HMS Ark Royal Torpedoed off Gibraltar

This afternoon of 13 November 1941, your aircraft carrier was returning to Gibraltar, barely some thirty miles from the mole, after ferrying fighters to Malta. A single track was enough: a torpedo from U-81 struck the starboard side, below the waterline, tearing a long gash in the hull. The engines stop, the list grows dangerously, and water is already reaching the neighbouring magazines. You are the commander, standing on a tilting bridge, and every minute counts.

Your ship is a symbol: one of the most modern carriers in the fleet, which enemy propaganda has repeatedly proclaimed sunk. To lose her would be a blow to morale as much as to naval air power in the Mediterranean. But the technical reality is implacable: the list threatens to flood the funnel uptakes and extinguish the boilers, and with them the power that drives the pumps. Without propulsion or electricity, fighting on becomes a race against the rising water. Gibraltar is near, escort destroyers are drawing up alongside you, ready to manoeuvre the moment you decide.

Three courses open up, and the crew awaits your order.