Both ran true.
Suzuya rolled with a heavy explosion, then another as both torpedoes hit. The results were flooding amidships that could not be controlled, and the British, as intimidated as they were at the approach of the Japanese fleet, had finally drawn blood. Only two of the seven Barracudas survived, and decided to follow their original orders, heading off for Trinco.
Now, her decks and hangars empty, Illustrious was running for all she was worth, finally working up to 29 knots. Air alert was sounded, and the crews began opening up on a group of low flying enemy planes that began circling their prey. Illustrious had 48 two-pounder AA guns on six Octuple mounts, and they began chopping op the sky, their chattering fire accented by the dark roses of the bigger 4.5-inch dual purpose guns. They would put down at least five Kates, but one scored a hit, aft, where the flooding threatened one of her propulsion shafts.
Like jackals nipping at the legs of their prey, the Kates had slowed the carrier from 29 to 21 knots again, and the second squadron of torpedo planes was now vectoring in. Those five British fighters were in a swirling dogfight higher up with the Japanese Zeros, so they could not help. It would be Hara’s pilots against the gunners on Illustrious now, and the balance of power in the Indian Ocean was riding on the outcome. The Kates saw the thin stream of grey smoke from the carrier, and turned to follow.
Her speed still falling off, Illustrious was also starting to go into a slight list to port when those last nine Kates found her and made their attack. Gunner Jake Morton saw a pair of planes swoop down to line up for their attack. He was right on them, his 2-Pounders hot with fire, and had every confidence he would take both down. One had already been hit, its left wing streaming a thin train of smoke. Then, with a wrenching thud, his gun mount jammed. Someone had failed to mount a round properly, and at that critical moment, the stream of fire he had been putting out was cut off.
The other gunners could not hold them at bay, and soon the seas were streaked with the wakes of enemy torpedoes. Expert in their craft, and with a very deadly and accurate weapon, the Japanese would find their mark again that morning. The carrier rocked with two more explosions, and like Formidable the previous day, she would sink that same hour.
The outcome of the entire engagement had come down to one moment, but it was not Jake Morton on his 2-Pounders. It was Gunner’s mate Ed Wicker, two hours earlier, when he had failed to properly replenish that gun mount magazine after a long, sleepless night. Yet no one would ever know that. It was one of a thousand Pushpoints on the history, hiding in the seeming insignificance of a billion simple moments that made up that flow of time. Wicker’s woe was Morton’s mishap, and the end of Illustrious along with any hope that the Royal Navy could ever sortie here again to defend Ceylon.
When Somerville got the news that he had lost her, he lowered his head, rubbing his brow. His defense had been rash, ill-managed, and now he had lost two ships Britain depended on greatly for her continued survival. He was learning the hard lesson that the American Admirals Fletcher and Halsey had been taught when it came to carrier duels with the Japanese. If you locked horns with the Imperial Japanese Navy, be ready to suffer losses. They were just too good at this deadly art of war, and not to be ever taken lightly. He knew nothing of Ed Wicker at that moment, but stripes on his cuff meant that he would certainly shoulder all the blame for his lapse.
Meanwhile, Takami had been monitoring the complex situation on her SPY-1D radars. Otani spoke up, a warning in her tone. “Sir, that skunk I reported on a minute ago is getting close, and they’re three big mothers behind it, cruising at 20 knots.”
It was Somerville’s screening force, the light cruiser Caledon with destroyers Fortune, Vampire and Vendetta. The bigger ships following were Vice Admiral Willis with his battleships on close cover for Indomitable. The sea around them was already erupting with water splashes from the guns of the heavy cruiser Tone.
“Our escort is on the job, said Harada. Bring us about and steer 180. We’ll open the range. Monitor the situation and if Tone needs assistance, we’ll go to our deck gun.”
Tone would not need assistance. Her ten 8-inch guns were more than a match for Caledon, and the three destroyers broke off to the west, running towards distant Ceylon. The battleships could never get close enough, for Tone was a very fast ship.
“Sir,” said Shiota. “From the signal traffic I’m hearing, I think we got that carrier—Illustrious,”
Fukada smiled, rubbing his hands together. “Two down and one to go,” he said.
“Do we have a fix on that last British carrier?” asked Harada.
“No sir,” said Otani. “When we broke south away from those destroyers we lost the contact. Predictive plot still has them on the board, but that is not reliable information if they’ve turned. My best guess is that they’re at 350, probably 40 nautical miles out from our position—over a hundred miles from our carriers. Their second DD screen just slipped over the horizon and went yellow. The only firm red contact I have now is that cruiser at 250.”
“Probably Cornwall or Dorsetshire,” said Fukada.
“Bring us about,” said the Captain. “We’ll chase that ship off if it has any ideas about trying to support that carrier. Feed Hara your best guess as to the carrier’s position based on that predictive plot. It’ll take them time to arm and spot for a strike, so factor that in.”
By 10:15 the brief, but violent engagement had ended, and the surviving planes had been recovered. Somerville was by no means out of the hot water, and now he called a conference of Wells, and the ship’s Captain Troubridge.
“Our own speed is falling off,” he said. That splinter damage to the boilers yesterday was bound to make itself known. Pressure is off and we’re down to 22 knots. At this rate, I don’t think we’ll get around Ceylon. Our only chance might be to turn north now, and make for Trinco. From there we go on to Madras, and hopefully under cover of the planes the RAF moved there. It was a footrace, gentlemen, and they won it. Illustrious paid the price.”
“If we turn now we might slip away,” said Troubridge.
“Mister Wells?”
“Agreed sir. If we could get up to speed I’d say press on, but under the circumstances, better to head north. We might open the range enough to cause them difficulties, but I would expect at least one more air strike today, and possibly two.”
“Then make it so, Captain, and signal Vice Admiral Willis, and all close supporting units to break off north. Any ship farther out is to carry on and attempt to reach Addu. We’ve been given a good hard beating here, and one I’ll not soon forget. Let’s just hope we can save this last carrier.”
“Don’t forget Hermes, sir,” said Wells. “She’s still at Trinco.”
“And with twelve planes,” said Somerville. “Well, we’ve got less than two dozen here. Are the fighters on deck?”
“Eight Martlets and a pair of Seafires ready.”
“Good, leave them there. If we launch, they’ll just come up on the enemy radar and let them know exactly where we are. So we skulk off north, and hope for the best. We’ll scramble the fighters if the enemy tries to hit us again. As for the battleships, we can’t wait for them, as much as I might want their added firepower for defense. Let’s see if we can work up more steam and run like the wind. In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed, and hold tight to those rabbit’s feet.”