by Peter Watt
Almost immediately Iris felt the gloom return. The Kelly men were God knows where in Papua or the Pacific. Whichever one was to return first would do. In the meantime it was a matter of keeping on very careful guard against Sen, who had been particularly distant towards her since she had gone to his office and discovered the radio.
The bombs hit the water and detonated just off the starboard side of the schooner, spraying a deluge of water over the men on the deck and knocking Momis from his feet. The Japanese floatplane climbed over the mast and from where he lay Lukas thought he could see a thin streak of grey smoke trailing from the engine cowling.
‘You okay?’ he called to Momis, who struggled to his feet with water cascading down his bare chest.
‘Me oright, masta,’ Morris replied shakily, turning to peer at the low-flying plane flying away from them. ‘Me tink me shoot ’ im down,’ he shouted jubilantly. ‘Jap man plane, he no oright.’
Lukas could hear a distinctive coughing noise in the once steady throb of the departing aircraft’s engine. One of Momis’s bullets must have found a mark, he thought, and felt like whooping a victory cry of delight. Had the Independence claimed its first kill for the war?
‘I think you are right,’ he called back to the beaming Islander. ‘I don’t think the little bastard is going to make it home.’
The aircraft was heading for the horizon trailing a thin plume of oily smoke and Lukas could see that it was in definite trouble. But to claim a kill they would need evidence to show the authorities in Port Moresby. Boy! What a story he could tell his father. Rifleman Lukas Kelly of the NGVR had shot down a Jap plane. As captain of his schooner the kill would be accredited to him, with due recognition going to Momis as the gunner.
The aircraft was close to the horizon and Lukas made a quick bearing on its course. It was like a wounded bird seeking the safety of quiet waters. With any luck they might even find where it had gone down and take the pilot and his gunner prisoners – if they were still alive.
The pastor, Ilsa and Megan came on deck as soon as they heard the two men shouting their elation above them. The attack had been so sudden and unexpected that they had only time to scramble for life jackets and get them on. Blown from their feet by the bombs exploding in the water nearby, by the time they had regained their balance the fight was over. They were visibly shaken but had the courage to come above deck. Megan checked if anyone required her medical expertise. She could not see blood or other signs of injury to either Momis or Lukas. Both grinned savagely at her questioning expression. ‘We got the bastard,’ Lukas exploded happily. ‘And now it’s time to go and claim our kill before the sharks do.’
Megan had her doubts about his enthusiasm to hunt the downed aircraft. What if the fight had attracted less than welcome attention from Japanese ships or other aircraft in the area? Lukas Kelly looked every bit the old style pirate with his savage expression and she had no doubt it was some kind of male bravado to be prepared to risk all in pursuit of a trophy.
Megan was right to have her doubts. The pilot had been able to transmit a mayday call before ditching his aircraft in the sea. The call was picked up by a surfaced Japanese submarine assigned for rescuing pilots shot down over water. She was the I–47 commanded by Captain Kenshu and aboard his boat was Leading Seaman Fuji Komine.
The Japanese captain quickly plotted his course to the downed aircraft and gave the order to dive. Daylight was upon them and other craft would be prowling about. It would be a furious dash underwater to the last known location reported by the Japanese pilot as he ditched his plane in calm seas. The submarine’s captain knew without a doubt that the distress signal would have been picked up by Allied stations listening in New Guinea as well as by patrolling enemy warships. The plane had come down very close to his own location in the Solomon Sea so he calculated that he had the best chance to rescue the pilot.
Submarine and schooner both raced for the same location oblivious to the other’s proximity.
Sweat trickled down Fuji’s face as he wiped up the last of his meal of dried fish and rice from the bowl with his fingers. He could hear the conning tower hatch slammed shut and the submarine’s crew scrambling to man their stations. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked a sailor scurrying past towards the torpedo room.
‘We are going to pick up one of our pilots,’ the sailor replied over his shoulder.
