Send a Gunboat (1960) (32 page)

Ursula glanced around at the quiet, businesslike scene, and began to withdraw. “She’s very lovely, Captain! I’m glad you were able to find her!”

Rolfe sighed as the door clicked behind her and Fallow stepped forward anxiously.

“You sure you’re feeling strong enough, sir? I mean ter say, you look about all in.”

“I shall have a shave,” answered Rolfe vaguely. “That might do the trick.”

“Er, pity about ’er brother, sir. That Major Ling seems to ’ave fixed things very well fer ’imself?”

Rolfe’s face hardened. “I’m not so sure, Number One, I think I’m just beginning to understand these people, and I don’t believe Ling’s superiors are going to be too pleased with him!
He’s allowed all the scapegoats to get away, and all he’s got to show for his years of plotting and spying are two worthless confessions, which he might easily have written himself. No, I don’t fancy his chances at all!”

“The bastard!” muttered Fallow hotly. “That poor girl must ’ave gone through ’ell until you got there, sir!’

Rolfe walked stiffly to the compass. “She went through hell afterwards, too. And she’ll still be suffering now, I think!”

The bridge door banged open and Chief Petty Officer Chase marched in. “All guns crews at the ready, sir! Ready-use ammunition lockers checked, an’ ship at first degree of readiness!” He glared round belligerently.

“Very good.” Rolfe eyed him grimly. “If we are engaged, Chief, it’ll be very much a hit-and-miss affair. You must make every shot tell, as we’re no match for five-inch guns!”

Rolfe had already explained the situation to his heads of departments, and it still seemed unreal to be discussing a possible naval engagement when every inch of his throbbing body told him he was still lying on that sun-scorched rock.

“Oh, I dunno about that, sir!” Chase sounded hurt. “These Chink gunners ain’t so ’ot!”

“Don’t forget you’ll be using Chinese gunners, too, Chief!” Rolfe smiled at Chase’s puzzled expression.

“That’s different, sir,” Chase smiled placatingly. “Y’see, sir, they ain’t ’ad the trainin’.”

“Whale Island?”

Chase flushed awkwardly. “Well, that’s about it, sir!”

“Carry on, then. And remember what I said!”

Fallow sighed deeply. “’E means well, sir.”

Rolfe listened to Chase’s distant voice shouting instructions. “Right now, he’s about the most important chap aboard!” He patted Fallow’s fat forearm. “Except you, of course!”

“That’s all right, sir. I’m used ter ’avin’ me leg pulled.”

Rolfe eyed him seriously. “If it hadn’t been for you, that girl in there would be dead, and so would Chao, and I! You’re a good chap, Number One.” He paused, remembering Felton’s last words. “A friend!”

Fallow twisted with embarrassment. “Vincent an’ me knew what we was gettin’ into. We knew what ’ad to be done!”

Rolfe lifted his eyebrows. “Vincent? Was
he
keen to come back?”

Fallow stared out of the bridge window, fumbling for words. “’E’s young, sir. ’E’ll learn in time! To tell you the truth, I’m fair worried about ’im! ’E’s not been the same since this lot started to blow up!”

“I don’t think any of us has! We’ve all changed round.”

“Pardon, sir?”

Rolfe shrugged tiredly. “Nothing. But it’s quite a thought.”

“I was wonderin’, sir. ’Ow did you get to that rock place? Did you pinch a boat?”

The gunboat quivered as her blunt bows thrust urgently into the flat sea.

“The boat was provided by
Wagtail
! It was lucky we left the harbour in such a hurry that the motor-boat was left behind!”

Fallow grinned admiringly. “Lucky? It was Providence!”

In his cabin beneath the bridge Vincent lay staring at the deckhead, his eyes wide and unblinking. Could it be that his fears had been stupid and groundless? Had he given himself away so completely and without cause? He bit his lip with torment as he tried to assess his own capabilities.

Ursula must surely be laughing at him now. And where was she, now that he needed her? Probably with that other girl, the one that the Captain had brought aboard. He suddenly closed his eyes tightly and tried to shut out the ship and everyone in it.

It would be different at Government House. His thoughts began again, testing the strength of his reasoning, but it was still useless. The picture of safety and well-being simply would not form.

God! When would it all stop? Every beat of the engines seemed to be throwing a challenge to this Chinese destroyer, instead of reminding him they were on their way home.

