‘What we’re doing now. Mess about at sixteen knots, five miles off the nearest land.’
The Doctor laughed wryly. ‘Too bad if the Jap’s doing the same thing. We might tangle.’
‘I shouldn’t worry about that, Docker. We’re pinging away. I think we’d spot him first.’
‘Haven’t we shut down our pingV
‘Not yet. We will when we close the land at midnight.’ The First Lieutenant looked at his watch. ‘Well, it’s getting on. I’d better go up on deck and see what progress the Coxswain’s making with gear for the assault boys. See you later.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘Don’t think I’ll turn in till they’ve gone. I’d rather like to see our desperadoes disappear into the night.’
Eighteen
Clipboard under arm, the Chief Telegraphist went into I-357’s wardroom, acknowledged the presence of the First Lieutenant with a formal bow, and handed a signal to Lieutenant Matsuhito whose duties included those of cypher officer. The Lieutenant unlocked the safe under the settee and took from it the cypher machine. Watched by Keda he tapped away at the keys, stopping after each group to note with pencil and pad the words which came up on the display:
From Flag Officer Submarines, Penang, to I-357 and I-362.
ETA carrier now 27/28 Nov. Acknowledge.
Gesturing towards the door of the Captain’s cabin, Matsuhito handed the message to Keda. The Chief Telegraphist went to the door, heard the Captain’s ‘Come’ and entered. Yashimoto, in a cotton singlet and shorts, was sitting at the small desk alongside the bunk examining his teeth in a hand mirror.
‘Signal for you, sir,’ said Keda.
Yashimoto put down the mirror, took the signal and read it, his eyebrows gathering in a frown as he did so. ‘Tell the First Lieutenant I want him,’ he said.
The First Lieutenant closed the book he was reading, rubbed his eyes and sighed before following the Chief Telegraphist back to the Captain’s cabin. There was scarcely room for three men in its limited space but with Keda standing, his back to the door, Kagumi was able to sit on the settee beside the Captain. With a peremptory, ‘Read this,’ Yashimoto thrust the signal at him. Watching the First Lieutenant closely he said, ‘We cannot break wireless silence.’ A smile displaced the frown. ‘But the news is good.
We have one more day in hand. We may need it.’ The sharp, clipped sentences were delivered in a tone which never varied. ‘The British carrier is now due at Mombasa on the 27/28th. We shall have to take up station outside the port by midnight on the 26th. In three days. So…’ he paused, pinching his nose as if taking snuff, ‘…we must have left here by midnight on the 24th. Repairs and tests must be completed within the next forty-eight hours.’ He looked again at the signal which lay on the desk, drummed on it with his fingers as if seeking inspiration. Evidently none came, for he waved a hand in a gesture of rejection. ‘No. We cannot acknowledge the signals. We cannot break wireless silence until we are out at sea — and able to dive.’ He glanced at the Chief Telegraphist. ‘Right. You may carry on, Keda.’ To Kagumi he said, ‘Tell the Engineer Officer I wish to see him at once.’
Kagumi opened the door and the distant sound of drilling, hammering, scraping, and the clanging of metal, grew louder, the smell of diesel oil more pungent. Having told Satugawa to report to the Captain, he went ashore by way of the forehatch, walking awkwardly across the litter of branches and foliage which covered the casing and gangplank. Followed by two armed seamen he made his way in the darkness along the bank to where the catamarans lay astern of the submarine. They boarded the nearest catamaran, cast off, paddled it clear, and started up the outboard. With Kagumi at the tiller they set off on the inspection round. Until the Awa incident, Kagumi had performed this duty between one and two in the morning. On Yashimoto’s orders, issued soon after Awa’s execution, it was to be carried out twice during the hours of darkness; once before midnight and once again before sunrise, the times to be varied so that no pattern was established.
Near to midnight the Engineer Officer finished his discussions with the Captain. Yashimoto had opened the proceedings with the signal from Penang. Satugawa read it and passed it back. The Captain gave him a searching look. ‘Can you have us ready for sea by midnight on the 24th?’ Yashimoto’s lips tightened as he waited for the answer.
Satugawa avoided the Captain’s stare by focusing on the Shinto shrine set in the bulkhead above the desk. ‘We have completed repairs to the outer screen around the conning-tower,’ he said, evading the direct question. ‘That was not difficult. We are dealing with an almost flat surface in a free-flooding area. We are now making progress with repairs to the hull and to the conning-tower. They are critical because both form part of the pressure hull.’
‘I am aware of that, Chief. But you are not answering my question.’ Yashimoto tapped petulantly on the desk. ‘You have an extra day. Can you complete by midnight on the 24th?’
‘Captain, there are problems. We can, I believe, solve them. Within the time available, I hope. But this, the time factor, I cannot guarantee. If I could explain…’ Satugawa looked sideways at the Captain as if anxious to avoid direct confrontation.
‘Yes, yes. Do so.’ Yashimoto’s impatience was, it happened, due to the Penang signal rather than to any shortcomings on the part of the Engineer Officer for whom he had the highest regard.
Satugawa paused, seemed to be choosing his words. ‘Well — as to the damage to the pressure hull and conning-tower. We have to bend sections of three-eighth high tensile steel plates to the exact angle of the surface to which they will be bolted. This work is being done in the foundry ashore. We have templates, but the problem is to bend the steel, while white hot, to the shape of the templates. We do not have the proper equipment, the presses and so forth. The work has to be done manually, with hammers and an improvised anvil. Blacksmith’ work, which involves much trial and error. But I hope to have the plates ready for fitting some time tomorrow night.’
Yashimoto’s face puckered, contracted, the fleshy folds beneath his eyes bulging. ‘And the hatch coaming and the lid? You haven’t mentioned them?’
Satugawa looked unhappy. ‘They are my major worry.’ His eyes once more sought the Shinto shrine. ‘We have serious problems there. In the case of the coaming, building it up for fitting is proving difficult. A lot of adjustment is necessary. In the case of the lid we have problems. There is distortion and the flange is buckled. The thick steel is proving difficult to straighten. Then, unfortunately, the fractured hinge broke off at its base while it was being treated…’ ‘How treated?’ interrupted Yashimoto, his lower lip protruding beneath the threatening eyes.
‘The hinge had been brought to white heat in the furnace. A mechanician was trying to hammer it straight on its seat when it broke off. We had not realized how deep into the metal the hairline fracture had gone.’
Yashimoto glared at the Engineer Officer. ‘Surely that should have been realized,’ he snapped.
‘Without X-ray equipment it is not possible to determine the depth of a hairline fracture.’ Satugawa was standing his ground. He had come up the hard way, started life in the Navy as a stoker and by dint of sheer drive and a good brain had climbed the difficult ladder of the engineering branch. A Chief ERA at the beginning of the War, the highest non-commissioned rank, he had been promoted to Warrant Engineer Officer and later to Engineer Lieutenant. At thirty-nine — six years older than the Captain — he was the oldest member of I-357’s crew.