by Edwyn Gray
‘That’s my problem,’ Hamilton told him crisply. ‘I’ve been sent out here to defend Hong Kong. And I’m not going to let a load of bureaucratic bullshit stop me.’ Mannon gave up his efforts to dissuade the skipper from hanging himself. In fact, he was beginning to understand what Hamilton had in mind. A lonely and uninhabited island. A private stock of ammunition and supplies. And every man’s hand against you. It reminded him of the old Percy F. Westerman stories he used to read at school.
‘Supposing Scott finds an island, sir. What then?’ Hamilton looked at the young RN VR Executive Officer. He could see the gleam of excitement in Mannon’s eyes. Perhaps he’d misjudged him. Perhaps all chartered accountants were pirates at heart. He gave him a grin of encouragement.
‘The first thing is to lay out an anchorage and make sure we have adequate cover from air search.’ He glanced at Scott. ‘That means deep water close inshore, Pilot, and plenty of trees and vegetation.’
‘Shouldn’t be too much of a problem, sir. There aren’t any desert islands in this part of the world - the coral area is further to the south and east.’
‘Good. Once we’ve found a suitable island, we’ll transport as many supplies and as much fresh water as we can find and start building up a store’s reserve. Then we offload our torpedo outfit and come back to draw replacement weapons from the RNAD depot. With luck we should end up with twenty-four torpedoes.’
The others nodded. It sounded plausible enough. O’Brien, Rapier’s engineering officer, was the only one with any doubts.
‘That’s fine for stores and ammunition, sir. But you can’t stockpile oil willy-nilly. It will still have to be kept in tanks or, at least, barrels. And how the hell do we smuggle barrels of oil out of the depot without being spotted?’
Hamilton smiled enigmatically. ‘I’ve already thought of that one, Chief. And I think I’ve got the answer.’ He looked around the table. ‘Any more questions?’
The officers shook their heads.
‘Right,’ Hamilton told them. ‘We start loading tomorrow. And remember - if you can’t wangle it out of the depot, I shall expect you to buy the necessary supplies from the Chinese burn boats with your own money.’
The last weeks of October 1941 passed without undue incident. Rapier sailed on self-imposed exercises every four days, vanishing from sight for forty-eight hours, returning to Hong Kong noticeably lighter in draught than when she departed. Scott’s island - a small tree-covered paradise off the north-east coast of Hai-Nan- provided just the privacy Hamilton required to carry out his plan and it was soon amply stocked with reserve stores. A convenient cave close to the water’s edge provided an ideal torpedo store, although the task of manhandling the cumbersome mark VII tin fish, each weighing 4,106 pounds, was no picnic in the heat of the sun.
Hamilton, with Scott’s expert assistance, carefully surveyed the coastline around Hong Kong in search of suitable hiding places, and by the end of the month he felt confident that he could exploit the sea area to his advantage, if the necessity arose.
Stores had been a problem at first. The depot superintendent had put up a stout fight but, surrendering to O’Brien’s blarney, had finally supplied most of the items on Hamilton’s apparently inexhaustible list. The gunboat skippers, too, having been taken into Hamilton’s confidence, chipped in with useful extras and Charlotte Island rapidly developed into a miniature arsenal, as crate after crate was painstakingly hauled up the beach and hidden in the thick undergrowth. But despite the willing assistance of the other commanders, Hamilton took care not to reveal the identity of his secret base to anyone outside the circle of Rapier's officers - the fewer who knew about it the better. And although he suspected that the C-in-C and his staff had guessed what was going on, they maintained a discreet silence and asked no awkward questions.
In spite of the hectic activity at Charlotte Island, Rapier's skipper still found time to make regular visits to his newfound Portuguese friends in Macao. And, typically, he gave no reasons for his weekly jaunts across the estuary, although it was apparent from the expression on his face when he returned that Hamilton was well-satisfied with what had happened while he was there....