He heard the door slide back and he lay completely still, hoping that whoever it was would go away.

“Ah, Vincent!” Laker’s thick voice bored down at him. “I wondered if I might find you here.”

Vincent grunted, but kept his eyes shut.

“We’ve been having a discussion in the mess and we’ve decided that we shall leave this ship at the first opportunity.”

Vincent sat up slowly, blinking at the other man in amazement. “Leave? How d’you mean?”

Laker smiled blandly. “Well, I think we shall be meeting other ships soon. I understand that your Admiral intended to send ships to escort us home, once the evacuation was completed, and if we can get aboard some faster craft, we can be back in Hong Kong before your Captain!” He waited to allow the words to sink in. “We’ll have a nice warm welcome waiting for him, by the time he gets to Hong Kong!” He leaned back, puffing at his cigar.

“What can you do?” Vincent asked eventually, staring at Laker with startled interest.

“Do? I told you I’m not exactly unknown in the right places! I intend to make it known how he has behaved; how he has endangered all our lives; how—” he broke off as Vincent’s tight face collapsed into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. When he could speak again, his voice was high and cracked.

“Laker,
Mr
. Laker! Or whatever you call yourself! You’re the one who is in for a shock! Do you spend all your time thinking up these ideas of yours? Because if you do, I’m not surprised that the Chinks hated your guts!” He lay back weakly, the tears running unchecked down his chin. “You know we’ve no wireless, yet you seem to think we can make a rendezvous right in the middle of thousands of miles of ruddy ocean! You live in the past, man! Don’t you realize that people at home have never even heard of your damned island? I know that I, for one, wish I’d never seen the blasted place!”

Laker jumped to his feet, his face contused with rage. “Don’t you dare to speak to me like that! I was going to help you, but I can see you’re as worthless as the rest! And for your information, I happen to know that we may be meeting a destroyer tomorrow!” He glared down in triumph.

Vincent blinked incredulously. “You heard that?”

“I did!”

He rolled over on to his pillow, his words muffled with a sudden paroxysm of sobs. “Didn’t you know it was a Chinese destroyer? God, leave me alone! Go back to your friends and tell them about your fresh bit of news!”

As Vincent buried his face in the pillow, Laker walked unsteadily to the door. His face was grey, and he looked a very old man.

* * * * *

The clear morning sunlight rippled its dancing reflections across the white paint of the wardroom and threw little golden daubs across the tablecloth. Through the open windows the sea rose and fell, calm and majestic, on either side of the ship, and gurgled cheerfully along the steel hull.

The stewards pattered to and fro between the pantry and the table, serving breakfast and watching the people with impassive faces. Fallow paused automatically at the door, to find his personal napkin, a habit he had found hard to cultivate, and now with the mounting tension in the ship, he found it even more difficult to break.

He had just been relieved from the morning watch by Vincent, who had stared dully at the chart and the log, without his usual list of biting questions and lofty remarks. Instead he had fixed his eyes on the endless wavering line along the horizon, the dull undulating mass of China, and Fallow had seen him shudder.

Fallow had avoided unnecessary conversation, and had been discomforted by the growing change in the other man. He had left him staring over the starboard wing of the bridge, his jaw tight and strained.

He lowered his bulk into the chair at the head of the table, and busied himself with the napkin, using the opportunity to dart a quick glance at the others, who sat moodily waiting for the food to arrive.

Laker stared straight in front of him, his face the picture of mixed emotions, and his eyes trying to remain in focus.

Grant and his wife were experimenting with some of the ship’s biscuits, which had been brought out to replace the stock of fresh bread, long since consumed.

Anthea Masters peered across the table at the sparkling sea. “It rather reminds me of that trip we made to the Channel Islands,” she began shyly, and her husband smiled uneasily. Laker frowned, as if her words had shattered his train of thought.

Fallow watched her thoughtfully. Scared to death, he concluded. It didn’t seem possible that anything bad could happen in such a pleasant setting, but he was past guessing now.

Mrs. Laker eased her fragile figure forward in her chair, as the steward placed a plate of ham and eggs in front of her. She toyed with it and fumbled with her fork.

Fallow looked at his own plate and rubbed his hands with a rasping sound. “Ah! Just the job!” He glanced round the table. “This’d cost you five bob in Lyons, y’know! So you’d better eat up!”

Mrs. Laker smiled at him gratefully and began to eat.

