by Edwyn Gray
‘I bet you’re glad you were the one who saved the girl, sir,’ Mannon grinned. ‘I don’t fancy Morgan’s chances with that brute on the left.’
The gunner’s mate apparently shared Mannon’s apprehension. He had already been involved in the struggle to get the Chinese on deck and looked as if he had received the worst of the argument.
‘You’re pulling my leg, sir. What the hell can I do with him when I go back to Cardiff after the war? And what’s my missus going to say about it?’
Hamilton rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Fortunately, I think I know a way to solve the problem. It was a few years ago now, but I can still remember how one of our gunboat skippers got around the difficulty.’
‘What did he do, sir?’ Morgan asked eagerly, with a sideways look of vengeance at Wan Fu. ‘Threw ’em back in again?’ The Chinaman, unable to understand what was being said, glowered back at the Welshman and bared his teeth ferociously.
‘Not quite, Chief. We just take them inshore where the water’s shallow and leave them to paddle the last few yards. That way we observe the ancient custom and they don’t lose face. And ‘face’ is very important in the East.’ He turned to Mannon. ‘Take a couple of men with you, Number One, and bring Thracian's dinghy alongside.’ The two Chinamen had not understood Hamilton’s explanation and, expecting to be thrown over the side and drowned, renewed their struggle with Morgan and the other submariners as they were dragged out of the control room towards the fore hatch. The girl, however, seemed unperturbed. She stepped in front of Rapier's captain, looked up at him with her large dark eyes, and smiled. Apart from a slight difficulty with grammatical construction, her English was good, although Hamilton detected traces of an American accent.
‘I am naturally disappointed, Lieutenant,’ she told him with a wicked dimple, ‘but perhaps you are a man of wisdom. I will explain to the others.’
‘Thank you,’ Hamilton paused awkwardly. ‘What will you do about the boat? I hope it was insured.’
‘The boat is of no consequence,’ the girl said easily. ‘My father has others. I will see that he rewards you for what you have done.’
‘There’s no call for that,’ Hamilton said quickly. He didn’t want some poor Chinese fisherman giving up his life’s savings although, somehow, the girl didn’t quite fit into that picture - and the Chris Craft cruiser must have been worth all of £20,000. ‘It’s just part of the Royal Navy’s service.’ He paused and searched for something else to say. ‘You speak excellent English,’ he added a trifle lamely.
‘I ought to, Lieutenant,’ the girl laughed. ‘I graduated from Harvard two years ago. You mustn’t think that all Chinese people are peasants. And, in any case, I am half- Portuguese.’
Pandemonium suddenly erupted above their heads, as the submariners dragged the two protesting Chinamen up onto the fore casing and struggled to put them into the waiting dinghy. The din was indescribable and it sounded as if Wan Fu and his companion were fighting a battle to the death with the British sailors. Hamilton was about to start up the fore hatch ladder to try and sort matters out when he felt the girl catch hold of his arm.
‘No, Lieutenant. They are my people. I will go. They will listen to me.’
She kissed him lightly on the cheek and disappeared up the ladder before he could think of anything adequate to say....
Wan Fu’s protestations quickly faded away as Chai Chen appeared on deck. She addressed the two men sharply in Cantonese and they exchanged sheepish looks with each other. Then, with expressive shrugs, they climbed down into the dinghy without further argument.
By the time Hamilton had reached the bridge, the little boat was already threading its way past the anchored destroyers towards the shore. And as it was finally swallowed up in the evening mist the small figure, still wearing the white regulation issue submariner’s sweater, raised an arm and waved. As Hamilton waved back, he suddenly realized that he didn’t even know her name....
Commander Aritsu unhooked his sword and laid it carefully on top of the low bamboo table against the wall. Then, dismissing the two army guards, he settled back in a comfortable armchair and gestured Hamilton to join him.
‘Now that we have concluded the formalities, Lieutenant, I see no reason why we should not be friends. May I offer you a drink?’
