design, the so-called E-Class. The British government had just recently given Japan the license to build this vehicle – more or less unofficially. With a length of around 54 meters, it carried eight torpedo-tubes. Under water, it reached a maximum speed of nearly ten knots with its electric motors – something they would, officially, try on maiden voyage. It could, the British said, dive up to 30 meters deep, and that was something they hadn’t done in the testing rides yet. Aritomo was sure that it could go a few meters deeper. He was eager to test the limits of the boat, though he certainly wouldn’t be allowed to do so with the Prince on board.
With a total of 31 crew members, the boat was so extensively manned that, unlike the older and much smaller units, it had earned itself the presence of two officers. There were four NCOs, mostly with specializations like the experienced Sarukazaki. Thus, 25 ordinary crewmen remained. On board this boat, there would be no fresh recruits, only sailors who already were experienced. For experiments with inexperienced crewmen, this first of its kind was much too valuable. They were veterans, as far as the young submarine fleet of the Empire had any. Aritomo had had plenty of opportunity to familiarize himself with the men. They were all disciplined experts, men with great personal courage and the level of sacrifice necessary to face the dangers of traveling beneath the surface of the water in a tight metal shell. Howsoever the maiden voyage would go, the crew would do anything to make it successful, whether with a Prince as a guest or not.
Moored with bolts in front of the tower stood the second weapon of the boat next to the torpedoes, a twelve-pounder. For this cannon, they had four trained gunners on board, and everyone had at least one extensive training session with it. That was just one of the key innovations in comparison with the old boats, which had relied exclusively on their torpedoes. It was these and other design changes that were to remain hidden from Japan’s enemies for the time being, and that had led to not station this new boat in the Kure fleet base, but rather here in Yokosuka. Once the boat’s existence was officially admitted, it would be transferred to Kure to lay the foundations for the second submarine flotilla, which would make the old Holland boats, including their successors improved by Kawasaki, obsolete.
But before that, there were more mundane tasks, especially now, and the most important thing was to scrub and polish the No. 8 boat, so that it shone like silverware despite its dark gray color. The Prince shouldn’t have any reason to complain, in this Aritomo was quite in agreement with his commander.
When the men started the work, Second Lieutenant Hara was not shy, while he supervised the joint effort, to pick up a rag himself.
It wouldn’t be lack of effort from his side, he thought, if anything was found to be amiss during inspection.
Certainly not from his side.
3
There was no music and no large parade.
Prince or not, not too many people were supposed to know what a great new submarine the Japanese navy now possessed. So they kept the occasion somewhat under wraps, as far as that was possible with the attendance of a member of the imperial court. A column of four cars had pulled up, and next to the crew of the boat, a company of honor stood rigidly, fully dressed and thus in stark contrast to the submarine’s men, as they wore uniforms, although clean, appropriate to the mission at hand.
Inugami had inspected the boat in the late evening, and for once had been satisfied. Despite intense scrutiny, he had noticed nothing negative, which he had acknowledged with rare praise. Everyone had noted this with relief, because Aritomo could testify that they had really made an effort.
Inugami had told them that the group of passengers would be extended by one more person. An engineer from Kawasaki would participate in the maiden voyage, officially to be available for explanations, unofficially, in order to gain additional expertise in case of problems.
That was logical and understandable, even a welcome development, as the First Officer secretly thought, despite the increasingly cramped conditions on board.
Problems could always occur. Aritomo remembered, like all his comrades, the fate of Boat No. 6, which wasn’t able to surface when it stranded in depth of only ten meters due to a technical failure in a dock. The old Holland boats had provided no device by which the crew could have left their prison in submerged condition. So the men had stayed in their posts until they suffocated, only a few yards from the shore. Only the next day had it been possible to lift the boat and recover the corpses of those heroes.
The boat was now a memorial. It reminded of the dangers of this new technology.
Aritomo’s gaze wandered over the hull of boat No. 8. The new design made it possible, as far as the depth allowed, for the men to leave the boat when it was beyond salvation and the surface wasn’t too far away. So hopefully they would never share the fate of the deceased.
Nevertheless, the man from Kawasaki came along. He had been, it was said, involved in the construction of this boat from start to finish, and knew it even better than the good Sarukazaki, who had dealt with every nook very intensely. Aritomo didn’t want to admit it, but the fact that the engineer was on board was already reassuring. And the new boat was so much bigger than the old Holland units. They would certainly be able to manage for the short trip that was planned. Orders were shouted. The honorary company presented the rifles. The submariners stood upright on the spotless hull of their boat, only Aritomo and Inugami had positioned themselves in front of the gangway over which the Prince would step.
When he left the car, suddenly there was an awe that seized all men like a paralysis. A scion of the divine Tenno was and remained something very special, and nobody could escape the charisma of the Japanese imperial house. The young man – the boy actually – looked perfect in his cadet uniform, which fitted like a glove. His illustrious father’s face was recognizable on his own features, if one dared to look at it long enough. His cheeks were a bit roundish, but his gaze was as majestic and penetrating as one would expect. His companions came as announced: an elderly gentleman who had to be the tutor, two wiry soldiers clad in a plain black uniform who were undoubtedly the bodyguards – armed with a pistol and a sword, a rifle on their back, as Aritomo registered, and then a man in civilian clothes, not much older than Inugami, carrying a large black briefcase. The engineer from Kawasaki.
Aritomo’s eyes widened.
A gaijin.
The officer controlled himself. Naturally. He could have anticipated that. The boat was built based on plans of British manufacturers. There was a long tradition of cooperation between Britain and Japan, especially in the development of naval forces. And British engineers often ran around in the big yards, all under contract from the Japanese government, to help develop or transfer new technology. So it was logical, even predictable, that with this new piece of technology, the pinnacle of British boatbuilding, an engineer from distant Europe would see to it.
Aritomo scolded himself for his first, disapproving reaction.
Without the British – and other friendly European powers – the imperial fleet in its present form wouldn’t exist. That might seem like a blemish, but it was also a fact. The engineer from the British Empire was a help, not a threat. He had to keep that in mind. The man was here, because the Admiralty thought it necessary.
Aritomo Hara wouldn’t question that decision.
He took a deep breath. They were all complete. The big moment was imminent.
The Prince positioned himself as was expected of him but seemed strangely inconspicuous, almost shy. Instead of saying something by himself, his teacher took the floor. Aritomo only half listened to the speech. The old man greeted the soldiers and thanked them. He
