by Edwyn Gray
‘I daren’t take the risk, Sub. If the Japs see us raising steam they’ll think we’re going to make a dash for it. Let’s hope we can work up enough pressure when the storm breaks.’
'Officer of the Watch to the starboard side!’
The look-out’s shout brought the discussion to an abrupt end as the two officers hurried to the starboard side of the bridge to investigate. Forsyth peered down at the water. There certainly was something happening. The surface of the sea was heaving violently and streams of air bubbles were rising up from the depths like an evil brew simmering in a witch’s cauldron.
‘Cor!’ breathed the look-out. ‘Looks like a bloody underwater volcano - I’ve ’eard about them sort of things in these parts.’
The sub-lieutenant’s explanation of the unexpected phenomena was more prosaic, but no less dramatic in its implication.
‘Good God, sir! It’s a submarine!’
Forsyth hesitated indecisively as the top of the conning tower thrust out of the swirling water. What the hell were the Japs up to now? He wondered whether Firefly’s bosun would know the pipe for ‘Stand by to repel boarders’ and decided it was highly unlikely.
‘Action Stations! Submarine on starboard beam!’
It was the only order he could think of in the circumstances. But even as he gave it, he knew that the submarine was too close for the guns to bear. The rush of water fell back to a frothing tumult from which emerged the glistening steel plating of Rapier's conning tower. Viewed from such close quarters, it was almost impossible to identify and it bore little resemblance to the neat silhouettes issued for recognition purposes.
‘It’s okay, sir, she’s one of ours.’
Forsyth did not know how Peters could be so certain, but he was willing to accept his judgement. And, as he ordered Firefly's crew to fall out from Action Stations, he saw the upper hatch of the submarine swing back and an officer emerge onto the bridge...
Hamilton seemed unaware of the furor he was causing aboard the gunboat. At that moment he was too busy with his own problems. And as the yeoman and look-outs scrambled out onto the bridge he moved to the voice pipe. ‘Start motors and send up the deck party.’
Petty Officer Blake led the sea-duty men up through the gun hatch and Hamilton ordered them on to the foredeck, with instructions to secure a line from the submarine’s bows to the stern of the Firefly. There was a moment of confusion aboard the gunboat, but Forsyth quickly appreciated what was wanted and sent a party to the stem to grab the line and secure it around a bollard.
‘Ease the line when I tell you,’ Hamilton shouted across. ‘I want to swing my stern ninety degrees so that I’m lying abaft your rear.’
‘Understood, Rapier. Go ahead when you’re ready.’
Hamilton moved to the voice pipe again. ‘Half-ahead starboard. Full right rudder.’ The submarine quivered as the motors increased speed, and a confused tumble of white water erupted from the fantail as the starboard propeller churned the sea to foam. The stern of the submarine began to swing outwards. ‘Slacken off bow lines - port motor half-astern.’ The swinging action increased as the counter movement of the port propeller tightened the angle of the turn. Rapier's bows drifted slowly away from the stem of the gunboat and Hamilton watched the maneuvers anxiously. ‘Hold hard on the lines, Firefly. Keep them taut.’ He leaned over the voice pipe. ‘Stop port motor. Stop starboard. Half-ahead starboard... stop!’ Rapier was now standing at right angles to the gunboat, with her bows just clear of Firefly's stern and her torpedo tubes pointing directly at the Japanese destroyer.
‘Secure bow lines! Lay off a stern anchor to stop us swinging in the current, Chief. But use a hemp hawser and have a man standing by it with an axe in case we need to cut ourselves free in a hurry.’ He returned to the voice pipe. ‘Report to the bridge, Number One. And tell the gun crew to come topsides.’
Walking to the side of the conning tower nearest to the gunboat, Hamilton surveyed the mooring position with the expert eye of a seaman. Bearing in mind the difficulties, they hadn’t done too badly. Then raising his glasses he examined the destroyer. There was some movement on her bridge but, as yet, the Japanese showed no signs of responding to Rapier's sudden appearance. He wondered how the destroyer commander would react when he realized his ship was lying broadside on to the submarine’s torpedo tubes.
‘Nicely executed, sir,’ Forsyth called down from Firefly’s bridge. ‘Do you need any more help?’
