We Joined The Navy (27 page)

But it took time before the last of the guests was escorted and, in the case of one excited young lady, carried kicking by the Corporal of the Gangway down to the boats. At last it was done. The Bodger and his mates stepped back and wiped their brows.

‘My God!’ The Bodger said. ‘What does Guns do to that stuff! It must start off as normal liquor but after he and that satellite of his Knowles have had a go at it we might just as well be drinking neat dynamite. One sip of that rum punch nearly blew the top of my head off.’

‘Still,’ said the Communications Officer, ‘I can die at rest now. Did you hear what that woman in the earrings told Dickie to do with his telescope?’

The cricket match at Barbados was an annual fixture and it was played under special rules. Every member of the fielding side except the wicket-keeper was called upon to bowl two overs; each innings therefore lasted a maximum of twenty overs. A batsman retired when he had made thirty runs, and a boundary, a wicket, or indeed an incident of any kind was the signal for planter’s punch to be brought out on trays from the pavilion. The rig for the teams was white shorts and shirts but hats were optional and according to personal preference; the rules stated that a player’s hat could be anything but a cricket cap.
Barsetshire
had never within the memory of anyone on board won a match, and when the ship’s team arrived at the ground they understood why; they saw that they would have to play not only against the opposing side but also against the ground, the crowd, and the calypso steel band.

The ground sloped towards the sea and was enclosed by a low cliff which dropped down to the beach, a row of tall palms, a deep ditch and the road on the fourth side. The wicket was concrete covered with matting and provided as good a batting surface as any in the world but the outfield was tough, slippery grass broken up by pot-holes, ridges and heaps of stones. The pavilion was a structure of four poles supporting a roof of thatched palm leaves and it was placed on the far side of the ditch so that an incoming batsman descended into the ditch, scrambled up the other side and picked his way between stones and pot-holes to the wicket. A Scoreboard was nailed to one of the four posts, but it was only kept up to date when the home team were batting. The feet of the spectators marked the boundaries but four runs were only automatically granted when the ball actually hit a spectator. During the home side’s innings the boundary contracted and the younger members of the crowd risked life and limb to impede the ball; when the visiting team were batting, the boundary expanded and the crowd opened to provide a passage for the ball and the fielder.

Except for a loyal group of British residents in deck chairs by the pavilion, the crowd were entirely West Indian. They made a brilliant border round the ground of red, yellow and blue shirts and dresses, black faces, yellow straw hats and white teeth. They laughed, cheered, joked and shouted to each other across the pitch. They had come prepared to cheer their team home; if will power and cheering could make an opposing team drop catches and lose wickets, the home side were already on the way to winning the game.

But the most formidable opposition a visiting team had to face was the calypso steel band. They squatted in a circle near the pavilion and their only instruments were petrol and kerosene tins with the bottoms heated and peined in parts to give out different notes when struck. The steel band were playing when the visiting team arrived and they played throughout the match, being led by a man in a suit of flame-red pyjamas known as ‘Firedrake Fred’ who sang a running calypso commentary on the play.

The Bodger, who was umpiring, in a long white coat and a grey bowler, went out to the pitch with the other umpire while the captains tossed. The steel band played ‘With Catlike Tread They Creep Upon Their Prey’ in time to the umpire’s footsteps.

Cartwright,
Barsetshire
’s captain, won the toss. He was wearing a deerstalker decorated with fishing flies. He chose to bat.

‘The Englishmen, they have won the toss,
In this fair land of Barba
dos
.. .’

sang Firedrake Fred.

‘They are going to bat, all can see,
We must bowl them out with alacri
tee
’

The fielding side came out to the ‘Entry of the Gladiators’ and were followed by Paul and Pontius the Pilot,
Barsetshire
’s opening pair (in straw boater and flight deck beret) to the ‘Entry of the Queen of Sheba.’

Paul’s first ball was a slow full toss on the leg side. He caught it in the middle of the bat and struck it hard and head high towards square leg. The Bodger and square leg threw themselves flat on the ground. The ball hummed over the heads of the crowd, cannoned off a palm tree, and rebounded back into the field to midwicket who hurled himself sideways to catch the ball before it touched the ground. The crowd leapt and hugged themselves. The steel band played ‘Let’s Have Another One.’ The first round of planter’s punch came out from the pavilion.

