TREWIN PUSHED his way along the Prawn’s unfamiliar deck and began to climb the bridge ladder. He could feel the metal vibrating in his hands as the little gunboat’s engines settled down to an impatient rumble, and as he reached the bridge wing he could see the smoke pouring steadily from her thin funnel. It should have been pitch dark, but there had been another air raid, and the glow of burning buildings painted the ship’s upperworks like burnished copper.
When he looked down he saw the deck crammed with people. Here and there amongst the black, anonymous mass he saw the pale shape of a sailor as he patiently guided or placated one of the frightened passengers who were being led below without a pause. Most of them were women and children, but there were also some wounded soldiers and a few civilian males, whom Trewin guessed had been attached to some military establishment or other.
He found Adair leaning against the screen, a cigarette glowing at the side of his mouth.
“I’ve got our motor boat alongside ready to guide you clear.” Trewin heard a child whimpering and the deeper voice of a sailor. “Are there many more to come?”
Adair sighed. “A few.” He gestured to the sagging pier alongside, where the distant fires reflected on the fixed bayonets of the sentries. “About two hundred aboard all told, I believe.”
Trewin shuddered. Two hundred in a ship this size. They would be jammed below like sardines in a tin.
Adair remarked, “I’ve sent all my Chinese lads ashore. It’s only fair to them. They can ditch their uniforms and try to get to their homes.” He threw his cigarette into the water. “I’ve made up my crew with some spare hands from the base. It wasn’t too difficult, as you can imagine!”
A telegraph rang noisily and someone spoke over a voice-pipe. Adair peered at his watch. “About fifteen minutes and I’m away.”
Trewin asked, “Is the admiral aboard?”
“Too right he is.” Adair sounded indifferent. “Snug in my cabin, not that I’ll have much use for it this trip.”
“You should be safe enough. Beaver will be waiting for you.”
Adair coughed. “You’ve not seen the signal then? Beaver was sunk by Jap bombers in the Durian Strait. She only got about fifty miles from here!”
Trewin said, “My God!”
“Keep it to yourself, old boy. We don’t want a panic.”
Trewin saw Hammond on the pier at the top of the brow, his arms around a girl as they spoke to each other, oblivious of the desperate, struggling figures about them. So he got her to leave, he thought dully. That was something.
Adair said, “Fairfax-Loring is not the only one to go. The Rear-Admiral, Malaya and his staff are going, too. About the last mobile M.L. is taking them. That’ll be no picnic either!” He grinned. “The Prawn is old, but at least she’s iron and steel, not bloody wood!”
Trewin held out his hand. “I’ll be going. This is to wish you luck.”
Adair’s grip was firm. “Thanks. The one you’re going to say goodbye to is in the wardroom. I thought it might be quieter there for you.” He chuckled. “I’ll look after her.”
As Trewin stepped on to the ladder Adair added quietly, “You could stay aboard, too. There’s not much you can do here. I’d be glad to take you with me.”
Trewin replied, “I can’t. I’m not being heroic or anything, and I won’t say I’m not tempted.” He shrugged wearily. “But it’s no go.”
Adair grinned. “I knew you’d say that, I suppose.” He flipped his cap in a casual salute. “Then I’ll be seeing you somewhere.” A phone rang at his side and he answered it curtly. He was the captain again.
Trewin found the girl in the wardroom. She was watching the door, her hands resting in her lap. As he wrapped his arms around her she pillowed her head against his chest and said, “I thought we would sail and I wouldn’t see you.”
He tilted her chin and studied her face, as if to memorise every single feature. “I have to go now. You’ll be safe with Adair. He’s a good skipper.” He thought suddenly of Fairfax-Loring and added tightly, “You should be very safe with the admiral aboard, too.” He saw the anxiety in her eyes and said, “You’ll soon catch up with some bigger ships. Then I expect you’ll be taken to Australia.” He smiled. “You see, it’ll be all right.”
A pipe shrilled and he heard the cry, “Hands to stations for leaving harbour!”
He said, “Take this letter, Clare. I’ve written down my parents’ address. You must go and stay with them when you get to England. You’ll like Dorset.” The words were choking him.