October passed into November without incident. The Japanese military forces in China seemed intent on maintaining a low profile and Hamilton was beginning to wonder whether he had misjudged the situation. The big Jardine & Mathieson steamers continued their normal trading routine and, despite the boom guarding the entrance to the Pearl River, the regular boats had been allowed upstream to Canton and Whampoa without hindrance from the Japanese Navy. Reports filtering through to the Colony indicated that Japanese control over the river traffic on the Yangtse Kiang further to the north had tightened; but no one in Hong Kong read any significance into the stories they received from Shanghai. The peace mission which Tokyo had dispatched to the United States suggested that their bluff had been called, and there was a general feeling amongst the Europeans that the situation would soon ease.
Ernie Blood was supervising a deck washing party on the foredeck casing at the beginning of the afternoon watch, when a grey painted staff car hooted its way through the dockyard and screeched to a halt at the head of the mooring gangway. Hamilton and the other officers were below in the wardroom finishing their lunch, and the rest of the submarine’s crew were busy stacking the latest consignment of illicit stores, ready for the next shuttle run to Charlotte Island.
As a result of Hamilton’s orders, Rapier was on war routine and peacetime regulations had been relaxed in order to get the work done. The customary welcoming deck parties and correctly bedecked officer-of-the-watch pacing aimlessly up and down the narrow bridge, were conspicuously absent. But if discipline and ceremonial were not immediately apparent, Hamilton’s security precautions certainly were. Two members of the submarine’s crew armed with rifles and fixed bayonets stood guard over the dockyard end of the gangway while a third, perched high up the conning tower, kept an eagle-eyed watch over the quayside - the Lewis gun at his side ready to give instant support to the sentries if required.
The door of the Hillman staff car swung open and Captain Snark emerged. His white tropical uniform had lost its usual crisp freshness. Large sweat stains marked his shirt and he looked tired and haggard.
The two sentries snapped to attention and presented arms as he hurried across the burning concrete. There was no red tape about Hamilton’s security system. The men were quite familiar with Snark’s identity and he was passed through onto the gangway without question. Ernie Blood straightened up as he saw the captain approaching. Throwing a half-smoked cigarette into the dock, he hurried to the base of the conning tower and shouted to the Leading seaman standing beside the Lewis gun.
‘Bladon! Tell the skipper Alice is coming aboard.’ Snark’s nickname had obvious connotations. ‘At the double!’
Bladon’s head disappeared behind the bridge screen as he reported Snark’s unexpected arrival to the control room and, seconds later, Bell, the duty runner, delivered the news to the wardroom.
Hamilton put his coffee down and wiped his mouth. ‘Thank you, Bell. Tell the gunner’s mate to report to me immediately.’ He seemed unperturbed by the visitation despite his companions’ apparent alarm.
‘Shouldn’t we try and do something to hide those extra stores, sir?’ Mannon asked anxiously.
‘No time,’ Hamilton told him with a shake of his head. ‘Snark knows very little about submarine routine. I doubt if he’ll notice anything untoward. And if he does, I’ll just have to blind him with science.’ He looked up as Morgan, Rapier’s gunner’s mate, appeared through the wardroom curtains. ‘Ah, there you are, Chief. Captain Snark is coming up the gangway. Assemble the tidiest looking men you can find in the control room, and tell the rest to make themselves scarce in the fore and aft ends.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
Hamilton finished his coffee with unhurried pleasure. ‘There’s no call for panic, gentlemen,’ he told the other officers quietly. �
��Probably just a routine visit. I’ll get rid of him as soon as I can.’
Able Seaman Bell reappeared. Thrusting his head through the wardroom curtains like a spirit at a seance he announced sepulchrally: ‘Captain coming down the control room ladder, sir. The Gunner says the men are fallen in as ordered.’ Having imparted his news in a voice of doom, he entered the wardroom and saluted smartly.
Hamilton acknowledged the courtesy and nodded to Mannon. ‘Come on, Number One. And try not to look so bloody guilty. Let’s find out what the old bastard wants. Perhaps he just needs me to make up a four for bridge this evening.’
Snark was waiting by the diving panel as Hamilton and his executive officer came through the for’ard bulkhead hatch. He eyed Rapier’s skipper belligerently.
‘Boat’s like a bloody pigsty, Lieutenant,’ he grumbled. ‘Lucky for you this isn’t an inspection. I like to see a ship clean and tidy. Shows efficiency.’
