A Prayer for the Ship (28 page)

He listened to the faint but persistent moan of the wind against the wooden hull.

“Pity it's not summer, we could have had a walk round the upper deck.”

As he said it, he saw a distant vision of a lonely, sun-drenched beach. He was lying at her side, while she lay in a sleek bathing costume, her head pillowed on his arm, gazing up at an azure sky. It was a long time since he had dared look so far ahead. Any future had always seemed far too improbable.

Without realizing it, he said quietly: “I've got a present for you, Julia.”

“Clive! What a terrible thing to do! I didn't bring you one. How sweet of you.”

She was smiling at him, her eyes searching his face. He stood up stiffly, the drinks and the atmosphere making his head whirl. He felt reckless.

“It's in my cabin. Will you come and see it? I can't let you open it here.” He gestured towards the others.

“All right, but I shall feel awful about not bringing you anything,”

You'll feel awful anyway when you've seen it, he thought desperately. He helped her to her feet, and as her hair brushed his cheek, the feeling of longing stabbed him, so that he wanted to cry out.

As they pushed their way to the door, Carver, who was slopping gin into the Waaf's glass, looked up sharply, but his look of encouragement was wasted. Royce didn't see him. Nor did he heed Benjy's throaty, “Oi, oi, then?” He hurried her into the comparative quiet of the narrow passageway, feeling his way past the familiar obstructions, until he felt the door of his cabin. The light revealed the piled clothing of his guests, littering his bunk and chair, and for a moment he blinked uncertainly. It was as if his one private place had been invaded.

“I like your little hide-out, Clive. It's quite cosy.”

She stood framed against the white bulkhead, a vision of flame and cream, touching the simple fittings lightly, while he looked at her dumbly.

His eye fell on the bureau at her side, and hurriedly he jerked open a drawer, and held the parcel delicately in his hands.

“Before I give you this, there's one thing I must make you understand,” he started, watching her face. “I wanted to give you this, but . . .” He faltered. “It's a present that you might take offence at, if you didn't know that I'm no hand at this sort of thing, and that my intentions, all my intentions where you are concerned, are completely sincere.”

That was not what he had wanted to say at all, but he stopped; his mind had dried up. He held out the parcel to her.

She put it on the bunk, and carefully untied the wrapping, a loose lock of hair falling over her smooth brow.

Royce braced himself, and watched, fascinated, as with a gentle movement she drew the nightdress from its paper. He heard her quick intake of breath, as she held it at arm's length, her face entranced. Slowly she lifted her head, and then he saw that there were tears in her eyes.

He clenched his teeth. “You're not too angry, are you?”

She shook her head violently, and suddenly held the black wisp against her body. “Angry?” she asked, and there was a sob in her voice. “I think it's wonderful. And I know exactly what you were thinking when you got it. Oh, Clive. It's beautiful, and I love it.”

A surge of elation lifted him, and he took two steps across the cabin towards her. When he put his arms round her, she buried her face in his chest, crying quietly, while he stood happy but uncomprehending.

“Don't mind me, Clive, just hold me. It's just that you make it so difficult . . .”

He stroked her hair gently, and held her close, shutting his eyes with a feeling of great contentment.

There was a sudden and violent commotion outside the door, and he heard Benjy's loud voice calling him. He cursed inwardly, and giving the girl a reassuring pat on the arm, he stepped into the passage.

“Well?” he asked, trying to appear more normal than he felt. “What's the matter now?”

“Matter? Matter?” Benjy's face was purple, and for once, worried. “I'll tell you the matter. My dear old chap, I've just had a signal.” He brandished a soggy piece of paper. “I've got to go to sea! Now!” He paused, gasping for breath. “As you know, I'm the Duty Boat,” he added, as if that explained everything.

Murray appeared behind him. “Ah told you, Benjy boy, you shouldn't have let your boys get bottled, even for Christmas,” he said grimly.

Royce mustered his thoughts. “But what the blazes have you to go out
for?
The weather's like hell.”

“That ruddy R.A.F. rescue launch has broken down off the Mullion Flats, an' I've got to tow her in!” he wailed. “What the hell am I going to do?”

Royce took the signal from his limp hand and glanced at it, a wild plan forming in his brain.

“Leach, get the Quartermaster and the Cox'n,” he shouted. “I'll go, Benjy, and as I'm on the end buoy, we can get out without disturbing anyone. Make a signal to
Royston,
Number One. Explain that Benjy's developed an engine defect, or something.”

The others were looking at him in wonderment.

“Man, ye're a marvel,” muttered Murray. “But what about the guests?”

Royce rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, well, we can drop those on Page's boat by the oiling wharf as we go out. We'll only be about half an hour, all being well. Unless—” He looked at Julia, his eyes bright and slightly wild. “Care for that trip I promised you?”

She had her hands behind her, concealing her present from the others, but her face lit up, and she nodded. “It'd be wonderful, but wouldn't you get into trouble?”

“If he's found out, he will,” grinned Murray, “but he has the luck of the devil. Anyway, we'll be coming too, to see that he doesn't get up to anything!”

Raikes stepped forward, his hair dishevelled. “Do I understand we're going out, sir?” His voice was quite steady.

“Can we, Cox'n? How are the hands?”

“'Bout fifty-fifty, sir. But enough to get to the Mullion an' back all right.”

“Right, tell Anderson to start the engines now, and take as many sober blokes as you can find on to the fo'c'sle, and get ready to slip. Don't worry about those on the
Royston,
let 'em enjoy themselves.” He waved his hand towards the other officers. “We've pressed some more help into service!”