Fuji wiped his fingers on his loin cloth. He would take up his station in the engine room, where he assisted the officer to maintain the sub’s diesel and electric engines during actions. The heat of the tropics in the confined quarters was beginning to dissipate as the sub descended into the cooler levels of the ocean. Fuji had adapted to being a submariner with ease. He was able to operate in waters he had come to know in his youth and at last felt he had a place in the Japanese navy. He was now part of a lethal fighting machine, prowling in search of the enemy. It was like living in the belly of a shark – a predator of the unwary.
Fuji’s primary role was not in the engine room but up on deck, where he would be when the time came to be slipped ashore on various intelligence gathering missions. So far he had not been deployed on land as the I–47 had been assigned a roving charter to locate and destroy enemy shipping, and rescue downed pilots.
Fuji had heard from others in the crew that the young, ambitious captain of the I–47 was not pleased with the current tactics employed by his superiors in the Imperial navy. He had closely studied their German ally’s tactics of forming wolf packs of U boats to intercept convoys or armed armadas of capital ships. It was with force of numbers that the Germans had been successful in sinking a massive amount of British tonnage. In his quietly spoken opinion, the captain believed this single use of Imperial subs was a tragic waste of a war-winning tool. But he did his duty despite his personal opinions and now could at least see some wisdom in his superiors’ deployment of his own sub. A comrade was in trouble and they were best equipped to rescue him.
Just after the attack by the Japanese seaplane the wind had suddenly dropped and Lukas had been forced to use the schooner’s engine to power them through the relatively placid seas. This made him a little uneasy as his speed had been reduced. He knew that he was dallying in dangerous waters when he should have been making all haste away from the location of the Japanese floatplane. However, his desire to find the downed aircraft and possibly take its pilot prisoner overrode all caution.
Just before midday Momis spotted the stricken aircraft floating upside down in the sea. ‘I see him!’ he yelled like an old-time whaling man spotting his prey.
Even Megan felt her misgivings disappear when she was able to see the wreckage. She too had become caught up in Lukas’s infectious enthusiasm to pursue his war at sea although she secretly feared for his safety. ‘I see it,’ she called in her excitement, grabbing Lukas by the arm as he swung the helm to track towards the downed aircraft. Under her fingers she could feel the steel-hard muscle of his arm.
‘Jap man, he on top of plane,’ Momis continued, peering towards their target. ‘Me tink he oright.’
‘Looks like I will be conveying four passengers to Lae,’Lukas said, cutting back on the engine to bring the schooner into a glide towards the plane. ‘Albeit one just a little unwilling.’
He was aware that the pilot would most probably be armed but was satisfied that the revolver on his hip and the Lewis mounted on the bow would be sufficient to convince the Japanese pilot he was a prisoner of war. Lukas was only a stone’s throw from the floating plane wreckage when Momis shouted the warning. Any excitement that Megan may have felt disappeared in a flash as the calm waters were disturbed by the black bow of a surfacing submarine on the other side of the downed plane.
‘God almighty!’ Lukas swore, as the rest of the surfacing sub came into sight and so too did the rising sun ensign on the conning tower. ‘I think we have big trouble.’
Now Megan gripped Lukas’ arm in her own terror. She had heard the stories of how Europeans were tr
eated by the Japanese. All she could do was pray for a quick and merciful death.
Captain Kenshu had picked up the profile of the Independence in his periscope a quarter of a mile away. Somehow it had looked familiar and when the I–47 moved closer he could see the schooner’s name proudly displayed on the bow. Either he was staring at a ghost ship or his efforts to sink the schooner before the war had failed. Kenshu was not superstitious but thanked his illustrious ancestors anyway for giving him a second chance to finish what he should have done many months earlier. He called for Fuji to join him on the sub’s bridge. There was no rush to immediately sink the schooner which had unwittingly sailed into a trap. He would send over a boarding crew to see if anything of military value could be found and then have his deck gun sink it, thus saving valuable torpedoes for bigger targets.