‘Rapier is fully armed and stored and ready to sail at thirty minutes’ notice, sir,’ Hamilton pointed out quietly. ‘That’s the sort of efficiency I look for.’
Snark snorted. His mission was too urgent to bandy words with a mere two-striper. ‘Dismiss the men, Mister Gunner,’ he growled at Morgan.
The gunner’s mate came to attention and saluted. Snark smiled sardonically. That was the way he liked to see things done. When he said jump - they jumped! Morgan completed his salute and turned to Hamilton.
‘Permission to fall out the men, sir?’
‘Granted, Chief. Tell them to wait in the fore-ends mess space.’
Snark swallowed his anger. There was no mistaking Morgan’s studied insolence. But the post captain had been in the service long enough to know there was nothing he could do about it. Hamilton was Rapier’s captain and, on his own ship, his word was law despite his inferior rank. As soon as the control room was empty, Snark delivered his bombshell.
‘The Japanese have taken Firefly!’
Hamilton accepted the news without any sign of surprise. He thought the Japs had been too quiet recently. But he could not help wondering whether Harry Ottershaw was all right, and he reflected bitterly on the uselessness of the Station’s Standing Orders not to provoke the Japanese. It hadn’t done Ottershaw much good by the sound of it. ‘How did it happen, sir?’ he asked.
‘We’ve been shadowing the Japanese troop convoys passing down the coast,’ Snark explained briefly and, as Hamilton raised his eyebrows, he added: ‘Just because Higher Authority imposes restrictors upon our behavior, does not mean that the Navy is content to take an inactive role in the defense of our Far Eastern dependencies, Lieutenant, although I realize that this is your impression of the Hong Kong Station. We have been keeping Japanese warships under surveillance for several months. And we’ve learned a thing or two.’ He paused for a moment. 'Firefly was sent out to investigate a large troop convoy coming out from Shanghai. The ships were outside the three-mile limit, so Ottershaw had every right to be there. We don’t know precisely what happened, but Firefly was forced into Hai-An Bay and the Japanese have boxed her in.’
‘For what reason, sir?’
Snark shrugged. ‘We’ve no idea. They haven’t communicated with us yet and it’s all a bit of a mystery. No doubt they’ve got something up their sleeve.’
‘Can’t we send out a destroyer, sir?’ Hamilton suggested.
‘Unfortunately not,’ Snark said shaking his head. ‘For two reasons. Firstly we have no ships. Thanet and Thracian are cruising off Amoy Island on exercises and Scout is in dry-dock for rudder repairs and bottom scraping. And, secondly, even if they were available they would be unable to assist. The Japs have thrown a temporary boom across the entrance to the bay to make sure Firefly can’t escape.’
‘Are we in radio contact with the gunboat?’ Hamilton asked. ‘Surely we could tell Ottershaw to ram the boom and break out. The other gunboats could be sent in to give him support.’
‘It’s not as easy as that,’ Snark told him gloomily. ‘If Firefly tries to escape, Ottershaw will be left behind. Apparently he’s been taken aboard the Japanese destroyer for what they diplomatically called discussions.’ The captain paused for a moment and then looked Hamilton in the eye. ‘That’s where Rapier comes into the picture.’
‘If it means a chance of having a crack at the Japs...’ Hamilton began, but Snark cut him short.
‘I know you have a reputation for disobeying orders, Lieutenant. But this time you will have to be careful. Ottershaw’s life will depend on your handling of what looks to be a very tricky situation.’ Snark picked up a sheet of paper from the chart table and sketched an outline of Hai-An Bay. He marked two crosses inside the bay and drew a straight line across the entrance to represent the boom. His pencil tapped one of the crosses. ‘This is Firefly's present mooring position. And the destroyer is anchored here. As you can see, the Japanese commander is able to cover both the gunboat and the entrance with his main armament. If he gets any sort of warning, he can sink the gunboat within seconds and still have time to deal with the rescue boat.’
Hamilton forgot his dislike of the captain as he concentrated on the practicalities of the problem. At a time like this, they were all members of the same team and personal feelings could not be allowed to intervene.
‘I take it that Ottershaw is aboard the destroyer?’ he asked quietly.
