Hamilton moved to the engaged side of the bridge, jerked the fuse of the smoke candle, and threw the spluttering canister into the water. It was a device issued to submarines for service as a distress signal◦– the smoke from the canister floating on the surface indicated the location of the sunken vessel to rescue craft hurrying to its assistance. At that precise moment Rapier was certainly in distress and, in the circumstances, Hamilton felt justified in putting the emergency canisters to a more immediate and practical use. Ripping the paper from the second cylinder he tossed it into the water to join its companion.
‘Depth of water, Mister Mannon?’
The first officer moved to the voice pipe to transmit the question to the control room below and waited while Scott checked the echo sounder.
‘Forty feet and shelving, sir.’
‘Very good, Number One. Get below. Diving in one minute.’
Baffled by the improvised smoke screen, the pursuing destroyer reduced speed and stopped firing.
There was a brief respite and then an unlucky gust of wind suddenly cleared a gap through the smoke to reveal the fleeing Rapier barely a mile away. Hamilton heard a salvo of shells screaming towards the defenseless submarine. A near miss kicked Rapier to port and, before the submarine had fully recovered, Hamilton was hurled across the bridge by the blast of a second shell bursting close under the starboard ballast tank. The brilliant white flash of the explosion dazzled his eyes and he fumbled blindly for a handhold.
Then, just as suddenly, the unpredictable breeze changed direction again and closed the gap in the smoke screen, bringing another short but vital reprieve from the enemy guns. Seizing his opportunity, Hamilton clambered down into the upper hatch and pressed the diving klaxon.
AHOOA…AHOOA…AHOOA.
Rapier was already sliding beneath the surface by the time he reached the control room and a quick glance at the dials showed that Mannon had used his intelligence and put the submarine into a shallow dive so that if, by ill-luck, they struck the muddy bottom of the Straits, it would only a glancing blow.
‘Propeller noises approaching, sir,’ Murray reported from the hydro-phones.
‘Slow ahead both motors◦– level at forty feet.’
Hamilton made no attempt to stop engines and shut down for depth charges◦– the water was probably too shallow for the destroyer to use underwater weapons without placing herself in equal danger. It was a gamble worth taking. Every single minute counted and, once Rapier could reach the area covered by the shore batteries, she would be safe from further attack. Not even the most foolhardy enemy captain would put his ship at risk against shore guns….
The submarine suddenly jolted sideways as if struck by a giant hammer, light bulbs shattered, gauge glasses cracked, and cork insulation wafted down from the deck head seams like fine brown snow. Ten seconds later, as the men were picking themselves up off the deck, the angry rumble of a violent explosion echoed like distant thunder against the hull plates.
‘Either that was bloody close,’ someone murmured ‘or the Japs are using fucking big depth charges!’
The force of the concussion had blown the main fuses and there was a general sigh of relief as the emergency lamps glowed to life. Hamilton cast an anxious eye at the dials and felt reassured by what he saw. He rubbed a large bruise on his left buttock, where he had been thrown against a valve wheel.
‘I don’t think it was a depth charge,’ he said quietly. ‘It sounded more like a ship blowing up.’ He turned to Murray crouched over his hydro-phone equipment. ‘Where’s the destroyer now?’
‘Passed directly overhead just before the explosion, sir. HE suggests she’s turned south towards Victoria….’ Murray paused, listened intently and carefully moved the knurled knob of his apparatus. ‘Still turning, sir. Now headed east towards Junk Bay.’
‘Periscope depth!’
‘Up-helm ’planes◦– level at thirty.’
The two coxswains eased the big diving wheels to the left and watched the red needles of the depth gauges swing upwards.
‘Thirty feet, sir!’
‘Reverse ’planes… keep her level, Cox’n.’
‘Up periscope!’
Hamilton grabbed the handles and pulled them down as the thin stalk of the ’scope poked above the waves. He circled quickly until the upper lens was bearing towards the stern. The water suddenly drained from the angled glass and he found himself staring into the soft darkness of the tropical night, with a canopy of stars twinkling against the black velvet vault of the sky above the horizon. He picked out the stern of the destroyer disappearing in the general direction of Lye Mum Point and then carried out a swift 360 degree search of the surface to make sure there were no other enemy warships in the vicinity.
He could just make out the shapes of the other two destroyers circling off the coast to the east◦– their searchlights sweeping the surface as if looking for something. He switched to the high magnification lens for a closer inspection of the scene and watched the third destroyer join its companions. Working in formation, the three warships quartered the area off Taikoo like restless hounds prowling outside the lair of a runaway fox. Then, as a signal lamp flashed from one of the destroyers, they formed up in line ahead. Gathering speed, they steered eastwards towards the open sea. Hamilton watched them vanish and then surveyed the empty waters of Quarry Bay once again.
‘Down periscope.’ He turned away as the column sank back into its womb under the deck. ‘Firefly’s gone,’ he announced unemotionally. ‘The Japs were searching for survivors but I doubt if they found any. Must have been a direct hit on the magazine. That would account for the explosion we heard.’
No one spoke for a few moments, but they all knew Firefly had deliberately sacrificed herself to ensure their escape. It was Mannon who finally broke the brooding silence with an epitaph that voiced the thoughts of every man in the submarine’s control room.
‘I reckon Harry Ottershaw deserves a bloody Victoria Cross.’
Hamilton leaned his elbows on the table while he studied the chart. Snark wanted him to patrol off Lam Tong Island during the hours of daylight and that meant a long sweep past Larama Island and then a run to the east keeping south of Victoria Island itself. It was tempting to cut through the channel via Deep Water, Repulse, and South Bays. But once the sun had risen, he had little doubt that Japanese air patrols would be scouring the inshore areas in search of any remaining British warships still afloat and he wanted to proceed on the surface to save Rapier’s batteries.
‘Urgent damage report, sir.’
Hamilton straightened up as O’Brien came through the bulkhead hatch into the control room.
‘What’s the trouble, Chief?’
‘Starboard bunker leaking, sir. Clayton’s been checking the oil level and it’s dropping steadily even though the engines aren’t running.’
Hamilton felt a cold finger trace slowly down his spine. O’Brien was worried about the loss of fuel and the consequent reduction in Rapier’s effective range. Hamilton’s fear was more immediate. With oil leaking from the damaged bunker, the submarine was leaving a trail on the surface which, once spotted, would bring every available enemy ship and aircraft zeroing in for the kill. If he came to the surface and radioed Rapier’s exact position to the Japanese flagship they’d be in no greater danger!
‘How much fuel in the other bunkers, Chief?’
‘About forty tons, sir.’