Pride and the Anguish (40 page)

Trewin had seen Adair sitting on his bridge dictating orders and instructions to his petty officers while a tall girl dressed in a seaman's jersey and little else lathered and shaved him, her tanned features set in grim concentration. Adair had seen Trewin staring up at him and had lifted his splinted arm in salute. “It pays to be wounded!” was all he had said.

Although look-outs had been posted on the nearby hills, there
had been no further reports of enemy aircraft. Only once, halfway through the afternoon, had there been any sign of danger. A fast-moving warship, probably a destroyer, was sighted far out across the Strait heading south towards the narrows, her low shape almost lost in the great wash from her raked bows. The repair work had not even been halted for that.

Maybe Corbett had realised the uselessness of calling the men to their action stations, Trewin decided. Most of the seamen were completely spent. Even the anti-aircraft gunners slumped or lay at their stations, too weary to drag themselves from the glaring sunlight which shone through the camouflage netting and threw strange, hard shadows across the decks, as if both ships were entrapped inside one huge mesh.

Trewin stopped on the battery deck and leaned wearily against the guardrail. Below him the other ship was still alive with scurrying figures, stokers carrying lengths of metal, and army engineers with freshly cut timber for shoring up a sagging bulkhead. But the pace was slower. It moved in time with the sun, as if both measured the minutes of decision.

He saw Corbett conferring with Adair on the
Prawn
's quarterdeck, his neat figure dwarfed by the other's gangling shoulders. Corbett looked serious but very calm, with little outward sign of what he must be thinking.

Trewin thought back to that morning. He had been aboard the other ship helping to shepherd the dazed passengers across the narrow gap to the comparative spaciousness of the
Porcupine
's upperdeck. He had seen Clare assisting an elderly woman over the swaying crevasse between the hulls and had waved to her. They had held each other's eyes for just a few seconds, but in that time Trewin had felt the same sense of peace and belonging, which for such a small moment held everything else from his mind. Then he had climbed down to the
Prawn
's wardroom to make sure there were none of the refugees left aboard. Before he had been able to stop himself he had seen Corbett standing amidst the litter of sea-stained furniture, his body picked out
in stars of sunlight which filtered through the countless splinter holes on both sides of the wardroom. He had had his back to the door, and opposite him, her face upturned as she crouched on an empty ammunition case, was his wife.

Mildred Corbett had changed almost beyond recognition. Her fair hair was uncombed and disordered and her dress, which was torn in several places, barely covered her shoulders.

Trewin could recall the emptiness of her voice, the alien dullness of her eyes.

“I did not want to see you, Greville.” She had tried to shrug, but even that had seemed too much of an effort. “But I've had so much time to think and remember. Too much time. At first I
wanted
the ship to sink, but as things went on I felt I had to see you again. Just to tell you.” She had dropped her head, and Trewin had seen tears splash on her oil-stained arms. He had seen too the change which had come over Corbett. Although his back was to the door, Trewin had been able to see the slow clenching and unclenching of his hands, as if he was holding himself still by physical effort.

She had continued dully, “All my life I've tried to hurt you, Greville. The more you tried to make things work out for both of us, the worse I behaved.” She had looked up, her eyes suddenly alive and desperate. “But I never meant Martin to die!”

Corbett had spoken very quietly. “I know.”

“You loved him so much, didn't you?”

Corbett had thrust his hands in his pockets. “I always loved him. Just as much as if he had been my own son.”

Trewin had wanted to get away, but Corbett's words had held him motionless by the door.

“You knew?” Her eyes had been streaming with tears. “All this time, and you never said anything?”

“There was nothing to say.”

She had spread her hands. “And I've done nothing but
hurt
you! When you left the Navy because of my brother I should have stood by you, shared your pain, too.” Again the gesture
of hopelessness. “Now we've lost everything, and all because of me!”

Corbett had laid his cap on the ammunition case and had seated himself beside her. “That is where you are wrong, my dear.” Corbett had reached out to touch her face, the gesture nervous but gentle. “I need you now.” As she had flung herself against his chest Corbett had added very quietly, “Perhaps more than you will ever know.”

