‘Portuguese neutrality, sir? If we operate close inshore?’ The First Lieutenant sounded doubtful.
‘They are very much our friends, Number One. And it’s a pretty deserted coastline. Not much more than a thin sprinkling of African fishing villages along the bit we’re interested in. We’re looking for survivors from the Fort N if we’re asked. You, Pilot. What’s your view?’
‘If Corrigan’s story is correct…’He sounded doubtful, shrugged. ‘I suppose it gives something to go on. But the hide-out, if there is one, won’t be in the Rovuma River, sir. I’d thought of that too. So I read it up in the Sailing Directions. There’s a sand-bar across the mouth. Even at high tide there isn’t enough water for anything but a ship’s boat to cross it.’
There was a sudden silence. The Captain sighed, his face reflecting disappointment. ‘So that rules out the Rovuma.’ He looked down at the chart. ‘Well, there’s a lot of other places south of it that are promising. And there’s a couple of things in our favour.’ He turned to face them. The grey of his eyes was accentuated by the shadows beneath them. A very tired man, thought the First Lieutenant. Doesn’t get enough sleep.
‘Yes, two things,’ went on Barratt. ‘If the sky remains reasonably clear we’ll have moonlight tonight. Secondly, there’ll be catamarans on the move in and around the islands. Some of the Africans in them may have seen the submarine.’ The expressions of doubt exchanged between Hamilton and
Dodds irritated him. ‘Or have you forgotten how we found the CoimbraV
The Coimbra, a Portuguese coaster, had run aground on a coral reef south of Dar-es-Salaam some months earlier and given a position which was badly in error. Restless had found the little ship by questioning African fishermen. Barratt had mentioned moonlight and the Coimbra because he sensed that Hamilton and Dodds were lukewarm about an inshore search and sceptical of Corrigan’s report that the submarine could not dive. At another time, in other circumstances, he might have shared their reservations, but the massacre of Fort Nebraska's crew and his preoccupation with what had happened in Changi Gaol combined to influence his judgement; to fill him with a blind determination to find the submarine, a resolve more emotional than rational.
Something in the First Lieutenant’s voice, in his expression, a restrained cynicism, suggested that he was aware of this. ‘We’ll be using the motorboat will we, sir?’ he said.
‘To contact the catamaran people?’
‘We will indeed, Number One. I’ve told the PO Tel to ‘ observe wireless silence — listening watch only. Once we’ve reached the mouth of the Rovuma River and begun our search to the south we’ll shut down on radar as well. No point in advertising our presence for the benefit of the Japs’ search receiver.’
The Navigating Officer shuddered as if assailed by an icy wind. ‘Navigating at night, close inshore, sir — through those narrow passages between the islands — coral reefs and sandbanks?’ He hesitated, the frown lifting his eyebrows.
Barratt stared at him. ‘Well,’ he said bluntly. ‘So what?’
‘Radar would be a big help, sir.’
‘We managed very well without it until quite recently.’
The Captain’s brusque manner made it clear that the matter was not arguable. ‘I’ve no doubt we’ll do so again.’
Eleven
At first light Kagumi and his men set out on the journey to the African village. The inflatable was halfway across the creek when the sound of rifle shots came from the direction of the narrows. Kagumi realized they must have been fired by the sentries on the other side of the bluff. He opened the throttle wide and headed for the narrows, the inflatable bumping and spraying its way across wind-rippled water. Once round the bluff he saw the drifting catamaran, the body of an African slumped over the stern, blood oozing from his head, an arm thrown out over the outrigger. Two men with rifles stood at the water’s edge.
The bigger man answered. ‘He was paddling the catamaran out of the creek, sir. Three times we shouted to him to stop, but he wouldn’t. When we fired a warning shot he paddled faster. So we had to…’ He shrugged, as if unwilling to complete the sentence.
Kagumi accepted that it was nobody’s fault. The sentries had obeyed orders. It was unfortunate that the villagers did not yet know that it was forbidden to put to sea. The warning shot must have caused the African to lose his nerve. Had he made a slightly later start the incident could not have taken place. Unfortunate, decided Kagumi, but war was war.
With the catamaran and its dead occupant towing astern, he steered towards the huts under the palm trees. Their inhabitants would realize now the importance of obeying the orders he was about to give them. On balance, he concluded, the incident was probably a good thing. He was sure that would be the view of Yashimoto, whom he could see standing under the leafy branches which concealed I-357’s periscope standards.
Yashimoto lowered his binoculars. It was evident what had happened. Not for the first time he congratulated himself on having a First Lieutenant as capable and quick thinking as Kagumi. An excellent officer, he could always be relied upon to do the right thing at the right time. It was unfortunate that an African had been killed, but the example set would do no harm. Though the goodwill of the villagers was desirable, they could not be permitted to go out to sea. Once on the fishing grounds they would meet other fishermen and the news that a submarine was hiding in the creek would soon spread. The safety of I-357 and her crew had at all times to be paramount.
A good deal happened on board in the next few hours. Kagumi returned with two catamarans in tow, an African in one of them. The catamarans were secured astern of the submarine, and the African was taken on board.
The villagers understand your orders, sir,’ Kagumi reported. Though some of the women moaned and wailed when I handed over the body.’ A deprecatory laugh came from the First Lieutenant. Trying to explain in sign language what had happened wasn’t easy. But in the end the message got through.’
The African you brought back?’ inquired Yashimoto.
‘He can speak a dialect which is possibly English or South African. He has worked on the gold mines in South Africa, near a place he called Goli. Apparently many Africans from Mozambique do so.’
Yashimoto permitted himself a rare smile. ‘How did sign language tell you that?’
‘He pretended to dig, picked up a stone, held it against the gold-coloured anklets the women wore. He pointed to himself several times, said, “Goli, South Africa,” and again went through the motions of digging.’ Kagumi paused. ‘After that…’
Yashimoto held up a peremptory hand. That will do, First Lieutenant. Why did you bring him across?’
‘Hasumu was studying English at university in Yokahama before he was called up,’ explained Kagumi. ‘It is possible that he will understand the African. I thought that might be useful.’ The First Lieutenant had difficulty in concealing a yawn. The gesture was not lost on Yashimoto. ‘You have done well, Kagumi,’ he said. ‘Now take a rest. It must be a long time since you slept.’