Hamilton could think of several reasons for rejecting Aritsu’s olive-branch. The public apology delivered at the end of the funeral of the two dead aviators had been an unnerving and humiliating experience and it had taken iron discipline to go through with it. The text of the apology had been drafted by the Foreign Office representative in Hong Kong, and the hypocritical and demeaning words had stuck in his throat. Hamilton personally entertained no regrets for what he had done, and he was still seething with fury at the British authorities for imposing such an unnecessary indignity on the Royal Navy. But when Commander Aritsu invited him back to his office after the ceremony, curiosity had got the better of his feelings. The gesture of friendship, abhorrent though he found it, only served to whet his curiosity even further.
‘Thank you, Commander. A Scotch if you have one, please.’
Aritsu went across to the drink’s cabinet and busied himself with the bottles.
There was something intriguingly different about this particular Englishman and he was anxious to learn more about him. It was never possible to know too much about a potential enemy.
‘You understand, Lieutenant, that there is no enmity between your Navy and my own,’ he observed blandly as he poured a large measure of Vat 69 into Hamilton’s glass. ‘The Japanese Navy does not enjoy this sort of thing. But, just as you have to obey your masters in Whitehall, we too must carry out the instructions of our leaders in Tokyo.’ He handed the glass to Rapier's captain and then resumed his seat.
‘In the East, as you are probably aware, it is important to maintain “face”,’ he continued. ‘Japan must prove to the Chinese that she is the dominant power. We have no quarrel with Britain or America. But, if an unfortunate incident occurs, it is important that we demonstrate our equality with the Western powers by demanding, and receiving, an appropriate apology.’
‘Even when Japan is in the wrong, Commander?’ Hamilton asked sharply.
Aritsu shrugged. ‘Who is to say what is right or wrong, Lieutenant? I have no doubt that yesterday’s incident was an unfortunate error of judgment by our pilots. They were, perhaps, unlucky to have picked someone who was prepared to hit back.’
‘I may have been ordered to apologize, Commander,’ Hamilton said coldly. ‘But let there be no misunderstandings. If your aircraft or ships attack my boat again, I shall defend myself and my men in precisely the same manner.’
‘Of course you will,’ Aritsu smiled. ‘Of course. But as I have said, these incidents unhappily happen. The Japanese Army is anxious to go to war with the British Empire and the United States. Our Navy wishes friendship. We do our best to control these wild men in Tokyo but...’ he shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.
‘But why create incidents?’ Hamilton asked.
‘Because to survive as a first-class power we must control all the resources of South-East Asia. To do this we must demonstrate our superiority, so that people fear us more than they fear you.’ Aritsu leaned forward confidentially.
‘There are many colonial races, the Indians for example, who wish to be free from English domination. Such people look to Japan for their freedom. It is understandable. If the English and the Americans stopped interfering with our actions, there would be no need for these unfortunate incidents.’ The Commander sipped his drink thoughtfully.
‘Believe me, Lieutenant, there is absolutely no possibility of war between our two countries. We in the Navy are realists. We know that Japan cannot win such a conflict. We do not have the raw materials or the industrial capacity to wage war against the British Empire or the United States. Even Admiral Yamamoto agrees - and he is in the best position to understand these matters.’
�
�So you are telling me that we should let the Japanese walk all over us?’
‘Only in the cause of peace, Lieutenant. We are sitting on a powder keg - it only needs the smallest spark to start the fuse. And once the fuse has been lit, nothing can save the British Empire.’
Hamilton contemplated Aritsu’s remarks as he finished his Scotch. Despite his antipathy to the Japanese, he sensed genuine sincerity behind the commander’s words. ‘But if you think Japan must ultimately lose a war with the Western Powers why bother to start one in the first place?’ Aritsu shook his head sorrowfully. ‘In Japan we have a proverb - a man who lights fire does not expect to burn his hands. The war party in Tokyo and the Army generals do not accept the possibility of defeat. It is only the Navy that understands the risks involved. But one fact is crystal clear, Lieutenant. If war comes, it does not matter whether Japan wins or loses - British influence and power in Asia will be finished for ever!’
