HMS Saracen

by Douglas Reeman

  Without even returning to the wardroom party Chesnaye and the girl had moved slowly along the deserted upper deck. Sometimes Chesnaye had talked, answered her questions, and other times they had both found a strange contentment in silence and looking across the darkened harbour.

  She said, `I still can’t believe that the Germans may be here soon.’ Her arm moved above the screen. `Their ships where ours are now.’

  `I don’t think it will happen.’ Chesnaye climbed on to the gratings, again conscious of her nearness, the scent of her body. `Necessity makes our people achieve remarkable things.’

  She shivered and he said quickly, `Would you like to go down?’

  `Not yet.’ She half turned, and he sensed the sadness in her voice. `I may not get another chance. It’s been wonderful.’

  Chesnaye asked, `What made you come out here in the first place?’

  She shrugged. `I was in Malta when the war started. On holiday. I got sort of involved with things, and no one seemed to mind.’ Some hair blew across her cheek as she said dreamily : `I couldn’t go back to England after that. My parents wanted me to, but I felt I belonged here.’

  `Where is home?’ Chesnaye felt that he wanted every last scrap of information about her. He could no longer explain his desire, nor the hopelessness of it.

  She chuckled. `Surbiton. Exotic, isn’t it?’

  `And now you want to go back to Malta?’

  `I am going.’ She touched the cold metal below her. `I work with the Red Cross, although God knows how it happened. I’m really very squeamish!’

  Somewhere below a pipe shrilled and a metallic voice intoned `Duty fire party fall in ! Men under punishment to muster!’

  She was facing him now, her eyes like dark pools in her face. `You’re not a bit as I imagined you would be. You’re not even like the others.’

  Chesnaye grinned. `I haven’t got two heads!’

  `No, I’m not joking. Perhaps it’s because you’ve been away from the Navy for all that time. New Zealand, everything. Some of the others in your position are so-so pompous, does that sound silly?’

  `It’s a compliment.’

  `And the way you are about this ship. I’ve been listening to you for hours. I could go on listening, and that’s not like me at all ! John is quite different. He always worries about something he can’t even see.’

  `He’s a good officer.’ Chesnaye no longer knew what to say.

  She shrugged impatiently. `So is Goering, I expect!’

  ‘I think I know what you mean.’ He looked past her at the flapping signal halyards. `You must put every ounce of energy into a ship. Whatever ship it may be at the time. Otherwise it’s just a pile of metal and spare parts!’

  There was a movement of people on the deck below, and Chesnaye knew that the last of the visitors were leaving. He could feel another sensation of loss already, and he knew he was unable to prevent it.

  jShe said quietly : `I came here prepared to hate everything. But I don’t remember when I’ve been so happy.’ She laughed, but sounded unsure and suddenly nervous. `That ust proves what a weird creature I am!’

  She turned to step from the gratings, but the heel of her shoe caught in one of the small holes and she fell heavily against him. For another long moment they stayed quite still, and Chesnaye could feel his heart pounding uncontrollably against her warm body.

  In a breathless voice she said, `If this was a film they would say I planned that fall!’

  He felt her hair against his cheek and with sudden desperation pulled her tightly to him. She did not resist but stayed motionless, her breast pressed against his heart.

  Her voice seemed to come from far away. `Why didn’t this happen earlier?’

  Chesnaye held her bare arms and guided her across the bridge. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many fears to share. She was not for him. It was her natural reaction to Erskine’s behaviour. In any case she was nearly twenty years younger. She was going away. He might never see her again, even if she wanted to after tonight.

  But instead he said, `Can I see you?’

  She turned lightly in his hands, and he could see the brightness of her eyes. Like tears, he thought.

  `I want to see you!’ She tried to laugh. `Do you think you can tear yourself from the ship for a while?’

  If anyone else had said that Chesnaye knew he would have reacted differently. But they both stood on the empty bridge, smiling through the darkness like conspirators. Quickly she said, `I’ll give you my address before I go. If I’m delayed’

  She cut him short. `I’ll still be waiting.’ She reached out and touched his hand. `You just get there somehow!’