Raikes clucked, and shook his head sadly. “If you don't mind me sayin' so, sir, I don't think the Andrew'll ever be the same after the temporary gentlemen 'ave finished with it!” And grinning hugely, he hurried away.

Benjy wiped his face. “Gosh, I need a drink. That was a narrow shave!”

“You always need a drink,” said Murray wryly, and led him back to the wardroom.

Royce slipped on an oilskin, and wrapped a towel round his neck. “Here, put on a duffle, and an oilskin, and anything else you can find suitable in the cupboard, and I'll go and explain to the other girls.”

As he turned to go, his head spinning with calculations, she checked him, but as he looked questioningly at her, she stepped back, her expression one of suppressed excitement.

“No, no, you go now,” she said quickly. “You're a captain again. I'll tell you later.”

He gave her a puzzled smile, and ran for the wardroom colliding with Leach.

“
Royston
says
Proceed,
sir,” he gasped.

“Very good. Now you tell your friend Ann to get her coat and hat. I'm dropping the guests on Page's boat until we get back. You go with them, and keep the party going until we get back.”

Leach was aghast. “But all those women!”

“It's all right. Page's Number One'll be coming with you. If he can still walk!”

He laughed wildly as he hurried for the bridge, at the excited squeaks from the girls, at the sight of a glassy-eyed seaman standing on the rain-lashed deck in his underpants, and, above all, at himself.

The engines roared belligerently into life, and the boat trembled with anticipation.

Carver stood at his side. “Which chart, sir?”

“Don't want one,” he shouted. “It's only round the corner!”

He peered over the screen at the dim, shining figures on the fo'c'sle. One of them waved.

“Ready to slip, sir!” Raikes's voice carried like a foghorn.

“Here, Number One, take the wheel. Leave old Raikes to manage that lot down there.”

The night was as black as pitch, and the rain was driven like icy darts into their faces, as it lashed the exposed decks.

“Slip!” he yelled hoarsely, and as the wire rasped back through the fairleads, he felt the boat borne sideways by the wind, wallowing uncomfortably.

“Ahead together, half speed,” ordered Royce carefully, and was rewarded by the engines' change of tempo, as with a purposeful thrust they pushed the boat forward into the teeth of the weather.

Squinting into the darkness, he could just make out the dim shape of the solitary M.T.B. against the wharf, and slowly he jockeyed towards her.

He took a quick glance down to the waist, where he saw the huddled group of guests waiting to change boats. Page's Number One waved what looked like a bottle in his direction. “Ready to go!” he called. Right, this had to be just so, and with great precision he brought the boat under the lee of the stonework, and alongside the other vessel, where the forewarned crew gathered eagerly to welcome their visitors.

“All gone, sir!” And with a throaty growl they swung round and motored for the boom-gate. A green light winked brightly ahead, and Royce grabbed the Aldis to shutter a reply. Then, gripping the rail and rocking back on his heels, he let the weather hold him in its grasp.

“Here we go, then. Full ahead both!”

Once outside the shelter of the headland, the boat shuddered to the wind's mounting punch, and solid sheets of spray swept up and over the masthead. It was like racing into a solid black void, with nothing to guide them but the swinging compass card, and a distant winking wreck-buoy.

Raikes clambered on to the bridge, breathing heavily, his oilskin streaming. “All secure on deck, sir.”

“Very good, take over the wheel.”

Carver willingly relinquished the helm, and steadied himself against the chart table, wiping his face with a sodden handkerchief. “Strewth, what a night! Still, it's better than going out for a game of ‘catch' with Jerry,” he called.

“Better go below, and make sure the wardroom's all right. We don't want everything smashed before we get back!”

Carver waved, and ducking his head, scrambled down along the glistening deck.

“You know the place, 'Swain?” asked Royce, peering at Raikes's bulky shape.

“Aye, sir, we'll be up to it in about ten minutes, I should think.”

“Right, we'll get the new towing hawser out on deck. And a few fenders too. Just in case!”

“Already done it, sir,” chuckled Raikes.

It was at that moment Royce became aware of the girl standing at the rear of the bridge, clutching with both hands at the signal locker for support. He reached her in a bound, and helped her to the lee side, behind the glass screen.

“Did you come up alone?” he yelled, his voice anxious.

“No, it's all right. A sweet little seaman wanted to help me, but I practically had to carry
him!
”

He shook his head admiringly. She made a heartening sight, clad in an oversize duffle coat and oilskin. Protruding from beneath these billowing garments, he saw an ungainly pair of rubber boots. She stood now, laughing at him, her hair whipped back by the wind, her face running with spray, while she struggled to keep her feet.

“Well,” he said at length, when he realized he was staring rather hard. “What do you think of her?” And he waved his arm, embracing the darkened boat.

“Marvellous! She's all you said, and more. I never realized how fast they were, before. But you will be careful, won't you?”

He smiled. “Don't worry, I'll not take any risks with you aboard.”

An extra-big wave slapped angrily at the boat's lifting bows, and Julia slipped sideways across the canting deck, her clumsy boots skidding helplessly. Royce roughly encircled her waist with his arm, while he grabbed the rail with his other hand, pulling her safely against his body. Then he stood behind her, gripping the rail on either side of her, and acting as a cushion for any further sudden lurches.

“Phew, thanks very much,” she laughed shakily. “You nearly lost your passenger, just then!”

He smiled happily and pulled her close, peering over her head at the angry waters approaching them, while her damp hair rippled against his chin. Her nearness, the boat, and the wild exhilaration of the weather intoxicated him.

He gripped her tighter, and pointed suddenly, as a lazy red flare arched over the black wastes, and fell slowly, spluttering into the sea. “There she is! Right on the button!”