Hamilton drained his glass and stood up. ‘I beg to disagree, Commander, but I appreciate your frankness. I am sure our two navies can live in peace. But I repeat,’ and the submariner’s eyes hardened as he stared into Aritsu’s impassive face, ‘if anyone picks a fight with my boat again, they’ll receive exactly the same treatment your bombers did yesterday - even if it means I have to crawl on bended knees and apologize to the Emperor himself.’
‘I am sure it will not come to that, Lieutenant,’ Aritsu smiled. He held out his hand. ‘Remember, if I can be of any assistance please do not hesitate to contact me. And let us hope there will be no further incidents.’
Hamilton grasped the Commander’s hand. He realized that Aritsu was only trying to give him a friendly warning and he appreciated the gesture. But he could not help wondering whether their next meeting would be so cordial. Replacing his cap, he saluted the Japanese officer, and hurried down the steps to the waiting staff car.
Despite Aritsu’s reassurances, Hamilton was now firmly convinced that a major conflict was about to erupt in the Far East. And if the attack took place before reinforcements arrived from home waters, Hamilton could not see how the Navy would be able to defend the isolated colony with the pitifully inadequate resources at its disposal - a couple of antiquated destroyers dating back to the 1914-18 war, a few short-range MTBs and a handful of shallow-draught gunboats which, although valuable for policing duties on China’s great river highways, were totally unsuited for the task that might soon face them.
Having mentally reviewed the full extent of the British naval presence in China, Hamilton realized with something of a shock that there was only one ship in Hong Kong capable of facing the Japanese Navy on equal terms. And that ship was Rapier!
So that was the reason the Admiralty had sent him to Hong Kong. All the talk about resting and enjoying a holiday at public expense had been so much eye-wash. If his premonition was correct, Rapier would soon be fighting for survival. And all the odds would be against her....
Mannon was surprised by the skipper’s sudden change of mood. He had gone ashore that morning in the blackest of tempers and the executive officer had fully expected him to return in a similar state of mind. But, as he stepped off the gangway, Hamilton looked completely relaxed and at ease. Had Mannon known him better, he would have realized that it meant that the lieutenant was at his most dangerous.
‘Number One - I want the bunkers and water tanks topped up and every single bit of gear checked. Muster all hands in the fore-ends at six bells. I want to put them in the picture. And from now on I want this boat maintained in a condition of readiness for war. Forget about polishing the brass work and cleaning the paintwork. And another thing. We’ve only been off operational service for a few weeks, but the men are already slowing down and losing their alertness. See to it that things are tightened up.’
Mannon recovered his breath and saluted obediently. As the submarine’s executive officer, it was his job to see that the skipper’s orders were carried out down to the smallest detail. And while it was not part of his duties to reason why, he had a natural curiosity.
‘What’s happened, sir?’
‘Nothing’s happened, Number One. Just put it down to instinct. I’ll explain what it’s about when I address the men.’
It was hardly a satisfactory explanation, but Mannon knew it would be useless to press Hamilton further in his present mood. He nodded and started to make his way towards the for’ard hatch, stopping suddenly as he remembered the message.
‘By the way sir, there was a telephone call for you from a Senor Alburra just after you left this morning. He said he wanted to see you tonight. He gave an address in Macao.’
‘Must be a mistake, Number One. Who the hell do I know in Macao - we only arrived yesterday?’
‘I think he may be the owner of the Chris Craft cruiser, sir. He was very insistent. He said he thought he could be of service to you.’
‘I doubt it,’ Hamilton said shortly. ‘Probably wants to reward me for saving the crew. What’s his number - I’ll give him a ring and tell him to send a donation to the Royal Navy Benevolent Fund.’
Mannon fished a piece of paper from his trousers pocket and looked at it. ‘Sorry, sir, he didn’t give his phone number - only his address, the De Gama Oil & Wharfage Company, Isabella Strado. He asked to see you in his office at eight o’clock tonight.’
Hamilton looked thoughtful. He had no idea what Alburra wanted to see him about, but if he was in the oil business they could well share certain mutual interests. He gave Mannon no indication of what was passing through his mind.