‘Well held, sir’ said the elderly man whom Raymond Ball had met at the party, who was sitting with his daughter Louise and Raymond Ball by the pavilion.

‘The first man he go to a very good catch,
Just nine more and we win the match...’

sang Firedrake Fred.

Paul’s place was taken by the Fresh Water Tanky in a sombrero who drove his first ball straight at the bowler. The bowler took the catch with a triumphant yell, back somersaulted and stood up holding the ball and grinning. The crowd howled. The steel band doubled the tempo. The planter’s punch returned.

‘Never mind’ said the elderly man in the deck chair, ‘at least they’re playing the ball. The ball hasn’t beaten the bat yet.’

‘Another man go down down down
And give the happy bowler great renown . . .’

The next batsman was Cartwright. He made a leisurely crossing of the ditch, walked slowly to the wicket, took guard, calmly surveyed the placing of the field, settled his deerstalker more firmly on his head, and blocked or ignored the rest of the over. The crowd began slow clapping. The steel band played ‘So Tired.’ The ice melted in the planter’s punch.

‘That’s more like it’ said the elderly man.

Cartwright scored steadily in ones and twos but he was given little support. Pontius the Pilot was bowled by a slow ball which hit the wicket on its fourth bounce. Mr Piles was given out l.b.w. when a rising ball removed the mortar-board from his head, and Able Seaman Froggins, wearing a knotted handkerchief, hit one six over the palm trees and was caught next ball by an old lady in the crowd who accepted the ball on her lap. The rest of
Barsetshire
’s batsmen were disconcerted by the small boys who capered and gesticulated behind the bowler’s arm, by the steel band’s drum roll and crescendo as the bowler ran up to the wicket, by the concerted jump and yell of the fielders as the ball left the bowler’s hand, and by the wicket-keeper who crouched over the stumps muttering ‘You going to get a duck’ not as a question but as statement of fact as the batsmen attempted his stroke. The
Barsetshire
innings closed for fifty-five runs, of which thirty-five runs had been contributed by Cartwright who reached a total of twenty-nine and retired with a six on to the beach.

During the planter’s punch interval, the steel band gave a recital conducted by Firedrake Fred. The
Barsetshire
team were astonished at the quality of the music the steel band could make from old petrol drums. They played minuets and marches, carols and calypsos, serenades and sambas, and romances and ragtime. They put fragments of tunes together to build up an intricate melodic structure which Firedrake Fred allowed to reach its height and then demolished with a gesture. The parts were properly orchestrated with counterpoint and contrast. Soloists made their entries faultlessly. Sometimes they sounded like the drums of a military band and sometimes like the percussion section of a large orchestra; they could imitate the pizzicato of a violin, the throbbing of a bassoon, and the strumming of a guitar. The band enjoyed playing and the crowd enjoyed listening to them and they made the liveliest, most genuine music the
Barsetshire
team had ever heard.

Cartwright opened the bowling for
Barsetshire
. He normally opened the bowling for
Barsetshire
’s official cricket team, and he stood head and shoulders like a colossus over the other bowlers in the match. He was allowed twelve balls in the match and, bowling downhill and down wind, he determined to make every ball count.

His first pitched short, sailed over the skiing cap of Chief Electrician Pocock, who was keeping wicket, eluded the Chief G.I.’s outstretched topee on the boundary at fine leg, and landed first bounce on the beach near the sea. The Bodger signalled six byes reluctantly and held up play for the arrival of the planter’s punch. Cartwright tightened his jaw, swung his arm rapidly in a windmill motion, and prepared himself for his second ball.

Cartwright had been the first visiting batsman ever to have retired voluntarily on that pitch and he was now the first bowler ever to have bowled six byes. The crowd warmed to him and cheered his every move. The steel band paid him the supreme compliment of a drum roll as he ran up to the wicket.

This encouragement was a gross tactical error. It gave Cartwright the spur he needed. His second ball scattered stumps, bails, ball and bat in a wide spray. The crowd were dumbfounded. The British residents applauded. The steel band played a few disconsolate chords in a minor key. The Bodger called for planter’s punch.

