Эдвин Грей - Diving Stations

There was a momentary pause. Then the diesels rumbled into life and a blast of oil smoke erupted from the exhaust trunks.

‘Send both Lewis guns to the bridge.’

Hamilton raised his glasses and searched the darkness ahead of the bows. He wondered how many ships of the original Hong Kong defense force were still left. He had passed Circala patrolling to the south of the island during the final approach past Cape El’Aguilar, so at least one of the gunboats was still afloat. The destroyer Thracian had not been so lucky. Mannon had reported her as aground and beached on the eastern side of the island an hour or so earlier. Hopefully Tern and Firefly were still in the fight although, so far, he had seen no sign of them.

As the two machine gunners emerged onto the bridge and clamped their weapons to the support brackets on the port and starboard wings, Hamilton lowered his binoculars and bent over the voice pipe again.

‘Hand over to Alistair, Number One, and then come topside. Things are likely to get nasty if the Japs try and attempt a landing. I’ll need a back-up on the bridge in case something happens.’

‘Aye aye, sir.’

Hamilton raised his glasses and continued his careful search of the darkened shoreline as Rapier circled northwards and then eastwards around Quarry Bay. In the far distance, he could just make out the dockyard with Moth canted over and abandoned in dry-dock after being scuttled by her crew. And he could see a series of fires raging in the city itself where enemy shells had found vulnerable targets. How long could the poor bastards hold out? Lt General Sakai, the Japanese field commander, had already sent his peace envoys across the Straits under a flag of truce to demand the Colony’s surrender, but the Governor, Sir Mark Young, had sent the emissaries packing in no uncertain manner. But as a realist, Hamilton could not help wondering what sort of defense the troops could put up in the face of such overwhelming enemy numbers. Brave words were no substitute for bullets.

Mannon joined him on the bridge and together they surveyed the grim scene in silence. There were still no signs of any other British warships waiting to challenge an enemy attempt to cross the narrow Straits which separated Hong Kong from the mainland New Territories. It was becoming increasingly clear that only Rapier stood between the Colony and Japanese occupation.

‘Harbor launch five hundred yards on port bow, sir.’

Hamilton was the first to pick out the small tender patrolling along the southern side of Quarry Bay. It was flying a White Ensign from its stern and he could just distinguish the skeletal outline of a two pounder in the bows. The stranger was moving purposefully across the black water with a crisp wave curling from its sharp stem.

‘Searchlight!’

The duty signalman swung Rapier’s reflector towards the picket-boat and switched on the power. The silvered beam danced quickly across the water and then trapped the mysterious patrol craft in its stark glare like a moth caught in the light of an electric torch. Hamilton focused his glasses and Mannon heard him suddenly laugh.

‘Okay, Jenkinson, you can switch off. Stop engines. Bring me alongside, Cox’n.’

So the prophetic joke had come true. Admittedly Snark wasn’t sitting in a rowing boat with a service rifle across his knees and snarling in defiance at the invaders. But Hamilton’s fight hearted appraisal of the post-captain’s character hadn’t been that far from the mark. With most of the Navy’s remaining surface ships cruising to the south of the island in anticipation of a seaborne attack, Snark had rapidly improvised an inshore defense force to cover the Straits. The tender, an old steam-driven pinnace dating back to the Victorian era, had been hastily daubed with grey paint and fitted with an equally ancient gun. And, with a scratch crew of Royal Naval personnel drawn from shore-duty ratings working in the dockyard offices and administration officers, Snark was imposing his own private blockade in defiance of the overwhelming odds facing him from across the mainland side of the narrow moat.

Hamilton climbed down the iron rungs on the outside of the conning tower and made his way onto the fore-deck casing as the wooden picket-boat bumped against Rapier’s exposed ballast tanks. Snark was standing on the gunwale and, as the two vessels came together, one of the submariners reached across the help him over the slippery plating to the deck.

‘What the deuce are you doing here, Hamilton?’ Snark barked belligerently. ‘I thought you were ordered to Singapore a week ago.’ He glared at the lieutenant. ‘Lucky for you I recognized the boat. In another couple of minutes we’d have taken you for a Jap sub and opened fire.’

Hamilton tried to repress a smile. The picket-boat’s antiquated pea-shooter would have been next to useless◦– any self-respecting Japanese submarine would have blown him out of the water inside thirty seconds. And Snark knew it. But it wouldn’t have stopped him from trying.

Snark growled to himself in the darkness. He was glad to have Rapier back, although he had no intention of admitting it. ‘The situation is hopeless,’ he announced bluntly. ‘But the Navy will go down fighting.’ He nodded towards Rapier’s deck gun. ‘I reckon you could do some satisfying damage with that,’ he added wistfully.

Despite his customary mistrust of authority, Hamilton recognized an unexpected determination in Snark’s attitude. The old boy was due for retirement in twelve months and, as an administrator, he couldn’t see further than the nose on his face. But he was a born fighter and a natural leader. And Hamilton had to admire his guts.

‘Please regard Rapier as coming under your orders, sir.’ He could not help feeling slightly amused at the formality of the phrase in the circumstances. With the enemy poised on the northern shore, the crash of exploding shells reverberating across the bay, and the night sky fit by fires still burning on both sides of the narrow straits, two naval officers were quietly deciding the appropriate lines of seniority and command in the approved regulation manner, with a total disregard for the chaos and confusion that surrounded them on all sides. To the impartial observer it was highly incongruous◦– but very British.

‘Thank you, Lieutenant. Your offer is appreciated.’

Snark smiled thinly. ‘But I think you will probably do better if I give you a free hand.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Let me put you in the picture. I’ve organized a make-shift flotilla of small boats to cover the narrows opposite Kowloon. We can’t use our bigger ships at the western end of the Straits◦– the enemy has artillery batteries dug in every hundred yards along the Kowloon waterfront. Firefly is covering the eastern approaches down to Lye Mun Point and Gandy’s Second Flotilla is patrolling Junk Bay. My boats will be keeping an eye on the harbor area down as far as the Sulphur Channel and that leaves our most vulnerable point◦– Quarry Bay and the Taikoo shipyard◦– wide open. If you can maintain a standing patrol in that area during the night, we should have all sectors covered against a landing attempt.’

Hamilton nodded. ‘You realize that I’ll have to dive at dawn, sir,’ he pointed out. ‘I daren’t risk remaining on the surface in daylight.’

‘Quite understood, Lieutenant. In any event, Rapier is far too valuable to lose. After submerging I suggest you withdraw eastwards and remain in the vicinity of Lam Tong Island. The Japs won’t try a daylight attack across the Straits, but they might launch a seaborne assault. If you’re lying off Lam Tong you’ll be protecting our eastern flank, while Circala and Tern are guarding our southern and western coasts.’ Snark drew himself up straight as he brought the discussion to an end. ‘Good luck, Lieutenant. You can rely on the rest of us coming to your support if you need it.’