Raging Sea, Searing Sky

by Christopher Nicole

  Chapter Ten

  Pearl Harbour, 1932

  Lew listened to the blaring of sirens as the other ships in the bay saw the coming catastrophe. But it was every skipper for himself, he knew — and at this moment he was captain of Vermont. Riding at anchor, the battleship was at least facing the coming avalanche of water, but she had no power, and only a single anchor down — no more had been considered necessary in the calm security of Tokyo Wan. She was also one of the furthest ships out, and therefore would be the first to be hit by the tidal wave.

  ‘By all the gods!’ Hashimoto gasped beside him.

  The sailors were shouting incoherently.

  ‘Hold something,’ Lew bellowed at them, and pushed himself and Hashimoto into the shelter of the after turrets as the tsunami broke on the bows of the ship, completely obliterating them, forcing them down as it careered aft. For a moment the entire deck seemed to be beneath swirling green water. For even from aft, and with the roaring sound filling the morning, Lew heard the gigantic crack of the snapping anchor chain.

  He left the turret and, running forward as the water cascaded to port and starboard, watched the severed chain snaking in the air before coming down with a crash on the forward gun turret, with a force which dented the steel — designed to resist a bursting shell. He was dimly aware of men to either side of him scrambling back to their feet, gasping and shouting. But only the thought that his ship was adrift and out of control occupied his mind. He scrambled up the ladder to the bridge and grabbed the telephone to the engine room. ‘Give me steam,’ he snapped. ‘Give me steam.’

  There was only a petty officer and skeleton crew down there, he knew, but fortunately throughout the voyage Captain Conroy had insisted the ship’s boilers be kept sufficiently stoked for instant action at all times when in harbour, and Lew knew he would have full steam in an hour. An hour! When every second meant possible danger.

  Hashimoto had followed him on to the bridge and was pointing. The tidal wave had crashed into the other ships, and several of them too had snapped their mooring chains and were drifting, colliding with each other, while sirens blared and voices shouted. Not all had survived: Lew saw a fishing boat turned upside down, its crew disappeared. But he had no time to think of them, for behind the wave had come a wind, hot and strong, and viciously seeking the victims of its own amongst the shattered fleet. Vermont was its largest target, and before it the battleship was being driven across the still turbulent sea towards the rocks on the eastern side of the bay. No, he did not have an hour.

  ‘Anchors,’ he snapped at Hashimoto, and himself led the rush to the foredeck, where a sub-lieutenant was massing a crew. The chocks were pulled away, and the second bower plunged into the water. It was of course impossible to lay it properly, but with the vessel still drifting astern Lew had good hopes that it would hold. He returned to the bridge to look aft. The rocks seemed agonisingly close, but the ship was taking up as the anchor bit into the ground. And the seas were already subsiding; his command was for the moment safe. It was time to try to understand what had happened, and to try to discover what had happened elsewhere.

  The noise was still tremendous. Lew went out on to the bridge wing, where there was water dripping everywhere; the force of the tsunami had scattered spray right over even the control turrets. He felt the September sunshine incongruously hot, and realised he had lost his cap. He gazed at the now distant Tokyo shoreline and saw the wave, having continued up the bay with ponderous and deadly slowness, was now breaking over the docks. Even at a distance he could see the entire waterfront being submerged, small craft being tossed into the air, great warehouses being smashed into match-wood. He could not see beyond the wave, but he knew that he was watching Tokyo being destroyed. He heard a gasp from beside him, and realised Hashimoto was there — Tokyo was his friend’s home, and the home of his family.

  His superior officers were also lost over there in that holocaust. But Lew knew his first duty was to the ship. By one-thirty sufficient steam had been raised for Vermont to weigh anchor and cautiously return to her berth. Most of the other ships were also now under control, and it was nearly impossible to tell that anything had ever happened, so calm was the sea. And as long as one did not make the mistake of looking shore wards, because now there was smoke rising over the city. Smoke and dust, the final agents of destruction.

