The Enemy Below

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- Evenin', doc.

- Hello, Rimfire.

Doesn't the navy ever

run out of potatoes?

This ship sure don't.

- Evenin', Doctor.

- Ellis. Johnny. Hot below.

Sure is. I'm gonna sleep

topside tonight.

Not for long. We're getting

the tail end of a storm in the midwatch.

A man can't plan much ahead

at all, can he?

Not much.

All right, break it up.

Make room for a workin' sailor.

Just keep workin', man.

You're lucky you don't get it

on your heads.

Come and get it, you hungry buzzards.

Here's another one.

Who's got a light?

Those sharks.

- Ain't they nasty things?

- They're just fish.

Corky, what do you think of the captain

they sent to take old Pinky's place?

I ain't supposed to think.

You know somethin'? He ain't left

his cabin since we left Trinidad.

What's he doing?

Playing acey-deucy by himself?

I'll tell you what he's doin'.

He's seasick!

That's what the navy's comin' to.

Seasick feather merchants

takin' the place of regular navy.

Man, I just hope this guy knows

port from starboard, that's all.

You know what I'd do if I was you,

Robbins?

I'd just put in for the skipper's job

if I was you.

All right. Did you have your laugh?

Well, now I'm gonna tell you somethin'.

The guy who walks that bridge

has got your neck in his hands,

and don't you forget it.

Thanks, Salvador.

- You've got us down 200, partner.

- Sorry, sir.

- Six spades.

- I thought I could do it, sir.

- Well, don't go off half-cocked again.

- No, sir.

- Any sign of the weather, doc?

- Filling up in the east.

Jolly, jolly. And I've got the watch.

- I pass.

- What? Haven't you got anything?

- Why don't you just look at his hand?

- Well, I have to help him along.

- I suppose I could try a heart, sir.

- He supposes he could try a heart, sir.

- Two clubs.

- Captain Murrell still holed up, doc?

- Far as I know.

- Three diamonds.

They might have sent us

a captain who had his sea legs.

I guess they do the best they can.

I don't see why they didn't move Ware up,

He's been exec long enough.

Mackeson, the only craft I ever commanded

was a yawl in the Miami yacht races.

The nearest I ever came to winning

was 29th.

The navy was desperate enough

to take me,

but not foolish enough

to let me sail away by myself.

- Beats me how I ever got this far.

- Money.

- I know you're rich.

- Don't be bitter, grandpa.

Your bid, Mackeson.

- Four spades.

- I'm not bitter. I just wanna go home.

When I've bought a ranch in Nevada,

I never expect to see water again.

- Ensign Merry?

- Sir?

Your bid.

- Careful.

- Yes, sir. I'm thinking about it.

- Your mouth's open, Ensign.

- Sir?

- Are you gonna bid?

- Six diamonds.

- Six diamonds?

- I'm just backing you up, sir.

You are deliberately

distracting my partner.

Pass and double.

All right, Mr. Merry. Dummy.

This Murrell seems like

a cold sort of a fish.

Captain Murrell oughtn't to be here at all.

He's as weak as a kitten.

A man who gets his ship torpedoed

and spends 25 days on a raft

in the North Atlantic

oughtn't to have to hit the ball again

with only a few weeks in the hospital.

I guess there aren't enough

commanding officers to go around.

Well, at least they gave him

an easy ship.

Boy, easy's no word for it.

Listen, he'll get more rest on this boat...

- Ship.

- Ship, boat. What's the difference?

He'll still get more rest here

than he would if he were in a feather bed.

Now, me, I'd like something

to happen once in a while.

If the navy ever gets a load of this crew

in battle, they'll send us back to boot camp.

I'll look ridiculous

with my head shaved.

Kid, couldn't you have indicated clubs?

Then I could have gone to no-trump.

We are going down again. And doubled.

Sorry, sir.

All right.

- Your lead, Mackeson.

- Now hear this.

Lay before the mast

all eight o'clock reports.

Darken ship. The smoking lamp

is out on all weather decks.

We'll slow her down a little.

All engines ahead two-thirds.

Bridge, Radar. I've got a spook.

- Radar contact, Mr. Ware.

- What?

- Radar contact.

- Good heavens.

- Bridge, aye?

- Definite spook, sir.

- Strong enough to plot?

- Range:
12,000 off the starboard bow.

- Get on the plot, Mackeson.

- Captain, aye.

Radar reports a contact

off starboard bow, sir.

- Run a plot on it.

- Plot's working, sir.

- Then head for the target.

- Aye aye, sir.

- Zigzag, sir?

- What would you say, mister?

Me? Well, negative zigzag, sir.

Give the plot a chance to steady on.

That's right, mister.

- Give me that again, Radar.

- Did you get it?

Estimated target's course 140,

speed ten knots, bearing 124 true.

Bring her around to 124.

All engines ahead flank.

- Can't seem to make up his mind.

- Maybe he wants to see if I'm awake.

- What's the rush? - I don't know,

but we're sure juicin' it up.

What's the word?

Radar's got somethin'.

We're going after it.

- What's up?

- He says they got a bogey.

Hurry. Come on, wake up.

- We're going after it.

- You don't wanna miss it.

Gangway.

Gangway, please.

I was here first. Gangway yourself.

Excuse me, sir.

Break it up. Let the captain in.

- What's all the crowd about, sailor?

- Well, sir,

I guess we don't get much excitement

aboard this ship.

- Keep your seat. What's your name?

- Andrews, sir.

- What do you make of it?

- I don't know, Captain.

- Our speed's rattling the set.

- Guess. You're the operator.

It's doing ten knots.

It's got some power, but it's

too small a spook to be a heavy vessel.

It might be a fishing smack, or it

might be the conning tower of a sub, sir.

- Bridge. Lieutenant Ware.

- Mr. Ware.

We're about to lose radar contact

at the rate we're going.

Reduce speed to speed of target

and get on its tail.

At this distance,

we'll make visual contact at daybreak.

- Shall I shake the ship out for a standby?

- Not much shaking out to be done.

But ready underwater search gear.

If this spook is a U-boat,

he might pull the plug,

and we'll have to go after him.

- Who's the senior radarman, Andrews?

- That's me, sir.

You track the target.

Any turn or change in speed,

no matter how small, don't miss it.

I'll stick on him,

don't you worry, Captain.

All right, I won't.

If anybody's gonna be caught

with his pants down, it oughtn't to be us.

Seems like he knows his business, to me.

Feather merchant,

that's all I got to say.

Signal is to stern,

Herr Kapitn. 8,000 meters.

It's either a ship or a false echo.

You've lost it.

It comes and goes.

The sea return makes it difficult

to keep the image.

There, Kapitn. There it comes.

Port 20 degrees, Schwaffer.

- Target's course changing to port.

- Target's turning left, Captain.

25... 20 degrees.

Maintain your present speed.

Steady as you go.

May I ask what your procedure is, sir?

If this is an enemy ship,

our signal may be on his oscillator

and he's trying to feel us out -

make a couple of turns,

see if we change position.

If we can hold

an unchanging position behind him,

he may mistake us

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