Halloran had nodded. ‘But I’d say fourteen knots – if I was asked.’
‘Know what a Vignot curve of search is, Holt?’
‘Heard of it, sir. Read of it, somewhere. Relies on the ship being hunted maintaining a straight course, though, doesn’t it?’
A nod. ‘As she would – at least for the first day or two, putting distance behind her. Least, I would. Then you might try to confuse the issue… Well – for a birthday treat, explain to the chief how a Vignot curve works?’
* * *
He’d done that and had a second gin, and that was it. Long day ahead, paperwork to be attended to, also inspection of the crew’s quarters aft, which for some reason was a third mate’s responsibility, although Halloran as first mate was required to visit every part of the ship every single day. Bosun and donkeyman in any case made damn sure those quarters – still known to their denizens as ‘the foc’sl’, although they were actually in the poop, mess room/recreation space entered directly from the well-deck; bunk-rooms below that at ’tween-deck level, washplace/heads right aft – were kept clean and in reasonably good order. But of course, if they’d not been up to their jobs…
Six p.m.: invited to join the rest of them in the saloon, to eat some of the cake which the cook, Will Bloom, had baked for him. Twenty-one candles on it, and to wash it down, cachaça provided by Halloran, who’d also arranged for the bosun to be present, Batt asking him after a series of toasts and a couple of slices of the cake whether he’d be so good as to visit the mess room, where a few of the lads would like to drink his health. Said lads being, it turned out, ABs Martin, Crown, Harkness, Shuttleworth, Parlance, Edmonds, Ingram and Bakewell, OSs Brooks, Morton, Sholl, Huggins, Cox and Gardner, and – backing up Batt Collins – the carpenter, Postlethwaite, and – late arrival, representing the Black Gang – Donkeyman Mick Smart. A flatteringly large turnout; Andy guessed that some of them might simply have been caught there in the mess room and stuck around because of the provision – source unknown – of yet more cachaça. The bosun must have organised it, maybe had a whip round, but there’d certainly been none in sight when he’d made his inspection earlier in the day. They offered him their good wishes, sang, ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow’ and clapped him, after which he made a somewhat slurry speech beginning, ‘Slightly pissed fellow’, and thanking them for their goodwill and the booze.
Supper was cottage pie, and he needed it as blotting-paper. Had meant to follow the skipper’s advice more assiduously and lay off the hard stuff, but couldn’t be that stand-offish with chaps who were genuinely trying to be friendly – even though the cachaça did creep up on one.
Take it easy ashore tonight, for God’s sake. Drink in Manuela’s smiles, in place of more raw spirit. Watch it with her, too – knowing how one could be in that department after a few too many. An hour’s sleep wouldn’t have done him any harm, but he might well have overslept. He stood for a long time under a cold shower, therefore, then put on civvies and headed for the gangway, where Ingram asked him, ‘You all right, sir?’
‘Don’t I look all right?’
‘Well – look fine – considerin’ –’
‘G’night, then.’ Making it down to the quayside with some degree of care. He’d told the others – or some of them – that he’d see them there, at Manolo’s. Some might have gone ahead, others might have their heads down, having thought better of it. It hadn’t been an invitation, only a suggestion: he wouldn’t care if none of them showed up – make it easier in fact, sorting things out with Cluny.
‘Hey, Andy!’
Hurrying, half-running footsteps, then a hand clamping on his arm, and Don Fisher breathing hard, grinning at him. ‘Stealing a march on us, eh?’
Instinct told him that Ingram might well have sent his winger, Brooks, to suggest the third mate might be standing into danger. Bloody cheek, if so. Still – ‘Good to have your company, Don.’
‘The rest’ll be with us shortly. Thought you’d’ve got your head down.’
‘Might not have got it up again. Who else is coming?’
‘The cadets are certain starters. So are Shaw and Starkadder. I think Tom McAlan. Maybe others.’
‘Bless ’em. Bless ’em.’
‘You’re walking better now, anyway. Were weaving a bit. I expect it was the fresh air hit you. Shouldn’t have much more, though, if I were you –’
‘My twenty-first, God’s sake. Hard a-port now…’
* * *
Cluny was there, all right. From halfway up the room Andy waved to him and got an answering salute. Reached the bar then, with Fisher hissing into his right ear, ‘They have a soft drink they call Suco –’
‘And a better one called cachaça. Oi, Frank!’
