You’re too damned right, Hamilton thought to himself as he replaced his cap, saluted, and left Snark’s airless cabin. No brass-hat was going to tell him to leave his ship undefended in the face of enemy attack. And he doubted whether the other officers would be any more successful in the task. After two years of combat operations, he was unlikely to be convinced of his errors by a group of officers who had never fired a gun in anger….
The Officer’s Club was conveniently close to the guard ship and Hamilton picked his way through the traffic on the Bund and slowly walked up the sweep of the wide stone steps leading to the entrance. The cold bite of the air-conditioning was a welcome relief after the sweltering heat on the waterfront. As Hamilton removed his cap, a white-coated Chinese attendant bowed him obsequiously towards the main bar◦– an attractive, spacious room overlooking the harbor, with a long polished mahogany counter, a glittering display of inviting bottles, and deep comfortable club armchairs.
He settled himself on a leather-topped stool and lit a cigarette. The bartender, a retired chief petty officer wearing a row of ribbons from the Kaiser war on his white mess jacket, put down the glass he was polishing and came over to take his order.
‘A large Scotch with ice.’
Bennett put his glass under the optic, measured out a generous double Haig, and deftly added two large lumps of ice. He put it down in front of Hamilton with a cheerful grin.
‘New in, sir?’ he asked.
‘This afternoon,’ Hamilton nodded. The bite of the whisky helped to calm his still ruffled temper. ‘The trouble with this place is they don’t know there’s a war on.’ He tilted the glass and swallowed the remains of the whisky in one gulp. ‘Another double,’ he told the bartender. ‘If you ask me, the only way to look at Hong Kong is through the bottom of a glass.’
Bennett grinned tactfully and went back to the Haig. A small group of officers were gathered further along the bar, and he watched as one of them got up from his stool and walked across to the new arrival.
‘You must be from the submarine?’
Hamilton nodded as the lieutenant commander held out his hand. ‘Welcome to Hong Kong – my name’s Ottershaw, Harry Ottershaw. I run one of the gunboats – Firefly. We’re berthed down by the Star Ferry Pier.’
Hamilton gripped Ottershaw’s hand firmly. ‘Nick Hamilton◦– Rapier,’ he acknowledged by way of introduction. ‘Just in from the Med. And I can’t say I think much of your C-in-C’s welcoming committee.’
Ottershaw perched himself on the empty stool next to Hamilton and grinned. ‘We heard about your spot of bother with the Japs. I’m afraid the authorities don’t like it when we start shooting back. I expect you got a rocket from Snark.’
Hamilton shrugged. ‘I can look after myself,’ he said defensively. ‘But I’m damned if I’m going to apologize.’
Ottershaw smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to, old man. Most of us have had to eat humble pie with the Japs at various times since we’ve been on the Station. It’s all part of the way of life out here.’ He glanced up as his drinking companions came down the bar to join him.
‘This is Mike Grimshaw◦– another gunboat man,’ he said by way of introduction. ‘And Jock McVeigh. They’ve both been out here for so long they’re practically natives. This is Nick Hamilton, chaps, skipper of the sub we saw coming in this afternoon.’
Hamilton shook hands and called Bennett across to order another round of drinks for his new colleagues. As he turned away from the counter, he saw Grimshaw looking at the ribbon of the DSO on his breast. The gunboat commander frowned thoughtfully for a moment and then broke into a wide grin.
‘Of course◦– I thought your face looked familiar. You must be the chap who rescued the prisoners from Nordsee last year. Your picture was splashed all over the newspapers at the time.’ He raised his glass in salute. ‘Good to have you with us. But what the devil are you doing in a dump like Hong Kong? I thought they only posted us old has-beens out here.’
Hamilton shrugged. ‘I’ve been asking myself the same question ever since I received my orders. What the hell am I supposed to do with an operational submarine on a peacetime station◦– sit around and make myself look pretty all day?’
Ottershaw exchanged glances with his companions. ‘You’ll have plenty to do, old boy. We might not be directly involved in the war out here, but we manage to get ourselves shot at on most patrols. And it’s not only the Japanese. Everyone seems to be trigger-happy in China.’
‘Except the British,’ Hamilton said pointedly.
‘We call it restraint,’ the lieutenant commander corrected him gently. ‘But we have our moments. We’re permitted to open fire on certain occasions. But most of the time our orders are to keep out of trouble and achieve our ends by negotiation.’
‘Most of us felt the same as you when we arrived out East,’ Grimshaw intervened. ‘But you must live and learn. It’s a tricky problem. And as you’ll soon discover, we’re in no shape to take on the Japs in a full-scale war.’
Hamilton remained skeptical. ‘They ran off soon enough when Rapier gave ’em a taste of their own medicine. What they need is a sharp lesson.’
‘Aye◦– perhaps they do,’ McVeigh conceded. ‘But just watch out and make sure ye dinna learn one yeself.’ Ottershaw glanced at his watch. He could see Hamilton was in no mood to be objective and it seemed a diplomatic moment to withdraw. No point in rubbing a newcomer up the wrong way on his first day ashore.
‘Come on chaps. We’ll just be in time for the five o’clock at Happy Valley.’ He put his empty glass on the bar and smiled at Hamilton. ‘That’s the local racecourse,’ he explained. ‘You’ll find most of the Navy there during the season. Why not join us tomorrow?’
‘Thanks, but I’ve asked for an appointment with the Governor tomorrow. I expect I’ll see you in here again once I’ve sorted things out.’
Like hell I will, he promised himself as the three officers went out. I’m used to fighting seamen◦– not bloody cocktail commanders. He stared broodingly at the bottles glittering against the mirror behind the bar counter. Perhaps if he got roaring drunk he’d feel better. He called Bennett over and ordered another double.
The ex-chief petty officer filled his glass, dropped in the regulation two ice cubes, and placed the drink down on the bar top.
‘I know what you’re thinking, sir,’ he said quietly. ‘But you’ve got it all wrong. They have to put up a show to hide their feelings. They hate the Jap’s guts just as much as you do. But the Navy’s under strict orders out here. They’re merely doing what they’re told.’
‘It’s a convenient excuse, chief. But it won’t wash with me. This war has taught me how to look after myself – and my boat.’
‘I know it isn’t my place to go talking behind their backs, sir…’ Bennett lowered his voice. ‘But those three gentlemen ’ave all seen plenty of action in their time. Take the Lieutenant Commander. He was at Narvik in Lapwing◦– ’ad it sunk under his feet in a runnin’ fight with three Jerry destroyers. And not before he’d taken one of ’em to the bottom with ’im. He might tell you about it one day, but I doubt as ’e will. And old Jock McVeigh won his first DSO in 1919 against the Bolsheviks in the Baltic. Then he ups and gets a bar at Dunkirk. They sent ’im out here for a rest and what ’appens? A Jap sentry puts two bullets in his arm when he tries to tow one of the Jardine & Mathieson steamers out of trouble up the Yangtse earlier this year.’