  Below on the quarterdeck Wickersley watched them pass. He was near complete oblivion but not quite there. His eyes drooped, and when he opened them again the girl had vanished. The Captain was standing over him, and Wickersley realised for the first time that he must have fallen to the deck.

  Through the mist he had built up to stave off the misery of that letter he nevertheless heard Chesnaye say quietly, `You may be unconscious now, Doc, but you’ll never know what you’ve done for me.’ Then the Doctor felt strong hands under his armpits and allowed himself to be carried down to an all-enveloping darkness.

  7

  Convoy

  Chesnaye finished tamping down his pipe and reached for his matches. The reflected glare from the shimmering sea was so intense in the noon sun that he was wearing sunglasses, and his white drill tunic, although freshly laundered, felt clammy against his skin. He drew in on the pipe and watched the blue smoke hover uncertainly across the baking bridge.

  Lieutenant Norris, red-cheeked and perspiring freely, moved to the front of the bridge and saluted. `Afternoon Watch closed up at Defence Stations, sir. Course twoseven-five, steady at six knots.’

  `Very well.’ Chesnaye eased his limbs more comfortably on the hard chair and stared absently at the empty horizon. Four and a half days out from Alexandria, six hundred miles of empty sea.

  Norris sounded strained, he thought. It was strange how he changed once the ship was at sea again. In harbour he had been a different man. Whenever his duties permitted he had been ashore and usually returned on board slightly the worse for drink.

  He heard Harbridge, the Gunner (T), say : `Take the slack off them halyards, Bunts ! Like a bloody Naafi boat!’

  Chesnaye swung round in his chair and levelled his glasses astern. As he did so he saw the watchkeepers avert their eyes and become engrossed in their duties. It was all as usual.

  His glasses settled on their one faithful companion. Squat, purposeful and seemingly out of place, H.M. Rescue Tug Goliath was keeping in perfect station about half a mile astern. Her bulky hull was garish in dazzle paint with the additional adornment of a giant bow wave which was as false as her appearance. Sometime tomorrow the fast convoy from Alexandria would overtake the Saracen and her consort and consolidate in readiness for action. The rescue tug would be busy enough then. A friendly scavenger to remind every ship in the convoy of its constant peril.

  On the fo’c’sle Chesnaye could see Mr. Joslin supervising a working party by the anchor cables, and other seamen were busy scraping and painting one of the capstans. Chesnaye bit on his pipe and refused to accept the everyday task as a waste of time. Whatever else happened, Saracen would not look uncared for when she entered Malta.

  Erskine appeared with his usual quietness. `We’ve just decoded that signal, sir. It’s all over in Crete.’

  Chesnaye did not look at him, but stared hard at the friendly water and the cloudless sky beyond the bows. `I see.’ So the British Army had pulled out of yet another impossible position. How was it that everything seemed so peaceful and quiet when only two hundred miles away that bloodied island would be the scene of so much suffering and despair? Where would the next blow fall?

  Erskine had stepped back and was speaking quietly to Norris. He had given no sign or hint of his inner feelings, but Chesnaye guessed that he was
watching him more closely than ever. Since that night of the mess party and the events which had followed so surprisingly quickly.

  The Saracen had been in Alexandria exactly seven days. Each morning brought a flood of repair workers aboard until it seemed as if the monitor was the last ship they expected to work on. For the British at least.

  Chesnaye could still remember Erskine’s face on the first morning as the rivet guns began to crackle and stutter overhead. Chesnaye had signed a few letters and initialled several orders, and had then said : `I am going ashore this afternoon. You can take control of the working parties for the moment.’ A pause. `Continue to give as much shore leave as possible to our people, and go easy on the libertymen when they come off.’ There had been a long string of defaulters that morning for drunkenness and so forth. `It does everyone good to let off steam once in a while.’

  Erskine had said quickly, `Where can you be reached in an emergency, sir?’

  The two men had looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, and then Chesnaye had said, `I’ll leave the address with my writer.’ But he knew that Erskine was well aware of his destination.

