Scott circled the pin-point denoting Gap Rock on the chart and picked up his ruler and protractor. ‘Any particular time-table, sir?’ he asked.
‘I intend to remain submerged until sunset. Then, if conditions are favorable, we’ll stay on the surface throughout the night. We can cover the search area more quickly that way◦– and it will give O’Brien a chance to re-charge his batteries.’
Jamieson hurried into the control room in his usual state of breathlessness. ‘Urgent radio signal coming through, sir,’ he reported. ‘Murray says he thinks you ought to listen.’
Hamilton glanced at the clock above the chart-table. It was nearly 2 p.m. It hardly seemed possible that they’d been running six hours since Firefly had been attacked. He wondered when he was going to get some rest.
The radio compartment was immediately aft of the control room and Murray glanced around as he heard the partition curtains swish open. He kept one earphone clasped firmly against his head as he passed on the gist of what he had heard.
‘The Japs have got Force Z, sir. I’ve just picked up signals from Singapore. Both ships sunk.’
Hamilton felt the blood drain from his face. ‘Are you quite certain?’ he asked.
Murray nodded. ‘Absolutely, sir. I’ve been picking up signals from both Express and Electra. They’re bringing the survivors back to Singapore. Repulse went down at 12:30 and Prince of Wales about an hour later. One message said that the Admiral was missing.’
Hamilton tried to think, but the enormity of the tragedy seemed to paralyze his brain. ‘Have you received any battle reports, Sparks? If I decide to take Rapier up into the Gulf I’ll need to know the size and composition of the Jap fleet.’
‘There were no surface ships involved, sir. It was an air attack.’
Hamilton had always been a submarine man. In his opinion a well-handled submarine was a match for any battleship. And, although he had a certain respect for aircraft◦– his experience in the North Sea had taught him to treat them with caution◦– he had never subscribed to the theory that airplanes had made the capital ship obsolete. But if Murray’s information was correct, and there seemed no reason why it should not be, today’s action had witnessed the opening of a new chapter in the history of naval warfare.
Two battleships, with plenty of sea-room in which to maneuver and equipped with modern anti-aircraft guns backed by radar and the latest fire control instruments, had been attacked and sunk by aircraft. The prophets of air power had been proved right in their predictions. From now on, the mighty battle wagons that had ruled the seas for more than a century must yield pride of place to the aircraft carrier.
‘Keep listening out, Murray. And let me know if you get further details. I’ll make an announcement to the ship’s company later on. They might as well know the worst.’
‘There is one other thing, sir.’
‘Yes?’
‘The Japanese have landed in the Philippines. And I gather that things aren’t going too well for the Americans.’
Hamilton thought of the Repulse and Prince of Wales lying on the bottom of the Gulf of Siam. Things were not exactly going too well for the British either….
‘Captain to the Control Room!’
Hamilton’s eyes opened and he was wide awake in an instant. Swinging his legs off the bunk, he thrust his feet into the waiting slippers, and padded quietly through the hatchway into the dim red glow of the control room. It was Rapier’s fourth night on patrol in the search area and he knew it was probably another false alarm. All they’d seen so far were trading junks and a solitary Dutch coaster en route from Canton to Java.
The draught of cool night air sweeping down through the open conning tower hatches, showed that Rapier was still running on the surface and the low rumble of the diesels provided further confirmation that they had not submerged. He wondered what the cause of the panic was◦– if they’d spotted a possible target Mannon should have taken the submarine under the surface immediately. But he hadn’t.
Villiers, Rapier’s fourth hand, was waiting to make his report as the skipper entered the control room.
‘Asdic contact, sir.’
‘Why the hell haven’t we submerged?’ Hamilton demanded.
‘Not reported to the bridge yet, sir,’ Villiers explained. ‘I was waiting for further information from the Asdic operator. Contact not yet positive.’
‘Good God, man! Don’t you realize you’ve put the entire boat at risk?’ He almost pushed the young sub-lieutenant aside as he reached for the intercom.
‘Diving stations! All hands to diving stations! Stand by to dive.’ As he pulled the cover from the bridge voice pipe, the dimly lit control room was suddenly filled with silent men moving to their positions. ‘Clear the bridge, Number One. Emergency dive!’ Reaching down he pressed the klaxon button. He had given Mannon and the look-outs the routine warning. It was up to them to get below before Rapier vanished beneath the waves.
AHOOA… AHOOA… AHOOA.
O’Brien arrived in the engine room as the first squawk of the klaxon blasted through the hull. He had been peacefully dozing in the wardroom when the skipper was called to the control room, but he was wide awake and at his post before the third and last raucous squawk of the alarm had faded.
‘Shut off for diving! Out clutches◦– switches on. Group up. Full ahead both motors.’ The Irishman peered across the narrow compartment to check that Miller had closed down from the diesels. ‘Shut exhaust valve!’ He reached for the intercom. ‘Shut off for diving, sir. Motors grouped up. Standing by.’
Hamilton acknowledged the report and made a mental note to commend O’Brien for the efficiency of his instantaneous reaction.
‘Take her down, Cox’n. Level at thirty feet.’
‘Open main vents. ’Planes hard a’dive!’
‘Stand by to close lower hatch.’
Rapier was diving fast◦– faster than even her usual emergency routine. If Mannon and the look-outs did not move quickly enough, the conning tower would be under the surface before the upper hatch was secured. And that would mean closing the lower hatch and marooning them on deck.
The first of the look-outs slid down the ladder and landed at the bottom with a thud. Mannon’s voice echoed hollowly from inside the empty cavern of the conning tower.
‘Upper hatch shut and clipped!’
The second look-out came down the ladder followed, moments later, by Mannon himself. He had made it with only seconds to spare and his face bore an expression of faint surprise tinged with excitement as if, bearing in mind his civilian profession – he had just found a significant error in a company’s balance sheet.
‘What’s up, sir?’
‘Asdic contact,’ Hamilton told him briefly. In fact, at that precise moment, he knew no more himself. ‘Villiers didn’t pass on the message to the bridge. I’ll deal with him later.’
‘Don’t be too hard on him, sir. He’s not in the Trade like the rest of us. Don’t forget, we only shipped him as a passenger.’
Hamilton had difficulty in repressing a smile. Mannon seemed to have forgotten that less than eighteen months ago he was working as an accountant in a City office under the shadow of St Paul’s and had never seen the inside of a submarine, except on the cinema screen. And yet now he regarded himself as a fully-fledged professional.