Mannon walked over to join Hamilton and the navigator at the plotting table. ‘Do you think we should hang about and see if they turn up again, sir?’ he asked.
Hamilton shook his head. ‘No◦– we can’t even be sure they will come back. And we can’t afford to waste time. According to the last radio report the military situation is deteriorating in Hong Kong. We haven’t had much success against the Japanese Navy◦– let’s see if we have more luck with their bloody army!’ He looked up at Scott. ‘Well, what are you waiting for, Pilot? Lay off a course for Hong Kong.’
EIGHT
‘Stand by for gun action!’
Hamilton moved back as the periscope sank down into its well under the deck plating and waited while Morgan and the gun crew scrambled into the cramped tunnel of the gun tower.
‘Gun crew closed up and standing by, sir.’
‘Stand by to surface! Blow main ballast. Full ahead both motors.’ There was a hiss of compressed air as Venables opened the valves and, restored to positive buoyancy, Rapier lurched upwards like a cork. Only the skill of the two coxswains controlling the fore and aft hydroplanes kept her safely below the surface, and Hamilton could see the sweat beading Blood’s face as he jockeyed the big diving wheel with the delicate care of a chef de cuisine mixing a soufflé.
‘Main ballast clear, sir.’
‘Surface!’
‘Up helm ’planes… blow Q! Watch the trim… blow stern compensating tank.’
‘Ten feet, sir.’
‘Reverse ’planes. Open gun hatch.’
Hamilton was already climbing into the empty steel vault of the conning tower. The damp salt air tasted good after the sour atmosphere inside the submarine and he drew it deep into his lungs as he pulled back the clips of the hatch. A blast of foul-smelling vapor, forced upwards by the pressure inside the boat belched through the open hatchway and, with the wisdom of experience, Hamilton held his breath until it had blown clear. Then, gripping the edges of the narrow hatchway, he heaved himself up on to the bridge.
Butterfield and Swire’s shipyard at Taikoo lay to port and, so far as Hamilton could make out, it seemed to be deserted◦– no doubt the Chinese workforce had fled at the first sign of trouble. A heavy pall of smoke hung over the mainland and fierce fires were burning in Kwun Tong and amongst the shattered remains of the Kai Tak airfield. Further to the west, the glow of more fires reddened the sky above Kowloon and the stabbing flames of Japanese field guns ranged along the waterfront showed that the enemy was now in occupation of the entire mainland area of the New Territories.
Hamilton put his mouth to the voice pipe. ‘Obey telegraphs. Transfer helm to upper steering position.’ A small nagging doubt made him wonder whether he was being wise. A fast dive would be impossible with so many men on deck. However, on the other hand, Rapier would be three times more effective as a surface warship in the event of the enemy attempting to launch an attack across the waters of the Strait. Torpedoes would have little value against small landing craft. ‘Stop motors. Engage both engine clutches. Half-ahead together.’
There was a momentary pause. Then the diesels rumbled into life and a blast of oil smoke erupted from the exhaust trunks.
‘Send both Lewis guns to the bridge.’
Hamilton raised his glasses and searched the darkness ahead of the bows. He wondered how many ships of the original Hong Kong defense force were still left. He had passed Circala patrolling to the south of the island during the final approach past Cape El’Aguilar, so at least one of the gunboats was still afloat. The destroyer Thracian had not been so lucky. Mannon had reported her as aground and beached on the eastern side of the island an hour or so earlier. Hopefully Tern and Firefly were still in the fight although, so far, he had seen no sign of them.
As the two machine gunners emerged onto the bridge and clamped their weapons to the support brackets on the port and starboard wings, Hamilton lowered his binoculars and bent over the voice pipe again.
‘Hand over to Alistair, Number One, and then come topside. Things are likely to get nasty if the Japs try and attempt a landing. I’ll need a back-up on the bridge in case something happens.’
‘Aye aye, sir.’
Hamilton raised his glasses and continued his careful search of the darkened shoreline as Rapier circled northwards and then eastwards around Quarry Bay. In the far distance, he could just make out the dockyard with Moth canted over and abandoned in dry-dock after being scuttled by her crew. And he could see a series of fires raging in the city itself where enemy shells had found vulnerable targets. How long could the poor bastards hold out? Lt General Sakai, the Japanese field commander, had already sent his peace envoys across the Straits under a flag of truce to demand the Colony’s surrender, but the Governor, Sir Mark Young, had sent the emissaries packing in no uncertain manner. But as a realist, Hamilton could not help wondering what sort of defense the troops could put up in the face of such overwhelming enemy numbers. Brave words were no substitute for bullets.
Mannon joined him on the bridge and together they surveyed the grim scene in silence. There were still no signs of any other British warships waiting to challenge an enemy attempt to cross the narrow Straits which separated Hong Kong from the mainland New Territories. It was becoming increasingly clear that only Rapier stood between the Colony and Japanese occupation.
‘Harbor launch five hundred yards on port bow, sir.’
Hamilton was the first to pick out the small tender patrolling along the southern side of Quarry Bay. It was flying a White Ensign from its stern and he could just distinguish the skeletal outline of a two pounder in the bows. The stranger was moving purposefully across the black water with a crisp wave curling from its sharp stem.
‘Searchlight!’
The duty signalman swung Rapier’s reflector towards the picket-boat and switched on the power. The silvered beam danced quickly across the water and then trapped the mysterious patrol craft in its stark glare like a moth caught in the light of an electric torch. Hamilton focused his glasses and Mannon heard him suddenly laugh.
‘Okay, Jenkinson, you can switch off. Stop engines. Bring me alongside, Cox’n.’
So the prophetic joke had come true. Admittedly Snark wasn’t sitting in a rowing boat with a service rifle across his knees and snarling in defiance at the invaders. But Hamilton’s fight hearted appraisal of the post-captain’s character hadn’t been that far from the mark. With most of the Navy’s remaining surface ships cruising to the south of the island in anticipation of a seaborne attack, Snark had rapidly improvised an inshore defense force to cover the Straits. The tender, an old steam-driven pinnace dating back to the Victorian era, had been hastily daubed with grey paint and fitted with an equally ancient gun. And, with a scratch crew of Royal Naval personnel drawn from shore-duty ratings working in the dockyard offices and administration officers, Snark was imposing his own private blockade in defiance of the overwhelming odds facing him from across the mainland side of the narrow moat.
Hamilton climbed down the iron rungs on the outside of the conning tower and made his way onto the fore-deck casing as the wooden picket-boat bumped against Rapier’s exposed ballast tanks. Snark was standing on the gunwale and, as the two vessels came together, one of the submariners reached across the help him over the slippery plating to the deck.