Sato and the lookouts were silent. The Captain’s rebuke was a routine one. The truth of the matter was that no one could compete with his night vision.
But Yashimoto was pleased. The light had been sighted eight minutes ahead of ETA. So the inshore current was with them. Before the night was out it would save him much needed time.
During the approach to the Medjumbi light the Navigating Officer had determined by compass bearing that the current was setting north at two knots: it was the counter-current to which the Sailing Directions referred as ‘a possibility at times’. Twelve minutes later he reported the light to be abeam, distance five miles.
Yashimoto reduced speed to fourteen knots. To Sato he said, ‘We will make for the inner passage now, between the coast and the islands. Bring her round to port. Remain at five miles from the light.’ He moved over to the voice-pipe, called the control-room. The First Lieutenant answered.
‘We are entering the inner passage now,’ said Yashimoto. ‘Is the inflatable ready for launching?’
‘Yes, sir, it’s on the after-casing. Crew standing by. All ready when you give the word.’
‘Good. Come to the bridge, Kagumi. The more eyes here the better.’ Yashimoto thought a lot of the First Lieutenant. Kagumi, small, physically strong, was a first rate officer. Keen, intelligent and dependable, he was a good handler of men.
When the First Lieutenant reached the bridge Yashimoto was at its fore-end, binoculars to his eyes, the Navigating Officer next to him. ‘The western sky is still clearing,’ observed the Captain. ‘What time is moonset, Navigator?’
Sato smiled in the darkness. Wily old bird, he thought. If anybody knows the time of moonset it’s him. But he said, ‘0433, sir.’
‘Correct. We may have moonlight soon. The western sky is clearing. It’s a mixed blessing. Fine for navigating the inner passage, but bad otherwise. Could make the boat dangerously visible.’
The First Lieutenant said a dutiful, ‘Yes, sir.’
Kagumi always agrees with the Captain, thought Sato. But only in words. He’s contemptible.
Yashimoto went on. ‘At least while it’s as dark as this no one on Medjumbi can see us. Not at five miles. Once we’re into the inner passage it will be different if the moon comes.’
‘It seems from the Sailing Directions,’ said the First Lieutenant, ‘that the only inhabitants along this part of the coast are likely to be African fishermen. I don’t suppose they’ve ever seen a submarine. Probably wouldn’t know one if they did.’
Well done, Ito Kagumi! reflected Sato. There’s original thought for you. The Navigating Officer was, like many reservist officers, a university graduate. He disliked the First Lieutenant whom he regarded as a sycophant; a predictable automaton, always doing and saying the right thing. Earlier in the control-room Sato had heard him expressing approval of the Captain’s action in ordering the ‘liquidation’ of survivors. What a word to use when discussing the wholesale killing of human beings. Sato, who’d majored in philosophy, had been appalled by the night’s events. To him they seemed a ghastly nightmare. The men in the water, the cold glare of the searchlight illuminating white faces, eyes staring in horror, screaming voices, machine-gun fire ripping into them. Yet Kagumi had approved. Sato’s disturbing thoughts were banished by the muffled sound of the Captain’s voice from under the canvas screen on the bridge chart-table.
‘Sir?’ inquired the Navigating Officer.
‘We’ll be altering to the north again, shortly,’ said Yashi-moto. ‘It looks as if we can find depths of at least five fathoms most of the way up the inner passage. There’s a shallow patch west of the Vadiazi Shoal. About three and a half fathoms. We’ll trim up for that, reduce draught to a minimum. Once past the shoal we can trim down again. There are two small islets before the Nameguo Shoal. I want you to check on them, Kagumi. We’ll put the inflatable into the water soon after we’ve altered course. You’d better go down now and standby. Got your revolver?’
‘Yes, sir.’ The First Lieutenant gave the holster a reassuring pat before leaving the bridge.
The Medjumbi light receded and the moon once more shone through cloud breaks which widened as the night grew older. The temperature was in the high-seventies, the atmosphere humid, still and windless above the mirror-smooth sea over which the submarine travelled. To starboard lay the islands, to port the coast, neither more than a few miles distant at any time. Against the background of diesel clatter, silence on the bridge was broken at times by Yashimoto’s orders, the responses of the Coxswain, and the voice of the Navigating Officer calling the depths recorded by the echo-sounder. The Medjumbi light grew fainter and in time disappeared. Yashimoto knew from the chart that another fifteen miles of hazardous water had to be navigated before the Tambuzi light was sighted. He hoped they would find a hide-out well before then.
The inflatable had taken station ahead, the note of its two-stroke still audible on the bridge. From time to time the shaded blue lights of signal torches blinked messages between the two craft. More often than not they concerned alterations of course ordered by Yashimoto and repeated to the inflatable by the Yeoman. Sometimes distant fires and the drifting smell of woodsmoke told of African villages. On three occasions native catamarans were sighted; dark, loglike shapes in the moonlight, usually with a single occupant. None was close, which helped Yashimoto’s peace of mind.
Within the hour three islets had been checked. In each case the reconnaissance had been brief, Kagumi reporting that they were unsuitable. Then the submarine would get under way again with the inflatable once more in station ahead. Some time after the third island had been found wanting, the light on Tambuzi Island was sighted, an event which caused Yashimoto to sigh with relief. Bringing the submarine up through the inner passage, much of the time in total darkness, had been an exhausting task calling for unremitting concentration. Only when the clouds had cleared sufficiently to allow full moonlight had it become less arduous.
It was after sighting the Tambuzi light that Yashimoto stopped engines for the fourth time and ordered Kagumi to investigate a small islet a couple of miles south-west of the Nameguo Shoal. While the inflatable sped towards it Yashimoto waited, tense and uncertain, and tired with anxiety. The hunt for a hide-out was taking longer than he’d planned, and they hadn’t yet covered half the area to be searched. The chances of concealing I-357 before daylight were growing slimmer.
Satugawa came up to report progress. The damage control outfits in the submarine’s watertight compartments had yielded ten axes and ten saws: from four of these the engine-room staff had already made two double-handed saws for cutting large timber. There were, in addition, four long-handled wire cutters which could be used on the smaller branches of trees — ‘branches that are not more than sixteen centimetres in diameter,’ announced Satugawa, always a man for exactitude. A bayonet had been turned into a serviceable panga, seven more would be produced, and he had no doubt the total of forty cutting implements would be ready by two o’clock in the morning.