Shute, Nevil (23 page)

‘Off the Thames, and round about the Goodwins. You heard about it, surely?’

She shook her head. ‘What was it-a battle?’

‘I suppose you’d call it that. I didn’t see anything of it -we were up in the Irish Sea and the west coast of Scotland, waiting for them there. But this thing-they were trying to force the Straits, you know. We put it across them properly. Do you mean to say you didn’t hear of it on shore?’

She shook her head. ‘We were out at Hamble. There weren’t any papers there-or nothing that had anything like that.’

‘Wasn’t it on the wireless?’

‘It may have been. But there’s been no electricity, you see-and so no wireless. Not many people have a battery set, these days. And anyway, you can’t get the batteries charged when there’s no current in the mains.’

He stared at her in wonder. ‘I never thought of that. … It was a big engagement, though-a very big one. As big as Jutland. We lost two capital ships, the Warspite and the Hood. They lost about ten.’

‘You mean that we won?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know what you can say that anyone wins anything, these days-not quite like that. It finished up with our fleet much superior to theirs in capital ships, anyway. It’s given them something to think about.’

Joan said: ‘You must tell Peter when he comes on deck. He’ll be awfully interested.’ She reached for the screw-top bottle. ‘Have a barley-sugar. They’re full of glucose.’

The afternoon wore on. Corbett came on deck presently and Joan went down; she busied herself in the reeling forecastle with cups of Bovril for the children and a bottle for the baby. It took her an hour. Then, sick, dizzy, and exhausted, she lay down on the settee and fell asleep at once.

Shortly before dusk the wind moderated and backed more into the west. The sea was running very high, but in long, even rollers that the vessel had time to rise and slide over. Corbett looked around. ‘She’d stand a bit of sail on her now, I think.’

Godfrey said: ‘It would be just as well. I don’t know where we are-not within twenty miles. We’d better head up north; we can’t be far from the French coast.’

Corbett nodded. ‘We don’t want to bump on that in the dark.’

They shipped the pump, and began to pump the vessel out before setting sail. The working and the straining that she had been through in the last twenty-four hours had not improved her; there was a good deal of water in the bilge. They cleared her in twenty minutes’ pumping, then turned to the sails.

‘You’ll have to do most of it for me, I’m afraid,’ said Corbett. ‘This hand of mine isn’t much good to me.’ The naval officer said: ‘That’s all right. You tell me what you want done.’

In half an hour of shouted instructions and heavy work they got the mainsail set, a little close-reefed rag; they followed it with a small jib set up from the stem. With that sail the little yacht had all she wanted; she surged away to the north with the wind free, clambering up over the one side of the rollers and charging down the other side like a speed-boat. Immediately they felt relief from the incessant motion as she steadied to the pressure of her sails.

All square forward, Godfrey came aft to the cockpit. ‘That’s better,’ Corbett said, bracing himself against the tiller. ‘We’re getting somewhere now.’

In the gathering dusk the little ship went bustling on, making perhaps three knots in the rough sea. Their spirits rose; they had a drink of brandy. Then Corbett, greatly daring, went below and fetched a few dry biscuits. They ate them, and retained them.

Presently it was dark. They sailed on through the night, the wind moderating all the time. After a while Corbett said: ‘Should we be showing lights?’

Godfrey considered for a minute. ‘Well, nobody else will be that we meet. Still, I think I’d put them up. They might stop someone from popping off at us for luck.’ Corbett went below to get the port and starboard lanterns, and lit the cabin lamp to see to them. The light woke Joan; she stirred and rubbed her eyes, and followed him on deck when he took up the lights. He set them in the rigging, glowing brilliant in the night.

Joan said: ‘This is lovely, sailing along like this.’ She reached out for the brandy flask and took a little drink. ‘Where are we going to?’

Godfrey said: ‘Back the way we came, on the reverse bearing. I’m afraid I can’t say more than that.’

‘That probably means Portland,’ said Corbett. The officer looked at him seriously. ‘If that’s all right by you, it would be a good place to put us off. Victorious is going there to fuel-or was when last I heard. We could get Matheson into the hospital on shore there, too.’ Corbett said: ‘That suits us. The sooner he gets into hospital the better, I should say.’

Godfrey agreed. ‘We ought to sight the coast tomorrow morning, probably. We’ll have to see where we come out, and what the wind is doing. It might be better to go into Poole. We’ll have to see.’