Now, as Trewin watched him from the upperdeck he could see none of the pain and the happiness he had witnessed in those few minutes by the open door.

As if realising that Trewin was looking at him, Corbett nodded briskly to Adair and then strode towards the gangway. When he arrived on the battery deck his features were strangely determined.

He said, “Officers' conference, Trewin. Go and get them at once.” He sniffed the air. “I still think the rain will come. It might be of some use.”

It did not take more than a few minutes to gather the officers in Corbett's cabin. They had been sitting or lying in the wardroom, too weary to speak or eat.

Corbett seated himself at his desk and touched his fingertips together. “I've been over the
Prawn,
gentlemen. She is ready to sail when we are. I think she can get her six knots again, so we won't waste any more time, eh?” He glanced around their lined faces. “In ten minutes you can start moving the passengers back aboard
Prawn
.”

Hammond asked quickly, “Wouldn't it be better if we kept them all with us, sir?” He swallowed hard under Corbett's flat stare. “We can manage more than twice
Prawn
's speed, and I'm sure we could squeeze them in easily enough.” At his side Tweedie nodded ponderously.

“I'm afraid not, Sub. If we were attacked we could not expect to fight with all those people aboard. It would be slaughter. No, this way we have one good ship instead of
two
cripples, eh?” He
laughed shortly. “Adair tells me he is ready to try for the last leg of the voyage. And I'm sure you've seen enough of the local scenery?”

Trewin watched him with cold amazement. Corbett seemed actually cheerful. And his eyes, apart from a noticeable redness, looked strangely clear and bright.

Corbett looked round. “Right then. I intend to sail in two hours. We can't wait for complete darkness. We must clear the Strait before dawn at the latest. That destroyer was no doubt searching for us. It probably never occurred to the enemy that we might still be hanging around here. We wouldn't have either, but for
Prawn.
” He smiled. “So it's an ill wind, eh?”

They all rose from their chairs but Corbett held up his hand. “Remember this, gentlemen. Just in case we are called upon to face the enemy in battle.” He walked slowly round his desk and stared thoughtfully at the leather-bound books by the scuttle. “In the life of every ship, perhaps only once in that lifetime, there is a moment of decision which must overshadow all else which has ever happened to her. To justify the years, the past mistakes, and the genuine beliefs of all those men who have served her, that decision must be taken without hesitation, with no considerations of personal gain or even survival.” His pale eyes moved slowly across their faces. “If we are called, it will be very soon now. I am sure I shall not have to ask for your best, for as captain I must take it as a right, and not a privilege of rank.”

He became brisk once more. “Now call the hands and carry out my instructions.” He watched them file out of his cabin and then said to Trewin, “I must inform the admiral of my intentions, eh?”

“Is that wise, sir?” Trewin saw Corbett slip the magnifying glass into his pocket. “He might wish to overrule you.”

Corbett patted his pockets and stared at his empty desk. “I will tell him my intentions, Trewin.” He smiled shortly. “
Not
my method!”

I
N ACCORDANCE WITH
Corbett's instructions both ships left their hiding place, and hugging the Banka coastline headed for the final challenge of the Strait. As the sun moved towards the distant mountains of Sumatra and the nearby hills changed from dark green to a darker purple, the first anxiety of sailing gave way to relief.

Every hour put another six miles behind them, each turn of the screws carried them nearer and nearer to safety.

Trewin rested his elbows on the port screen and trained his glasses on the undulating hills. The sky was clear and filled with small, bright stars, and in the strange, private world of the powerful lenses the hills looked like part of an untroubled desert.

He thought momentarily of the actual time of sailing from those last islets. Just as every man had been occupied in stripping away the camouflage and letting go the mooring wires a narrow native fishing boat had coasted towards them, quite unseen by the look-outs until the last moment.

Corbett had rapped, “Cover that boat! Shoot if they try and escape!” Then as the machine-guns had swung threateningly towards the upturned faces of the fishermen he had added, “Tell Hammond to go and speak with them. They may be of some help.”