‘Oi, to you.’ Quick grin. ‘With you in two shakes.’ They were busy: a lot of people, a lot of noise, twanging strings and a woman’s wailing, slightly Arab tones. Looking around: Manuela was there, either hadn’t seen him yet or was being run off her pretty little feet. But there… ‘Oh, Lord.’
‘What or who –’
‘That short-arse commander – in civvies tonight, but he was the one had Arabella in tow out there. Sunday night – that tall, lovely girl?’
‘The one you were going ape about. Andy, why more cachaça, why not –’
‘Randy little sod’s waiting for her. Maybe she’s stood him up. Oi, Manuela!’
‘Oi, big boy!’
He put his arm round her. ‘Don, this is Manuela.’
‘We met, I think – Sunday night?’
‘Oi, Don.’
‘She’s the love of my life, you can forget that other one.’
‘Ozzer come soon, big boy, see you can forgetting her!’
‘Watch me. Just watch me!’
‘Sooner have a fast word, man.’ Frank Cluny. ‘While we can?’
He nodded, releasing Manuela. ‘Sooner the better. How’s your father-in-law?’
‘What do you care? Oh. Well – he’ll live. Here – tell you about the trip.’ To Fisher, ‘Excuse us, one minute?’ Then to Manuela in a sharper tone, ‘Didn’t you notice, this is a hungry, thirsty crowd. Andy – sorry I had to duck out on you, Monday. Name is Andy, isn’t it? Damn, there’s bloody Ferras now…’
The Nazi, stopping to talk to the minelayer’s skipper, Arabella’s half-pint-sized suitor. Ferras with his back this way, fortunately. Cluny checked that he and Andy had space around them, and began talking fast. ‘Listen. About the Glauchau. Other guy isn’t here – the guy who told me. He’s sort of a runner for a joint called Casa Colorada – brothel, worth steering clear of, girls there’ve been known to have the clap. Ferras sent him out to the Glauchau reckoning they’d like to have whores visit – what with no shore-leave being granted. Well, Gomez saw with his own eyes – and heard – where the guards sit now, after starboard corner of number three – small hatchway with a grating there, looks like a ventilator but it’s a hatch down into the ’tween-decks. They got prisoners in there – Merchant Navy guys. Now for Christ’s sake don’t let on you heard it from me; I got to live here, man – accent on live – OK?’
Turning away to rejoin Tonio, who was making it plain he needed help. Andy near-stunned – sober – seeing Arabella come sweeping in and the little commander jumping up; Ferras too, opening his arms to her. She was truly something out of this world – but as far as Andy was concerned a long way out of it, remote from anything that mattered now. To his surprise Cluny had turned back, grabbed his arm: ‘They paid Gomez to keep his mouth shut, and Ferras threatened him – Know what’s good for you, bastard, don’t want to wind up drowned – you and them?’
‘Them meaning the prisoners –’
‘Like kill him and destroy the evidence.’
‘But he still told you –’
‘I know. Funny. Except he does tell me his troubles. Drinks like a fish and queer as a fucking coot but we get on, some reason. What d’you want – cachaça?’
10
The Old
Man had Halloran with him and the cabin door standing open; Andy didn’t have to knock.
‘C’mon in, birthday boy…’
‘Surprised he’s still on his feet.’ Comment from Halloran: Andy looking at him, thinking that maybe he should warn him he might have picked up a little something he wouldn’t exactly relish, in the establishment he’d been patronising. Telling the Old Man instead, ‘I saw Cluny, sir – got the works. It’s – well, Christ –’
‘Sit down, help yourself to coffee.’
There was an enamelled pot of it on the table and a punctured tin of condensed milk, also an unused mug. He sat, reached for it.
‘Weren’t ashore long, then.’
‘No, sir. Just heard what he had to say and –’ Shaking his head, pouring coffee. At Manolo’s he’d given Fisher a handful of cruzeiros, asked him to stand the others a round when they got there and apologise for the fact he couldn’t stay; then on the street corner he’d met Janner and Gorst – told them to go on in, report to the second mate – and on the quayside had been waylaid by McAlan, Shaw and Starkadder, who’d tried physically to detain him.