Joan stood erect, and looked out over the dim sea. ‘I liked that nip of brandy,’ she said unexpectedly. ‘Peter, does anyone want anything to eat?’

They became aware that they were very hungry. ‘It’s not half so bad now,’ said Joan. ‘I believe we could cook something hot.’

She went below and emptied tins of beef and vegetables into a large saucepan. She put in a little water, heated it on the Primus stove till it was boiling, added Bovril and condiments, and carried it up to the cockpit with three spoons. They ate it gratefully, and retained it. Satisfied and encouraged, they sent Godfrey down below and settled down together upon watch.

Godfrey knelt by the pilot and examined him. He was still unconscious, breathing rather heavily and growing cold about the hands and feet. The officer went through into the forecastle and boiled a kettle, refilled the hot-water bottle, and laid it in the blankets at the sick man’s feet. He raised the head a little with another cushion; then he had shot his bolt, there was no more that he could do. He remained kneeling by the sick man, lost in thought. He thought of his flat in Alverstoke, of Enid, his wife, of Joe, their little son. They only had the one child; it was a pity, but naval people mostly had to be content with one. If anything should happen to them … The thought tore his heart. He remembered the prayers he had not thought of since he was a boy; he could not quite remember all the words, but he said what he could remember.

Presently he went over to the other settee, and slept. On deck, Joan and Peter huddled together in the cockpit as the vessel sailed on through the night. It was colder, but the wind was dropping. Joan went below at midnight and cooked another stew; Godfrey awoke and went on deck. Together they shook out a reef and set the foresail; then Joan went below to sleep. When dawn came, Joan and Godfrey were on deck and Corbett was asleep.

It was full daylight when he came up to the cockpit. Ahead of them, in the far distance, land was showing as an isolated lump; over on the starboard bow it showed again. Godfrey nodded to it. ‘St. Albans right ahead. That’s the island over there.’

Corbett stood for a minute, taking it in. ‘Can you lie Portland?’

‘Not quite yet. We may be able to before so long. The wind’s backing all the time.’

Corbett thought for a minute. ‘We’ve got about six gallons of petrol left. We’ll keep a gallon to get into harbour with. I’ll put the engine on; it’ll help her along a bit.’

They sailed on all the morning, gradually raising the wedge bluff of Portland above the horizon. About noon a grey trawler, armed with a gun upon her forecastle and manned by a naval crew, closed up to them and hailed them, asking where they were bound. Godfrey slipped on his monkey jacket and hailed back.

In the early afternoon, five miles from the harbour near the Shambles lightship, a motor torpedo-boat ranged alongside, questioned them closely, and gave them the rather complicated sailing directions for entering the harbour through the mine-field.

At four o’clock they sailed in through the breakwater gap. The harbour was thronged with warships of every sort, with oil tankers, colliers, and a great multitude of smaller craft. In the middle loomed the flat, ungainly bulk of the Victorious.

Godfrey said: ‘She’s here before us. I thought perhaps she might be.’

They dropped sail, and went forward through the fleet under engine alone. The officer went forward to the anchor gear; they brought up in three fathoms at the south side of the harbour, near the stone jetty.

Corbett went below to stop the engine. When he came up again, he glanced forward; Godfrey was standing on the cabin-top, a handkerchief in each hand, sending a long message by semaphore. Corbett stared at the aircraft-carrier; on her bridge the mechanical semaphore wagged at the conclusion of each word.

The officer finished his message and came down from the cabin-top. ‘What’s happening?’ asked Corbett.

‘I told them we were here and wanted the doctor. They’ll probably send off a boat.’

He busied himself with Corbett in stowing the mainsail. In a very few minutes a hard chine launch came swiftly to them from the carrier, throttled her engines, sunk into the water, and made fast alongside. A surgeon-commander, immaculate in uniform, stepped from the boat down on to the deck of the little yacht. Godfrey was there to meet him; they exchanged a few words, and he went below.

The pilot was put on to a stretcher and taken on board the launch; the surgeon turned to Joan: ‘Has he had anything to eat or drink?’

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t get him to take anything. I kept a hot bottle at his feet.’

‘He’s had nothing at all? That’s quite all right-I wanted to know.’ He glanced around. ‘How long have you been at sea?’

Joan glanced at Peter. He said: ‘Four days, I think. It might be five.’

‘These children. Have they kept well?’