“I’m not worried about myself, Ralph.” She reached up to touch his face. “When will you follow? How long will you be?”
He swallowed. “Soon. I’m not sure yet.”
She held herself away at arm’s length and said, “I shall be waiting for you. No matter how long it takes.” Then she kissed him hard with a desperate urgency.
He stepped back. “I shall be guiding you out of the harbour. You won’t see me, but I shall be there.”
She reached out for him again but he said, “I must go.” He felt the resistance draining from his body. “Take good care of yourself.”
Then he was outside in the smoke-tinged air and hurrying for the pier.
He paused beside Hammond and said, “Get her aboard now. Prawn’s shoving off!” He saw the girl prise Hammond’s hands from her shoulders. She was the strong one, he thought dully. Aloud he added, “Go to the wardroom. Adair will fix you up later.” He looked from one to the other. “I’m glad you decided to make a match of it.”
He was suddenly aware of a crowd of watching figures behind the wire barrier. They were all men, silently watching the ship which would soon separate them from their wives and families. One of the figures suddenly leapt over the barrier and ran towards the brow, just as Hammond was guiding the girl into the hands of two sailors. “I want to go, too!” He was dressed in a white dinner jacket, and in the reflected glow from the fires his heavy face was wet with sweat.
A petty officer said, “No more, sir.” He signalled to the men at the barrier. “We’re full to the scuppers now!”
The man yelled, “What about her?” He pointed wildly at the girl. “You’re letting her go!”
Trewin said harshly, “Stand aside, for God’s sake!”
The man peered at Trewin’s shoulder-straps and shouted, “She’s a bloody wog! You’ll not take her instead of me, you bastard!”
Trewin hit him hard in the face and said, “I’m not leaving either, you gutless pig!” He pulled Hammond’s arm. “Come to the boat with me.”
They found it below the piles with Dancy at the tiller. A blue guiding light threw a strange glow on the frothing water below the stern, and Trewin imagined Adair watching from his tiny bridge.
“Shove off and wait in the channel, Buffer.” He heard the Prawn’s telegraphs and the squeak of fenders as she idled clear of the pier. From the figures still behind the barrier he caught a snatch of voices blended together in a hymn.
He said harshly, “Take it slowly, Buffer. Nice and easy!”
Following the bobbing blue light, like a shark after a pilot fish, the gunboat slipped away from the land, her small wash rippling back over the silent wrecks and deserted buoys as she turned and headed for the open sea.
As the channel widened out across her blunt bows the Prawn gathered speed, her upperworks shrouded in smoke as the stokers threw more coal into her demanding boilers. The motor boat swung aside to let her pass, and Trewin stood swaying in the cockpit, his eyes fixed on the gunboat’s outline, hardly blinking in case he should miss some small part of her departure.
Hammond was waving his cap, his face pale in the dull glare. Perhaps she was watching too, somewhere on that small, smoke-blackened ship which represented the last chance of safety and life. Trewin lifted his cap and held it above his head, ignoring the pitching boat beneath him as Prawn’s wash rolled out of the darkness and faded to blend with the night.
Then the motor boat had the se
a to herself.
He said, “Back to the ship, Buffer.”
Dancy swung the tiller hard over. “Aye, aye, sir.” He sounded tired.
Hammond crouched in the cockpit, his cap still in his hands. He said, “She has promised to marry me if I get back.”
Trewin did not look at him. If I get back. He replied, “I’m pleased for you. I really am.”
He thought of Mallory and said, “Did the captain go and see his wife before she sailed?”
Hammond shook his head. “She wouldn’t see him. I expect she was too upset.”
Mallory’s face in the doorway, the dance music and the gin moved through Trewin’s thoughts once more. He said coldly, “I expect she was!”
Out of the darkness he heard the challenge. “Boat ahoy?”
Dancy cupped his hands. “Aye, aye!”
As they bumped alongside Trewin saw that the seamen were still at the rails watching the town and the angry glow of fires. He made himself run up the ladder where Tweedie stood like a pale rock beside the gangway, a telescope beneath his arm.