Drinking his coffee black. It wasn’t as hot as it might have been, but he could feel it doing him good. Thoughts wandering a little, assessing the general situation: including the fact he’d need to draw another advance against pay before Friday night; recalling that Bring plenty… He put down the empty mug. ‘Thanks for that, sir.’
‘Let’s hear it now.’
A deep breath. Then: ‘The Glauchau has British Merchant Navy men as prisoners on board. Where the watch on deck sits all day and night they’ve taken out one hatchboard, got a sort of mock-up ventilator over it, plus a grating as on a fiddley, and a ladder down to where they’re holding ’em in the ’tween-decks. Explains why the guard’s rooted to that spot, and the loudspeaker – cover any row they might kick up.’
‘Be damned…’
Old Man looking as stunned as Andy had felt when he’d heard it. Glaring at Halloran then: ‘Us sitting around like dummies, and our fellows – hell, in spitting distance…’ To Andy then: ‘Did he know what ship or ships they’re from?’
‘No.’
‘Boarding party, sir?’ Halloran stubbed out a cigarette. ‘I’d be glad to take a bunch of the lads and –’
‘You’d be a damn fool, then.’ Jerk of the grey head. ‘We’re four miles from the sea, stuck here, they’d be prepared for trouble and they have the backing of these local Nazis. Also that minelayer might be disposed to interfere. I’ll give it a lot more thought, but what I’d reckon on is getting a message out, alert the RN and the diplomats. RN blockade out there, diplomats negotiate our chaps’ release. Any idea how many?’
‘No, sir. Couple of other things, though.’
‘Well?’
‘Cluny got all this from a pimp by name of Gomez. Gomez was sent out to the Glauchau by a port official I mentioned – Nazi called Ferras’ – he was explaining this to Halloran – ‘assistant to the absent Port Captain – to see whether they’d like to be visited on board by whores from a knocking-shop called the Casa Colorada. Whores incidentally with the reputation of being unsafe, health-wise. And he – Gomez – somehow got to see the hatchway and heard the prisoners. The guard on duty must have slipped up somehow – maybe turned the speaker off to hear what he was saying. Anyway, the Huns paid him to keep his mouth shut, and Ferras threatened him, told him if he said a word he and the prisoners could end up dead. The way Cluny explained that was kill him and destroy the evidence.’
‘Charming.’
‘Do it outside, I suppose.’ Halloran gesturing down-river. ‘Hardly get away with it here in the port. They’d shove off and –’
‘No doubt. No doubt.’ The Old Man grim-faced, maybe picturing it. Andy remembering the boatload of corpses he’d had the job of inspecting. Some solution of this kind to that macabre puzzle, maybe? Old Man nodding: ‘Does happen to be a violation of international law to retain prisoners on board in a neutral port – that’s why the Graf Spee had to land her prisoners in Monte. Didn’t hear about that? She did, anyway. But this South African – did it seem to you he was taking the threat as more than bullshit?’
‘Definitely. Scared for his own sake too, if they got to know he’d passed this on. Does seem to me, sir – if I may suggest it – well, if we were to go on the air they’d pick it up, sure as eggs they’ll be on listening watch, and being cats on hot bricks, as I’d guess they must be –’
‘Back to Cluny. If it puts him in such danger, why tell you? He volunteered the info, didn’t he? First time you showed your face?’
‘We’re the first Red Ensign ship that’s come in since the Hun. First English customer he’d had since then. He’s a decent sort of guy, told me on Sunday he’d thought of going back to SA and joining up, only he’d be worried for his family here. And disliking Nazis like we all do –’
‘And how come the pimp risked telling him?’
‘Pimp’s a drunk, also queer. Cluny said he couldn’t explain it but they get on well and Gomez does tend to cry on his shoulder. Trusts him, I suppose – urge to tell someone – and maybe told him because he’s scared.’
Halloran had lit another cigarette: looking impatient, angry. The Old Man noticing, challenging him: ‘Well, Mister?’
