"Starboard two points," he ordered the helm. Like Calamai, h wanted more breathing room. `
Hansen brought the wheel two complete turns to the right.. The ship's bow went twenty degrees to starboard: .
"Straighten out to midships and keep her steady"
The telephone rang on the wall. Nillson went over to answer it.
"Bridge," Nillson said. Confident of a safe passing, he faced the wall, his back to the windows.
The crow's nest lookout was calling. "Lights twenty degrees to port.
"Thank you," Nillson replied, and hung up. He went over and checked the radar, unaware of the Doria's new trajectory. The blips were now so dose to each other the reading didn't make any sense to him. He went to the port wing and, without arty urgency, .raised his binoculars to his eyes and focused on the fights.
Calmness deserted him.
"My God." He gasped, seeing the change in the masthead lights for the first time.
The high and low lights had reversed themselves: The ship no longer had its red portside light to him. The light was green. Starboard side. Since he'd last looked, the other ship seemed to have made a sharp turn to its left.
Now the blazing deck lights of a huge black ship loomed from the thick fog balk .that had kept it hidden and presented its right side directly in the path of the speeding Stockholm.
He shouted a course change. "Hard astarboard!"
Spinning around, he gripped the levers of the ship's telegraph with both hands, yanked them to Stop, then all the way down as if he could bring the ship to a halt by sheer determination. An insane jangle filled the air.
Full Speed Astern.
Nillson turned back to the helm. Hansen stood there like a stone guardian outside a pagan temple.
"Damn it, I said hard astarboard!" Nillson shouted, his voice hoarse.
Hansen began to turn the wheel. Nillson couldn't believe his eyes. Hansen wasn't rotating the wheel to starboard, which would have given them a chance, even a slight one, to avoid a collision. He spun it slowly and deliberately to the left.
The Stockholm's bow swung into a deadly turn.
Nillson heard a foghorn, knew it must belong to the other ship.
The engine room was in chaos: The crew was frantically turning the wheel that would stop the starboard engine. They scrambled to open the valves that would reverse power and stop the port engine. The ship shuddered as braking took hold Too late. The Stockholm flew like an arrow at the unprotected ship.
In the port wing Nillson hung on grimly to the ship's telegraph.
Like Nillson, Captain Calamai had watched the masthead, lights materialize, reverse themselves, saw the red portside light glowing like a ruby on back velvet. Realized the other ship had made a sharp right turn directly into the Doria's path.
No warning. No foghorn or whistle.
Stopping was out of the question at this speed. The ship would need miles of room to skid to a halt.
Calamai had seconds to act. He could order a right turn,
directly toward the danger, hoping that the ships would brush each other. Maybe the speeding Maria could outrun the attacking ship..
Calamai made a desperate decision.
All left," he barked.
A bridge officer called out. Did the captain want the engines shut down? Calamai shook his head. "Maintain full speed." He knew the Doria turned better at higher velocity. .
In a blur of spokes the helmsman whipped t