‘Boarding crew prepare to go over,’ he commanded his executive officer. ‘We have a schooner to board. Leading Seaman Fuji, you will go with the boarding crew to act as interpreter in any interrogations.’
Lukas was momentarily frozen into indecision at the sight of the Japanese submarine now fully surfaced and with armed crew spilling from the open hatches. He cursed himself for his stupidity and wished now that he had attempted to establish radio contact with a coast watcher to merely report the suspected location of a downed Jap seaplane. But his pride had got the best of him and he had ploughed, boots and all, into an unexpected trap. His three passengers stood on the deck, white-faced and silent, watching the Japanese sailors manning the 5.5 inch deck gun whilst others hauled up two rubber dinghies from below and launched them expertly into the sea beside the surfaced sub.
Momis refused to leave his precious gun but had the sense not to appear threatening with it. It was no match against the far superior firepower of the enemy. Lukas’ other two crew members stood sullenly apart, staring accusingly at their captain who had got them into this terrible predicament. The Japanese dinghy crews rowed with strong strokes through the water, one heading for the downed pilot and the other towards them.
‘What do we do?’ Megan asked in a whisper, although the Japanese boarding party was still a good 200 yards away.
‘We don’t have much choice,’ Lukas replied weakly, his stomach churning with bitterness. How could he have been so foolish as to have endangered his passengers for the sake of his own pride? ‘We wait and see if the little bastards will at least let us go in our dinghy before they sink the Independence. I suspect that is the best we can expect.’
‘You are not very reassuring,’ Megan retorted. ‘I thought you might have had a better idea.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lukas replied. ‘I can only ask your forgiveness for my stupidity. I acted like a bloody drongo.’
The dinghy, manned by four armed sub crewmen, was almost alongside them when one of them carefully stood up, balancing himself against the gentle swell of the sea. ‘Let the captain of the Independence show himself,’ he commanded.
Lukas was struck by his perfect English and walked to the railing to show himself. ‘I am the master of the schooner, Inde–’ His reply was cut short when he stared down into the eyes of Fuji Komine. ‘Fuji?’ he uttered loud enough to be heard, noticing that his appearance at the rail had also visibly shaken his former primary school mate.
‘Lukas,’ Fuji almost stammered. ‘We are coming aboard,’he continued as harshly as he could. ‘If you have any arms they are to be disclosed now and all passengers and crew are to assemble forward.’
Lukas turned to his passengers and crew, who moved forward as they had been instructed.
‘All hands on heads,’ Fuji continued as he took hold of the railing and scrambled aboard to wave a pistol at Lukas and the rest of the group, now standing uncertainly with their hands in the air whilst the schooner rocked gently beneath their feet. The rest of the boarding party followed.
‘I would appeal to your honour to spare the crew and passengers,’ Lukas said when Fuji stood before him. ‘If for nothing else but old times sake.’
‘You are the enemy and have allowed yourself dishonour in being so easily captured,’ Fuji sneered. ‘You cannot expect to be treated with honour.’
‘A bloody civilian schooner against your sub,’ Lukas spat. ‘You call that a duel of honour? If nothing else I was able to shoot down one of your glorious navy planes,’ he continued, indicating the wreckage of the floatplane in the water.
‘It was you who shot down our plane?’ Fuji asked with just a hint of respect in his voice. ‘With what?’
‘With my Lewis gun mounted on the bow. Your pilot was trying to sink me.’
Fuji turned to his companions guarding the prisoners and spoke to them in Japanese. As they muttered in response their expressions seemed to indicate a little more respect for the master of the schooner and his crew. ‘I told them of your feat,’ Fuji said, turning back to Lukas. ‘Your capture carries with it a little less dishonour.’
‘If you are an honourable man, Fuji, you will allow my crew and passengers the use of the schooner’s dinghy and appropriate rations so they can be picked up by one of our own. I know that you are not about to let me go alive but at least for the sake of our links with Papua, let them go.’
