‘It is a difficult situation, sir. I wonder…’He hesitated. ‘I wonder if it wouldn’t be a good idea to pass the buck to Kilindini. Tell them where the Jap is and ask for orders. At least Restless will get the credit for having found the boat.’
With a dismissive flourish of his hand Barratt said, ‘I don’t give a damn about the credit, Number One. My objective is to destroy that submarine and her crew. For the last time, let me make it quite plain. We are not, repeat not, going to break W/T silence.’
The First Lieutenant looked away. ‘I see, sir,’ he said quietly, adding, ‘And the signal of recall?’
‘That’s my business, Number One.’ Barratt’s manner had become frosty. ‘You needn’t worry. Your yardarm’s clear.’
The rebuke was not lost on the First Lieutenant. ‘Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to butt in. It’s only that — well…’
‘Well what?’
‘I’m worried about what the consequences might be for you, sir.’
Barratt got up from the Captain’s Chair, stretched and yawned. ‘Leave the worrying to me, Number One,’ he said with a thin-lipped smile. ‘I’m going to have a rest now. I’ll think about the problem of where we should be, north or south of the island. That and sleep are my major preoccupations at the moment.’
The First Lieutenant shook his head as he watched the Captain go down the bridge ladder. Poor chap, he thought. Glad I’m not in his shoes. He joined Lawson at the bridge screen. The Gunnery Officer regarded him quizzically. ‘Did you tell him what you thought?’
‘Yes. He’s as worried about it as I am. But it’s not easy.’ The First Lieutenant repeated what the Captain had told him.
‘So what happens next?’
‘We stick to the patrol line for the time being. He’s gone down to have a rest and think about it.’
‘Not surprised. Long time no zizz for him.’
The First Lieutenant focused binoculars on the distant trees. The mist had gone and the stark silhouette of the casuarinas was visible with the naked eye. ‘I’m worried about the Old Man,’ he said.
‘Yes. He looks absolutely knackered.’
‘It’s not that. The trouble is…’ The First Lieutenant
lowered his voice. This thing’s become a personal vendetta.’ ‘Changi Gaol?’
‘Of course.’
‘Incredible, Peter. No, I can’t think why. Is that all? Good.’ Hutchison put down the phone, looked at the inquiring faces round the table in the operations room. ‘That was the Squadron duty officer. They’ve received a signal from Dar-es-Salaam. He says G-for-George has just landed there with engine trouble. Being checked now. Its Captain says he flew over Restless at 0815 this morning, eight miles south-east of Cape Ulu. She was steaming at about 15/17 knots on a north-easterly course. Neither he nor the ship made any attempt to communicate with each other. Otherwise everything appeared to be normal. Except…’ Enjoying the moment, Hutchison paused. ‘Except that a few miles north of Restless he sighted her motorboat towing a catamaran with a lone black man in it. They were heading for Tambuzi Island.’
‘Where’s that, Jakes?’ The question came from a four-ring Captain RN with sandy hair, sunken cheeks and friendly grey eyes.
‘Here, sir.’ The RNVR Lieutenant pointed with the cue tip to a black dot on the wall chart.
‘Motorboat towing the catamaran away from Restless — extraordinary,’ said Captain (D).
‘Some sort of rescue operation, I imagine,’ said the four-ring Captain. ‘Catamaran in trouble. Restless sends help. Lone African requests a tow home. The RN in its A A role.’ ‘For me, Restless gives the impression of having withdrawn from the War,’ said the SOO.
A perspiring Captain (D) glared at the punkah. ‘The squeak’s stopped but the performance is pathetic.’ He puffed out crimson cheeks. ‘Can’t make out what Barratt’s up to. He’s been down there for the best part of twenty-four hours. In the area generally — along the coast and among the islands — since early on the twenty-first. That’s-let’s see.’ He glanced at the calendar. ‘About fifty-four hours plus.’ Unfolding a clean linen handkerchief he began a systematic mopping of his face and neck.
The SOO squinted down the length of his nose. ‘Since when,’ he said, ‘we’ve heard from her once. The signal informing us that she’d picked up the Fort Nebraska survivor. She neither acknowledged nor replied to ours of the twenty-first, nor that of the twenty-second recalling her.’
Hutchison held up a hand as if asking to be heard. ‘In fairness to Lieutenant Commander Barratt, sir — he did exchange Aldis lamp signals with Catalina S-for-Sugar in Rovuma Bay on the twenty-first. Passed that “Getting warmer, W/T silence imperative” message.’ The Flight Lieutenant looked across to Camilla at the far end of the room, to be rewarded with the faintest smile of approbation.
The four-ring Captain — James Pelly, the Admiral’s Chief Staff Officer — short title CSO — looked relieved. ‘Oh well. I’m glad he did that.’ Pelly was for the first time involved in what had become known at Naval HQ as The Barratt Business.
Captain (D) exchanged a barely perceptible smile with the SOO. They both knew that Jim Pelly had distinguished himself in destroyers earlier in the war. There was little doubt where his sympathies lay.
‘And that’, said the SOO, ‘was the last we heard from him. I need hardly remind you, sir…’ He regarded the Chief Staff Officer with the lugubrious expression of a spaniel, ‘… that we require Restless here before midnight on the twenty-sixth. The carrier arrives AM on the twenty-seventh.’
‘Twenty-eighth,’ corrected the CSO. ‘The signal amending her ETA came in this morning.’
The SOO’s eyebrows arched. ‘Why haven’t we had it, Jakes?’
‘We have, sir.’ Jakes looked mildly surprised. ‘With the first batch this morning.’
‘I wasn’t shown it.’
‘You initialled the clipboard copy, sir.’
‘Did I?’ The SOO’s tone suggested he hadn’t. ‘Well, anyway, Restless has to be here to augment the forces available to carry out an A/S sweep in advance of the carrier’s arrival — and to help with close escort for the last fifty miles in.’
Captain (D)’s expression was bleak. Trouble is, CSO, the Flotilla has dispersed: two are at sea off Diego Suarez, there’s one in Mahe, one refitting at the Cape, and one with that last southbound convoy. That leaves me with only two fleet destroyers for escort duties, Rampage and Restless, plus a couple of corvettes and three A/S whalers. We’re pretty thin on the ground just now. With the Japanese resuming submarine operations in the Mozambique Channel this represents a bit of a headache.’
‘Yes,’ the CSO agreed. ‘I’m sure it does. But now, about Restless. I know it’s difficult to understand Barratt’s failure to reply to signals, particularly the recall signal. Of course his behaviour seems incomprehensible but…’He paused, twiddled the signet ring on his finger. ‘The man must have a reason. I think, gentlemen, that he knows where the submarine is. He’s waiting for it to put to sea. When it does he’ll attack it. That’s why he’s going to a great deal of trouble to ensure it doesn’t know he’s there. I can’t think of any other explanation that makes sense.’
‘So what do we do, CSO?’ Captain (D) spread his hands in a gesture of despair.
The CSO gazed hopefully at the wall chart, examined his fingernails, smiled amiably. ‘I think we give him one more chance. Tell me,’ he turned to Hutchison. ‘If this weather holds, any reason why a Catalina shouldn’t land on the sea close to Restless?’