  Carefully Lew lined up the necessary bearings which told him the ship was exactly where she should be, and let the reserve bower go again; Vermont was safe unless there was another quake, and another tsunami. Now he had other things to do, and he was determined to do them himself, even though his proper place was with the ship. Beside him Hashimoto’s hands were tight on the rail as he watched the huge pall of smoke over Tokyo.

  ‘We’ll find them, Hash,’ he said, and ordered the second steam launch got ready; moored to the ship’s side, the first had been swept away, her warps snapping like string. Fortunately, no one had been on board. He left Lieutenant Evans in charge, and a few minutes later the launch was cautiously approaching the shore.

  On the waterfront itself, the earthquake had done less damage than the tidal wave. They looked at whole docks torn from their pilings and scattered to and fro like matchsticks; at great warehouses with their doors smashed down and roofs torn off, with their contents, heavy bags of rice and sugar, bales of cloth, huge hunks of frozen meat, new automobiles awaiting delivery — all flung haphazardly in and out of the water, or perched at absurd angles on equally absurd remnants of once-strong structures.

  At least there was no fire here; that lay beyond, and could now be smelt as well as seen, not merely the lung-destroying odour of smoke, but the nostril-filling stench of burning wood — and burning flesh. And with it, an awful moan, emanating from the throats of several million people slowly realising what had happened, slowly understanding that the worst was yet to come.

  Mooring was impossible. The launch nosed in between floating timbers and shattered stonework, and Lew and Hashimoto scrambled ashore, then Lew told the cox to stand off until he returned with the missing officers, but also to pick up any of the liberty men who might appear. Then he and Hashimoto left the docks and made their way into a scene of total horror. The tidal wave had penetrated the first few streets of the city and wreaked as much insensate destruction there as in the docks area, but now it had been replaced by the hissing, darting, consuming flames, above which rolled the growing clouds of brown smoke. Yet it was the damage done by the earthquake itself which was most shocking to the senses. There were great fissures in the streets, out of which bent and buckled tramlines emerged like iron snakes. Masses of overhead wires lay in clusters, like unearthly spiders’ webs dislodged by a strong wind. They were now harmless enough as all electricity supplies had been cut off, but they had been cut off, but they had clearly been deadly for a few seconds at the beginning of the catastrophe, as they could tell by the blackened body of a man over whom one cluster had fallen. Burst water mains still seeped spreading liquid, the fresh mixing with the salt puddles left by the inundation of the sea. Shattered houses, many of them reduced to piles of wood, others left with but a single wall standing or even a single wooden upright, had their intimacies, their mattresses and their tatami mats and their stoves and their clothes, heaped in disorder. Many burned fiercely, and it was easy to see that the earthquake had caused tens of thousands of small fires, which had come together into a general conflagration, because the people of Tokyo would all have been preparing their midday meal when the tremor had occurred.

  And of course there were the people themselves. People standing, staring at what had been their homes, expressions of utter horror on their faces; people shouting at the heavens which had permitted this to happen, and tearing their hair in anguish and despair; people sitting, weeping; children, in groups, traumatised into silence by the power of the cataclysm; and people lying, some moaning in pain from shattered limbs, others absolutely still, men and women and children, their bodies patheticall
y thin and frail, while terrified dogs crept amongst the living and the dead, unable to comprehend.

  But there were other people as well, screaming their fear and their agony from inside collapsed buildings, begging for help before the flames reached them and they burned to death. Lew and Hashimoto immediately went to the aid of one woman trapped by a falling timber. They pulled her free easily enough, but there could be no doubt that her legs were broken.

  They stood uncertainly, not knowing what to do, while the woman moaned and wept, but fortunately a moment later they were surrounded by a company of soldiers, armed and ready to deal with any looting or rioting. They were also equipped with spades and axes to dig out the living — and accompanied by a medical unit.

