Эдвин Грей - Diving Stations

The fire was still burning and the northerly breeze was sweeping the dense smoke out across the lagoon, where it hung above the water like a heavy sea mist. Rapier glided silently inshore while Hamilton carried out a detailed examination of the anchorage. Satisfied there was no enemy ship in the lagoon he turned the lens towards the entrance. This time there was something◦– a small boat chugging slowly towards the shore from the direction of Taichi Rock.

‘Close up Attack Team! Steer one point to port… blow up all tubes!’

Hamilton could well understand the reluctance of an enemy commander to enter the lagoon. Its waters were uncharted and treacherous and he would have had no time to survey the depths or locate any hidden reefs. In addition, no sensible captain would want to find himself trapped inside a virtually landlocked harbor in the event of a surprise attack. And this appreciation of the enemy’s reasoning led him to one inevitable conclusion◦– a conclusion backed by Glover’s failure to pick up any HE and his own inability to sight the ship through Rapier’s periscope. The intruder must be anchored in the lee of Taichee Rock.

Swinging the eye of the upper lens to starboard, he waited tensely as the submarine moved into the area which would enable him to see what was lurking on the inshore side of the gaunt, granite rock. Yard by yard, more of the northern face of the rock became visible and then, suddenly, the dark grey paintwork of a Japanese warship came into view.

‘Enemy destroyer anchored between Taichee Rock and the island. Small boats going ashore,’ he reported back to Mannon and the other men in the control room. ‘Estimated range two miles…’

‘Someone must have given us away to the Japs,’ Mannon said bitterly. ‘It would have taken them months to find this place.’

‘Steer zero-six-five. Reduce to half power. Open bow caps.’ Hamilton waited to complete his instructions and then glanced at Mannon. ‘No one’s given us away, Number One,’ he said sharply. ‘Chai Chen realized she would die whether she talked or not. She must have told them about the island in order to put them on a false trail.’

‘I can’t see anything false about it, sir,’ Mannon objected. ‘If the enemy has destroyed our storage depot Rapier will be about as battle-worthy as a bloody canoe without paddles.’

‘Perhaps so◦– but, in my opinion, she was trying to lead us to the men responsible for her death. And that destroyer anchored under the Rock proves it. If she’d told them the truth the Japs would have ambushed us when we arrived at the refueling point. And the reason they didn’t do so is because they did not know we were planning to meet the junk at sea.’

Mannon shrugged. ‘I’m not denying the girl’s courage, sir. She may not have told them about the rendezvous, but she certainly seems to have given away the secret of our supply base. And while I don’t blame her after what they did to her I’m damned if I can see any advantage in it.’

‘In that case, Number One, I’ll spell it out to you,’ Hamilton said coldly. ‘If Chai Chen had told the Japs about our refueling plans, Rapier would be lying on the bottom of the South China Sea by now because they would have caught us by surprise. She knew, however, that once we found the junk we’d be very much on the alert.’ So she told them the oil was being shipped to the island◦– it would have sounded a plausible enough story. As a result, the Japs are still under the impression that they have surprise on their side and they’re hiding behind Taichee Rock waiting to jump us when we arrive.’

‘But Chai Chen was obviously thinking several moves ahead. She realized we’d make for the island and she knew, also, that we’d be prepared for trouble after finding the junk. So by telling them about the replenishment base she made sure that retribution would follow within a few hours. And, in addition, I would know that the officer commanding the Japanese ship waiting at the island must be the man responsible for her death.’

Mannon made no immediate reply. Hamilton’s theory was a little too trite for his liking. And it involved a hell of a lot of supposition. But whether the skipper was right or wrong there was no disputing the fact that, on the balance of probabilities, the man who had tortured Chai Chen to death was the captain of the destroyer now anchored off the island. Any other explanation would be stretching the long arm of coincidence a trifle too far.

‘You’re probably right, sir,’ he agreed reluctantly.

At that precise moment Hamilton was not particularly interested whether Mannon agreed or not. He wanted revenge. And no one was going to stop him from carrying out his self-appointed task. He picked up the telephone to the bow compartment.

‘Is everything ready, Number Four?’

‘Bow Compartment, aye, aye, sir,’ Villiers reported. ‘Doors open and tubes flooded up. Standing by.’

‘Well, keep your fingers crossed that we don’t miss. They’re our last four torpedoes and it looks as if our reserves have already gone up in smoke.’ He cradled the phone on its hook and nodded to Bushby. ‘Up periscope!’

He found the enemy destroyer almost immediately. The dark grey warship with its strangely cranked funnels and knuckled bow was lying broadside on to the submarine in an almost perfect attack position. Hamilton felt a sudden surge of adrenalin pump into his bloodstream as he recognized the sleek silhouette. It was Suma. The man he was hunting was Aritsu!

Hamilton controlled his excitement and mechanically wiped the damp sweat of his hands on his trousers. The range was down to eight hundred yards. This time he had no need for the back-up support of the Attack Team – with a stationary target course and speed were irrelevant and there were no problems of deflection or aim off. All that counted was the accuracy of his eye and steady nerves. Moving to the attack ’scope he ordered it to be raised and carefully brought the anchored destroyer into the center of the graticule sights.

‘Stand by to fire. Fire One… Fire Two… Fire Three… Fire Four…’

A slight increase in air pressure inside the control room indicated that the tubes had been fired and the four green warning lights on the for’ard bulkhead display glowed brightly in confirmation. Glover bent over his box of tricks as he listened for the sound of the whirring propellers.

‘Torpedoes running, sir!’

‘Hard a’port, helmsman! Stand by to surface. Close up for gun action… surface !’

‘Up helm ’planes! Close vents and blow main ballast!’

Although Mannon rapped out the routine commands with disciplined obedience, he was puzzled by Hamilton’s decision to surface. Most submarine commanders dived deep immediately after a torpedo attack in anticipation of the enemy’s counter-action. And if the skipper had miscalculated, it seemed foolish to invite a fight on the surface when the odds would be all against the submarine. Perhaps Hamilton had allowed his excitement to override his natural caution.

The muffled clang of the vents being slammed shut coincided with the shrill scream of high-pressure air as the ballast tanks were blown clear. Acting on his own initiative, Mannon decided to increase speed so that the submarine would make a more difficult target when she emerged on the surface.

‘Group up◦– full ahead both motors!’ He glanced at the dials and saw that the bows were rising too sluggishly.

‘Blow Q!’

‘Ten feet, sir!’

‘Stand by for gun action!’

‘Come on, lads,’ Morgan urged the gun crew. ‘Up you go!’

Hamilton had just unclipped the upper hatch and thrown back the heavy steel cover, when the blast of the explosion nearly hurled him from the ladder. He hung on grimly, as a vivid flash lit the sky and a thunderous roar deafened his ears. A second detonation followed a moment later and then a third. Pulling himself up through the narrow opening he hurried to the starboard side of the bridge.