THE PLANE STAYED THERE, limping up and down like a tired mosquito, close to the horizon. It’d be almost out of sight to the north, then Soames would see the light on its wings as it banked and turned, and it’d go back over its course again until it was just a speck on the submarine’s starboard quarter. A set and steady patrol.
Just before Crawshaw took over from Soames at eight-thirty, a second plane appeared. For about ten minutes they were both in sight then the first one turned away towards Norway and flew into the horizon. The new one - a seaplane like the first - kept up the same monotonous up-and-down routine.
MacGregor concluded that they were gaining nothing by watching the aircraft, and only taking a risk, however slight it was at this range, of being spotted. He sent the perisc