Shake of the head. ‘Bloody frustrating, sir – put it mildly. Our own people over there, fucking Huns keeping ’em in God knows what conditions –’
‘Still thinking of a boarding party.’ A nod. ‘Shut you up a bit quick, didn’t I, but’ – shake of the grey head – ‘that’s not thinking, Mister, it’s going off half-cock. Well, as reactions go, mine’s the same – get over there, get ’em out, apply blunt instruments to square heads – eh? But – neutral port, neutral country, smart little warship less than a mile away, machine-guns all over her – what’s more she’d have the legal right to use ’em – uh? Fancy the thought of getting the Anna arrested, all of us interned?’
‘There’s another thing I should have said.’ Andy, cutting in. ‘The minelayer’s skipper’s a friend of Ferras. They were together in Manolo’s tonight – as it happens I’d seen him before Mendoza told me who he was. Junior Commander, Capitao de frigate or corvette, wife in Rio and a tart here about twice his height. Struck me then – as long as the real Port Captain’s absent and Caetano’s in charge –’
‘Sir’ – Halloran, butting back in – ‘what I’d propose wouldn’t get seen from anywhere. A dozen men, say, in our motorboat – send a couple up that Jacob’s ladder, taking another ladder with ’em and chucking it over, all up then and rush the guard. Any luck we’d catch ’em on the hop – choose a flood tide so their lookout’s that side, I’d bring the boat in close under her counter from this blind side, they’d have no sight of us!’
‘Sight and sound, like as not. That boat’s not quiet at the best of times – and you’d be heading into a three- or four-knot tide. Coming up for Springs, aren’t we. Then again – fact they’ve a watch on deck starboard side for one special purpose – as we know now – doesn’t mean there’s no proper, all-round lookout.’ He raised a hand: ‘All right – they might not hear the boat’s engine, with that other shindy. Fact remains, unless they’re bloody stupid they’d be – as Holt put it – cats on hot bricks. And you’d be taking a dozen against a crew of, let’s say, fifty?’
‘Well.’ Shake of the head, expelling a lungful of breath, black eyes liquid-looking in their sockets. ‘You’re the Master –’
‘Happens I am.’ He said it quickly and firmly, his expression cold enough to emphasise that he and Halloran were by no means blood brothers. Adding, ‘And first thing tomorrow I’ll go see our consul. Take it from there, then. Meanwhile, keep our mouths shut – eh?’
* * *
Thursday 21 December: waking into his-second year with a fairly major hangover. Last night the shock of Cluny’s information had had the effect of sobering him, but the raw spirit had still been in there, drying out his liver or
whatever it was cane spirit did to you.
Tomorrow evening, no cachaça. Or maybe try the diluted, sweetened drink recommended by Tonio. And certainly not a drop tonight. He’d have the duty on board tonight in any case; and by then, with the Old Man visiting the consul this morning, touch wood there’d have been developments.
Have to be. Old Man’s right, playing it softly-softly, but one thing we can be sure he won’t do is leave those poor bastards where they are.
In the saloon he told Jackson through the pantry hatch, ‘Eggs and bacon please, two eggs,’ and McAlan said with his mouth full but otherwise straight-faced, ‘I’d have thought a pint or two of black coffee’d have sufficed.’
‘You’d have thought wrong then.’
‘Right as rain, are you?’
Fisher acknowledged, ‘Must say you bore up pretty well.’
‘Got on all right without me, did you?’
‘We managed. Didn’t stay all that late.’
‘Maybe some didn’a. I’ll say one thing, Holt, that’s a wee smasher of a waitress, that Manuela, eh?’
‘Yeah. I like her.’ Sitting down with his eggs; Janner pushed the coffee jug along. ‘Like her very much.’
‘But yon tall lass, now –’
‘Arabella?’
Fisher broke in: ‘Her little commander left even before I did. Left her with the Nazi.’
‘Well, what d’you know…’
The chute clattered and roared into action out there: loading was in progress on number two now, Andy remembered. Thinking of the Glauchau’s number three then: wondering how many and – as Halloran had said – under what conditions they’d be living. Shut up in that noise – no air, no exercise…
Halloran banged in, banged the door shut behind him, shouted, ‘Only coffee, Jackson!’ He’d already have had breakfast, probably, would have been up there seeing things were in order for the start of loading – the timber partitioning and dunnage in that hold, and probably elsewhere as well – and would now have left it to the bosun.
Westbound, Warbound Page 15