‘Yes - I don’t like getting my feet wet. Drop a rope ladder over the stern so that I can come aboard.’ Hamilton glanced round as Mannon joined him on top of the conning tower. ‘I’m going over to Firefly, Number One. You’ll be in charge while I’m away. As things stand at the moment, the next stage will be a visit to the Japanese commander to see if I can persuade him to release Ottershaw.’ He paused for a second. ‘If anything goes wrong you have my authority to torpedo the enemy immediately he opens fire. But make bloody sure he fires the first shot. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Mannon hesitated. ‘But supposing you’re still on board?’
‘Then it’s too bad for me,’ Hamilton told him flatly. ‘My primary task is to protect Rapier and secure the release of Firefly. If it means putting two lives at risk, so be it. Any questions?’
Mannon knew what the skipper meant. He was beginning to understand the awesome responsibilities of command. He nodded. ‘Understood, sir. If the destroyer opens fire I am to torpedo her and then escort Firefly clear.’
Hamilton grinned suddenly. ‘Good man. But don’t look so worried - it won’t come to that. It’s just that I like to cover all eventualities.’ Swinging his leg over the conning tower rail, he started climbing down the rungs to the deck. Morgan, the gunner’s mate, was standing in the bows holding the rope ladder and he grinned expectantly as the skipper came down the fore casing.
‘Will you be needing some help, sir?’ he asked hopefully.
Hamilton shook his head. ‘Sorry, Chief. I think I’d best play this one solo. But keep your chaps standing by... you never know your luck.’
He grabbed the precariously swaying rope ladder and quickly hauled himself up on to the stern of the gunboat, where Forsyth was waiting to receive him.
‘Welcome aboard, sir.’
‘We’ve no time for that sort of thing, Lieutenant,’ Hamilton snapped impatiently. ‘Give me a rundown on the situation since you arrived.’
Forsyth felt slightly abashed by the submarine commander’s brusqueness. He noticed that Hamilton was only a two-striper like himself and wondered which of them was the senior. It was a pity he hadn’t checked the Navy List beforehand. The clipped authority of the demand, however, seemed to assume his subordination and, almost without thinking, he accepted his junior status.
‘The Japanese escorted us into the bay at dawn,’ he explained briefly. ‘They sent a boat at 0900 hours and Lieutenant Commander Ottershaw was invited back to the destroyer for discussions. I’ve tried signaling for information, but they just ignore everything we send.’
‘Did Ottershaw leave any instructions?’
‘He left me in command.’ Forsyth saw that Hamilton appeared unimpressed by the information. ‘He gave no precise instructions... just said he didn’t expect to be long.’
‘Why the hell didn’t you make a break for it?’ Hamilton asked curtly.
‘I couldn’t leave the Captain in the hands of the Japanese.’
‘Why not? Good God man we’re not at war with them, you know. They’ve got to release him eventually. If you’d made a run for it, at least it would have shown those squint-eyed bastards what we think of them.’ Hamilton paused to regain his temper. ‘Are you sure they haven’t taken him ashore?’
‘Definitely not, sir,’ Peters broke in. The sub-lieutenant didn’t like the way Hamilton was treating Firefly’s executive officer but, instinctively, he sensed a firm decisiveness in the submariner’s attitude which sharply contrasted with Forsyth’s docile acceptance of the situat
ion. Hamilton was clearly a man who did not believe in dancing to other people’s tunes. ‘The Japanese only occupy the coast around the major parts,’ he explained. ‘The rest of the shoreline is still in the hands of the Chinese. If the Japs tried to land, the local guerillas would wipe them out inside an hour.’
Hamilton turned his attention to the young RNVR officer. ‘Are they likely to give us a hand if we need it?’
‘I doubt it, sir. This part of the coast is controlled by Tien Shan - the local warlord. He might help if he was offered enough money, but it’s unwise to trust a Chinaman.’
‘But I thought we were on the same side,’ Hamilton objected.