Laker scowled at Fallow, his eyes smouldering with his pent-up dislike. Fallow munched noisily, fully aware of the hostile stare, and waiting calmly for some fresh outburst. He smiled inwardly when Laker merely asked petulantly, “Where’s Ursula? She’s late for breakfast!” Not risking another row, he decided gleefully.

He jerked his head as one of the stewards dropped a plate in the pantry. That was very unusual. The Chinese stewards were normally very careful. He sighed heavily, but then nothing could be normal any more.

The steward in question, Chu-pei, slouched miserably across to Fallow with the teapot. As he reached across the First Lieutenant’s shoulder, Fallow saw that the thin brown hands were unsteady, and without making his movements too obvious, he craned round to stare into the man’s black eyes. Chu-pei, normally a dreamy, cheerful character, dropped his glance to avoid Fallow’s scrutiny.

As he moved away, Fallow nodded slowly as if to confirm his thoughts. The Chinks aboard the ship are more than just scared, he pondered, they know what’d happen to them in particular if we happened to run ashore around here.

He stirred his tea gloomily. What a mess it all was. Chinks in every direction. The General’s lot, ours, and the Communists. All wanting different things, and us stuck right in the middle. He resisted the temptation to belch and tried to concentrate on what Grant was saying.

“How long d’you reckon it’ll be before we’re out of the woods?”

Fallow played with his spoon, wondering how he should answer. “Well, of course, we might run into a friendly ship at any time. Then we could pass a message for them to radio to Hong Kong.”

“Yes, but supposing we don’t meet a friendly ship, what then?”

“We’ll jus’ ’ave to potter along on our own. We’ll be off Formosa in another thirty hours, an’ we’ll be all right then for sure!”

Laker tapped impatiently with his knife, listening intently to the cautious exchange of ideas.

“We seem a bit close to the mainland,” persisted Grant, his face tired and uneasy. “Isn’t that asking for trouble a bit? I mean, couldn’t your Captain push out to sea a bit more?”

“’E knows what ’e’s doin’, Mr. Grant. If we are attacked, it’ll call for some fancy manoeuvrin’, and the closer we are to shallow water, the better.”

Laker could contain himself no longer. “But they wouldn’t dare to fire on a British ship! Why, it’s piracy!”

Fallow munched persistently at a hard biscuit. “I bin out ’ere a good few years now,” he spoke to the table at large, but he saw Laker lean forward to listen, “an’ all that time I’ve seen British ships fired on, under every possible condition. In Formosa now, Chiang Kai-shek’s boys are always shootin’ up British merchant ships which are tryin’ to do business with the Communists!”

“So they should!” barked Laker angrily, glaring at Fallow. “Doing deals with those scum!”

“Reckon they feel ‘bout the same where you’re concerned! Doin’ deals with the bloody Nationalists, eh?” He guffawed loudly. It was surprising how easy it was to irritate Laker.

Laker swallowed fiercely. “This is different! This is a ship of war! And although it’s not much of a ship, it is representing the British Navy!”

“Ah, you know that, but do they? You see, Mr. Laker, we’ve ’urt their dignity, runnin’ off like this, an’ I reckon it spoilt their plans!”

“Running off is right! No guts!” muttered Laker, his mouth quivering.

Fallow leaned back comfortably, his hands behind his head. “Maybe you’ll get all the fightin’ you want, pretty soon!”

“For heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Laker’s voice was shrill in its impact. “Can’t you men stop baiting each other for a bit? Why don’t you remember the rest of us?”

Laker snorted, but Fallow flushed humbly. “Sorry, ma’am,” he murmured. “I gets a bit carried away somehow!”

Grant breathed out in sudden surprise and Fallow turned to stare at the door, following the other man’s amazed glance.

Ursula Laker, in her cool frock and carrying her sun-glasses, stepped aside to allow the other girl to enter. The silence was complete, and even the stewards paused to watch.

A shaft of sunlight caught and caressed the chestnut hair and gave a warm glow to Judith’s brown legs and smooth arms. She was wearing a pair of neat white shorts, with a simple blouse to match. As she walked quietly to the table, Fallow saw the glint of the medal about her neck. She looked fresh and incredibly young, but when she smiled openly at him, Fallow could see the deep sadness in her eyes.

Ursula slumped into a chair and smiled secretly at the others. “Well?” she raised her arched eyebrows. “Don’t you think she’s a peach?”