Morning Departure Page #4

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Starboard motor running ahead, sir.

Haul in for leaving harbor.

(WHISTLES BLOWING)

GATES:
You know, I never thought

I'd actually envy anyone

going out on a dull exercise.

Well, come on, James. Let's have

breakfast and start filling in forms.

What's the tide doing, pilot?

About two knots sou'westerly, sir.

Nice day.

- What's the weather forecast?

- Pretty good, sir.

Hope it's right. We're playing cricket this

evening, return match against Portland.

- Mind you beat them.

- It's in the bag.

- We're in position now, sir.

- Thanks. Clear the bridge.

- First lieutenant?

- MANSON. :
Number One, here, sir.

- All set?

- All set, sir.

- Use Q.

- Use Q tank, aye, aye, sir.

- What the hell do you think you're doing?

- I'm sorry, sir. That was Clarrie, sir.

- She's a homing pigeon. I'm sorry, sir.

- You blithering idiot, Higgins.

This is a submarine, not a blasted aviary.

Tell the coxswain

you're in the First Lieutenant's report.

Aye, aye, sir. I'm very sorry, sir.

Lunatic.

(FOGHORN SOUNDING)

- Here, what's an aviary?

- It's a place where birds are kept.

- I thought he was being rude.

- Flood Q.

Flood Q, sir.

Can you see the diving signal?

- Thirty feet, Number One.

- Thirty feet, sir.

SAILORS:
Thirty feet, sir.

- ARMSTRONG:
Low Q.

- Low Q, sir.

- How's our position, Sub?

- I'm just plotting it now.

Good.

Snort mast all correct, sir.

Got a good charge.

Right, Chief.

We'll start the asdic exercise at 2:00.

Seen this?

A report of the Admiral's inspection

last week.

"Engine room department

well-run and efficient."

That's nice of him.

"Morale of the whole ship's company

seemed excellent."

- Well, why shouldn't it be?

- Yes, that's what I was wondering.

I don't suppose the old boy's ever served

in anything smaller than a battleship,

let alone one of these things.

He probably thinks we're all slightly mad.

Liable to crack under the strain

at any moment.

But I always feel much better,

don't you, sir?

Yes. More peaceful, isn't it?

Echo, sir. Two degrees, starboard bow.

Range, 1000 yards.

Well, check that.

I can't see anything there.

Still hear it, sir.

Snipe, ask the captain to come

to control room, will you?

SNIPE:
Sir.

Captain, sir? The First Lieutenant would

like you to come to the control room.

ARMSTRONG:
All right.

What is it, Number One?

Asdic reports an echo, sir. Green two,

half a mile. I can't see anything there.

We had a fix lately, pilot?

Yes, sir,

just before the coastline disappeared.

Let's have a look.

- Still got it?

- It's disappeared now, sir.

It must have been a false echo.

Nothing on the horizon

for 50 degrees on either bow.

It was very clear, sir.

A small object, I'd say, but very clear.

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