“I was. But not any more!” Corbett wriggled in his chair. “A few more hours, Trewin. When do we alter course again?”
Mallory’s voice sounded drowsy, as if he was half drunk. “Fifteen minutes, sir. Course will be, er, one one zero.”
“You see?” Corbett yawned. “We’re through the narrows. I knew we were doing the right thing to take our time.” He became brisk. “By dawn we’ll be well round the southern side of Banka.” His eyes flashed in the gloom. “In the Java Sea!”
Trewin nodded. All those miles. Twisting and turning, hiding and running. When they had started, the idea of reaching the Java Sea had seemed too remote to be taken seriously. Now it was just a matter of hours away, and the thought of failure too terrible to face.
Corbett said suddenly, “I want you to go to the chart room and get some sleep, Trewin. But first pass the word for our people to turn in at their stations. They can do an hour on and an hour off. That should help. Heaven knows, they deserve it.”
Trewin asked, “Is that wise, sir? It might take several minutes to wake them up again.”
Corbett laughed. “I think we’re all right for a while.” He dropped his voice. “Tomorrow is the testing time. Nobody saw that destroyer return down the Strait. She, or others, may still be waiting and searching for us. If so, I want our people to be as alert as humanly possible.”
“And you, sir?”
“I shall sleep later, Trewin.” He added dryly, “And do stop fussing! It unnerves me!”
Trewin walked down to the chart room and threw himself on the leather-topped bench seat. He lay on his back with his hands behind his head, half listening to the familiar shipboard noises, the steady sluice of water against the hull.
At dawn they would anchor and rig camouflage for the last time. Then under cover of darkness they would head out to sea once more. The next time the anchor rattled down on its rusty cable would be amongst friends. The voyage over. With a smile on his lips he fell instantly asleep.
THE SCREAM OF ALARM BELLS hurled Trewin from the bench and he was up and running for the bridge hatch, his brain still too shocked to record the stampeding figures around him and the tannoy’s metallic chant, “Action stations! Action stations!”
He thought he had been asleep for only a few minutes, but as he thrust his body through the hatch and on to the upper bridge he saw that the sky had changed to pale grey and where there had once been stars there were closely knitted clouds and the first heavy drops of rain across his upturned face.
Corbett was on his feet, his glasses trained towards the starboard bow as he snapped, “Full ahead together! Maximum revolutions!”
The voice-pipes were chattering on every side, and from the foredeck came the sharp click of a breech-block.
Corbett did not lower his glasses. “Destroyer, Number One! At green four five!”
Trewin snatched his glasses and peered across the long stretch of open water. At the corner of his eye he could see the small inset and the islands behind which they had intended to shelter for the last stop of the journey. But his mind only recorded the distant patch of white foam, the wafer-thin outline of the enemy ship.
Tweedie’s voice intoned, “Range one double oh! Target’s course is three zero zero!”
Trewin wiped the sweat from his forehead. She was only five miles clear. He looked at Corbett. “Has she seen us?”
“Unlikely.” His voice was clipped. “We’ve got Banka behind us.”
The deck was trembling violently as the Porcupine worked up to her maximum speed, so that she seemed to be planing across the unbroken water.
Corbett snapped, “Starboard ten!”
Trewin stared at him. “We’ll pass the islands, sir! It’ll be full daylight in a few minutes!”
“Midships! Steer one two zero!” Corbett pursed his lips as he watched the far-off streak of white. “The captain’ll be asleep if he doesn’t see us soon!”
Trewin looked past Corbett’s rigid figure and saw the Prawn’s shadowy outline close inshore, still moving very slowly and dropping rapidly astern.
Corbett said, “This will give Prawn time to get amongst the islands, Trewin. The enemy will be too busy gaping at us to notice her.”
“Target’s altering course, sir! Steering approximately three five zero! Speed twenty plus!” Tweedie sounded totally absorbed, as if on an exercise.
Corbett spoke very softly. “There is another inlet about five miles along the coast, Trewin. We’ll make for that. It’s sheltered and very shallow. The destroyer will lose her keel if she tries to follow us.”