‘It is not up to me,’ Fuji hissed quietly. ‘I agree that we should let your crew and passengers go, and you are right about me killing you. I have no doubt you have forgotten that day on the beach at the Mann plantation when your friend Karl Mann struck my father, forcing him to lose face before his son. Such matters must be paid for in blood.’
‘That was when we were kids,’ Lukas exclaimed. ‘You mean to say that you are still carrying that minor incident as a chip on your shoulder even now? What sort of drongo are you?’
Fuji’s face reddened and with the speed of a striking snake he struck out with the butt of the pistol and hit Lukas in the face. Lukas felt the butt strike his nose and although blood instantly spattered over both men the Australian did not instinctively attempt to put his hand to his face. To do so would show the Japanese sailor he had hurt him. Lukas had only one weapon to hurt the man before him – his pride and defiance.
Then it all happened so fast. The first Lukas knew of the approaching aircraft was an urgent hooting sound coming from the surfaced submarine, followed by shouting from the conning tower. Fuji and his boarding party must have recognised the signal, as looks of alarm crossed their faces followed by expressions of uncertainty. As Fuji was in command of the boarding party he knew that he had only precious minutes, if not seconds, left to return to the submarine before it was forced to crash dive for safety. He glanced around desperately to ascertain the situation and spotted the low-flying twin-engined, snub-nosed Beaufighter bomber approaching from the east.
Lukas was in no doubt of what he must do if they were to survive. He lunged for Fuji and both men went down on the deck. Momis roared and charged the three remaining Japanese guards, who fired in panic, caught between their need to flee the oncoming aircraft bent on killing them, and their duty to execute the prisoners. One of the Japanese guards made his choice and opened fire on the prisoners. Two in the party died almost instantly as bullets ripped into their close packed ranks. The remaining boarding party did not wait to finish off those still standing. They were already leaping into the dinghy leaving the schooner behind.
Fuji lashed out at Lukas, striking the bigger man in the face once more. With a grunt of pain Lukas relaxed his grip. Suddenly he was aware that Momis’ thick brown arms were being thrust between him and Fuji. Lukas rolled away as Momis hauled up the smaller man and tossed him over the side. With a splash, Fuji hit the water and sank from sight.
Without hesitating, Lukas scrambled to his feet, blood trailing from his nose. He threw himself towards the Lewis gun. The low-flying RAAF aircraft roared overhead, her nose-mounted machine guns blasting a stitch of bullets into the hull of the Japanese sub.
Lukas swivelled the Lewis gun towards the submarine’s deck, where the gun crew had been waiting for their c
omrades to clear the decks of the schooner before firing. The bullets from the Lewis gun splashed across the water, seeking out the submarine’s gun crew. They fired wildly in retaliation and Lukas heard the shell pass dangerously close overhead to explode in a column of water a few hundred yards away.
The sound of the Lewis gun firing on a continuous burst was drowned out by the roaring sound of the aircraft overhead firing its own machine guns. The noise was deafening but Lukas knew the sub teetered between destruction and survival – and a submarine caught on the surface by an armed aircraft was like a turtle on its back.
The I–47 did not wait for the return of its boarding party but commenced its dive to the deepest depth it could allow, until only white water marked where it had been moments before. The Beaufighter climbed to make another run and Lukas tore off the empty magazine when the Lewis gun stopped firing to slam on another. As he did so he turned to see the bodies of his comrades crumpled in pools of blood, staring skyward with sightless eyes. With a sob of fury Lukas turned to find the dinghy with the three Japanese sailors. It was a hundred yards out and he carefully set the sights on the machine gun. With controlled bursts of fire he poured the .303 bullets into the bunched sailors in the dinghy. His aim was true and the water surrounding the small craft soon turned crimson. If any were left alive then the blood would bring the sharks to finish them off. His rage spent, it was time to turn to the welfare of his crew and passengers – those that were left alive.
The Beaufighter made a rolling turn to swoop over the Independence and with a waggle of its wings made another turn to fly to its airfield somewhere in New Guinea or Papua, leaving Lukas as the victor in the schooner’s second clash with the I–47.