He said quickly, “The captain wants you on the bridge, Number One.” He jerked his hand towards the ladder. “’E’s bin waitin’ for you.”
Corbett was standing on the upper bridge leaning against his chair, his face turned towards the shore. Without turning he said quietly, “She got safe away then?”
“Yes, sir.” Trewin stepped forward and saw that Corbett was holding a glass in his hand and there was a bottle standing on the chart table.
“I have had some new orders, Trewin. The admiral was gracious enough to send them across before he left.” His tone was flat, with neither bitterness nor anger. He continued, “The G.O.C. has started to negotiate a surrender with the enemy. His emissaries have already been in contact with them.”
Trewin remembered the girl’s face against his own and the soft warmth of her mouth. He said thickly, “When is it to be, sir?”
“About forty-eight hours. At the most.” Corbett gestured with his glass. “Help yourself. I brought a glass for you.”
Trewin made himself pour a full measure and downed it in one swallow. The neat spirit helped to steady his reeling thoughts, but his mind did not register what he was drinking.
Corbett said, “All resistance will cease and the armed forces will stand down and await detention.” He ran one hand across his face. “Any ships unable to leave will be sunk forthwith and their crews sent ashore to await capture.” He sounded as if the words were choking him.
Trewin asked, “The Porcupine, sir?” He knew it was coming, but the shock felt all the greater.
Corbett said in the same tight voice, “Mr. Tweedie will place charges for demolition at daybreak. You can carry on now. You’ll need some sleep after today.”
“You can’t do it, sir!” Trewin watched Corbett’s upright figure, waiting for some sign of emotion. “Not this ship!”
“I have my orders, Trewin. I have always tried to obey them in the past, and I expect you to understand that!”
“Have you told the ship’s company, sir?”
“Yes. I have sent the Chinese crew members ashore already.” His shoulders sagged. “They didn’t want to go. I hope they understood.”
Trewin said quietly, “Is that all, sir?”
“Yes.” It sounded final. “I didn’t think you’d come back, Trewin. I wouldn’t have blamed you this time.”
Trewin moved towards the ladder. “I would have blamed myself.”
As he climbed down towards the deck he saw Corbett grip the screen with both hands. As if he was holding on to his ship for the last time.
Somewhere on the far side of the town the sky lit up to one more violent explosion. It looked like an ammunition dump. Now that a decision had been made it seemed as if the abyss was already opening.
He walked to his cabin and threw himself across his bunk. But when he tried to think of tomorrow he could find nothing. Nothing at all.
13 | Corbett’s Decision
WHEN THE SUN LIFTED itself above the placid sea it was greeted by so much smoke from the burning city that it was more like dusk than dawn.
Trewin stepped on deck and leaned heavily on the guardrail. For some seconds he watched the drifting curtain of ashes while he waited for his mind to clear. Sleep had been impossible, and it was almost a relief to be on his feet again. He realised that the continuous mutter of artillery was lulled and the listless morning air was only occasionally troubled by infrequent and vague explosions which hung on the ear like echoes. In a way it was worse than the original sounds of conflict. It seemed to herald the final shots which would mean the end of Singapore and its exhausted defenders. Even now, senior British officers might be sitting across a table from Yamashita, the Japanese general, listening to his demands and enduring the first shock of humiliation and defeat.
Trewin looked up at the bridge but it seemed to be deserted. No doubt Corbett was sitting at his desk and waiting for the moment to destroy his ship and the remnants of his own life.
From the corner of his eye he saw some figures moving on the quarterdeck, and as he walked aft he realised that there were about half a dozen men gathered by the ensign staff, their heads together in discussion. Then he realised that all the chief and petty officers were present, neatly dressed and freshly shaved, as if this meeting was by arrangement.
They looked round as he approached, their expressions both guarded and determined.
Trewin asked, “What’s this then? Are you having a conference?”
Unwin, the coxswain, licked his lips and glanced at the others. “Well, I’m the senior, so I’d better speak for the rest, sir.” He looked awkward, even unhappy about his task as spokesman. “We know it’s not our job to question orders, sir, but we think we ought to make a go at getting out of here.”