‘On second thoughts, Number One, perhaps I will call on him this evening. But if anyone asks where I am, just tell them I’ve taken the ferry to Macao to sample the gambling tables.’
Mannon raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘Not the women, sir?’
‘All right, Number One. If you want the truth - the women as well.’
Three
‘I’ve no objection to taking part in a one-man war, sir. But I think we ought to be practical about it,’ Mannon told Hamilton as the officers gathered in the wardroom after Rapier's skipper had finished addressing the crew. ‘As you’re often fond of reminding me - I was an accountant in civvy street, and that makes me very conscious of hard facts and figures. I daresay we would run amok in the China Sea for a couple of weeks - but that’s all.’
‘Roger’s got a good point there, sir,’ O’Brien agreed. ‘We can only carry ninety-one tons of oil in the bunkers. So even at Rapier’s most economical cruising speed, our maximum patrol range will be limited to around six thousand miles.’
‘And it’s one thousand six hundred and ninety miles back to Singapore,’ Scott pointed out, after a quick reference to Reed’s Table of Distances. ‘According to my arithmetic, that leaves an effective operational endurance of less than four thousand five hundred miles - let’s say three weeks at the most.’
Hamilton looked down at his erstwhile council-of-war. ‘You’re a lot of bloody dismal Jimmies,’ he told them coldly. ‘As for making for Singapore - forget it. If the balloon goes up we stay close to the China coast. We’re the only submarine this side of Aden. It’s our job to keep the Japs busy until the Navy can send a fleet out East. And the current staff evaluation for doing this is ninety days.’
‘Well, short of stepping masts and fitting our own sails, I don’t see how we’re going to survive that long,’ O’Brien said pessimistically. ‘We’ll have burned up all our oil inside twenty-five days. What do we use for fuel after that?’
Hamilton shrugged. ‘I suppose we could hide amongst the islands and extend our operational duration that way. The important thing to remember is this: until they succeed in sinking Rapier, the Japs have got to divert valuable anti-submarine units into the area to hunt us down. Every single extra day we can remain afloat will make their attack schedule that much more difficult to maintain.’
‘I still think we should be realistic, sir,’ Mannon said patiently. ‘I agree that Hong Kong will probably fall within
a fortnight. And I agree that we shall then have nowhere to replenish our oil stocks. But don’t forget we’ll also need to replace torpedoes. Rapier carries six Mk VIIs in her tubes and a further six reloads. That means we will be limited to a maximum of twelve attacks. After that we cease to be an effective fighting unit. Once a submarine has exploded its torpedoes, it becomes a liability rather than an asset.’ Hamilton looked at them in silence for a few minutes. He knew it was a crazy plan, but once embarked on an enterprise he did not believe in looking back. He turned to Scott.
‘Start going through your charts with a fine toothcomb, Alistair. I want you to find me a small uninhabited island inside a five hundred mile radius of Hong Kong. Von Spee hid his squadron amongst the Pacific Islands in 1914 — and it took us four months to find him. So let’s take a lesson from the enemy.’
As Scott began sorting through the charts, Hamilton turned his attention to Mannon. ‘I shall want you to call on the Dockyard Superintendent tomorrow, Number One. Tell him we came out here without torpedoes and need a complete outfit. If he asks questions, you can always say we had to off-load ours at Alexandria because the Mediterranean flotillas were short of weapons.’
‘But he’ll want to examine our forms S304 and 319. And they’ll show we had a full kit on board when we left Alex, sir.’
‘You’ve got a twisted mind, Number One. You ought to have been a bloody civil servant not an accountant. Bring the forms to me and I’ll write them up so that they back up our story. I used to be good at forging the Commander’s signature for leave passes when I was serving in the Lower Deck.’
‘Aren’t you taking a bit of a chance, sir?’ O’Brien asked quietly. ‘Supposing the Japs don’t attack. How the hell are you going to wriggle out of falsifying records and getting hold of a dozen torpedoes which you weren’t authorized to draw?’