‘In theory, perhaps,’ Peters agreed. ‘But you’re thinking in terms of the Nationalist Government in Chungking. The trouble is that China is hardly a single united country as we understand the word. They’re all fighting the Japs right enough, but most of them are busy fighting each other as well. Up in the north there’s the Communists under Mao Tse Tung. At the moment he’s supposed to be supporting the Government, but once they’ve settled with the Japanese he won’t rest until he has control of the entire country. He and Chiang-kai-Shek are the big boys. But all the way down the line there are minor warlords fighting to maintain their local power, bandits and pirates who are only interested in loot, and the guerillas - usually Communists who have been infiltrated into Nationalist areas.’
‘You make it all sound very jolly,’ Hamilton smiled. ‘Where the hell do we fit into this tangle?’
‘If you want my honest opinion, sir, we don’t. No one wants the British in Asia any longer - or the Americans, or the French, or the Dutch. That’s why the Japanese are bound to succeed in the long run. And by continually talking about the overthrow of colonialism, they’ve got a substantial part of the native population behind them. Unfortunately, the poor devils don’t realize that Tokyo’s brand of imperialism will be even worse than ours.’ Peters paused for a moment. He didn’t mind giving Hamilton a lecture on the political situation in the Far East, in fact he rather enjoyed it, but there were other much more urgent dangers.
‘Whatever you decide to do, sir, I suggest you do it quickly. We’re going to be hit by a typhoon within the next two hours.’
An oppressive stillness hung over the mirror-smooth water inside the bay. Nothing stirred and even the shrill chatter of the birds was silent. Hamilton stared up at the molten copper sky and watched the black storm clouds gathering on the horizon.
‘The Sub’s exaggerating,’ Forsyth said easily. ‘We’re in for a blow - and a nasty one by the look of it. But this isn’t the typhoon season.’
‘You seem to know a lot about local conditions,’ Hamilton pointed out to the young RNVR officer.
‘I ought to, sir. I’ve lived in Hong Kong for the last fifteen years. Whatever Lieutenant Forsyth may say, I’m certain there’s a typhoon on the way. And I don’t care whether it’s the season or not.’
Hamilton stared down at his feet thoughtfully. For some reason the old proverb about an ill-wind kept running through his brain. A typhoon would certainly complicate the situation - yet it might just provide the key he needed to obtain Ottershaw’s release.
‘Bring your motor sampan alongside,’ he told Forsyth. ‘Give me a couple of minutes while I go back to Rapier and give my instructions. Then I’ll take the sampan across to the destroyer and find out what’s happening.’ He glanced over the side. ‘What’s the depth of water here?’ he asked unexpectedly.
‘Ten fathoms according to the echo sounder,’ Forsyth told him. ‘But it’s shifting ground and I doubt if the anchors will hold.’
‘Well, that’s your problem,’ Hamilton said unsympathetically. ‘But if I were you, I’d try to get her out to sea before the typhoon breaks. She’ll be smashed to pieces if you stay inside the bay.’
Forsyth ignored the advice. He objected to Hamilton telling him how to handle his ship. And he resented the way in which the submarine commander was taking over and running the show. He vented his irritation on the chief petty officer, waiting respectfully for orders at the rear of the bridge.
‘Well don’t just stand there, Bosun! Clear away the sampan and bring it alongside. Lieutenant Hamilton will tell you what he wants you to do when he returns. I’ll be in my cabin if I’m wanted.’
No one’s likely to want you, mate, Phillips grumbled to himself as he saluted and made his way for’ard. There was little love lost between them and he had derived considerable satisfaction from the way Hamilton had trampled over the gunboat’s executive officer. And serve the bugger right.
‘Sampan alongside port quarter, sir,’ Firefly's bosun reported smartly as Hamilton came back on board. ‘Ready when you are.’
‘Thank you, Chief.’ He turned to Forsyth who had emerged from his cabin to supervise the sampan’s departure. ‘Have you sent a signal to say I’m coming?’
‘No.’
‘Good - let’s keep the buggers guessing. I don’t see why they should have a monopoly on initiative.’ He stepped down into the motor sampan. ‘There’s no need for you chaps to hang around once you’ve dropped me off,’ he told the bosun. ‘The Japs will be far more impressed if I go aboard and send you back. They have an odd way of looking at things. If they think I’ve deliberately got rid of my only means of escape they’ll be much more likely to listen to what I have to say.’
‘And how to you intend to get back?’ Forsyth asked tartly. ‘I suppose you’re also an expert at walking on water!’
