The Lotus Eaters

D 466 Portzmoguer, Gallic Navy, Shimmering Sea

The bridge was hushed. Every man present knew Casabianca was guessing, frankly. They also knew his guess had a few things going for it. He knew where the enemy below could go for succor. He had a pretty good idea of its maximum speed while gliding, as it presumably was. He had a point of origin to trace from.

"East or west," the captain said softly. "One or the other. I chose east. If I'm right, maybe we get him. If I'm wrong . . ."

"Sir," Mortain said, taking a telephonic radio receiver away from the side of his head, "Montcalm, Horizon, and Cotentin are on station. The admiral says it's your command. Oh, and Captain Bertin of Montcalm is bitching about it, too."

"Bertin always bitches," answered Casabianca. The captain turned towards his sonar major. "Major, on Lieutenant Mortain's command. Weapons, stand by. Mortain?"

"Sir?"

"On radio . . . command . . . continuous . . . Ping!"

In seconds the major announced, "I've got them."

"Fire!"