Эдвин Грей - Diving Stations

Aritsu paused before the second incision, opened his eyes, and looked up at Rapier’s captain. His lips moved but it was impossible to make out what he was trying to say. Then the blade cut to the right, was dragged painfully back to the original point of entry and sliced to the left.

The commander paused for a moment, raised his eyes to the sky, and then collapsed face-forward on to the blood soaked sand◦– the weight of his body forcing the sword deeper into his vitals. His hands clenched in a spasm of unendurable pain and, in accordance with the ancient traditions of the ritual, Hamilton stepped forward and ended Aritsu’s agony with a single shot through the back of the skull.

Hamilton lowered his head briefly and then, emerging from the almost catalyptic trance which had gripped him during the ceremony, pushed the revolver back into the holster at his hip. He had had a surfeit of killing and Aritsu’s death had blunted his hunger for revenge. He was suddenly sick of the whole useless waste of war.

‘Take the landing party back to the boat, Number One. I want to get away from this damned place before we all go raving mad.’

Mannon passed the order to the petty officer in charge and, as the men lifted the unfortunate Mills to his feet and helped him back to the jetty, the submarine’s executive officer nodded towards the beach.

‘What about the seamen, sir?’

Hamilton shook his head. He had not forgotten the two Japanese sailors. But he had had enough of death for one day. ‘Leave them here, Number One. They can either stay on the island until the Japs send a search ship out◦– or they can try to make their way back to the mainland in the motorboat.’

Zibuki and his companion stared questioningly at the two British officers as they approached across the narrow stretch of sand. Both men expected to be shot out of hand, and with characteristic fatalism they offered no resistance. The taller officer spoke to them in English, but the language meant nothing to them. They waited for the guns to be unholstered, aimed and fired. The officer spoke to them again, but when they did not respond he shrugged and turned away.

Hitiose Zibuki showed no emotion at the unexpected turn of events. He watched the officers walk slowly back to the submarine and said something to his comrade. Crossing the beach to where Aritsu was lying, they knelt down and began to gather pieces of driftwood to build his funeral pyre

O’Brien was waiting inside the control room as Hamilton and Mannon came down the ladder. He was holding a sheet of paper in his hand.

‘I’ve been checking the fuel reserves as you requested, sir. It doesn’t look too good.’

Hamilton took the notes and glanced down at the figures. ‘How far to Singapore, Alistair?’

The Navigator bent over the small-scale chart with his ruler. ‘Just under fourteen hundred miles, sir.’

‘And Darwin?’

Mannon looked up sharply as Hamilton put the question. Australia! What the hell was the skipper up to- a conducted tour of the British Empire?

‘About double the distance, sir,’ Scott reported. ‘It wouldn’t be a straight run◦– we’d have to go around Borneo, down through the Celebes Sea, and south via the Molucca Straits. Then…’

‘Alright, Alistair, that’s enough. I know what a map of the East Indies looks like.’ He turned to Mannon. ‘Can you see any objection to Australia, Number One?’

‘No, sir. Other than the fact we don’t have enough fuel and your last orders were to report to Singapore.’

‘I’m glad you reminded me, Roger. I’d forgotten all about that,’ Hamilton said equably. ‘But the situation is different now. Hong Kong had surrendered and the Japs are already spearheading a new offensive into the East Indies. They’ve landed in Sarawak and Brunei. With virtually no naval forces to oppose them, I anticipate attacks on Java and Sumutra within the next two weeks. And judging by the speed of the enemy advance through Malaya, I’d say Singapore will have fallen by the end of the month. I have no intention of returning to Singapore and finding myself in a repeat performance of the Hong Kong shambles. As I see it, the whole of Australia is wide open to a Japanese invasion. There are virtually no naval forces south of New Guinea and the Americans are, for the moment, too busy defending themselves. If we were able to operate out of Darwin, Rapier could be Australia’s first fine of defense against a Japanese attack.’ He glanced across at O’Brien. ‘Could we make Darwin, Chief?’

‘Depends on how much power we might need, sir. A couple of severe storms or a detour to avoid enemy patrols and we certainly wouldn’t. If Scotty can plot the shortest course’ to Aussie and we make use of the motors on the surface whenever we can, we might just make it. If you want my personal opinion, sir, I’d say it was touch and go.’ Hamilton smiled. ‘In that case, gentlemen, it’s go!’

COMMODORE HASLITT GOT up from his chair, walked across to the window looking out across Fort Hill and Boom Jetty, and flung it open. His office was without air-conditioning and after twenty-two days at sea with only one change of clothing and minimal washing facilities Hamilton did not exactly smell like a fresh spring rose. But with three week’s growth of beard and eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion Hamilton was past caring about personal appearance. The luxury of a hot bath, clean clothes, and a good night’s sleep could come later. His first duty was to report his arrival to the Darwin SNO.

The Commodore returned to his desk and sat down. The sea breeze wafting through the opened window was having the required effect and he sniffed the clean salt air appreciatively, like a medieval judge smelling his nosegay as he passed through the City streets on his way to the Law Courts.

‘You realize, of course, Lieutenant, that the C-in-C (Far East) had been searching the length and breadth of the Pacific for you for the past five weeks.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but our transmitter was on the blink and I wanted to save the batteries in case we ran out of fuel and had to finish the trip on our motors.”

‘So you said earlier, Lieutenant,’ Haslitt commented drily. ‘But you still haven’t explained why you did not report to Singapore as ordered. The Admiralty will undoubtedly require your explanation.’

‘The situation was very confused, sir.’ Hamilton could not help wondering if the Commodore would be quite so pedantically calm if he’d experienced the first shock of Japan’s blitzkrieg into South-East Asia. In the circumstances he decided that he would be excusable. ‘We were picking up radio reports, sir. I was under the impression that Singapore had fallen. In view of that, I decided to make for Australia.’

Haslitt did not seem very convinced by the explanation but he accepted it without comment. At that precise moment, his greatest desire was to get Hamilton out of his office and into a hot bath and clean clothes. The post mortem could come later.

‘I must admit I am disappointed with your lack of success. It will all have to appear in your written Report of Proceedings, of course, and no doubt the Admiralty will have a few observations to make. But what you’ve been doing with yourself for the last six weeks or so is a mystery to me. You were the only British submarine in the entire area and yet all you succeeded in sinking was one bloody little destroyer!’

Hamilton said nothing. Staring at the blank wall behind the Commodore’s desk, he recalled the night battle in the narrow straits between Kowloon and Hong Kong, the destruction of Firefly, the fate of the refueling junk, and those last terrible hours on Charlotte Island. It was something Haslitt would never understand in a thousand years.