A Bridge of Magpies

'I thought AdmiraJ Yamamoto was your naval hero.'

'Yes. Admiral Yamomoto. Japan's sea darling will always be Yamamoto although the glory rests with Togo. In its way Yamamoto's contribution during the Second World War was no less than Togo's nearly forty years earlier. He masterminded our other great naval victory of the century, Pearl Harbour.

There was no sound but the baying of the wind.

'Tsushima and Pearl Harbour; Togo and Yamamoto. Yet what if I were to tell you that those victories were not theirs but the brain-child of someone else?'

The way he spoke made me wonder whether we had to do with a homicidal maniac. His talk about glory would fit into the pattern of megalomania, of illusions of grandeur. I calculated how far it was to the sub-machine-gun. It would be an even-steven bet who'd reach it first if a shoot-out blew up. He went on, 'The basic winning strategy at Pearl Harbour and Tsushima didn't originate with either of the two victors, although of course they were responsible for carrying out the detail. No. It originated in a secret Japanese book of naval strategy-not a super-manual-as you'd be inclined to think, of battle moves and countermoves; but a kind of semimystical collection of symbols. An oracle, if you like to call it that. This book has been consulted and acted upon by all our great naval heroes for centuries

…'

Now I knew he was crazy. 'Come off it!' I interrupted: '

Who won the bloody Pacific war anyway? Where was your mystic book after the Yanks thrashed Yamamoto at Midway? Where?. in the Possession channel, in U-160?

That put the skids under me. Jutta's face went all tight, like an instant face-lift. As expressionless, too.

'We lost because we lost the Book of Tsu. That's what it' s called-the name's a shortened form of Tsushima. U-160 has it aboard.'

I missed the slgnificance of his use of the present tense because suddenly I felt cold all through. I wasn't dealing with a madman-something else. Worse-if he wasn't on your side.

He went on. 'Mild is trying to sell the sea-heart of Japan to a shower of thugs.'

'You're talking as if we knew who Mild was!' I exclaimed.

'Captain Mild was Admiral Yamamoto's personal staff officer and confidante. He probably knew our great admiral – and his secrets-better than anyone living. He was also one of a small group of Imperial Navy officers who were sworn to secrecy by the Emperor himself and ordered to arrange for U-160 to collect the Book of Tsu at the Bridge of Magpies.'

'Collect?' I echoed. 'Then she wasn't carrying it when she sailed for the Cape?'

'Collect,' he repeated. 'From me. Ashore. J had it. The Book of Tsu was in my safekeeping. Then U-160 went off without me, as you know from the tape-recording, taking with her the officer who'd come in her to escort me home. A few minutes before, I'd handed over the Book of Tsu to him and he had waded out to the U-boat's dinghy with it. Then the City of Baroda burst in on the scene and in the panic I was left behind. Left!' His voice was edged with bitterness. 'The whole plan wrecked! Mild, as I said, was one of the planning team and afterwards he went back into the front line as the Americans drove closer and closer to Japan. He went on fighting, even after the surrender. He was one of those wartime hold-outs who show up from time to time on remote Pacific islands. Jn his case it was Lubang in the Philippines. He was eventually flushed out of the jungle a couple of years back, after nearly thirty years of no-surrender. He was something of a hero when he returned to Japan. But he found it wasn't the place he'd fought for. In his disenchanted stale he was easy meat for the kamikaze movement. So he teamed up with them.

I said, 'Kamikazes are suicide killers, avengers, nothing to do with naval officers or naval strategy!

'You're right. Revenge. Russian revenge for their navy's humiliation at Tsushima. The Reds have long memories. It's eaten into them for nearly three-quarters of a century. It runs through all Soviet naval thinking in Far Eastern waters – ships, bases, tactics, dispositions. Russia didn't have the opportunity to take her revenge against Japan in World War II, because she came in right at the end when the Americans had done the job. She still longs to take a crack at us. What better target could a kamikaze squad set for itself than to lay its bands on the almost sacred weapon which broke their fleet once, and use it against Japan herself when the chance offered? Mild gave them their opportunity and Soviet money paid for all that expensive salvage gear of Sang A's.'

'And their hardware,' I said, indicating the sub-machine gun. 'There's a lot more of these around on Sang A. Plus other, heavier metal. But how do you know all this background?'

'I was given a lead by something I overheard that first day we went aboard her-they weren't to know I understood Japanese, of course. My suspicions were confirmed when I searched her. We had the pleasure of meeting that night of the party, you and I, Captain Weddell.'

'The guard in the mask!'

'Aye. Miss Jutta knew I was around!

'You signalled him with the torch.' Jt was a rhetorical accusation.

Jutta had sat aside while I'd cross-questioned Denny. I considered that the whole thing had become too big for her. Now her voice was remote and slightly mistrustful.

'Yes, I did. I was afraid for you, being alone. We'd made a plan beforehand. Kaptein Denny never left the vicinity of Possession.'

'That puts paid to expecting help from the frigate, then? '

It's better this way,' said Kaptein Denny.

I went on rowing mechanically, just as a concussed Rugby player goes on playing-my mind in a daze. Then J jerked into the present again. From downwind came the sound of a boat's engine starting up. If half of what Kaptein Denny said was correct, the sooner we made tracks for the high seas the betler. 'Where's Gaok?'

'We're almost there now: only a couple of cables' lengths to go, to starboard… easy as she goes.'

We pulled alongside the cutter and streamed the dinghy astern at the end of a painter.

'They're practically breathing up our exhaust pipe,' I said. '

Start the diesel. Perhaps they won't hear it, the way the wind's blowing. Find your way out to sea?'

'I'll start the diesel all right but I mean them to hear it. I want them to think we're heading seawards.'

'Think?'

We're on our way inshore. Bridge of Magpies. After that, Albatross Rock.'

'Do you want to hand them Gaok-and us-on a plate?'

'Listen to me. We start the engine-rev it up and hope the sound does reach them. Then we cut it, We sail. After we've picked up Ichabo.'

'Sail! Two boats! You're out of your mind!' say two boats. And we sail.'

That settled it. As far as another reef-grazing ride was concerned, I didn't need faith to trust him after our breakout from Alabama Cove. His next words-though, drove my patience to the limit. '

Wet tow Ichabo.'

'God's truth! What next! Tow! Halve our chances! Halve our speed! HaJve our manoeuvrability!'

We tow.'

The only bright spot was that he appeared to have more to lose than we did. We had only our lives. What the rest of his stake was I intended to find out.

'Okay-' I capitulated.

At that he became more relaxed and easy again. 'Let's go, then.'

We gunned Gaok's engine as hard as we dared and then set off under a scrap of sail towards a spot where, Denny maintained, Ichabo was at anchor. Except for the direction of the wind, I had completely lost my bearings. Most of the fog had gone now but the dust made a more tangible darkness which hid the sun and filled our eyes and noses and crunched between our teeth.

We located Ichabo, lashed her helm, and made Gaok's towing cable secure. Then we set off-in a series of tight tacks, into the teeth of the wind and across the channel towards 177 the mainland. The air was very hot-and dust blew like a rasp. Desert debris was everywhere. The wind was nudging gale force and had a dry rolling rattle to it-like shaking a giant version of one of the Sperrgebiet's own rattle bushes which clatter like castanets.