  Lew was relieved to see how speedily the city authorities had reacted to their situation, but the grimness of that situation grew ever more apparent as he and Hashimoto made their way further into the inferno. It had never occurred to Lew that he might one day walk right across a city the size of the Japanese capital. But it was surprising how quickly it could be done, even if they were forced to make detours to left and right to avoid fresh outbreaks of flame and palls of smoke. But they could also travel virtually in a straight line, ignoring streets, where there was no fire. They picked their way through the rubble of people’s homes to shorten their journey; they paused from time to time either to reassure the distraught, or, on more than one occasion, to help free the trapped; they saw sights they would never forget, and they heard prayers and imprecations and expressions of despair they would never forget either. They came across a tramcar filled with people, all of whom had been electrocuted by the short-circuiting of the overhead cables; horrifyingly, the earthquake had not touched the passengers, and they sat, stiff and lifelike, like wax dummies in a museum, one woman’s hand still outstretched as if she had been about to pay the fare. They waded a canal filled with corpses, over which the fire had swept only minutes before; the people had leapt in to the shallow water to escape the flames, and there they had died, their heads scorched beyond recognition, their bodies still seated.

  Hashimoto’s house had collapsed, but had not been swept by flame. His mother and father were all right, if as shattered as everyone else. Now it was his turn to look for his sister and niece and brother. And now Lew had to leave them, to go and find his officers. The American Embassy, more strongly built than the cardboard-walled Japanese houses, had suffered no more than a few cracks, and its extensive grounds had kept the flames at bay, yet the guests at the reception were still huddled on the lawn, too shocked to move.

  The sight of Lew reminded Captain Conroy of his responsibilities, although it was several moments before he recognised the tall, capless figure, white uniform blackened with smoke and dust, as one of his own officers. Then he shouted, ‘McGann, as I live and die.’ He grasped Lew’s hand. ‘The ship, McGann. The ship.’

  ‘I have to report the loss of one bower anchor, sir,’ Lew told him. ‘And one steam launch. I have not yet been able to ascertain that all the liberty men are safe, but there were no casualties aboard Vermont and the ship is secure and under command. Your launch is waiting at the waterfront.’

  ‘Thank God, McGann, thank God,’ Conroy said.

  *

  ‘Lew!’ Retired Admiral Joe McGann had come down from Long Island to be in Norfolk for Vermont’s return. Now he clasped his son’s hand. ‘You’ve done it again.’

  ‘Done what, sir?’ Lew asked; they were in the presence of the other officers on Vermont’s quarterdeck, in Chesapeake Bay.

  ‘Acted the hero.’

  ‘Acted instinctively,’ Lew pointed out.

  ‘The instincts of a sailor and a hero,’ Captain Conroy said.

  ‘And a McGann,’ Joe said happily. ‘You’re once again the most famous sailor in the fleet. And the secretary wants to have a word. With all of you.’

  Because their mission had not merely been one of goodwill, but of observation as well. Mr Denby might already have offered President Coolidge his resignation because of his connection with the Teapot Dome scandal — although he personally had not been involved — but he remained deeply interested in all aspects of naval affairs. He interviewed Vermont’s officers separately, to hear their views on everything they had seen or heard, in every country they had visited, beginning with England. But his greatest interest was in Japan, and he listened intently to what Lew had to tell him. When the report was finished, he said, ‘I think you should put that in writing, Commander McGann, and I will submit it to the Secretary of State. Commander Kurita’s remarks may have considerable importance in the future.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘You may be interested to know that the earthquake wrecked the Amagi on the slip in Yokohama. So it’s going to set them back a year or two in their conversion programme.’

  It was not until after his meeting with Denby that Lew was able to have a quiet dinner with his father, and ask about May. ‘I had half hoped she’d come down with you,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I called her and suggested that, but she said she’d rather wait in New York. I guess she’s not sure of her welcome in these parts, as yet.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Lew agreed. ‘Do you see her often?’

  ‘Well, no. Not since she left the farm.’

  ‘Why did she do that, Dad?’

  ‘Hasn’t she told you?’

  ‘Sure she has. Now I’d like you to tell me.’