‘Well
bowled
, sir!’ called Louise’s father. His eyes sparkled. It was the first piece of real cricket he had seen that afternoon. It reminded him of cricket as he had played it long ago at home with his brothers, in a setting of parasols, strawberries and cream, horses under the chestnut trees, and Victoria on the throne. Cartwright’s easy, powerful action recalled other bowlers he had seen, Maurice Tate at Hove, and Larwood and Voce at Trent Bridge. The old man was roused by the gasp which followed after Cartwright’s second wicket, which was a duplicate of the first.

During Cartwright’s two overs, while Paul bowled from the other end, the home side lost five wickets for ten runs. Four were bowled by Cartwright and the fifth was run out by the Captain’s steward, Knowles, who unexpectedly trapped the ball in his glengarry at cover point and threw the wicket down. Paul did not take a wicket but gave away only four runs.

‘Tragedee, tragedee, gentlemen this is trage
dee
,’ sang Firedrake Fred.

Cartwright had no bowlers to replace himself or Paul once their two overs had been expended and the new batsmen settled in and began to score. The
Barsetshire
team were tired by the sun, by the shouting and music, and by the planter’s punch, but they persevered in the field. Pontius the Pilot awoke in the slips to see a ball speeding at his head and, putting out his hands to protect himself, held the catch. Fresh Water Tanky hurdled over the legs of the crowd to save boundaries at midwicket. Meanwhile, Cartwright and Paul ran and gathered, the Chief G.I. ran and scooped, Knowles ran and trapped, and Chief Electrician Pocock ran and stopped with his foot. When the last man came in to bat, the West Indians still needed five runs to win with four overs in which to score them, the overs to be bowled by Mr Sammidge and Petty Officer Moody.

Petty Officer Moody handed his tam o’ shanter to the umpire and bowled three balls on the off side. They were not far enough to be termed wides but too far for the batsman to reach them. Cartwright crossed from mid off and advised Petty Officer Moody to bowl on the wicket. Petty Officer Moody’s next ball was straight and was clouted over his head for four runs. Cartwright held his peace. The last two balls of Petty Officer Moody’s over were on the off side, not far enough for wides, but too far for the batsman to reach them.

The crowd who had recovered from their shocked silence while Cartwright was bowling, stood up to encourage their last batsman. The sound they now made dwarfed any they had made during the afternoon. The cheers rolled around the ground and deafened the fielders.

‘Show him de blade, man!’ bellowed Firedrake Fred.

Mr Sammidge retained his fez while he paced out a long run, longer even than Cartwright’s. The batsman, who had visions of another whirlwind bowler, tightened his grip on the bat.

Mr Sammidge placed his fez on the ground to mark the end of his run and started back towards the wicket. Accelerating like a runaway juggernaut, Mr Sammidge bore down on the wicket. The batsman braced himself. At the moment before release, Mr Sammidge shifted the ball to his left hand and bowled slowly underarm.

Bat upraised, the batsman searched the air for the ball. Then, seeing his opponent low down, he leapt forward and flailed his bat. When the ball passed under the bat it had long lost all momentum for bouncing. The batsman landed on one knee and turned to see the ball rolling towards the wicket. It hit a stump. The bail quivered, as though to some light summer breeze, and fell.

‘A tie, by God,’ breathed Louise’s father.

‘Brownskin girl, stay home and mind babee!’ sang The Bodger under the shower. He soaped and rubbed himself vigorously and sang up into the streaming water. The noise of the water distorted his voice so that weird liquid echoes reverberated round the bathroom. ‘Ah’m goin’ away
in
a sailing boat an’ if I don’ come back stay home and mind babee!’

‘Oh dear, what can the matter be?’ sang the Navigating Officer under the next shower, ‘Three old ladies locked in the lavatory. They were
there
from Monday to Saturday, nobody knew they were there.’

‘Looking forward to our little trip, Pilot?’

‘Wassat Bodger?’

‘I said looking forward to our little trip?’

The Navigating Officer turned off his shower and scowled. ‘No, I most certainly am not! If I’d wanted to live like a bloody Bedouin I’d have joined the bloody Boy Scouts.’

‘Don’t be that way, Pilot. Don’t you like banyans?’

‘I
loathe
banyans’