Trewin asked tightly, “What about Prawn, sir?”
“I’ve already told Adair what to do. I rather thought the enemy would hang around here just in case we came this way.” He eyed Trewin calmly. “You see, I think the Japs are only looking for one gunboat. Whenever we have been sighted we have been separated, remember?” He studied Trewin’s grim features and continued patiently, “Adair will lie amongst the islands under camouflage as planned. As soon as it is dark he will head south for Java. It’ll be up to him from that moment.” He lifted his glasses again. “But he’ll need help before that. And time. I intend to give as much time as I can!”
The islands loomed out of the half-light and seemed to brush against the ship’s flank as she surged past, her long, white bow-wave streaming away to wash noisily across an outcrop of sand and into the trees beyond.
Corbett said, “Port ten! Steer zero nine zero!”
The deck canted as the helm went over, and Trewin heard the water thundering hard against the exposed bilges as the gunboat swung slightly away from the enemy warship.
There were two sharp flashes, followed almost at once by the shriek of shells overhead. One ploughed into the sea, and the other burst savagely amongst the trees on the nearest islet.
“Well, now they know!” Corbett sounded more relieved than anxious. “Port fifteen!”
There were more flashes, and two columns of water soared skywards within fifty yards of the starboard quarter.
Mallory called hoarsely, “Bring her round to oh four five, sir! It’s about four miles to the inlet!”
“Very good. Tell the coxswain!” Corbett was watching the enemy with all his concentration.
The hatch cover was flung open, and Trewin saw the admiral dragging himself on to the bridge, his eyes white below his heavy brows.
Corbett said, “Enemy destroyer, sir! But her shooting’s very poor so far.”
Fairfax-Loring clung to the table and peered astern. “Where’s the Prawn?”
Mallory replied, “She’s dropped back into the islands, sir.”
The admiral staggered on to the gratings beside Corbett and shouted, “You wouldn’t listen, would you?” He waved his free arm. “You see, we had to leave her in the end, just as I told you we would!”
He ducked as another salvo screamed above the bridge and exploded somewhere in the shallows far abeam. He appeared to get a grip on himself. “Or did you intend to use her as a red herring from the start?”
Corbett snapped his fingers impatiently. “Half ahead together!” He was staring at the mass of land which rose above the bows like a cliff.
More shells followed the Porcupine as she swerved between the sandbars, but as the land moved out on either beam and the depth gauge registered less than two fathoms the bombardment ceased, and within half an hour of first sighting the destroyer she dropped anchor.
It was then, as the rain began to fall in earnest, that Corbett faced the admiral and said calmly, “I should have told you, sir. I intend that Prawn should sail as soon as it is dark. She will head south, and by dawn tomorrow will be out of reach of surface attack.” He watched the admiral thoughtfully. “In the meantime that destroyer will be waiting here for us to come out.” He gave the smallest hint of a smile. “So you see, in a way we are the red herring, as you so aptly put it!”
The admiral shook himself, as if he imagined he was enduring some impossible nightmare
. “You’re mad, Corbett! You don’t know what you’re saying!”
“I sent our boats over to Prawn, sir. And as much food and water as I could spare.” Corbett was waiting, his eyes following the admiral’s agitation with cold indifference. “If I can give Adair a few hours, I believe he and his passengers will be safe.”
Trewin broke in quietly, “Shall I rig the camouflage, sir?”
“Not this time, Number One.” Corbett looked around the bridge, his face quite impassive. “If the enemy have any planes, and they come searching, I want them to see the ship.” His tone hardened. “Just this ship, do you understand?”
Trewin saluted. “Aye, aye, sir.”
The admiral swayed and gripped the table for support. Then he said harshly, “I want all officers on the bridge immediately!” Trewin looked at Corbett, who said coolly, “See to it!”
Fairfax-Loring strode to the bridge wing and stood staring at the overhanging slab of cliff which, in spite of the watery sunlight, still held the ship in deep shadow.
The officers gathered uncertainly beside Trewin, while Corbett seated himself on his chair.