  He had found the narrow street above the harbour easily enough. It was off the mainstream of wandering sailors and hurrying townfolk. Even the inevitable traders and hawkers were few, while the bustle of the harbour was forgotten. Only the Mediterranean itself showed between the buildings in a hard blue line.

  He was not sure what he had expected to find. Surprise or embarrassment. A polite but awkward visit soon to be ended. Even when he reached the shaded door he felt on the edge of panic and uncertainty. There was nothing hesitant about her welcome, and he could still clearly remember the pleasure in her eyes as she guided him into the shady half-light of the small room.

  `You are prompt !’She took his cap and then stood back with her hands on her hips. She was wearing a tan-coloured dress which seemed to accentuate her beauty and momentarily made Chesnaye marvel at Erskine’s stupidity.

  `This really is grand!’ She was laughing again, like an exuberant child, he thought. `Entertaining a full captain!’ Chesnaye was sitting on the sagging sofa, and she stooped to touch the lace bars of his shoulder straps. ‘But I simply can’t call you Captain. Do you mind Dick? Or would you prefer Richard?’

  He had forced a frown. `Only my close friends are allowed Dick!’

  She had jumped to her feet, her hands already reaching for the bottle of chilled wine. `Watch out then, Dick ! I may become more than a friend!’

  And so it had continued. The small room had been full of laughter, quick changes of mood with each newly gained piece of understanding.

  When the evening shadows- had crossed the dusty street they had gone out. First to an overcrowded club where naval officers had outnumbered everyone else and many curious glances had been cast at the slim tanned girl and the tall captain. They had tried to dance on the stifling floor, and Chesnaye marvelled at the fact that his thigh no longer seemed to have any effect, as if a truce had been called.

  After a while she said gravely, `You hate it here, don’t you.

  He had looked at her anxiously. `Why d’you say that?’

  `All these people. You must be tired of seeing them.’

  So they had gone to the outskirts of the town, to a lowroofed cafe with a blaring radiogram. There were a few servicemen, mostly soldiers. But three seamen were about to leave as Chesnaye entered, his head ducking below the beams, and he stood aside as the white-clad trio lurched towards the street.

  He suddenly realised that they were three of the Saracen’s men. They stared first at him, then at the girl. The sight of their captain in this sort of place seemed to unnerve them.

  One, an able seaman named Devlin, started to salute and then said, “Evenin’, sir; ‘evenin’, miss!’ He had been unable to stop his huge grin. ‘I thought the officers went to all the posh places, sir?’

  Chesnaye felt sudden warmth for these three tipsy seamen. At sea they were little cogs he hardly saw. Names on a muster sheet, requestmen or defaulters perhaps. Now they were just men like himself.

  One of the seamen said, `No wonder we can’t find any decent girls, sir !’ and stared at Chesnaye’s companion with open admiration.

  Chesnaye coughed. `One of the advantages of seniority, lads!’ They had gone off laughing into the night, and Chesnaye had felt foolishly happy.

  The far end of the cafe was lined with booths. The impassive-faced Turkish head waiter had guided them towards it with the air of a foreign ambassador, when suddenly, as Chesnaye had passed abreast of one of the booths, two soldiers had lurched upright and blocked his progress. For a moment he thought there was going to be trouble of some sort. He recognised the Australian bush hat and wondered if the soldiers took exception to his presence for some reason. Then he noticed that both men were wounded. One leaned on sticks, the other had his arm strapped across his chest. Behind them, still propped in the booth, was another soldier, whose bandaged eyes were turned towards the small group and whose hands were already reaching out in an unspoken question.

  The biggest Australian, a corporal, said loudly, `You’ll not remember me?’ He did not wait for a reply, but turned to the girl and took her hands in his big paws without further delay. `I hope you have a very pleasant evening, miss. You happen to be with the best goddamned Poinmie I have ever met!’

  Chesnaye stared from one man to the other. `I don’t quite follow?’

