“Probably the special circumstances,” Sirocco suggested gently. “The Marines must be hanging on by their toenails in Guadalcanal and Tulagi and if that message the Major heard was the real thing, and I’m inclined to think it was, the only thing that stands between an unopposed reinforcement of the Japanese garrisons on both those places is the submarine navy. Flying Fish is to the southeast of us and they’re moving others in, according to the messages, but we’re the first boy in the line.”
“I thought sure we’d see something coming out of that harbor last night,” Hinman said. “Place was black as pitch all night long, not a light anywhere. That would mean to me that the Marines still hold the airfield at Guadalcanal and Rabaul is afraid of air raids.” He yawned hugely. “I’m going to sack out. If we don’t see anything moving today I want to patrol closer in to the harbor tonight. Make the patrol courses two miles from the harbor mouth.”
Mako surfaced after full dark and began running back and forth across the harbor lanes. It was Grabnas’ sharp eyes that picked up the sudden blacking out of a star by a ship’s masts. Captain Hinman scrambled up into the lookout stand beside the gangling seaman.
“Nice going, Grabby,” he said softly as he leveled his binoculars. He stared for a long moment, moving the binoculars back and forth.
“I see four of them, do you?” he said to Grabnas.
“Yes, sir, three small ships and what looks like a tin can way out ahead there. It was his mast I saw cut through the starlight.”
Hinman dropped back down to the Bridge. “Control!” he said into the speaker. “Get the Executive Officer to the Conning Tower!” Sirocco’s voice came up through the hatch.
“I’m here, Bridge. What’s cooking?”
“Run the search scope up, Joe,” Hinman called down the hatch. “Bearing two seven zero and sweep aft about twenty degrees. Tell me if you see something. We’ve got ships out there!”
He watched the thick-necked search periscope ascend and begin its search. Then Sirocco’s voice came up the hatch, an edge of excitement in his tones.
“I’ve got four of them, sir! Looks like a destroyer escort out in front and then three small ships behind in a line.”
“Sound General Quarters!” Hinman snapped. As the gong began to sound throughout Mako Hinman clapped Nate Cohen on the shoulder. “I’ll take the deck, Nate.” He leaned over the hatch to the Conning Tower.
“Plotting Party will work in the Conning Tower,” he called down. “Joe, I want a course to close on the last ship in the line. Then put me on a parallel course to the convoy, make the course seven hundred yards to the convoy’s starboard side. I’m going to run along beside these ships for a while, I don’t think they can make too much speed, they look too small. We’ll see what the escort up ahead does. If he doesn’t pick us up we’ll set up to shoot at the last ship in the line. Set torpedo depth two feet. Repeat two feet.” He waited while Sirocco worked out the plot and then grabbed at the bridge rail as Mako went into a sharp turn that would bring it parallel to the line of ships.
“Moon’s coming up,” he called down the hatch. “In our favor! The targets are between us and the moon! Another five minutes and you should be able to get a real good look through the periscope.”
“Bearing… Mark!” Sirocco’s voice came up through the hatch to the Bridge clearly in the quiet of the night.
“Target bears three three zero, Bridge. That’s the last ship in the line, the one closest to us. Destroyer up ahead bears zero five zero. Range to the last ship is estimated at nine hundred yards. Target has very stubby mast, hard to figure height. Range to the destroyer is seven thousand yards. Convoy speed estimated to be eight knots. Parallel course to the convoy is one three eight, sir. We can come right to one three eight now and we’ll be seven hundred yards away.”
“Very well” Hinman said. “Steer course one three eight. Make turns for nine knots. We’ll overhaul and see what the escort does. Keep an eye on him, Joe.”
Mako moved silently through the calm sea, pacing her speed to the speed of the convoy that was ahead of her and off her port bow. The moon crept higher in the sky and Hinman could see the outlines of the three ships clearly and the destroyer escort out ahead of its flock.
“Destroyer has started a turn to starboard, Bridge! Joe Sirocco’s voice was urgent. Hinman leaned his elbows on the teak bridge rail and studied the destroyer. It was turning, showing a small feather of white at its bow.
“Range to the destroyer is six thousand yards, Bridge. Angle on the bow now nine zero starboard. He’s in a definite turn! Sound reports twin screws picking up speed, Nate thinks it must be the destroyer, sir!”
“Open tube outer doors,” Hinman sang out. “If he comes for us we’ll give him four down the throat! Start the plot on the destroyer! I want to swing my bow five degrees to starboard if he comes at us head on and take him with a spread of four fish running across his track!” He felt light-headed. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through him like a big surge of power, the same sense of elation he had felt in his first and only surface engagement with the enemy in Makassar Strait. As he shivered in anticipation he realized that what he was feeling now he had felt when he made love to Joan. He shook his head.
“Let me have some information, damn it, Plot! Keep feeding me!”
“Range to the destroyer is four zero zero zero yards, sir. Angle on the bow is zero! He’s coming right at us. All torpedo tube outer doors are open, depth set two feet, spindles disengaged. Target speed is sixteen knots and increasing slowly… Range to the target is three five zero zero… speed seventeen knots.”
“Give me a solution for shooting at twelve hundred yards range to the target,” Hinman said. “We’ll shoot a spread of four from the forward tubes and then swing ship to bring the after tubes to bear in case we need them.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Sirocco said. “Angle on the bow of the target is still zero zero zero. Range is two five zero zero yards. Speed is eighteen knots. He is shooting!”
Hinman saw the flash of a gun on the dark bulk of the destroyer’s foredeck as Sirocco shouted. The shell screamed by, far overhead. There was another flash and the shell passed by above them and to one side.
“He’s trying to drive us down,” Hinman shouted. “How do we look, Plot!”
“Coming up to a solution, sir. Recommend we swing five degrees to starboard now… range one five zero zero yards!”
“Stand by Forward!” Hinman shouted. “Give me a solution!”
“You can shoot!” Sirocco called out.
“Fire one!” Hinman counted down from six to zero.
“Fire two!
“Fire three!
“Fire four!
“Right full rudder! All ahead flank! Stand by aft!”
Mako’s first torpedo ran ahead of the target. The second slammed into the destroyer’s bow and the third, six seconds behind, exploded with a huge roar at the destroyers’ engine rooms.
“Joe!” Hinman screamed. “Get up here! Confirm this!”
Sirocco scrambled up the ladder to the bridge and saw the bow of the destroyer, torn apart by the first torpedo, sticking out of the water. The stern reared high out of the water, seemed to reach higher and then began to slide under the sea.
“One down!” Hinman yelled. “Now we’ll take those other three! It’s going to be like shooting fish in a barrel! I want a torpedo track of seven hundred yards, Joe. Bring me up so I can run head on to the targets and shoot. One fish for each one should be enough!” Sirocco nodded and dropped down the hatch.