Then the admiral turned and said very slowly, “You have all heard what has happened by now, gentlemen.” His tone was grave, and something in it reminded Trewin of the Fairfax-Loring he had seen and despised in the deserted bunker at Singapore.
He continued, “It is therefore my unhappy duty to take steps to put right what has occurred. I must blame myself in many ways for all this. My trust was perhaps too blind, my choice for authority too biased by past connections.” He sighed heavily. “But my duty is clear.” He looked at Corbett. “I am relieving you of your command as of now. As soon as it is dark we will return to the islands and sail with Prawn as arranged. The enemy will go after the slower ship, but as I said earlier, we cannot hope to save every refugee from this unhappy affair!” He turned to Trewin. “You will assume command.”
Trewin replied evenly, “I agree with the captain, sir. You will have to replace me also.” He was surprised just how calm he felt. Or was it some sort of infectious madness? As if in a dream he heard Mallory mutter, “And before you ask, it goes for me too, sir!”
Trewin turned and stared at the unsmiling Australian. But Mallory merely shrugged, as if he no longer understood either.
The admiral swallowed his anger and said stiffly, “I will not humiliate you, Hammond, by asking for your loyalty. I know your father. His shame would be more than I could stand.”
Tweedie stepped forward, and everyone turned to watch him. “You ’aven’t asked me, sir?” He shuffled his feet and then said firmly, “But rather than ’umiliate you any more than necessary, by makin’ you address a ranker like meself, let me say that I want to stay alive as much as most.” He scowled and thrust out his blue chin. “But I don’t want no one callin’ me a bloody coward, see?” He lapsed into silence and looked at his feet.
The admiral looked at each face in turn, his eyes blazing with anger and disdain. “Then, gentlemen, I will assume command myself, in spite of my injuries, and take the ship to Java.” He paused meaningly. “I don’t think I have to tell you what will happen to you there?”
Corbett said calmly, “I think you’ve not questioned all the officers, sir?”
The admiral swung round as his flag-lieutenant, supported by Baker, the sickbay attendant, and Petty Officer Dancy appeared at the top of the hatch.
Hughes’ thin face was very pale, but as he stared at his admiral his eyes lit up with some last desperate strength. “Tell them what happened when Prawn was attacked, sir!” His voice was shrill and unnatural, and Dancy had to grip him with both hands to stop him falling. Hughes shouted, “Prawn’s Number One was killed in the first attack!”
The admiral rasped, “You were too frightened to see anything! So hold your stupid tongue!”
Hughes’ head lolled. “Frightened, yes! But not so scared that I didn’t see you strip that officer of his shirt and put it on yourself!” Spittle was running from his mouth, but no one moved as he shouted wildly, “You wore a dead man’s shirt so that you could pretend to be wounded and hide below with the poor bloody women!” He was sobbing now. “You bastard! You rotten, dishonest, cowardly bastard!”
Corbett lifted one hand. “Take that officer below, Baker!” He looked at Fairfax-Loring, his face sad. “Do you wish to say anything more to my officers, sir?”
The bridge look-outs and signalmen were pushing forward at the rear of the bridge, and the small group of officers fell back as the admiral removed his arm from inside the bloodstained shirt and stared at it with something like horror.
Dancy murmured in disgust, “I should have shot him when he came down the beach.”
The admiral looked round, his eyes pleading. “I had to save myself, don’t you see? I’m more important than this ship, or those people on the Prawn! Can’t you see that?”
No one replied to his outburst and he shouted, “You’re the ones who are wrong!”
Corbett’s eyes were devoid of pity. “We shall see, sir. When the opportunity arises to have me court-martialled, then you will know that my decision was right. If I was wrong, then it won’t matter anyway.” He looked at Trewin. “Please escort the admiral to his quarters.” Then he turned his back and walked to his chair.
The admiral seemed to sense the hostility around him mirrored on the unshaven faces and in the angry eyes of the watching men. He looked once at Corbett’s back and said brokenly, “I could forget all that you’ve done, if only you’ll do as I say.”