Joan laughed. ‘They never turned a hair. I kept them lying down. The baby slept practically all the time.’

‘Baby? Have you got a baby on board?’

‘Come and see.’

She took him through into the forecastle and showed him little Joan in her cradle, lashed to the bulkhead above the water-closet. The forecastle was a wild litter of spilt food and paraffin, lamps, unwashed dishes, tins of food, petrol-cans, ropes, sails, and gear. The infant beamed up happily at them as they bent over it.

The surgeon-commander straightened up, bumping his head painfully against the deck beams. ‘Not much wrong with her.’ He stared around him at the litter in the forecastle, at the wet squalor of the saloon, at the two children in the waterway bunks. ‘You had it pretty rough, the last two days?’

Joan nodded.

The surgeon glanced at her drawn, haggard face, the wet hair plastered over her forehead, the white salt crusted on her cheeks around her tired eyes. ‘You’ve done a good job, Mrs. Corbett,’ he said suddenly. ‘Your children are well and healthy, and that man will live.’

He went on deck and turned to the launch. He said to Godfrey: ‘I’m taking him straight on shore, to the hospital. I’ll send the boat back for you as soon as I’ve done with it.’

The lieutenant-commander asked: ‘Do you know when We’re sailing?’

‘I haven’t heard.’

The boat slid away and accelerated, rising on to the surface of the water at the head of a broad wake of foam. They watched her for a minute, then turned back to their own affairs. Godfrey went down below to change into his own clothes. Corbett leaned in at the hatch and said to John and Phyllis: ‘You can get up now. Come out on deck.’

They scrambled out into the cockpit. With the coming of the evening the clouds had lifted; over the Chesil Bank there was a sunset in the west, all blue and rose colour. The grey forms of the warships became shot with gold; they took on a purple tinge against the background of the misty downs.

Phyllis asked: ‘Where are we, Daddy? Daddy, where are we?’

John echoed: ‘Where are we, Daddy?’ He was suddenly very tired. ‘Portland,’ he said. ‘Did you think we were never going to get here?’

She nodded. John said: ”I thought we were going to get here, Daddy.’

‘No, you didn’t, John. Daddy, he didn’t, did he? Daddy, where is Portland? Is it near London?’

He shook his head. ‘Not very. Look at all those battleships. Do you remember seeing them before, at the review?’

Phyllis nodded. ‘Daddy, will there be fireworks on the ships tonight?’

‘Not tonight.’

‘There was at the review, Daddy.’ He sat down on the cockpit seat. He was beginning to grow cold; he became aware that all the clothes that he had on were clammy and damp. He thought with dismay that there was nothing dry on board. Clothes, blankets, mattresses, and sails-everything was wet, and night was coming on.

Joan came to the hatch. ‘Come out on deck and look at the sunset,’ he said wearily. ‘I’ll go below and light the Primus stove. We’ll have a cup of tea.’

Godfrey heard him. ‘Look here, don’t do that. We can do better than that. We’ll go to the Victorious and have a proper meal.’

Corbett laughed. ‘With all the family?’

‘Of course. Why not?’

Joan said: ‘It’s terribly nice of you, but we really aren’t decent. I couldn’t leave the baby, and I couldn’t take her with me on your ship. No, we’ll be quite all right here.’ She hesitated. ‘If you could send us off some fresh milk from the ship …’

The boat returned and slid alongside. The surgeon-commander stepped on board again. ‘Mrs. Corbett,’ he said, ‘I’ve seen the surgeon-captain in charge. He asked me to tell you that if you would care to take the children to the hospital for tonight, with your husband, he can accommodate you all.’ He smiled. ‘I think if I were you I should accept that offer. There’s a hot bath attached to it.’

Joan said simply: ‘I can’t say no to a hot bath.’

Godfrey said to Corbett: ‘You’d better do that. Then I’ll get all your mattresses, blankets, clothes, and stuff taken on board Victorious and dried by the morning.’

He spoke to the coxswain of the boat and gave him his orders. ‘I’ll see the officer of the watch when I get on board.”

Half an hour later Joan and Peter were lying in hot baths in the bath-house, separated from each other by a green canvas curtain. The children had been taken from Joan by the sick bay stewards to be bathed. Even the baby had been taken from her; in the quiet efficiency of the place she was content to let it go. They lay luxuriating in the hot water, soaking the salt out of their bodies.