by Edwyn Gray
‘They could be - but I very much doubt it,’ Edwards paused and looked out of the window at the two great warships in the harbor. He wondered what use such antediluvian monsters would be against Rear Admiral Matsunaga’s 22nd Air Flotilla. And he suddenly remembered his brother telling him that Prince of Wales had never fired her AA armament in anger since she had been commissioned. He shrugged. They were likely to get plenty of practice shortly.
‘Is Layton still C-in-C?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir. I understand that Admiral Phillips takes over tomorrow morning when he returns from Manilla.’
‘Any alterations to the dispositions since yesterday’s conference?’
‘Nothing immediately affecting Singapore, sir. But the destroyers Thanet and Scout are to be ordered to leave Hong Kong and return here. And I believe Rapier has also been recalled.’
Captain Edwards chuckled. ‘I can see the C-in-C’s hand in that one, Flags. He’s an old submariner himself. We’ve only one submarine operating in the whole of the Far East and he obviously intends to keep an eye on it. Mind you he’s probably right. Rapier will be a darn sight more use patrolling the Gulf of Siam than she will be defending Hong Kong.’
Captain Snark made no effort to hide his satisfaction when he read Layton’s recall signal. Hamilton had been a thorn in his side from the day of his arrival in Hong Kong and, since the incident in Hai-An Bay, their mutual antagonism had been paraded quite openly. Snark was one of the old school - a disciplinarian who believed in complete obedience to orders no matter how unpalatable they might be. Like most officers of his generation he was a born fighter. And the strain of suppressing his natural instincts and being forced to kow-tow to the Japanese for the past three years had warped his judgement and soured his brain.
Blessed with very little tact and absolutely no imagination he was unable to understand the subtlety of Hamilton’s reasons for saving the Japanese destroyer. Had Rapier's skipper been under orders to rescue Suma, Snark would have endorsed every action he had taken. But to undertake the salvage of a Japanese warship when he was under no obligation - and when his orders only required him to obtain Ottershaw’s release - was, in Snark’s eyes, little short of treason.
That his antagonism towards the submarine captain was due to his own subconscious resentment of their two different roles never entered his head. Snark wanted to be in the fight as well - most of his contemporaries were commanding Escort Groups in the North Atlantic - but, instead, he was desk-bound in China and charged with the humiliating task of pacifying the Japanese no matter what the provocation. And yet Hamilton, a man promoted from the lower deck and who lacked the background and training of the traditional officer-class, had been in combat operations since the beginning of the war. And, in Snark’s view, it just wasn’t fair.
Hamilton knocked on the cabin door, entered, and saluted respectfully. Despite his outward self-confidence he wondered what the hell Snark wanted this time. The old fool had never forgiven him for the Suma episode. The psychological game of ‘face’ was a conception beyond the limits of the narrow world in which he lived. He could not grasp that the Royal Navy had secured a normal victory over the Japanese that more than compensated for its recent humiliations.
Snark looked up at Rapier's commander but said nothing. Let the bugger sweat, he thought to himself. His finger’s toyed with Layton’s signal for a few moments and then he put it down on the desk.
‘If I remember correctly, Lieutenant,’ he said finally, ‘you expressed a wish to leave Hong Kong on the very day you arrived.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Hamilton agreed. ‘I believe I did at the time.’
‘Do you still want to go?’
‘No, sir. I have a feeling something is going to blow up this weekend. I’ve heard reports of Japanese convoys moving into the gulf of Siam, and Macao is full of rumors. I reckon there’s something in the wind and I’d hate to miss it.’
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant.’ Snark’s tone of voice belied the spoke sentiment. ‘The C-in-C has ordered your immediate recall to Singapore.’
Hamilton had no intention of giving Snark the satisfaction of seeing that he was in any way upset by the decision. He nodded and smiled. ‘So my guess seems to have been correct, sir. The Admiral obviously thinks the convoys are heading for Malaya and he needs a submarine across the enemy’s lines of communication.’ He carefully picked on Snark’s weak point and twisted the knife. ‘It looks as if the war has passed you by again, sir. I’ll probably be in action again in a few days while you’ll still be....’
Snark beat him to it.... sitting on my arse in a bloody office! ‘Well don’t be so damned sure about that, Lieutenant. If the Japanese attack Malaya you don’t expect them to ignore Hong Kong do you? And when they come I’ll show you young whipper-snappers how to fight.’ The mere thought of the coming battle was sufficient to bring a flush to his pallid cheeks and, for the first time since they had met, Hamilton actually saw him smile.
Despite their deep-seated antagonism Hamilton felt suddenly sorry for the lonely, passed-over staff officer, even though he was not yet prepared to express his sympathy openly.
‘If Rapier is being withdrawn and two of the destroyers recalled to Singapore it doesn’t look as though they intend to leave you anything to fight with, sir.’