  Joe McGann shrugged. ‘I guess she never did like Long Island, and she stuck it out for so long simply because she was pregnant. When she decided to move, there was nothing I could do. I mean, she’s an adult woman.’

  Lew wondered if May would ever be, an adult woman. ‘But...she’s okay? And the kids?’

  ‘She was fine, when she left Long Island, Lew. So were the kids. That Wally is one hell of a guy. You’re going to love him.’

  Lew didn’t doubt that. But he still couldn’t be sure of what had happened. ‘And there was no quarrel?’

  ‘Not a thing. She went into the city to do some shopping, came back, and announced she’d taken an apartment. She moved out the next day.’

  ‘Well,’ Lew said. ‘I’ve a week’s furlough. You coming with me?’

  Joe McGann shook his head. ‘I’ll come as far as New York. But then I guess I’ll keep on going. You don’t want me around when you have your reunion. You going to be able to visit the farm?’

  ‘That depends,’ Lew said. On May, he thought.

  But did he really want to go, he wondered, as the train took him north? Of course he did. He had an unknown son to see, and Clive and Joan. But May...at least she had not gone back to England, which she could very easily have done.

  And Brenda? If he was desperate to see his children again, his heart was in St Louis. And if May had slipped back into her old ways he knew that was where he was going to go. When he rang the doorbell of the New York apartment he was in the most ambivalent frame of mind he had ever known.

  ‘Who is there?’ Her voice was unchanged, if perhaps slightly more firm than he remembered.

  ‘Lieutenant-Commander Lewis McGann,’ he said.

  There was a moment’s silence. Then she said, ‘Lew. Oh, Lew!’ The door was open, and she was in his arms. A May he hardly remembered, because she had lost some weight, and seemed fitter and trimmer than he had ever seen her. She had bobbed her hair, as well, which was a disappointment, and her skirt was up to her knees.

  But she was still May, and kissed him as hungrily as ever while her body moved on his. ‘Oh, Lew,’ she said again.

  Tiny hands were clutching at his pants, and Joan was in his arms as well. Then May took him into the nursery to see baby Walter, and when Clive came home from school the family was united.

  Before then she had locked them in her bedroom for half an hour. He was as anxious as she, and once again they re-created the total sensuality of that first afternoon in Lyme Regis, gluing their bodies together in the unity of passion. It was the happiest homecoming that he could have imagi
ned, and that evening he burned Brenda’s letter.

  *

  The children wanted to know all about the voyage and of course the earthquake which had caused such unimaginable damage. Some hundred and fifty thousand people had lost their lives in Tokyo and Yokohama, and several times that were injured or homeless. Yet before Vermont had finally sailed the work of rebuilding houses and reconstructing lives had already been well underway. ‘They are a marvellously industrious and determined people,’ Lew told May after the children had been put to bed. ‘I’d like to take you there, one day.’

  ‘Oh, I would adore that,’ she said, curling in his arms on the settee, while he wondered all over again. If she was May, she was also almost a stranger, in her energy and her poise; where the woman he remembered would have been finished for the night, save for whatever drinking she still cared to do, she was up again a few moments later to make them coffee and to check that Clive had stopped reading and was asleep, before coming back to nestle in his arms again, having changed into a dressing gown which allowed him to see, and explore, all the contours of her magnificent body. ‘When are you going to tell me about you?’ he asked.

  She sat up. ‘I think your family is great, Lew. And Long Island is great, too. But...I just couldn’t stay there, without you. Are you very angry with me?’

  ‘Not now. I’m very pleased with you. You’re a new woman.’

  She poured coffee. ‘I suppose I was being all kinds of a fool, before. Did I hurt your career, Lewis?’

  ‘I don’t think so, really. Anyway, I’m popular again.’

  ‘For saving your ship. You’re going to be an admiral, Lewis, just like your dad. I so want you to be an admiral. I don’t ever want to do anything which might interfere with that. Oh, Lewis, I have been such a fool.’