Black August

by Dennis Wheatley

  In a voice that Kenyon would never have recognised as his own he gave the order. ‘Repeat, sir,’ came the answer of the Quarter-master below.

  ‘“Put the telegraphs to half speed,” ’ Kenyon said again, and Gregory stroked his lean cheeks with quiet satisfaction as he heard the reply gongs ring.

  ‘Hard a’ port,’ he whispered a moment later, and when the order had been repeated the long destroyer slowly made a big half-circle with a great churning of waters.

  ‘Steady,’ Gregory ordered. Kenyon reiterated the command, and they headed once more to the southward.

  ‘That will do for the moment,’ Gregory nodded. ‘When we come opposite the North Foreland Light again I’ll set another course to pass outside everything and then head down mid-channel. We must keep our eyes skinned for shipping but fortunately there’s little enough of that about these days.’

  ‘Did you put those other men who broke prison behind the bars again, General?’ Harker asked suddenly.

  ‘No. To be quite frank, I didn’t dare risk it. I’m pretty certain their leader’s got a gun. He was playing with something devilish like it when I first went below—and a few more of them may be equipped in the same way. If they had once made a rush for us we should have been downed in no time so I had to take a chance on the moral effect of outing one.’

  ‘Don’t you figure there’ll be more trouble before morning then? I’d bet a hundred bucks to a nickel they’re in conference again by now.’

  Gregory laughed a little bitterly. ‘I wouldn’t take you even for a nickel, and I’ve been thinking of the best plan for holding the ship till morning. Once daylight comes we’ll start in on the general round-up, but it’s a question of hanging on till then.’

  ‘How about shifting all the troops aft?’ Kenyon suggested.

  ‘No. I’d thought of that but unfortunately they are not all reliable. Brisket and that other chap were on the revolutionary committee, you saw that yourself, and after the hot air they’ve heard this evening a lot of the others may have been won over.’

  Harker nodded. ‘Well, what’s the drill then?’

  ‘Go down and see Sergeant Thompson. Tell him that I don’t want any but real tigers about the bridge, and that he’s to pick a dozen of the best N.C.O.’s or men, then bring them up here with as much ammunition as they can carry. Now, what about your lot?’

  ‘All for King and country; they wouldn’t be Greyshirts else.’

  ‘Good, that gives us another seven. Tell Thompson to borrow rifles for them from the men who are left below. Excuse to the men they are taken from: rifle drill for the Greyshirts first parade in the morning. It’s a bit thin but it’s better than nothing and you’ll be behind Thompson if there’s any trouble.’

  ‘Right, I’ll see to it, General. What about this lad here?’ Harker indicated the dark form of Broughton which lay stretched out behind him.

  ‘He’ll be coming round in a moment I suppose.’

  ‘I doubt it; he hit his head on a stanchion as he fell, poor chap, so I reckon he’ll be under for some little time.’

  ‘Never mind, we’ll look after him; you get below and fetch up the Praetorian Guard.’

  Kenyon was kneeling beside the Naval Lieutenant. He looked up at Gregory as Harker moved away. ‘His head’s cut badly, and he’s bleeding like a pig.’

  ‘Is he? We must get him below then. I don’t mind killing mutineers or rioters, but I hate this business with the officers; they’re only decent fellows doing their proper job.’

  ‘If we carry him down the ladder the Quartermaster will see that we’ve laid him out and then the fat will be in the fire.’

  ‘That’s true, but we must get him down somehow.’

  ‘What abart them there signal ‘alyards,’ suggested Rudd who had been standing quietly in the background. ‘Can’t we ‘itch ’im on to them, sir, an’ lower ’im aft of the bridge darn on to the deck?’

  ‘Splendid; that’s the idea. Come on, give me a hand to lift him up. You slip down on to the deck, Fane, and we’ll lower him to you.’ Gregory seized the unconscious sailor.

  They tied the halyards firmly under his armpits, but just as they were about to put him over the rail, the Quartermaster’s voice came weirdly to them from the pipe amidships.

  ‘Damn,’ muttered Gregory, ‘hang on a minute and I’ll see what it is.’