Trewin tried to keep his face impassive. These men were the backbone of the ship. Of any ship. They were the professionals who were all too often taken for granted. A man like Unwin who had given all his life to the Service would not find it easy to speak up in defiance of tradition and hard discipline.
“I’m listening, Swain.”
Unwin said quickly, “We sat up most of the night discussing it, sir. I think we might have a shot at fixing the rudders.”
Nimmo interrupted, “He’s speaking for us all, sir.” The engineer gestured over the rail. “I went in the drink meself at first light. If we could have got on the slipway I reckon I could have done the repairs in my workshop, and never mind the bloody dockyard workers!”
Trewin was conscious of the tension amongst the watching men. At first he had imagined that they wanted permission to leave the ship and try to escape individually in one of the abandoned harbour boats. Any such craft would have been useless, but he knew that to a sailor even a raft represented something better and more reliable than the land.
Nimmo continued in his gruff, matter-of-fact voice, “It would be a temporary job of course, but at least we would have tried.” He fell silent and watched Trewin’s face expectantly.
Unwin nodded. “That’s about it, sir.”
The other petty officers murmured in agreement. Then Dancy added, “We can’t use the slipway any more.” He pointed outboard. “But we could take the anchor away in the motor boat and kedge the old girl over yonder. There’s a good sandbar not fifty yards away. If she dried out on that the chief and the rest of us could get down on the mud and have a crack at repairing the steering.”
Trewin replied, “I take it you’ve been swimming, too!” They laughed, but he was aware of something very tense and brittle in the sound. He could feel it in his own body, too. It was stupid to encourage this sort of pitiful hope, and yet… “Do you really believe we could fix it?”
Nimmo licked his lips. “Well, sir, it’s hard to say.” He looked at the others. Then he nodded sharply. “Yes, I do.”
Trewin breathed out slowly. “I’ll talk with the captain. Right now.”
As he turne
d he almost collided with Tweedie who was carrying a canvas bag and a roll of fuse. Trewin said quietly, “Hold up the demolition, Guns. Nimmo seems to think we can fix the rudder.” He waited, watching the dull expression in Tweedie’s red-rimmed eyes. “What do you think?”
Tweedie did not answer immediately. He stood looking around the ship, as if realising for the first time what the demolition would mean. Then he said thickly, “I’d try any-thin’.” He placed the bag on the deck. “I don’t want to die ’ere!”
“Right then. I’ll tell the captain.”
But when he knocked on Corbett’s door it was some time before he heard any movement. Then with a start he realised that Corbett was having to unlock the door, and he received a further shock when he saw the captain’s face around the edge. He was unshaven and his shirt was crumpled and stained with sweat.
“What do you want?” Corbett stayed behind the door, his eyes shadowed with strain, his fingers gripping the varnished wood like a claw.
“The hands will be falling in directly, sir.” Through the narrow gap Trewin could see the empty bottle on the desk, the papers scattered across chairs and desk alike. “Can I speak to you a minute?”
Corbett stepped back and allowed him to enter. Then he walked to the scuttle and threw it open. The lights were all burning, and apart from the one scuttle the whole cabin was sealed as for the night.
Trewin began carefully. “I have been talking with the chief and other P.O.s. We might try and do the rudder repairs ourselves, sir.” He waited for some change of expression but Corbett remained staring at the scuttle. He continued quietly, “We can kedge her on a sandspit. The rest will depend on what we can do there.”
Corbett said emptily, “You’re a fool, Trewin.”
Stubbornly Trewin said, “Nimmo thinks he could do it.”
“Then he’s a fool, too!” Corbett swung round. “You know my orders. There’s no point in adding to the men’s agony because of some crackpot scheme which would never work, even if we had the time for it!”
Trewin noticed that both photographs had vanished from the desk, and then his eye fell on a sealed envelope which was propped against the silver inkstand. He felt suddenly cold, as if he was standing in a chill breeze.
Pride and the Anguish Page 23