‘There’ll be no need for miracles,’ Hamilton said easily. ‘I’ll arrange for the Jap skipper to bring Ottershaw and myself off in one of the destroyer’s own boats. I’m a great believer in kicking a man when he’s down.’
Forsyth hated Hamilton for his supreme self-confidence. He could not help wondering what made the submarine commander so certain he could succeed in obtaining Ottershaw’s release.
He would have been surprised to discover that Hamilton was asking himself exactly the same question as he settled into the sternsheets of the sampan. In point of fact, Rapier's skipper hadn’t the remotest idea what he was going to do when he arrived on board the destroyer. But he did not believe in worrying about things until they happened.
Having been commissioned from the lower deck, he had never set foot inside the sacred portals of the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth but he had often heard of the motto painted up over one of the doors: ‘There is nothing the Navy cannot do.’ Well, he decided, let’s put the boast to the test and see if it works....
Five
‘Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Hamilton.’
Rapier’s captain looked up sharply as he recognized the voice and was surprised to see Aritsu leaning over the rails of the upper deck waiting to receive him. He might have guessed the dapper Little Commander was mixed up in the affair - he seemed to make a specialty of finding new ways to humiliate the Royal Navy. Perhaps that was the only way to obtain promotion in the Japanese Fleet. Firefly’s motor sampan nudged her bows gently against the lower platform of the gangway, and the lieutenant jumped across the narrow strip of water separating the two vessels with the confident aplomb of long experience.
‘Return to Firefly, Chief.’ He pitched his voice so that it was loud enough for Aritsu to hear the instructions. ‘I’ll call you up when I’m ready to be taken off.’
The sampan went astern, swung its nose to starboard, and circled away from the destroyer. Hamilton watched it run clear and then started up the accommodation ladder to the deck. He saluted the Rising Sun ensign dangling lifelessly from its jack staff with punctilious regard to etiquette, as he came over the side and turned to Aritsu.
‘Lieutenant Hamilton, Commanding Officer of His Majesty’s submarine Rapier.’ He saluted again. ‘May I present my compliments to the Captain.’
Not to be outdone in the politeness of the occasion, Aritsu bowed and made a strange clicking sound with his mouth. ‘It is an honor to have you aboard, Lieutenant Hamilton,’ he acknowle
dged affably. ‘May I offer you a drink in the wardroom?’
‘Thank you, Commander. But I wish to see Lieutenant Commander Ottershaw first. After that I am sure we will both be pleased to enjoy your hospitality.’
Aritsu bowed. ‘Lieutenant Commander Ottershaw is already waiting for you in the wardroom.’ He smiled with satisfaction at scoring the first point. ‘You seem to be under an unfortunate misapprehension. He is not a prisoner. Like yourself, he is an honored and welcome guest.’
Hamilton wasn’t too sure how to take the commander’s statement. There was an underlying sharpness in the words that suggested that he was also now a prisoner, and he began to rue his bravado in sending Firefly's sampan back to the gunboat. Swallowing his doubts, however, he smiled appreciatively and followed the Japanese officer down the narrow steel corridor to Suma’s tiny wardroom. The armed sentry guarding the entrance gave the lie to Aritsu’s assurance, but Hamilton ignored his presence and passed straight through the door without invitation.
‘Good God, Nick! Where the hell did you spring from?’ Harry Ottershaw certainly looked comfortable enough. The furnishings of the wardroom were sparse and austere, but he was ensconced in the only armchair with a large glass of Scotch standing on the table at his elbow.
‘You must forgive me for being an inattentive host, gentlemen,’ Aritsu smiled politely. ‘But if you will excuse me, I must have a few words with the Officer-of-the-Watch. I will rejoin you in a few moments. In the meantime, Lieutenant, please help yourself to what you want.’
The door closed and Hamilton restrained an impulse to check the handle to see if they had been locked inside. He knew he must maintain his outward show of self-confidence and it would be fatal to give any hint of nervousness. Moving to the sideboard he picked up a likely looking bottle and poured himself a large glass of malt whisky.
‘I managed to sneak Rapier into the bay without being spotted,’ he explained to the gunboat captain. He glanced through the open scuttle and beckoned Ottershaw over.