Эдвин Грей - Diving Stations

Forsyth raised his head above the level of the bridge screen in time to see the other gunboat open fire and circle to the west with bombs exploding on all sides. Firefly shuddered from stern to sternport from the effects of a near-miss and, as he crouched on the deck, he could hear the shrill shriek of more bombs. He gritted his teeth and waited. Damn that bastard Hamilton! It was bloody unfair. Why should he be able to escape the bombs? Why couldn’t Rapier stay on the surface and fight it out alongside the gunboats? Damn it all◦– they were all in the same bloody Navy….

‘Thirty feet and diving, sir,’ Mannon reported quietly as Hamilton slid down the ladder into the hushed brightness of the control room.

‘Take her to sixty feet, Number One. Fortunately for us it’s only an air attack. If the japs had sent in destroyers it wouldn’t have been so funny.’

‘Planes to dive. Group up◦– full ahead together. Level at sixty feet, Coxswain.’

Mannon felt pleased with the smooth efficiency with which he had taken Rapier out of danger, but he looked for no compliments. Hamilton did not regard efficiency as meriting commendation. He expected nothing less.

‘What now, sir?’

Hamilton was leaning over the chart table in conference with Scott. The navigator was making some calculations on a note-pad and he passed the results to the skipper for approval.

‘We’re going cruiser hunting, Number One,’ Hamilton said casually. ‘If Harry Ottershaw is right, it will take the Japs two or three days to reach Kowloon, so there’s nothing much we can do until they try crossing the Straits to Hong Kong. According to the Staff Appraisal Snark showed me, they reckon the island can hold out for fourteen days◦– so we’ve plenty of time.’ He glanced up at the calendar hanging down from one of the deck head high-pressure air pipes. ‘It’s the 9th today. That means we’ve got a fortnight to send Tokyo our Christmas cards!’

O’Brien came through the bulkhead door. He was sweating heavily and wiping his glistening face with a piece of the engineer’s traditional cotton waste. ‘I’ve been checking the fuel stocks, sir. The bunkers are down to sixty tons.’

Hamilton did a quick calculation. They’d used up a quarter of their stocks already and that meant about twelve day’s supply left at economical cruising speed. It was his own fault for making that high-speed dash back to Hong Kong.

‘Thanks, Chief. I’ll take her back to the dockyard to top up once we’ve run down this cruiser.’

‘How long’s that likely to be, sir?’ O’Brien enquired. ‘And when do we get topside for a breath of air◦– it’s like a damned furnace in the motor room.’

Hamilton nodded sympathetically. His own clothes were wet with sweat and his underpants were sticking to his body. ‘I’m afraid it’s something we must learn to live with,’ he said unhelpfully. ‘I’ve no intention of showing myself on the surface in daylight. Unfortunately these S-class boats weren’t built for the tropics so we’ll have to lump it and like it.’

Mannon glanced at the control room thermometer. It was standing at iio°F.

But it wasn’t just the heat. The humidity was worse. Everything was wet to the touch and beads of water continuously dripped from the deck head as the condensation built up. Reacting to an irresistible impulse, he pushed his hand up inside the waistband of his shorts and scratched violently.

‘When you’ve finished doing your monkey act, Number One, I want you to go for’ard and check the tubes and the mouldies. If we meet up with that cruiser tonight I don’t want any slip-ups. Young Villiers is doing his best but he’s no expert, so go along and see if he needs any help.’

‘Aye aye, sir.’

Ernie Blood was busy scratching his ample stomach and, as the skipper looked in his direction, he withdrew his hand guiltily like a child caught stealing sweets from a tin. He tried the old sailor’s trick of sucking his teeth but it did nothing to ameliorate the persistent irritation of the heat rash. Hamilton moved across to the chart table. He kept his voice low so that the men could not overhear what he was saying.

‘I reckon that Jap cruiser force must be to the southwest, Alistair. The trouble is we don’t know where it’s heading. Could be a bombardment support squadron to back up the invasion of Hong Kong◦– or a covering force for another troop convoy heading for a fresh landing somewhere to the south.’ He looked down at the chart as he weighed up the alternatives. ‘We’ll carry out a two-hundred-mile box search centered on Gap Rock.’ He pointed his finger at a small black dot some forty miles to the southwest of Hong Kong and Scott nodded. ‘Fifty miles due south from the rock◦– then fifty miles east and so on. It’s only a small area, but it will take us across the main shipping channel into the Pearl River.’

Scott circled the pin-point denoting Gap Rock on the chart and picked up his ruler and protractor. ‘Any particular time-table, sir?’ he asked.

‘I intend to remain submerged until sunset. Then, if conditions are favorable, we’ll stay on the surface throughout the night. We can cover the search area more quickly that way◦– and it will give O’Brien a chance to re-charge his batteries.’

Jamieson hurried into the control room in his usual state of breathlessness. ‘Urgent radio signal coming through, sir,’ he reported. ‘Murray says he thinks you ought to listen.’

Hamilton glanced at the clock above the chart-table. It was nearly 2 p.m. It hardly seemed possible that they’d been running six hours since Firefly had been attacked. He wondered when he was going to get some rest.

The radio compartment was immediately aft of the control room and Murray glanced around as he heard the partition curtains swish open. He kept one earphone clasped firmly against his head as he passed on the gist of what he had heard.

‘The Japs have got Force Z, sir. I’ve just picked up signals from Singapore. Both ships sunk.’

Hamilton felt the blood drain from his face. ‘Are you quite certain?’ he asked.

Murray nodded. ‘Absolutely, sir. I’ve been picking up signals from both Express and Electra. They’re bringing the survivors back to Singapore. Repulse went down at 12:30 and Prince of Wales about an hour later. One message said that the Admiral was missing.’

Hamilton tried to think, but the enormity of the tragedy seemed to paralyze his brain. ‘Have you received any battle reports, Sparks? If I decide to take Rapier up into the Gulf I’ll need to know the size and composition of the Jap fleet.’

‘There were no surface ships involved, sir. It was an air attack.’

Hamilton had always been a submarine man. In his opinion a well-handled submarine was a match for any battleship. And, although he had a certain respect for aircraft◦– his experience in the North Sea had taught him to treat them with caution◦– he had never subscribed to the theory that airplanes had made the capital ship obsolete. But if Murray’s information was correct, and there seemed no reason why it should not be, today’s action had witnessed the opening of a new chapter in the history of naval warfare.

Two battleships, with plenty of sea-room in which to maneuver and equipped with modern anti-aircraft guns backed by radar and the latest fire control instruments, had been attacked and sunk by aircraft. The prophets of air power had been proved right in their predictions. From now on, the mighty battle wagons that had ruled the seas for more than a century must yield pride of place to the aircraft carrier.

‘Keep listening out, Murray. And let me know if you get further details. I’ll make an announcement to the ship’s company later on. They might as well know the worst.’