Pride and the Anguish (36 page)

Corbett called, “Slow astern together! Let go!” There was an answering splash from forward and the fast rumble of cable. Then he said, “Tell Mr. Tweedie to carry on aft with stern moorings and then lower the boats. I want the ship camouflaged within the hour.” He seemed to become aware of the tension behind him and added coldly, “When you are ready, gentlemen!”

The telegraphs clanged once more, and below decks Nimmo and his sweating staff stared up at the demanding dials with relief.

Trewin made himself walk around the upperdeck to make sure the shore party knew what to do and then returned to the bridge. As he ducked beneath the hastily rigged nets and painted awnings he saw that Corbett was waiting for him.

Corbett said directly, “You were having an argument with Mallory!”

“I lost my temper, sir.”

Corbett removed his cap and sat down wearily on a flag locker. “I know. I heard most of it.”

Trewin watched the nervous tick jerking at Corbett's face. “Do you think I was hard on him?”

Corbett gave a short, bitter laugh. “It is you I'm worried about, not
him.
I've been watching you, listening to you. You must get a hold on yourself!”

Trewin gritted his teeth. “I'll be all right, sir.”

Corbett jumped to his feet. “For God's sake, you've not understood a single word, have you? Didn't you see what just
happened?” He looked around the deserted bridge, his face suddenly filled with anguish. “I nearly ran her aground! Nearly wrecked her!” He did not seem to know what to do with his hands. “But for you I'd have ripped the heart out of her!”

Corbett's agonised outburst had the effect of sobering Trewin's angry despair. He asked, “Your eyes, sir. Are they worse?”

Corbett would not look at him. His head nodded violently, and Trewin saw him rubbing his knuckles against his face with something like madness. “Like a curtain coming down! There used to be long periods when I thought things were all right. Then the gaps got shorter and shorter.” He was speaking very quickly. “Just now it just closed in! I couldn't see anything but blurred shapes!”

Trewin said, “You've been too long on the bridge. In this sun, with the additional strain…”

Corbett swung round, his pale eyes wide and staring. “Don't talk like that, Trewin. I've been deluding
myself
enough, without your adding to it!”

“What do you want me to do, sir?”

Corbett took a deep breath as if to calm himself. “I just want you to understand what this means to you, personally.”

“I think I do.” Trewin watched the motor boat returning loaded with palm fronds. “I thought I could get this ship to safety, with or without your help. I know now that I was wrong. You've already proved that you are the one, the only one who can do it. If I had accepted your offer and taken command at Singapore, this ship would never have got beyond the Durian Strait. Right now we'd all have been sharing the same grave as the
Beaver
.”

Corbett was watching him unwinkingly. “Don't undersell yourself, Trewin.”

“I'm not, sir. I've had experience of war, but this is something else again. This sort of thing calls for more than just guts and determination. It goes right back, deeper than maybe even
you understand.” He looked past Corbett's intent face, seeing himself as if from the outside. “Before the war, when I was trying to find some sort of life to suit me, it was all going on, and I didn't realise it. Then the war came, and because I was a part-time sailor I thought I knew all the questions, and most of the answers, too. But I was wrong, and I realise it now. Any man who has the will and the determination, courage if you like, can be taught to pull a trigger and stand his watch, even be led to oblivion if the time calls for it. But it takes something extra to mould a ship and men into one entity, to give them that reserve to
hold
them together when by all just rights they should be running like rabbits.” He dropped his gaze. “So if my eyes are all you need, then you have them, sir.”

Corbett fumbled with his pockets. “I shan't speak of it again, Trewin.” He held out his hand. “But thank you.” He looked round the bridge and gave another short laugh. But it was no longer bitter. “The
Porcupine
is a very lucky ship.” He picked his cap off the locker and walked towards the hatch. Then he paused and looked back at Trewin's grave face.

“What other gunboat has
two
captains, eh?”

P
ETTY
O
FFICER
B
ILL
D
ANCY
pushed his cap to the back of his head and looked across the flat water towards the anchored gunboat. Beneath his shoes the beach felt cool and damp, and he had a great desire to sit down with his back against one of the tall, salt-stained trees which hung over the gently lapping wavelets at the edge of the beach.