  The second soldier grinned and moved his strapped arm carefully. `You brought us back from Tobruk, Cap’n. But for your bloody guts we’d be lying out there in the muck right this minute!’ He held out his good hand. `Here, take this, I want to be able to tell my folks I shook your hand !’

  The blind soldier was now on his feet. `We’ll be off for home soon, Captain. I didn’t see a thing after that ruddy mortar shell, but me mates told me what you did!’ His voice shook. `You didn’t have to take us off, did you? You just bloody well did it !’

  Chesnaye turned his face away with confusion. `Thank you P

  The corporal waved his arm. `Let’s make a night of it !’

  But the second soldier grinned and winked at the girl. `Leave ‘em be, you flamin’ wombat ! The Captain’s got other things to attend to !’

  They were still calling out cheerfully as Chesnaye almost pushed the girl into the end booth.

  The waiter lit the candle on the table and went to get some wine. When Chesnaye had recovered sufficiently to meet her gaze he was astonished to see that her eyes were brimming with tears.

  `What’s the matter, Ann?’

  But she reached across the small table and gripped his sleeve hard. `Don’t ask me, not yet !’Then she shook her head, smiling in spite of the tears across her cheeks. `I know what those men meant. You really are a wonderful person!’

  The small sea-cabin behind the bridge seemed stuffy and humid, and after a quick glance at his desk Chesnaye unscrewed the dead-light and opened the scuttle. There was a good moon, and the black restless water came to life in its cold stare, and the horizon shone with a million tiny lights like some gay, uncaring shoreline.

  He propped open the cabin door to encourage even the slightest breath of air, and half listened to Fox’s voice from the compass platform as he patiently explained the mysteries of the stars to the two midshipmen. If anything, Fox seemed to be more interested in his duties now that leaving the ship was inevitable.

  - Chesnaye peeled off his jacket and allowed the air to explore his skin. Feet scraped on a ladder, and he could hear the faint strains of a mouth-organ from one of the four-inch gun positions below the bridge. The patient waiting, the sadness and the calm resignation of war.

  He loosened his belt and lowered himself on to the bunk. It was peaceful, even relaxing. Automatically his hand moved to touch the scar on his thigh, but instead of pain the simple action reawakened another memory like the discovery of some precious souvenir,

  Without closing his eyes he could see every y
ard of that walk home from the cafe with Ann, stepping across the bars of moonlight between the sleeping houses with serious concentration. They had not spoken much, and Chesnaye was again aware of the danger of words, and was almost afraid to break the strange spell which seemed to hold them together.

  They had reached the house, and Chesnaye had half expected to find some urgent message waiting to jerk him back to reality, but there was nothing. The tiny room was quiet, and she had been humming softly as she lit the one small table lamp.

  `I suppose I had better make my way to the ship?’ Chesnaye had stared ruefully around him, as if rediscovering the birthplace of his new happiness. `I don’t know if I can go now.’

  She did not answer, but left the room to return almost immediately with two glasses of brandy. `The last,’ she announced gravely.

  They sat on the old sofa, their glasses untouched, their eyes unseeing on the opposite wall and the shuttered window. Chesnaye felt lost, even desperate. Tomorrow the carpet trader would be squatting in the dust outside, while he would be cherishing a memory and sinking back into the endless and futureless routine.

  She nestled her head against his shoulder and kicked off her sandals. For a moment she said nothing, then : `It’s been wonderful. It really has.’

  `I know. I never believed it possible.’

  `It’s always possible. With the right person.’ She twisted slightly so that he could feel her breath on his cheek. `I’m so afraid.’

  He encircled her shoulders in one quick movement, his eyes searching. `Of what? Tell me, Ann P

  Her mouth quivered in a half-smile. `Of smashing something. Of losing the only thing which really matters now.’

  Chesnaye held her very tightly and smoothed the hair from her cheek. He could feel her quivering with each movement, and felt the forgotten pain returning to his heart.

  `I don’t want you to go, Dick. Not now. Not ever.’ She had lowered her head against his chest as if unable to meet his eyes. `There is so little time. We cannot waste it!’ With sudden vehemence she said, `You understand, don’t you?’