Trewin touched his arm. “I think you’d better go below, sir. Too many people have listened to you in the past. Nobody is ever going to need you again.”
For the first time he thought he saw fear in the admiral’s eyes, and in those few seconds he had a stark picture of the man so terrified for his own safety that he was prepared to hide behind the blood of a dead man.
He swung round and said harshly, “You go with the admiral, Pilot! He makes me feel unclean!”
Long after Fairfax-Loring had left the bridge nobody moved or spoke. Then Corbett looked at Trewin and said quietly, “It’s a strange thing. You wait for years to destroy the man who has ruined your life. But it’s not really important, is it? When it comes, you merely feel ashamed. For him, and by him.”
As the bridge party moved slowly towards the ladders Trewin glanced along the full length of the ship. He could see the narrow entrance to the inlet and the hard line of the horizon stretching from wall to wall, like water in a great dam.
Corbett was right, he thought. It was not important any more. The past was over. And the future? He stared at the empty strip of horizon and felt strangely moved. Like the horizon, it seemed for ever out of reach.
18 | A Mind of Her Own
TREWIN PUSHED OPEN Corbett’s door and stepped over the low coaming. “Ship ready to proceed, sir.” The simple formality seemed to hang in the humid air, and he was conscious of the steady, drumming rain across the deck above and the gurgle of water running down the superstructure and wet planking. The rain had gone on all day, while the ship tugged at her anchor in a sluggish current, penned in on either side by the great walls of the inlet. As the time for sailing drew near the rain had increased, so that through the open scuttle Trewin could see the nearest cliff running with countless muddy streams and small avalanches of displaced stones and uprooted bushes.
Corbett stood up and stared emptily at the scuttle. “There’s no sense in prolonging it.”
He looked alert and neat in his fresh whites, and there was no sign on his face to show the agony of mind he must be enduring. With Trewin at his heels he had been right round the ship, through every compartment and flat, pausing here and there to speak to some individual sailor, or to examine a particular section which took his attention.
Trewin said, “I’m glad this waiting is over. I couldn’t take much more.”
“It’s always the worst part.” Corbett picked up his cap and placed it carefu
lly on his head.
Trewin noticed with surprise that it was his best cap.
Corbett saw his glance and said simply, “No point in doing things by half, eh?” But he did not smile.
Together they climbed up to the bridge and pulled on the thick, damp oilskins. The humidity brought Trewin into an immediate sweat, but without an oilskin he knew he would be unable to think, for the rain was heavier than he had expected and without relief.
Corbett looked around the open bridge, nodding to Masters and the signalmen. “Ring down stand by.”
Trewin felt a tightness in his throat and suddenly longed for a drink. He heard the telegraph’s remorseless reply and the sudden increase in vibration around him.
Corbett said, “I want every spare man either on ammunition parties or damage control.” He looked at Masters. “You can send one of the signalmen.”
Phelps spoke up nervously, “I’ll stay here, Yeo.”
Masters gestured to the other signalman and replied with a grin, “Suit yerself, fire-eater! I ’ope you’ve got yer Jap sword with you!”
Trewin gripped the voice-pipes hard and listened to the clank of incoming cable, steady and final above the roar of falling rain. Then faintly, “Anchor’s aweigh, sir!”
Corbett said, “Slow ahead port, half astern starboard!”
Beside the voice-pipes Trewin saw the rain-soaked cliff begin to swing away as the ship turned slowly in her own length. When he looked towards the entrance to the inlet he could no longer see the open sea or the waiting horizon. The rain hung across the gap like a steel fence or the inside of a giant waterfall.
“Stop together!” Corbett looked up at the sky. “Slow ahead together!”
A tremble ran through the deck plating, and somewhere far below there was a dull thud as some last watertight door was clipped home.
Corbett lifted himself on to his chair and reached for the bridge handset. The ship was moving very slowly with the stream, the channel widening almost imperceptibly as they slipped towards the entrance. He cleared his throat and pressed the button.
Pride and the Anguish Page 31
