They knew they were lucky to have a man like Commander Togo Yashimoto as their Captain. It increased the chances of survival in a service in which few survived.
Throughout the day the sounds of hammering and the whine of high speed drills came from the conning-tower where the repair party under Hayeto Shimada, the Chief Engine Room Artificer, worked with unremitting effort. Lack of space restricted the number of men who could be in the conning-tower at any one time. To offset the heat in that confined space they were relieved at intervals by men who had been resting. The work having begun soon after I-357 arrived in the creek, the initial task of dismantling was well advanced.
The aircraft alarm signal was sounded twice during the afternoon. In mid-afternoon the first Catalina came in from the south; the second came from the north an hour or so later. But on this occasion it had been noted by a sentry that the Catalinas had different identification letters. The presence of two aircraft over the islands was to Yashimoto evidence of unusual air activity. Was this because the British suspected that I-357 was hiding somewhere on the coast? Or was it for some other reason such as searching for survivors? He inclined towards the latter.
The southbound Catalina which arrived in late afternoon flew low over the creek, skimming the trees on the summits of the surrounding hills. It had climbed away, its engines screaming, turned steeply and then flown back along the length of the creek, after which it continued its journey to the south. Worried as he was by its apparent interest in Creek Island, Yashimoto congratulated himself on the steps he had taken to conceal the submarine. He acknowledged to himself, however, that the configuration of the creek also helped: less than seven hundred yards long, most of it little more than a hundred wide, much of it shadowed by the steep slopes of the surrounding hills, it was no easy target for observation from an aircraft which could be over it for no more than fractions of a minute.
After the working parties had gone ashore, Yashimoto and the Engineer Officer met in the wardroom to discuss the progress of repairs. They sat together at the wardroom table, drawings of the conning-tower and its casing before them. To smoke was a luxury not permitted below decks under normal conditions, but with fresh air now passing freely through the boat they were enjoying cheroots which had been bought by the Captain in Penang.
Satugawa was explaining the problems involved in carrying out the work. ‘Nothing has been easy,’ he said. ‘The armour piercing shell — it was probably a 5.5 inch — having passed through the outer casing, penetrated the wall of the conning-tower at its junction with the main pressure hull before bursting. That has left a large jagged hole at the point where the two surfaces meet at an acute angle. It also destroyed most of the starboard side of the lower hatch coaming. This makes the repairs very difficult. We have to restore the integrity of the main pressure hull and rebuild the lower hatch. Damaged air pressure pipes and electric circuits have also to be repaired. We’ve cut away most of the broken steel. Next we have to make a start on patching the pressure hull and conning-tower and rebuilding the lower hatch. To do this we have to cannibalize other parts of the boat without weakening the structure. It is a long, slow business. Finally there is the damaged hatch lid itself. Removing it has taken longer than expected.’ The Engineer Officer’s tone became apologetic. ‘It is a heavy steel fitting, designed to withstand great pressure. The explosion put exceptional stresses on the lugs to the hinges. This distorted them and also the hinge pins. To remove them we have had to drill and chisel before getting the lid out for straightening and repair of the hinges.
Soon we will make a start on cutting and bending three-eighth steel plating to fit over the shell holes, then bolt them into place. Reconstruction of the tower hatch and hatch lid, and shaping the steel plating will require very high temperatures. We do not have a furnace on board but we can set up something ashore. Build it with stones, fuel it with dry timber and diesel oil, and use compressed air cylinders to blow it since we haven’t got bellows. That was the Chief ERA’S idea. All this will take time. Many hours will be required to achieve the temperatures necessary. The steel must be worked while it’s white hot. This will involve constant reheating and measurement controls. Since we do not have the equipment of a foundry, there will have to be a lot of improvisation. A process of trial and error. Learning as we go, so to speak.’
The line of Yashimoto’s mouth hardened. ‘I cannot accept failure,’ he said decisively. T must have your assurance that the work can be done.’
Satugawa avoided the Captain’s penetrating stare. Tt can be done,’ he said. ‘But it is difficult to estimate how long it will take.’
Yashimoto pursed his lips, exhaled, his eyes on the smoke ring climbing to the deckhead. ‘Today is the twenty-first of November.’ He spoke slowly, very deliberately, as if each word was being weighed. ‘We have been ordered to take up station outside Mombasa not later than midnight on the twenty-fifth. The carrier and its escorts are due on the twenty-sixth or twenty-seventh. The journey to Mombasa will take two days. To be on station in time we must leave here by midnight on the twenty-third. Can you get the work done by then, Chief?’ Yashimoto’s pouched eyes bore into the Engineer Officer, who held up his hands as if fending off an attack.
‘If we fail,’ Satugawa lifted his shoulders in a gesture of doubt, ‘it can only be because we have attempted the impossible.’ Aware of the ambiguity, he quickly added, ‘I do not believe we are attempting the impossible.’
Yashimoto took the cheroot from his mouth, examined its burning end before tipping the ash into a saucer. ‘The fitting of outboard engines to the catamarans. Any problems there?’
Satugawa at once relaxed, the change of subject appeared to please him. ‘There is no problem, Captain. The work will be completed before daylight, of that you need have no doubt.’
Yashimoto nodded approval, his eyes on a picture of the Emperor hanging on the wardroom bulkhead. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘The catamarans will be less likely to attract attention from the air than inflatables.’
As daylight took over from night Restless left her patrol line to steam towards the coast between Tambuzi Island and the Nameguo Shoal. Barratt was anxious to get on with the search of a cluster of small islands between the shoal and Cape Ulu, about ten miles south of Mocimboa da Praia. That the chart gave no names to many of them suggested they were likely to be uninhabited but for small communities of African fishermen.
The day promised to be like its immediate predecessors, hot with a cirrus-laced sky, the blue sea smooth, its only movement the undulations of a swell which came in from the Mozambique Channel to break on the reefs guarding the coast and islands.
The motorboat and skimmer were lowered and the routine of the previous day was soon in full swing. Barratt sat in his seat on the compass platform, a tennis hat on his head, face and arms brown against his tropical uniform, his binoculars constantly in use. On the bridge with him were Taylor and O’Brien the watch-keepers, with the Yeoman, a signalman and the lookouts, while the Navigating Officer made periodic dashes between the chartroom and bridge, alarm written large on his face. With Restless steaming at slow speed, Barratt kept to the deep water channels, occasionally venturing too far from them for the comfort of Charlie Dodds who would make agitated reports about shoaling water, the state of the tides and currents.