongside the wallowing
tanker and used the loud hailer called across the water asking if the ship
could get underway again, her tired angry captain replied that they were
working on the problem and he would let Charles know if it was possible.

Charles acknowledged the captain's reply and Foxhound moved away to patrol
about the stricken tanker, the tanker's engineers frantically worked below
in the bowels of the ship stripping the steering engine down and finding a
stripped gear searched through the spare parts looking for a replacement. A
gear was found but the shaft size was larger than the one needing
replacement, the chief engineer decided that they could weld the centre and
adapt the gear to fit the shaft of the engine.

The tanker signalled Foxhound what they were doing and the estimated time
it would take to carry out the repairs, Charles agreed and continued
patrolling knowing that daylight would be upon them long before the tanker
would be able to get under way again. He prayed silently that they would be
left in peace until the task was finished. Aboard the San Pedro the men
were sweating as the worked flat out trying to repair the steering gear,
the area bright with the blue glare of the welder as the gear was worked
on. The captain paced the bridge grumbling to himself as he puffed on a
pipe of foul smelling tobacco, his head wreathed in smoke as he stomped
from bridge wing to bridge wing.

Work went on apace below in the stinking belly of the wallowing ship while
the long sleek shape of the guarding Foxhound prowled in circles through
the darkness. The sun rose over the horizon lighting up the scene, the San
Pedro still without power rolled sluggishly on the slow swells as her crew
frantically struggled with the repair task. Charles and the bridge crew
were sweeping the horizon and sky in search of any enemy craft but luck was
still with them and they were thankfully still on their own. Finally just
before noon the tanker signalled all was well and the shimmer fumes from
her funnel increased as she puffed dark smoke as if coughing, the sea at
her stern frothed as her engines turned over. She slowly returned to the
course and began to move astern, her crew and the destroyer's breathed a
huge sigh of relief.

The rest of the voyage was a non-event as the enemy left them alone
probably they were concentrating on the convoy and the continued demolition
of Malta. They two ships arrived off Malta in darkness and they made their
way slowly into the crowded harbour, the whole population heard the news
and the surrounds were filled with people all cheering the arrival of the
stricken tanker. Her arrival meant the fuel supply was guaranteed and the
brave old biplanes could still carry on their incredibly brave defence of
the battered island.  Daylight saw the ships moored to the battered wharf
as the fuel was quickly pumped ashore into the underground holding tanks;
Charles watched the task as he tiredly rested his head on his arms leaning
on the bridge windbreak. He saw a small group of officers approach the
Foxhound, they climbed aboard and headed to the bridge, Charles
straightened his uniform to greet them and turning saw the scrambled eggs
on the cap peak appear as the naval commander climbed onto the bridge,
Charles saluted him and then his hand was grasped as the senior officer
shook his hand eagerly saying, "Congratulations captain, you have performed
an incredible task getting the San Pedro here, I have put you in for a DSC
for a job well done. I heard of your battles with the E-boats and the
sinking of the submarine, the tanker's captain is singing your praises to
the sky."

Charles smiled tiredly thanking the man as the sirens sounded wailing
across the harbour announcing an air attack approaching, the visitors
quickly left the Foxhound as Charles ordered the gun crews to close
up. They could hear the droning hum of the approaching aircraft as the men
ran to their stations.



            To be continued.


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