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enjoying himself.
    ‘If anyone can do it, I
think you
can.’ The smile faded. ‘Anyway, I believe it’s worth a bloody good try.’
    He heaved himself upright and moved restlessly to his desk.
    ‘Last month, a U-boat outward bound from Kiel to the Atlantic developed trouble in her motors. She was not a new boat, but her crew were. Green as grass. The weather was foul at the time, blowing a Force Ten and as black as a boot. The U-boat’s skipper decided to run for shelter to carry out repairs. He chose a fjord on the east coast of Iceland. He took a risk but it probably seemed a good idea. I expect others have done it before him. God knows, the bloody Icelanders have no love for us and the Americans since we occupied their country!’ He studied Marshall for several seconds. ‘Fortunately, the skipper of a clapped-out Asdic trawler had had the same idea. They met eye to eye, so to speak!’
    Marshall stood up without knowing he had moved.
    ‘And you’ve managed to capture her rendezvous codes for their supply submarine?’
    Browning walked over and grasped his arm, his eyes dancing.
    ‘Better’n that, boy. We’ve got the bloody U-boat!’ He pointed at the side of the cabin. ‘She’s out there now.’
    Marshall stared at him.
    ‘God Almighty!’
    ‘Indeed.’ Browning smiled gently. ‘And now we’ve got a captain for her, right?’
    Marshall slumped down in the chair again. He forced a smile.
    ‘
Right
, sir.’
    Browning beamed. ‘Thought you’d like the idea. Right up your street.’ He seized the decanter. So have some more port,
Herr Kapitan
!’

2 Confrontation
    OVERNIGHT, THE RAIN had passed inland, and the wind, although as sharp as ice, had fallen away considerably.
    After a hasty breakfast in his cabin, Marshall hurried on deck where he found Captain Browning and two of the depot ship’s officers in deep conversation by the guardrail.
    Having breakfast in his temporary quarters had been another of Browning’s
suggestions
. It seemed as if he wanted to isolate Marshall completely from all distraction until the chosen moment of confrontation. The previous evening, and long into the night, Marshall had stayed with him, saying little, and content just to hear the other man outline the plan he had envisaged for so long, and which might now become reality.
    Capturing the U-boat had been a whole series of lucky incidents as far as the British were concerned. Once faced by the sheltering Asdic trawler, the German commander had tried to scuttle his boat, only to discover that the strong gale had driven him further into the fjord than he had intended. With her tanks flooded, the U-boat had come to rest on a hard shoulder, her periscope standards still awash.
    Caught in the trawler’s searchlight, and with a few warning cannon shells whining dangerously overhead, the submarine’s crew decided to surrender without further trouble. Her captain and first lieutenant were old campaigners, but the majority of the company were, as Browning had described, green as grass. Otherwise it was unlikely they would have given in without some show of fight.
    The news was flashed to the Admiralty in London, and within hours an expert salvage team was on its way by air to Reykjavik with orders to save what they could. Long hours of darkness, thick snow and a raging blizzard greeted the party when they finally reached the isolated fjord. Two divers were drowned, and several of the men received severe frostbite. But despite all this they got more than a few useful relics, they raised the U-boat and at the first easing of the weather had her in tow,
en route
for Scotland.
    While Browning’s team of experts worked round the clock to put right the U-boat’s damage and install what replacements they could lay their hands on, others kept a ceaseless radio and intelligence watch, waiting to hear that the U-boat had either been able to signal her predicament before capture, or that some agent ashore had seen the Navy’s