  Rudd supported the Lieutenant while the General strode over to the tube. A moment later he was back again. That infernal Quartermaster is asking for his relief. I daren’t send for the C.P.O. or he’ll want to know what’s happened to his officers. Quick, heave this chap over, hang on to the rope now, we don’t want to break his neck.’

  Broughton was lowered in a series of jerks to the waiting Kenyon and then Gregory turned back to Rudd. ‘Nip down to the wheelhouse. The Quartermaster is certain to know that there has been trouble forward, tell him that owing to that he cannot be relieved at present. If he kicks and wants to speak to his officer stick your gun in his ribs and make him carry on. Harker will be back in a minute with the men.’

  ‘Ay, ay, sir.’ Rudd ran lightly down the ladder.

  ‘Fane,’ called Gregory in a sharp whisper leaning over the rail.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you got him off the line?’

  ‘Yes, just finished.’

  ‘Can you get him to the wardroom on your own?’

  ‘I’ll manage somehow.’

  ‘Right! Tell the girls to look after him and bathe his head. Come back as soon as you can, and bring the Lewis guns with you; I had them stowed under the settee.’

  ‘All right.’ Kenyon slid his arm under the legs of the sailor, and gripping his wrist hoisted him over his shoulders in a ‘fireman’s lift.’ Then he staggered aft and down the hatchway to the wardroom.

  He was greeted by a flood of breathless questions from Ann and Veronica, and after he had laid the Lieutenant on the table he told them roughly what had happened, suppressing Gregory’s extermination of Leading Seaman Nobes.

  Veronica bent over Broughton. ‘What have you done to the poor sweet?’ she cried angrily as she saw the ugly wound on the side of his head.

  ‘Silas Harker had to knock him out and he hit his head on an iron stanchion as he fell. Sallust says you are to bathe that cut and take care of him.’

  ‘Of course we will, but where can we get some water?’

  ‘One of the cabins I should think.’ Kenyon was hurriedly pulling the Lewis guns from under the settee and Veronica looked over at him sharply.

  ‘Where are you off to with those things, Galahad?’

  ‘Taking them up to the bridge; General’s orders.’

  ‘Fee-fie-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman!’ she said suspiciously. ‘Are you about to enliven us with a little war?’

  ‘I hope not. Just a precautionary measure.’

  ‘I don’t like the look of victim number two at all,’ said Ann. ‘Can’t we get him off this hard table?’

  ‘I’ll lift him on to the settee if you like,’ Kenyon volunteered.

  ‘No, carry him along to his own cabin, he’ll be more comfortable there, and we can wash his wound properly if there’s water handy.’

  ‘I must get these things up on the bridge.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll take the arsenal for you, if you’ll carry him.’

  ‘Right!’ Kenyon handed over the Lewis guns to the two girls and pulled the recumbent sailor on to his shoulders again. They followed him out of the wardroom and along to Broughton’s cabin where Kenyon laid the wounded man in his own bunk. Then he turned with his finger on his lips.

  ‘For goodness’ sake don’t make a noise,’ he whispered, ‘I think Cousens lives next door, and if we wake him it will only mean more trouble. Sallust will probably be able to tackle him quietly once he’s got control of the ship.’

  Ann nodded silently and stepped over to the basin. Veronica was already pulling one of the Lieutenant’s best white shirts out of a drawer to make a band
age.

  Kenyon collected the guns again and turned for a second in the doorway. ‘When you’ve done what you can for him, don’t stay here. Get back to the wardroom, and to be on the safe side lock yourselves in—though there’s not likely to be any trouble this end of the ship.’

  Back on the bridge he found that Harker had already assembled his Greyshirts, and to the troops on the forecastle Gregory was giving quick instructions. The Chart-house on the lower bridge was to be used as a guard-room where two-thirds of the small force were to doss down for the night. The remaining third were being posted as sentries; a screen of four abaft the bridge, Sergeant Thompson and Rudd at each extremity of it and two more men towards the bows in case of a surprise attack from forward.

  Rudd was busy at the moment serving out a stiff tot all round from various bottles, which, with his amazing nose for the whereabouts of supplies, he had collected.