Snark snorted. ‘That’s the trouble with your generation, Lieutenant - always concerned with materials. Well, I shall do my bit even if it means sitting in a sampan holding a Lee Enfield!’
Hamilton could not restrain a small smile at the thought of Snark sitting alone in a small boat with a rifle across his knees and defying the entire Japanese Navy to cross the straits. And yet, somehow, he knew it was no idle boast. The old Navy man had been brought up the hard way and it was just the sort of thing Snark would do.
‘The C-in-C wants you back urgently,’ Snark pointed out as he reluctantly dragged himself away from his vision of glory. ‘How soon can you leave?’
‘Within two hours, sir. Rapier has already shipped a full outfit of torpedos and we topped up our bunkers this morning. I’ve kept her at maximum combat readiness all the time we’ve been here.’
‘You’ve certainly been taking on enough stores to last two ships for about six months,’ Snark observed drily. He held up his hand as Hamilton prepared to launch into his excuses. ‘No - don’t say anything. It would be improper to lie to your superior officer.’ He smiled conspiratorially. ‘I’m quite sure you are not engaged in smuggling or similar nefarious activities - we leave that sort of thing to the local police. But I share your view - if Hong Kong falls to the Japanese it would indeed be prudent to have some stores hidden elsewhere for you to fall back on if necessary.’
You crafty old bastard, thought Hamilton. All this time I’ve been taking you for a fool and yet you knew what I was up to. He could not help wondering just how much the captain did know.
Snark stood up. He looked at Hamilton with steady eyes. ‘Don’t worry, Lieutenant. I’d prefer not to know your secrets.’ He thrust out his hand and Hamilton grasped it firmly. ‘Well, good luck. I wonder which of us will get the first Jap?’
Hamilton grinned. ‘You’ll have to get your skates on, sir. If my arithmetic is correct I’m already leading you five to nothing!’
The roar of the Hurricane fighter, taking off from Kai Tak across the Straits in the New Territories, echoed back from the hills. Hamilton looked up as it skimmed low across the Peak towards Deep Water Bay to begin the first leg of its patrol. As he crossed the road to the waiting staff car he glanced back at Tamar. The old hulk, now flying the broad pendant of Commodore Collison, the SNO Hong Kong, had been moored against the stone wall of the dockyard since 1895 - a symbol of the British Empire’s steadfast immovability. He wondered how many more days she would remain there to enjoy her fading glory.
‘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.
‘Both clutches engaged, sir. Engines ready and standing by.’
‘Half-ahead together. Course two-six-zero, Cox’n.’ Hamilton stepped back from the voice pipe and glanced quickly around the horizon to check for other shipping. He turned to Mannon. ‘You can fall the men out from Harbor Stations, Number One.’
‘Fall out Harbor Stations! Control Room - stand by to take over lower steering. Duty Watch to passage routine.’ Hamilton leaned against the periscope standard and lit a cigarette as he watched the fo’c’sle party make their way below through the gun hatch. ‘I’ll finish the first Dog Watch, Number One,’ he told Mannon. ‘You take the second and I’ll give Alistair the middle. I’ll work out a proper routine in the meantime.’ He threw the cigarette over the side. ‘Once we’re clear of Lan
tau Island I intend to hold south on the surface at ten knots. That should bring us about halfway to Helen Shoals by dawn.’
‘Are we making for Charlotte Island, sir?’
Hamilton shook his head. ‘I wish we were, Number One. But it’s beginning to look as if we’ve been wasting our time. We’ve been recalled to Singapore.’
‘What the hell for?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. But I know one thing,’ Hamilton added bitterly. ‘This was the first time I’ve ever tried my hand at forward planning - and it’ll be the last. Next time I play it by ear.’
Mannon nodded sympathetically. They had all, from the skipper down to the most junior rating, worked like galley slaves to set up the secret base on the island and now, on the whim of an admiral thousands of miles away, all their efforts had been reduced to nothing. Not that Mannon had ever been completely happy about the scheme. The lack of oil storage facilities on the island had worried him. But whenever he queried the matter of fuel reserves with Hamilton his questions were never answered, although the skipper’s smile suggested he had something up his sleeve. That was at least one problem they would not have to face if they were operating out of Singapore. But, even so, he could understand Hamilton’s disappointment.
‘I suppose I ought to be getting below, sir. I’ll see if I can get Monty to rustle up some food before I start my watch.’
‘Good idea, Number One. Ask him to have something ready for me when I come down. And tell Alistair I want to see him in the wardroom at four bells.’
He looked up at the sky. Night descended quickly in the tropics and the stars were already twinkling brightly in the black vaults of the heavens. A single searchlight, probably from the Tern patrolling off Castle Peak Bay, swept the northern horizon with monotonous regularity and, to the north-east, the gaudy lights of Hong Kong glowed red against the dark backcloth of the New Territories.