“That about does it.” He put his head on one side and stared critically at the ship's crude camouflage. Some of the men were putting final touches to it, but as far as aircraft were concerned the ship was as well hidden as she could be. Below the netting he could see the low hull, and felt strangely saddened by its dirty and unkempt appearance. Scars and unexplained dents, and around the hawsepipes there were long streaks of naked rust.

Ordinary Signalman Phelps was standing at his side, a heavy
pair of binoculars slung around his neck. He said, “D'you reckon we're goin' to get away from 'ere, P.O.?”

Dancy nodded slowly. “Of course I do.” He turned his head as Trewin and three seamen appeared through the trees walking in a tight, silent group. The men carried shovels, and Trewin's face was grim.

Dancy said, “They've buried him, then.” It was strange that he did not even recall the man's face. The marine bandsman who had died as the flying boat's bomb had exploded had been brought ashore to be hidden inland in a crude grave with neither ceremony nor any of the usual rites.

Trewin stopped beside him and Dancy asked, “All done, sir?”

“Yes. I made a note of the place as best I could, Buffer, and we put some stones on the top.” He stared at the dog-eared book in his hand. “I read a few lines. It wasn't much.”

Dancy studied the shadows of strain around Trewin's eyes. “Never mind, sir. He's none the worse for it.”

Trewin sighed and looked at the anchored ship. Corbett would be waiting to hear about it. It was obvious that he had wanted to bury the man himself, but as Trewin had pointed out, the islands were not so safe that the captain could leave the ship for more than a few minutes. He kept thinking about the man he had helped to bury. Then the embarrassed aftermath with the three sailors leaning on the shovels while he read from the ship's prayer book. They had not known the man. It was difficult to find the right sort of words.

Phelps said, “Well, I'll be off to the top of the 'ill, sir. I'll come runnin' if I see a ship gettin' near.”

Dancy nodded. “That's right, son. The whole island is only a mile and a half long, so you should get a good view all round.”

Trewin realised that Phelps was beside him and said quietly, “I'm sorry I barked at you, Bunts. As a matter of fact, I do miss my pipe, so if you have a moment later on?”

The boy's face lit up. “Sure, sir. No trouble at all.”

He walked away whistling, and Dancy said admiringly,
“God, to think I must have been like that once.”

Trewin smiled. “I know. He's a good lad. I was wrong to fly at him because of my own worries.”

Dancy grinned broadly. “Well, you said it, sir!”

“We'd better get back aboard.” He watched the dory being rowed slowly towards the beach. It made a thin clear channel through the thickening spread of oil, and there was a tell-tale black stain around the boat's small hull.

Dancy said, “Pity we can't do something to stop that leak.”

“No chance of that.” Trewin shaded his eyes as a brightly coloured bird flashed between the trees like a fiery dart. “The only way would be to beach her again, and there's no suitable sandbars around here. Apart from which, the captain would not allow it. The ship would be bloody helpless stuck on a wedge of mud!”

Dancy reached out slowly and took Trewin's arm. His face was still relaxed, there was even a smile on his lips, but his voice was tense and sharp. “Keep talking to me, sir! Just stay as you are now!”

Trewin stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

Dancy said, “I saw something move in the trees behind you, sir.”

“Are you sure?” Trewin felt his spine go cold. “Was it Phelps?” He was conscious of the sudden menace and the gentle, uninterrupted splash of oars from the dory.

Dancy's hand moved very casually until it rested on his holster. “Not Phelps. He's gone the other way.”

Trewin stared across Dancy's shoulder. The three seamen were squatting by the water's edge talking together in low tones. They were unarmed, and he realised with sudden despair that he had left his own revolver aboard the ship.

Dancy slipped the flap of his holster and then said evenly, “I think we're all right. They're making too much noise to have seen us.”

It was true. Trewin could hear the occasional crackle of dry brush and the rattle of loose stones as the advancing footsteps
came nearer and nearer.