  They were back now with the North Foreland Light abaft the beam, and Gregory, after a quick look at the chart, set a new course, which he knew to be roughly accurate, although for the time being he was unable to make any allowance for the tide.

  The Lewis guns were mounted, the ammunition carried up, and it seemed that no more could be done for the moment when the Chief Petty Officer appeared. Gregory spotted him coming up the port ladder to the bridge and hastily blocked his way by running down a few steps to meet him.

  ‘What is it, Wilkins?’ he inquired.

  ‘I was about to report to the Commander, sir.’

  ‘He’s busy on the upper bridge—so I’ll take your message.’

  ‘I think I’d better go up, sir—there’s more trouble forward with the men.’

  ‘I see. Well the Commander has asked me to take measures for the protection of the bridge with my troops so you’d better let me know what is happening.’

  ‘There’s another meeting, sir, an’ I don’t like the looks of things at all.’

  ‘All right, you’d better remain with us, but go and fetch Petty Officer Sims first, we need all the reliable men we can get.’

  ‘It’s a bit difficult, sir. They’ve made him attend the meeting. Half a dozen of them cornered him, and I think he reckoned it would be more than ’is life was worth to refuse.’

  Gregory grunted angrily.

  ‘And what’s more, sir,’ added the C.P.O., ‘the magazine keys is missin’ from the board. I wanted to report that to the Commander.’

  ‘I’ll tell him. You stay here and keep your eye on the forward hatch.’

  ‘Ay, ay, sir.’

  Gregory went up the ladder again and walked over to look at the gyro compass. The Quartermaster was still carrying on his duties at the wheel with an imperturbable face. A soldier with a fixed bayonet, however, now stood just behind him. Silas and Kenyon were talking together nearby in low voices. In a few words Gregory told them about the forcible detention of Petty Officer Sims.

  ‘Let’s go and get him out,’ said Harker promptly, but Sallust shook his head.

  ‘No, I’d like to but we should be mad to go and put our heads in the noose again. They won’t do him any harm if he does what he’s told—and if there is going to be trouble I prefer to fight on my own ground.’

  For some minutes they stood talking together while the destroyer ploughed its way evenly at half speed through the tumbled seas. The night was dark and still and no sound came from the forward quarters, which, Gregory agreed with Harker, was a bad sign. They knew that the sailors had access to the rum ration and if they had been singing it would have been a better omen. The stillness of the crew constituted a silent menace and his rudimentary knowledge of the ship’s topography caused Gregory constant anxiety as to what might be going on below decks. Suddenly one of the forward sentries challenged.

  A figure had risen from the forward hatch. There was a short consultation and then Petty Officer Sims was led up on to the bridge.

  Gregory could see at once that the man was badly rattled and throughly ashamed of the part he was being forced to play, as he stumblingly excused himself for acting as the messenger of the mutineers. ‘Rudd,’ he called.

  ‘Ay, ay, sir.’

  ‘A tot of something for Petty Officer Sims.’

  ‘Certainly, sir ’ere we are.’ Rudd hurried forward with a bottle and an enamel mug.

  The Petty Officer swallowed the proffered beaker at a gulp. ‘Ha, that’s better, sir,’ he sighed, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth.

  ‘Out with it, Sims,’ said Gregory. ‘What’s happening now?’

  ‘There’s been another meeting, sir. That devil Crowder is making trouble among ‘em, and they’ve sent me with what they call terms.’

  ‘Terms, eh!’ sneered Gregory. ‘Never mind, let’s hear them.’

  ‘The First Lieutenant’s to alter course to Harwich—most of them’s Harwich men, and they want to get home, not knowing what’s happening to their families. If he’ll take the ship in they promise not to molest him or the officers or you and your men, and they’ll set you all ashore; but if you won’t sir—’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘They say they’ll shoot the lot of you, and run the ship in themselves.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m to take back the reply, sir.’

  ‘There is no reply, so you will remain—that is unless you prefer to return to them.’

  ‘No, sir, no,’ replied the Petty Officer hastily, ‘I sticks by my officers and you.’

