‘By the way sir, there was a telephone call for you from a Senor Alburra just after you left this morning. He said he wanted to see you tonight. He gave an address in Macao.’
‘Must be a mistake, Number One. Who the hell do I know in Macao◦– we only arrived yesterday?’
‘I think he may be the owner of the Chris Craft cruiser, sir. He was very insistent. He said he thought he could be of service to you.’
‘I doubt it,’ Hamilton said shortly. ‘Probably wants to reward me for saving the crew. What’s his number◦– I’ll give him a ring and tell him to send a donation to the Royal Navy Benevolent Fund.’
Mannon fished a piece of paper from his trousers pocket and looked at it. ‘Sorry, sir, he didn’t give his phone number◦– only his address, the De Gama Oil & Wharfage Company, Isabella Strado. He asked to see you in his office at eight o’clock tonight.’
Hamilton looked thoughtful. He had no idea what Alburra wanted to see him about, but if he was in the oil business they could well share certain mutual interests. He gave Mannon no indication of what was passing through his mind.
‘On second thoughts, Number One, perhaps I will call on him this evening. But if anyone asks where I am, just tell them I’ve taken the ferry to Macao to sample the gambling tables.’
Mannon raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘Not the women, sir?’
‘All right, Number One. If you want the truth◦– the women as well.’
THREE
‘I’ve no objection to taking part in a one-man war, sir. But I think we ought to be practical about it,’ Mannon told Hamilton as the officers gathered in the wardroom after Rapier’s skipper had finished addressing the crew. ‘As you’re often fond of reminding me◦– I was an accountant in civvy street, and that makes me very conscious of hard facts and figures. I daresay we would run amok in the China Sea for a couple of weeks◦– but that’s all.’
‘Roger’s got a good point there, sir,’ O’Brien agreed. ‘We can only carry ninety-one tons of oil in the bunkers. So even at Rapier’s most economical cruising speed, our maximum patrol range will be limited to around six thousand miles.’
‘And it’s one thousand six hundred and ninety miles back to Singapore,’ Scott pointed out, after a quick reference to Reed’s Table of Distances. ‘According to my arithmetic, that leaves an effective operational endurance of less than four thousand five hundred miles◦– let’s say three weeks at the most.’
Hamilton looked down at his erstwhile council-of-war. ‘You’re a lot of bloody dismal Jimmies,’ he told them coldly. ‘As for making for Singapore◦– forget it. If the balloon goes up we stay close to the China coast. We’re the only submarine this side of Aden. It’s our job to keep the Japs busy until the Navy can send a fleet out East. And the current staff evaluation for doing this is ninety days.’
‘Well, short of stepping masts and fitting our own sails, I don’t see how we’re going to survive that long,’ O’Brien said pessimistically. ‘We’ll have burned up all our oil inside twenty-five days. What do we use for fuel after that?’
Hamilton shrugged. ‘I suppose we could hide amongst the islands and extend our operational duration that way. The important thing to remember is this: until they succeed in sinking Rapier, the Japs have got to divert valuable anti-submarine units into the area to hunt us down. Every single extra day we can remain afloat will make their attack schedule that much more difficult to maintain.’
‘I still think we should be realistic, sir,’ Mannon said patiently. ‘I agree that Hong Kong will probably fall within a fortnight. And I agree that we shall then have nowhere to replenish our oil stocks. But don’t forget we’ll also need to replace torpedoes. Rapier carries six Mk VIIs in her tubes and a further six reloads. That means we will be limited to a maximum of twelve attacks. After that we cease to be an effective fighting unit. Once a submarine has exploded its torpedoes, it becomes a liability rather than an asset.’ Hamilton looked at them in silence for a few minutes. He knew it was a crazy plan, but once embarked on an enterprise he did not believe in looking back. He turned to Scott.
‘Start going through your charts with a fine toothcomb, Alistair. I want you to find me a small uninhabited island inside a five hundred mile radius of Hong Kong. Von Spee hid his squadron amongst the Pacific Islands in 1914 – and it took us four months to find him. So let’s take a lesson from the enemy.’
As Scott began sorting through the charts, Hamilton turned his attention to Mannon. ‘I shall want you to call on the Dockyard Superintendent tomorrow, Number One. Tell him we came out here without torpedoes and need a complete outfit. If he asks questions, you can always say we had to off-load ours at Alexandria because the Mediterranean flotillas were short of weapons.’
‘But he’ll want to examine our forms S304 and 319. And they’ll show we had a full kit on board when we left Alex, sir.’
‘You’ve got a twisted mind, Number One. You ought to have been a bloody civil servant not an accountant. Bring the forms to me and I’ll write them up so that they back up our story. I used to be good at forging the Commander’s signature for leave passes when I was serving in the Lower Deck.’
‘Aren’t you taking a bit of a chance, sir?’ O’Brien asked quietly. ‘Supposing the Japs don’t attack. How the hell are you going to wriggle out of falsifying records and getting hold of a dozen torpedoes which you weren’t authorized to draw?’
‘That’s my problem,’ Hamilton told him crisply. ‘I’ve been sent out here to defend Hong Kong. And I’m not going to let a load of bureaucratic bullshit stop me.’ Mannon gave up his efforts to dissuade the skipper from hanging himself. In fact, he was beginning to understand what Hamilton had in mind. A lonely and uninhabited island. A private stock of ammunition and supplies. And every man’s hand against you. It reminded him of the old Percy F. Westerman stories he used to read at school.
‘Supposing Scott finds an island, sir. What then?’ Hamilton looked at the young RN VR Executive Officer. He could see the gleam of excitement in Mannon’s eyes. Perhaps he’d misjudged him. Perhaps all chartered accountants were pirates at heart. He gave him a grin of encouragement.
‘The first thing is to lay out an anchorage and make sure we have adequate cover from air search.’ He glanced at Scott. ‘That means deep water close inshore, Pilot, and plenty of trees and vegetation.’
‘Shouldn’t be too much of a problem, sir. There aren’t any desert islands in this part of the world◦– the coral area is further to the south and east.’
‘Good. Once we’ve found a suitable island, we’ll transport as many supplies and as much fresh water as we can find and start building up a store’s reserve. Then we offload our torpedo outfit and come back to draw replacement weapons from the RNAD depot. With luck we should end up with twenty-four torpedoes.’
The others nodded. It sounded plausible enough. O’Brien, Rapier’s engineering officer, was the only one with any doubts.
‘That’s fine for stores and ammunition, sir. But you can’t stockpile oil willy-nilly. It will still have to be kept in tanks or, at least, barrels. And how the hell do we smuggle barrels of oil out of the depot without being spotted?’
Hamilton smiled enigmatically. ‘I’ve already thought of that one, Chief. And I think I’ve got the answer.’ He looked around the table. ‘Any more questions?’
The officers shook their heads.