They had all watched Hammond climb aboard the boat, which had seemed little more than a hollow log and two crude outriggers. The surprise and caution on the native faces had soon given way to grins and loud laughter as Hammond had stumbled to question and translate with his limited vocabulary. The natives had offered him a sack of fresh coconuts and some smoked fish wrapped in leaves, but Corbett had shouted down to him, “Give them money, Sub! All that you've got available!” To the bridge at large he had added, “We can't rely on loyalty and love too much at this point. Singapore dollars might make 'em think twice about reporting our comings and goings, eh?”

Hammond had climbed back aboard, red-faced, but quite pleased with himself. “They say the Japs are already on Banka.
But as far as I can make out they are on the other side of the island. We'll be safe enough to stay inshore on this side, sir.”

Corbett had nodded. “Good. So even if our brown friends want to sell our whereabouts to higher bidders, they'll have a long way to go.”

Trewin felt the edge of the screen grate painfully against his chin and realised that his head had fallen forward in a doze. He shook himself roughly and wished there was a cold wind or another fall of rain to keep him awake. He turned and peered down into the bridge, seeing the shadowy figures with a sudden sense of alarm.

He snapped, “Come on then! Move your feet! Wake yourselves, you idle lot!” He heard someone cursing him and grinned in spite of his strained nerves. The idea of the ship steaming straight into some hidden enemy with all her watch-keepers asleep was enough to make anyone sweat.

He heard Corbett mutter, “Must you make such a damn row, Number One?”

“I thought you were asleep, sir.” He saw Corbett's face pale against the black water beyond the screen.

“I was. But not any more!” Corbett wriggled in his chair. “A few more hours, Trewin. When do we alter course again?”

Mallory's voice sounded drowsy, as if he was half drunk. “Fifteen minutes, sir. Course will be, er, one one zero.”

“You see?” Corbett yawned. “We're through the narrows. I knew we were doing the right thing to take our time.” He became brisk. “By dawn we'll be well round the southern side of Banka.” His eyes flashed in the gloom. “In the Java Sea!”

Trewin nodded. All those miles. Twisting and turning, hiding and running. When they had started, the idea of reaching the Java Sea had seemed too remote to be taken seriously. Now it was just a matter of hours away, and the thought of failure too terrible to face.

Corbett said suddenly, “I want you to go to the chart room and get some sleep, Trewin. But first pass the word for our
people to turn in at their stations. They can do an hour on and an hour off. That should help. Heaven knows, they deserve it.”

Trewin asked, “Is that wise, sir? It might take several minutes to wake them up again.”

Corbett laughed. “I think we're all right for a while.” He dropped his voice. “Tomorrow is the testing time. Nobody saw that destroyer return down the Strait. She, or others, may still be waiting and searching for us. If so, I want our people to be as alert as humanly possible.”

“And you, sir?”

“I shall sleep later, Trewin.” He added dryly, “And do stop fussing! It unnerves me!”

Trewin walked down to the chart room and threw himself on the leather-topped bench seat. He lay on his back with his hands behind his head, half listening to the familiar shipboard noises, the steady sluice of water against the hull.

At dawn they would anchor and rig camouflage for the last time. Then under cover of darkness they would head out to sea once more. The next time the anchor rattled down on its rusty cable would be amongst friends. The voyage over. With a smile on his lips he fell instantly asleep.

T
HE SCREAM OF ALARM BELLS
hurled Trewin from the bench and he was up and running for the bridge hatch, his brain still too shocked to record the stampeding figures around him and the tannoy's metallic chant, “Action stations! Action stations!”

He thought he had been asleep for only a few minutes, but as he thrust his body through the hatch and on to the upper bridge he saw that the sky had changed to pale grey and where there had once been stars there were closely knitted clouds and the first heavy drops of rain across his upturned face.

Corbett was on his feet, his glasses trained towards the starboard bow as he snapped, “Full ahead together! Maximum revolutions!”