Эдвин Грей - Diving Stations

‘Get back to Rapier,’ he told Hardacre briefly as the driver thrust his head through the open window. ‘Tell Lieutenant Mannon we sail at 1900 hours. I’ll be back on board in about an hour◦– I’ve got a couple of matters to attend to ashore!’

I bet you have, Hardacre grinned to himself as he acknowledged the instructions. Like that little Chinese popsy. Despite Hamilton’s attempts at discretion, most of Rapier’s crew knew about the ferry trips to Macao. Trust the skipper to find a snug berth. He put the old Austin into gear, let in the clutch, and swung out into the traffic stream. Hamilton watched the seaman drive off in the direction of the dockyard and then started walking towards the Officer’s Club.

He was not altogether pleased to encounter Ottershaw in the entrance hall. There were a number of urgent matters to attend to before Rapier sailed and he had no time to spare for social chit-chat. However, the gunboat skipper insisted on stopping him as he tried to hurry past.

‘I hear you’re another of the rats leaving the sinking ship.’ Ottershaw’s broad grin removed any possibility of offence in his choice of phrase and he clearly regarded it as a good joke.

‘Word seems to get around quickly,’ Hamilton said shortly, taking care to neither confirm nor deny the rumor.

‘You can’t be stationed in Hong Kong for eighteen months without learning a few things.’ Ottershaw explained. ‘Come on into the bar for a farewell snifter.’

Hamilton shook his head. ‘Sorry, Harry, but I want to keep a clear head over the next couple of hours. Next time, perhaps.’

‘I doubt if there’ll be a next time, Nick,’ Ottershaw’s expression was suddenly serious. ‘They’re stripping the Colony bare. The only reason they haven’t recalled Pears is because his boat’s in dry dock at Taiko. Once they’ve finished cleaning her bottom she’ll be on her way to Singapore like the rest. Then all we’re left with are five gunboats and the MTB flotilla. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so damned serious.’

‘I suppose they think it’s the Army’s responsibility,’ Hamilton suggested. ‘The Navy can’t stop the Japs coming over the border and seizing the New Territories.’

‘OK, then, it’s an Army job. So why do we only have six battalions of troops available when we all know the Japs have deployed three full divisions along the border?’

‘I really couldn’t say, Harry. I’m not one of the top brass. Perhaps they intend to send Repulse and Prince of Wales up in support. Or maybe the US Fleet at Manilla.’ He patted Ottershaw on the shoulder. ‘Look, old man, it hasn’t happened yet. Now that Tom Phillips has taken over he’s bound to start reorganizing things the way he wants them – that’s what has triggered off the rumors.’ Hamilton did not mention that his own recall orders had come from Layton and not Phillips. He did not believe in giving gratuitous information to anyone – not even a fellow officer. ‘So stop worrying about it. And now I’m sorry to rush away, Harry, but I must make some phone calls before I go—’

The telephone booth at the end of the corridor was empty and, picking up the instrument, Hamilton asked the operator for a Macao number. He waited impatiently for the connection. A girl answered.

‘Put me through to Senor Alburra, please.’

‘Sorry, sir, Mister Alburra not here. You speak Miss Chen?’

Hamilton swore to himself. Alburra would have understood the meaning behind his cryptic call and asked no questions. But Chen had a more personal◦– one could say intimate◦– interest in him. Evasive answers would only make her suspicious. He waited for her to come on the line.

‘Hello, darling. This is Nick. I’m afraid there’s a bit of a flap on. I can’t say too much on the phone. Will you tell your father that although he may have heard about me leaving Hong Kong for a while I want our arrangements to stand.’

‘Are you going away, Nicky?’

‘Perhaps◦– I don’t know. I have to do as I’m told. But I promise I’ll be back. So don’t go worrying your head about it. Now, can you remember the message for your father – it’s extremely important.’

‘I will tell him this evening. My father and I have no secrets. I know all about your arrangements with him.’ She paused for a moment. ‘But if you do not want the plans altered you will not be far away?’

‘It all depends on what happens,’ Hamilton told her enigmatically. ‘But I promise to get in touch as soon as I can. ’Bye for now, darling.’

He replaced the receiver before Chai Chen could reply. It was an unfortunate complication. Hamilton preferred to keep his women entirely separate from service affairs. But, if Alburra had chosen to tell his daughter, there was nothing he could do about it. He could only pray that she would know when to keep her mouth shut.

‘Hands are at Harbor Stations, sir,’ Mannon reported as Hamilton joined him on the bridge. ‘Motors ready and grouped down.’

The first lights were already beginning to twinkle from the windows of the hotels nestling under the shadow of Victoria Peak and Hamilton could see the sailors on board the other warships anchored in the harbor assembling on deck for the time-honored ceremony of hauling down the colors at sunset. On the opposite side of the Straits, the reflections from the lights of Kowloon shimmered on the water like glittering diamonds scattered on a black velvet cloak. He paused to watch a train steaming slowly northwards towards Shatin and the mainland border. He glanced at his watch. It was exactly 7 p.m. He leaned over the voice pipe.

‘Obey telegraphs.’ He waited for the acknowledgement and then nodded his head to Mannon. ‘Let go the springs, Number One.’

‘Let go for’ard! Let go after spring!’

Hamilton heard the wires being hauled inboard by the sea duty men. ‘Let go after-breast◦– let go for’ard!’

Mannon peered over the side of the conning tower. ‘All gone aft, sir. All gone for’ard.’

‘Half astern port. Helm starboard thirty.’ The telegraph repeater bell tinkled in the motor room and Hamilton waited as Rapier backed cautiously away from the weed-encrusted stonework of the dockyard jetty. ‘Stop port! Half ahead starboard. Port thirty, Cox’n. Half astern port.’

A yellow froth boiled from under the submarine’s stern, as the propellers disturbed the mud on the harbor bottom and Rapier swung in a tight half-circle. Hamilton kept his eyes firmly fixed on the two beacons marking the dockyard’s narrow exit.

‘Stop port◦– stop starboard! Half ahead both. Midships helm. Steady as she goes, Mister Blood.’

The darkened submarine glided past Scout and Thanet at their mooring buoys, but the men on board the destroyers were too busy preparing for their own departure to take notice of Rapier. Leaning his elbows on the coaming, Hamilton carefully noted every detail of the familiar Hong Kong scene as the submarine swept out to sea: Circala tied up against the north wall of the dockyard, the diminutive Robin guarding the boom across the Tathong Channel at the eastern end of the harbor and, in the distance, silhouetted against the looming shadow of Victoria Island, the gunboat Moth marooned high and dry on blocks in the graving dock. He remained where he was, staring at the assembled warships, until they were safely in mid-channel and then moved back to the voice pipe.

‘Stop both motors. Stand by to start engines.’

‘Switches off! Engaged port and starboard clutches!’ Black oil smoke blasted from the exhaust trunks abaft the conning tower, as the diesel engines rumbled to life.