Peter Benchley's Creature Read Free

of the bridge and sought footing on the interior ladder, he felt the thrum of engines and a sensation of motion forward and down.
    The hatch clanged shut above him, the crewman shimmied past him down the side of the ladder, and Kruger found himself standing on the bottom rung, naked, drenched, a film of soap running down his legs.
    Hoffmann was bent over the periscope. "Pull the plug, Chief," he said, "we're taking her down."
    Kruger said, "On the deck, one of the—"
    "Periscope depth," the chief called. "E motors half speed."
    Hoffmann spun the periscope ninety degrees. "Son of a bitch ,"he said. "The bastard's coming back."
    "He didn't fire on us," Kruger said. "I think you—"
    "He will this time; he was just making sure. He's not about to let a U-boat get across the Atlantic, war or no war. Forward down fifteen, aft down ten. Take her to a hundred meters."
    Hoffmann slammed the wings of the periscope up and pushed the retractor button, and the gleaming steel tube slid downward. He glanced at Kruger, noted the stricken look on his face and said, "Don't worry, we're a needle in a haystack. Night's coming on, and the chances of his finding us—"
    "Fifty meters!" called the chief.
    "On the deck," Kruger said. "I saw a ... one of the pieces of metal . . . have you taken this boat to a hundred meters before?"
    "Of course. Dozens of times."
    "Seventy meters, Herr Kaleu!"

    At seventy meters below the surface, there was nearly a hundred pounds of water pressure on every square inch of the submarine's hull. The boat had been designed to operate safely at more than twice that depth, and had done so many times. But when the forward deck plates had been removed to take on Kruger's cargo, one of the welders assigned to replace them had worked too hastily. A few superficial, inconsequential welds had failed during the shallow dives, but all the critical ones had held. Now, however, with thousands of tons of water squeezing the hull like a living fist, one gave way.

    There was a noise forward, a resonant boom, and the boat lurched downward. Men were thrown from their seats; Kruger slammed into the ladder, bounced off and then grabbed it to keep from pitching down the passageway.
    Hoffmann's feet skidded out from under him, and he clutched the periscope.
    "Emergency surface!" he shouted. "Bring her up! All back full! Blow fore and aft!" He shot a glance at Kruger. "Did you dog the forward hatch?"
    "I can't remem—"
    There was another boom then as the forward hatch blew open, and a solid jet of water five feet high and three feet across blasted from the torpedo room through the petty officers' quarters. It rushed into the galley and the officers' wardroom.
    "Ninety meters, Herr Kaleu!" a voice shrieked.
    The boat continued down. Kruger suddenly felt weightless, as if he were in an elevator.
    There were loud creaking noises; somewhere a pipe burst; there was a hiss of steam. The control room filled with the sour smell of sweat, then of urine, and, at last, of oil and feces.
    Another boom, at two hundred meters.
    Darkness. Screams. Wailing.
    In the millisecond before he died, Ernst Kruger reached a hand forward, toward the torpedo room, toward the future.

    4

    THE submarine sank swiftly. It plummeted, bow first, to a thousand feet. There, well beyond its test depth, the pressure hull finally gave way, in a dozen places at once. Air rushed from ruptures of torn metal, the boat shuddered and torqued. Its hydrodynamics destroyed, it began to tumble.
    Down, down it went, passing through two thousand feet, then five thousand. And with every thirty-three feet another fifteen pounds of water pressure forced the hull, rushed into tiny pockets of residual air and crushed them like grapes. At ten thousand feet, more than two tons of water pressed against every square millimeter of steel, and the last scintilla of air popped from the shattered hulk and drifted upward in the darkness.
    The submarine descended as if it were a discarded soda can,