  ‘Good man—you’ll find the Chief Petty Officer on the port ladder; better park yourself with him, I’ll go and let the Commander know that you are safe back with us again.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  The ship slithered on into the darkness West-South-West with occasional spray lifting over her bows as they cut through the waves. Gregory kept a watchful eye on the compass but all was silent once more on deck. Then something happened—for the second he hardly realised what, but a sudden absence of vibration told him that the ship was easing down.

  He swore softly beneath his breath.

  ‘What’ll this mean?’ asked Harker.

  ‘’Fraid they’ve got control below,’ Gregory answered softly. ‘We shall know in a minute.’ He stood by the binnacle peering intently at the compass in the guarded light of the hood.

  For a few moments the ship swung silently, rolling a little in the trough’of the waves. Then the propeller started to thud again and the bows of the vessel veered slowly towards the East.

  ‘Ship not answering to the helm, sir,’ reported the impassive Quartermaster, and as they watched the lubber’s point it swung from West-South-West to North-Eastward, then steadied.

  ‘They’ve got us,’ muttered Gregory, ‘they’ve set a course for Harwich as near as they can.’

  ‘But surely the ship is controlled from here?’ said Kenyon.

  ‘Yes,’ Sallust made a wry grimace, ‘in the ordinary way, but obviously they have disconnected the fore bridge steering, so now we can’t do a damn thing.’

  ‘Can they steer her from below then?’

  ‘Looks ter me as if the matloes is usin’ the after control position, sir,’ volunteered the Quartermaster.

  As he spoke the thresh of the screws increased, and soon the destroyer was forging ahead to the North-Eastward with all the power of her 30,000 horse-power engines.

  Gregory snapped his teeth together angrily. These devils will run me out of the oil I need if they mean to maintain a pace like this. We’ve got to get that after-steering position—they’ll slow her down if we can secure that, or at all events we can turn her again the way we want to go. Hullo, what’s that!’

  A commotion was going on amidships, and a struggling group arrived at the foot of the starboard ladder. It was Lieutenant Cousens, angry-eyed and hatless, in the grip of two flushed sentries.

  Tried to break through, ’e did, sir, and wouldn’t reply to the challenge,’ spluttered one of the Tommies.

  ‘What the hell’s going on here?
’ demanded the N.O.

  ‘Good Lord! I’d forgotten all about you; we’ve been up to our neck in trouble ever since dinner,’ Gregory said with a trace of amusement in his voice. ‘Let him go, men. Come up on the bridge, will you, Mr. Cousens?’

  The ruffled sailor jerked his tie back into position and stamped angrily up the ladder after Sallust, who led him to the deserted starboard side of the bridge.

  ‘Now what the devil’s been happening in the last watch and where’s the Commander?’ Cousens demanded.

  ‘I’m sorry to say there’s been a mutiny,’ said Gregory.

  ‘Yes, that’s plain enough, but where are the First Lieutenant and Broughton, that’s what I want to know?’

  ‘Prisoners, unfortunately, in the hands of the mutineers. They rushed the bridge and collared them both, while I was trying to quell the trouble on the lower deck.’

  ‘The devil they did—they darn near got me, too. When I left my cabin I went into the wardroom to get my cocoa before taking over, and there were the matloes with both the magazine hatches up and passing arms out on deck through the after ammunition hand up hatch. They chased me out on deck and your sentries damn near stuck their bayonets through my ribs.’

  ‘Well, if they’ve got to the magazines we’re in for real trouble; they’ve got control of the after-steering position too, and disconnected the forward steering-gear.’

  ‘I guessed that from what little I saw on deck. Of course I’m in command here until we can get the Commander released—but I’d be glad to have your views on what you meant to do, sir.’ The sailor was regaining his breath and his temper. The furrows which ringed Sallust’s mouth deepened into a smile as he noted the ‘sir’ and the ease with which his story had got over.

  ‘I had meant to send one of my officers with a detachment of men to endeavour to regain control of the after part of the ship,’ he said slowly, ‘but since you’ve turned up perhaps it would be better if you took the job on yourself. It’s much more likely that the mutineers will listen to one of their own officers—you may be able to persuade them to stop this idiocy.’

  ‘That’s true. Anyhow I’ll have a cut at it.’