He snapped, “You three, hit the beach!” The sailors stared at him and then threw themselves sideways on to the sand. Dancy whipped out his pistol and sprinted towards the trees and then dropped on one knee. The dory swung unsteadily below the beach as the oarsmen realised that something was happening, and from the gunboat's deck came the sharp bark of orders and the sound of running feet.

Trewin stood where he was but facing towards the steep slope beyond the trees. Whoever it was would see him first, and while they reacted to what they saw Dancy would get a chance to use his pistol.

The petty officer moved first. Trewin saw him jam the revolver back in its holster and then start running towards the slope. He yelled, “It's all right, sir! It looks like two of our chaps!”

Trewin shouted at the men beside him, “Tell the ship! I'm going with the Buffer!”

Some more poor devils from Singapore, he thought. Probably soldiers who had managed to get this far only to have their ship shot from under them.

He burst through the bushes and stopped dead. Dancy was on his knees beside one of the figures, his arm cradling his shoulders, while the second man stood leaning against a tree, his chest heaving from exertion, his shirt almost black with dried blood.

Dancy looked up, his face dazed. “This one is Lieutenant Hughes, sir!”

But Trewin was still looking at the other man. Despite the blood and filth on his clothes, the scratches on his unshaven face, he recognised Fairfax-Loring. He wanted to go to him, to help him down to the beach, but his limbs refused to move.

The admiral peered at him and said thickly, “I knew it was you, for God's sake! I was afraid you'd weigh anchor before we could get here!” He pushed himself away from the tree and gasped, “My Christ, when I saw you heading for the islands I thought I was going off my bloody head!”

The flag-lieutenant was staring up at the trees, his eyes wide and vacant. His mouth was moving in quick jerks, but no sounds emerged.

The admiral said, “He's all in. Had a bad time of it.”

Trewin made himself ask, “The
Prawn,
sir? What happened?”

The admiral began to walk down the slope, his eyes fixed on the water and the small group of watching sailors. “We were spotted by a Jap aircraft the second day out. We tried everything. Dodged about the islands and nearly ran into a bloody destroyer in the Berhala Strait.” He pushed the hair from his eyes. “Then, just as we were crossing open water towards these islands we were picked up by a fast patrol boat.” He shrugged and grimaced. “By God, she was damn fast all right!”

They had reached the water's edge now, and the sailors by the beached dory were staring at the admiral as if reading their own fate in his words.

Fairfax-Loring continued, “They raked the
Prawn
from stem to stern, and then, just as I thought it was all over, the four-inch gun managed to land a brick right on the bastard! It was too damn dark to see, but it was a direct hit right enough. She went limping off like a bloody sick dog!”

Trewin asked harshly, “Where is
Prawn
now, sir?”

The admiral shrugged. “Back there over on the north side of the island somewhere.”

Dancy watched the flag-lieutenant being lowered into the dory and then said, “Are you wounded, sir?”

Fairfax-Loring glared at him. “Never mind about me! I've got a job to do!”

Trewin said, “I'll go over to the other side of the island and see what I can do.”

“You'll get aboard your ship with me, Trewin!” The admiral's eyes were red-rimmed and angry. “The
Prawn
is a write-off, any decisions must be made right here and at once!” He threw his legs over the boat's gunwale, adding, “The passengers are safe enough. They were all battened below during the action.” He
shuddered. “Just as well for them. It was a living hell on deck!”

Trewin followed him into the crowded boat, his brain still reeling from the admiral's words. Seeing Fairfax-Loring had been bad enough. To know that Clare and the others were somewhere on the other side of that green hill, helpless and without hope, was like the climax to a nightmare.

The boat bumped alongside, but he was only partly aware of the men leaping down to assist the flag-lieutenant aboard, of the anxious questions and the faces which stared down from the guardrails.

Fairfax-Loring watched Hughes being carried towards the sick bay. “Poor chap. No stamina. He's been raving since the attack.”

As Corbett hurried down from the bridge he added shortly, “I am glad to see you. I was beginning to give up hope altogether.”