Snark nodded. ‘As far as we know - yes. And that’s the crux of the problem. A consensus of Staff opinion is that a submarine could get under the boom and alongside Firefly without the Japanese being alerted. After that, any further action would be on the initiative of the submarine commander.’
‘You mean I’ll be running the show?’
‘Yes, Lieutenant. You’ll be running the show. But your orders are to take no belligerent action against the destroyer. Providing you can act quickly the Japanese commander will have no time to call up support, and on his own, I reckon a submarine and a gunboat will be sufficient odds to deter him from being foolish. Your task will be to obtain Ottershaw’s release and then bring Firefly safely back to Hong Kong.’
Snark somehow contrived to make it sound easy, but Hamilton noted that he made no effort to tell him how the impossible was to be achieved. But perhaps it was better that way. At least he could not be accused of disobeying orders. He looked down at the sketch map again.
‘What’s the depth of water inside the bay?’ he asked. ‘Ten fathoms - although it’s probably only about eight over the bar. Unfortunately we have no accurate charts for this part of the coast.’
‘Do the Japs have Asdic equipment?’
Snark shook his head. ‘Not as far as we know. You’ll only have to contend with hydrophones. And I doubt if they’ll be maintaining a listening watch. I don’t think they’ll be expecting a submarine.’
Hamilton knew it was a gamble. Taking a submarine into an uncharted bay was tantamount to suicide. And what the hell was he going to do even if he succeeded in getting under the boom. But his reputation was at stake, and the challenge to show off in front of the Colony’s top naval brass was too much to resist.
‘Very well, sir. I’ll try it. But I’ll do it my way.’
Snark looked at him coldly. ‘I’m sure you will, Lieutenant. Fortunately for you, this is how it must be. We cannot afford to antagonize the Japanese, even in a situation like this where they are entirely in the wrong. Your mission will be regarded as completely unofficial - if anything goes wrong, the authorities will make it clear that you were acting contrary to orders. Your reputation for disobedience, in fact, may prove very useful. And make no mistake about it, Lieutenant. Your head will be handed to the Japanese on a platter if the plan fails.’
And don’t you hope it will, Hamilton thought to himself. He did not, however, demur. This was the way he preferred to do things. At least he could handle the situation as it developed without the constraint of superior orders.
‘I have only one question, sir,’ he said slowly. ‘How much longer are we goin
g to play second fiddle to the Japs?’
Snark allowed himself the luxury of a thin smile. ‘Not much longer. The nucleus of a Far East Fleet is already on its way to Singapore. Two capital ships and a carrier. They should arrive next month. And there are more to follow. Take my word for it - Tokyo will be singing a very different tune once they see we mean business. But this is in the future. For the moment the situation remains unaltered. Now, how soon can you sail?’
‘In thirty minutes, sir.’ Hamilton would have liked to stress his combat readiness after Snark’s complaints about Rapier’s efficiency, but he felt the plain statement of fact was proof enough.
Snark appeared to take it as a matter of course. He had no intention of allowing Hamilton to enjoy his moral victory. The taciturn expression on his face did not soften even though he held out his hand.
‘Good luck, Hamilton. And remember - you’re on your own.’
Rapier left Hong Kong via the easterly channel. As Taikoo shipyard passed on the starboard side, Hamilton could see the destroyer Scout in dry-dock having her venerable old bottom scraped. The gunboat Moth was also ashore being refitted, and he wondered how the Navy would cope with a Japanese attack with one-third of the Station’s largest ships out of commission. Dismissing the problem from his mind, he guided the submarine through the narrows at the eastern end of the channel and altered course to the southeast towards Lam Tong Island.
Two motor torpedo boats from the 2nd Flotilla swept up from the south as Rapier came level with Pottinger Peak and their ensigns dipped in salute as they thundered past at forty knots. Lieutenant Commander Gandy, the flotilla commander, waved a cheery farewell from the spray- soaked bridge of the leading MTB and Hamilton returned the greeting. Rapier’s bows rose and fell sharply as the submarine pushed into the currents of the South China Sea and, having passed clear of Lam Tong, Hamilton altered course to the south - to mislead any shore watchers in the pay of the Japanese.
‘Stand down Harbor Stations, Number One.’