The last pontoon in the line swerved sharply to starboard to avoid a similar fate and then swung purposefully towards the avenging submarine while the soldiers tried to bring their machine gun to bear. But with less than twenty yards to go, the clumsy flat-bottomed craft caught the full force of Rapier’s bow wave and it reared up as a wall of cresting water swept under its blunt snout. Lacking the stability of a properly designed boat, it capsized in an instant and flung its occupants into the sea.
Most of the soldiers were dragged under by their heavy combat equipment and drowned within seconds, but three threw themselves forward with fanatical determination and tried to gain a grip on Rapier’s slippery hull plating. The officer leading them was quickly swept away by the wash and his screams rent the night air as the propellers caught him.
‘No prisoners!’
The submariners reacted to Hamilton’s grim order without hesitation. Morgan grabbed an iron stanchion, ran along the fore-deck, and smashed it down on the hands of the first Japanese as he tried to haul himself to safety. Ryuji Kamisaka screamed but, ignoring the agony of his broken fingers, he continued to cling on with his left hand. Morgan struck again and the army corporal fell back into the sea with an anguished cry, drifted helplessly astern for a few brief moments, and then raised his arm and vanished beneath the surface.
The second soldier had already pulled himself up onto the fore-deck casing by the time Walker arrived in the bows and he received the seaman’s boot in his face for his efforts. Losing his grip, he fell backwards into the water with a loud splash and disappeared.
The excitement was over before Rapier’s men had had time to consider what they were doing. The skipper had given an order and responding to discipline they had carried it out. No one questioned whether it was lawful. And no one mentioned the Geneva Convention. It had been a matter of kill or be killed. In the heat of combat, personal survival could be the only consideration….
‘Destroyers to starboard!’
‘Check fire! New target three thousand yards on starboard bow◦– stand by!’
In the confusion of a night battle it is easy to make a mistake and Hamilton wanted positive identification before he ordered Rapier’s deck gun to open fire. The approaching ships were unlikely to be British◦– but, he readily admitted it was an outside chance, they could be American.
‘Three ships in line ahead◦– estimated speed twenty-five knots,’ Mannon reported as he watched the approaching destroyers through his glasses. ‘No lights.’
The crashing roar of an exploding shell astern rocked the submarine violently and Hamilton glanced back quickly at the shore. In the flickering glow of the burning trucks he could see a Japanese field gun on the shingle beach with another being manhandled alongside it. The heady self-confidence created by their two easy successes quickly disappeared in the face of this new danger. Suddenly everything had gone sour. And, if the approaching warships proved to be Japanese, the enemy had the submarine trapped between two fires!
‘Reverse course, Cox’n. Steer west and make for mid-channel. I’m going to need diving room.’ Hamilton leaned over the engine room voice pipe. ‘Maximum revs, O’Brien! Pull out all the bloody stops!’
‘Engine room, aye aye, sir.’
Having replaced the plug of the speaking-tube, Hamilton joined Mannon as Rapier heeled over sharply and swung onto her new course.
The leading warship had closed to 2,500 yards and not even the darkness could disguise the knuckled bow and cranked funnels of a typical Japanese destroyer. Yellow flame stabbed from her for’ard gun turret and, as the fierce crack of cordite echoed across the sea, two uncomfortably well-placed shells exploded close under the stern, throwing up towering geysers of dirty brown water.
Hamilton seemed unconcerned by the unexpected accuracy of the enemy fire. With calm professional detachment, he noted the color of the water thrown up by the bursting shells and turned to Mannon. ‘They’ve stirred up the mud, Number One,’ he observed casually. ‘And that means we haven’t enough depth of water for diving.’
The next salvo brought four shells whining down on the fleeing submarine, but Blood’s expert handling of the helm kept Rapier out of immediate danger and Hamilton could feel the vessel jinking and twisting as the coxwain tried to throw off the enemy’s aim. He leaned over the for’ard bridge screen. ‘Secure from Action Stations, Mister Gunner. Get below!’ Two more explosions rocked Rapier to starboard arid the crumbling fountain of water thrown up by the bursting shells fell on the exposed bridge like a shower of heavy summer rain. ’Stand by Diving Stations! First Officer and Coxwain to remain on the bridge. All hands below!’ Hamilton moved to the voice pipe. ‘Stand by to take over lower steering. What’s the depth of water, Pilot?’
Scott checked the echo sounder on the starboard bulkhead. ‘Thirty-five feet, sir.’
‘Thank you, Pilot,’ Hamilton turned to Mannon. ‘No chance of diving yet, Number One. I’m not going to risk sticking the old girl’s nose in the mud.’ Crouching down on his knees, he opened the signal locker and fumbled inside. ‘Are they gaining on us?
‘Yes, sir◦– range down to two thousand.’ Mannon sounded a little puzzled. ‘The rear ship seems to be firing at something to the south.’
‘Perhaps it’s bombarding Taikoo,’ Hamilton suggested as he continued his search of the locker.
‘I don’t think so◦– the shells are falling too short. Hang on… I can see another ship. Looks like a gunboat.’ Hamilton found what he wanted and straightened up holding a couple of large cylindrical canisters. Tucking them under his arm, he raised his binoculars to find out the cause of Mannon’s excitement.
The jaunty outline of a China gunboat, its light grey paintwork merging into the misty background of Victoria Island, was barely distinguishable in the bad light. But the large battle flag fluttering from the pole mast and the black smoke belching from her tandem funnels abaft the wheel-house made it impossible to mistake her purpose. Flame flashed from the muzzle of the for’ard gun as she challenged the destroyers.
‘It looks like Firefly, sir!’
‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised, Number One,’ Hamilton agreed calmly. ‘Only an idiot like Harry Ottershaw would take on three destroyers. They’ll blow him out of the water with a couple of salvos.’
‘Do we go about and give him support, sir?’ Mannon asked.
Hamilton shook his head. ‘No◦– and Ottershaw wouldn’t thank us for it if we did. He’s only shown himself in order to draw the Japs away and give us time to find deep water. If Rapier turns back, we’ll both be done for.’ He flipped open the cover of the voice pipe. ‘Control Room-take over lower steering. Stand by to dive.’ He snapped the lid shut and turned to Blood. ‘Diving stations, Cox’n. Get below.’ Ernie Blood moved to the upper hatch. He was sorry to miss the fun. But on the other hand, he preferred to be a live hero rather than a dead one and he wholeheartedly endorsed the skipper’s unpalatable decision.
‘One of the destroyers is resuming chase, sir.’ Mannon warned from his vantage point at the rear of the conning tower. ‘The other two are closing on Firefly.’
As Hamilton glanced astern to check the situation, he saw flame suddenly leap mast-high from the gunboat’s superstructure as a salvo of enemy shells crashed down and exploded behind the wheelhouse. The little ship shuddered under the impact of two more direct hits but, seemingly undeterred by the punishment she was taking, Firefly defiantly maintained course towards her two powerful antagonists and a well-aimed shell from the for’ard gun forced one of the destroyers to turn away.