Hollow Sea

by James Hanley

  'Tell us about your mother, laddie. Tell us about your home, Jack Carney.' He leaned over the man, smiled in his face.

  'Carney! Jack Carney! I was in the Fusiliers at fourteen! Look at him! Just look. Up there! See him cocking his leg. You watch. When he turns round you'll see that cracker. He grins down here, and we laugh then. Aye! Where's my bloody head?'

  'Keep quiet! Ssh now! Everything's all right. Your name isn't Jack Carney,' Rochdale said. 'Your name's Jack Nobody, everybody knows that. Go to sleep! Know what'll happen if you keep looking like that? They'll say, your eyes are fine, up you go my bloody lad. They'll send you up there, bring him down. The look-out man, not the fellow you saw! You're talking through your hat, Jack Carney, you're going balmy. If you don't go asleep they'll tie you up. Same as the other fellow. Maybe they'll chuck you overboard. See! Now keep quiet.'

  'There was a simple man. He stood with simple men. They stuck a cracker in his mouth, explain it if you can. I am a simple man. I stood with simple men.'

  'Steward! Steward!' called Rochdale. He wanted to run to the saloon. To drag out the steward, say, 'Look! Look!' But he could not move. A hand held his own. Its grasp was steel. He shouted again, 'Steward! Steward!' Now the steward Marvel came out.

  'Look at this man,' Rochdale said. 'He's cracked. Potty! Can't you do anything for him? I was coming along the deck a while ago, and so I just sat down. I was talking to him. He looked lonely. Listen to him. "I am a simple man. Jack Carney is my name." He's reciting poetry or something. Why don't you fellers do something? Take him aft. He's balmy.'

  The steward knelt down, gripped Rochdale by the shoulders, shook him.

  'Christ Almighty! When in Jesus' name did you wake up? And where's your bloody nose? This ship is crazy, I tell you! I've been running round here so many hours I can't count 'em. Can't count 'em. And then you roar the ship down. Steward! Steward! What the bloody hell can I do? I'm not a doctor – only a slop-rag. Put that in your pipe, you have no right here, anyhow.'

  'That's so, glass-back. Here, I've got to go for'ard. Can't you sit down and talk to a poor beggar like that? Nobody's said a word to them. Might be cattle. They're only lads. They've got mothers and fathers like you. Understand! When you have to wash them, or bandage 'em up, don't any feelings come into you at all?'

  'Oh, go to hell!' Marvel said.

  He walked back to the saloon. In the middle of the saloon there was a mirror. He stood in front of this. Laughing he clenched his fists and drummed upon the sideboard.

  'Damn fool! Thinks we don't know! We don't know! Eighteen hours a day wiping up slobber – blood and muck, then you sleep in it, then you mop up more and more. And you get eight pounds a month for that.'

  He picked up a glass, put a little powder into it from a bottle, added hot water from an electric kettle. He stirred it as he went out, stopping by the fevered man he knelt down, opened his mouth with one hand, and poured the contents of the glass down the soldier's throat. He ignored Rochdale.

  'Your name's not Carney,' he said. 'It's Stink. Jack Stink! And mine's Henry Stink! There's Captain Stink up there! See him! Now shut your gob and go to sleep.'

  He went back to the saloon and sat down. He sat by the other steward who was reading a magazine – 'The Power of Love'. There was a reproduction of Venus on the page. 'She's got a fine pair of tits,' Marvel said. Sloane closed the magazine, flung it across the saloon.

  'Where's this damned voyage going to end, Marvel? Four days. Seems like four years to me. Walters must think that we're made of iron. So we are, I think.'

  'They say we'll be at Alex, at eight o'clock.'

  'Eight o'clock, and it's five now! But it's bloody funny we've seen no land. I haven't heard a bell rung since I came on duty. What's it all mean?'

  'Go up and see. I reckon somebody on the bridge will oblige.'

  'How clever you are! I wonder how the rest of the crowd got on there?'

  'Blown to beggary I expect. I reckon it was only a lark myself.'

  'Hell of a lark! Look out, here's Hump coming. That man makes me want to cry.'

  Mr. Hump put his head in the saloon. 'Anything fresh?' he asked.

  'Yes. The man on the end of the line. Better have a look at him, sir. Got the rats or something. There was a sailor gabbing away with him a while ago. He nearly drove him balmy too. Will he go aft with the others?'

  'No!' Hump said. 'Over the side. Where do you think he'll go? Come along here, you two, sitting on your backsides doing nothing.'

  All three went to the man. Rochdale was still sitting there. The soldier had fallen asleep. Other soldiers were talking to each other about the man Carney. Rochdale looked at the men. 'Look out of the way, man,' Mr. Hump said. Rochdale did not move. The man's hand was fast in his own. He looked up at the stewards. Somehow as he looked at the long face of Mr. Hump he imagined the two out-jutting ears had become horns.

  'What are you going to do with this soldier?'

  'Who are you talking to? Marvel, Sloane, carry the man aft.'

  'No, you won't. By Christ, you won't! Where were you fellers when this soldier was in high delirium? Aye! In your bunks! Probably counting up how much you made out of the poor bastards. You with your other friends, call the mate, the captain, call the whole confounded Navy if you like. You lot of swine! Call them! Go ahead! It's a goddam disgrace. You can't shift this man, and you won't shift him. What am I doin' here! Sitting down, you blind bat. Now tell that to the Skipper and he'll log me a day's wages. Go ahead. Tell him. I just came along here, in the dog watch you understand, and a man can do what the hell he likes in his own time. I'm telling you that straight. I just sat down talking homely to him. You could see the poor sod hadn't a friend in the wide world. He's cuckoo! Who's saying he isn't! He reckons that this ship ain't getting anywhere at all. Understand me! He reckons we're going round in circles. And maybe you'd go round in circles too, just like he was before if you got a mark on the napper like he did. He's got a bloody bandage on looks a week old, and like the leg of somebody's drawers. Maybe some hungry bastards ate all the bandages. I've been looking at his wound too. Big as a walnut! Why are you going to shift him aft?'

  'You've a hell of a lot to say, man,' growled Hump. He made to push Rochdale from the soldier. But he could not move him. He had now put both feet astride the soldier's. None of my business! But Christ! If they put him aft with that other yelling kid, that'll be two quite winnick. He looked down at the soldier who now slept deeply, his breast heaved. It reminded Rochdale of a sleeping child.

  'Sloane! Bring Mr. Walters here.'

  'Will you go for'ard to hell out of this? Who the devil d'you think you are?'

  'My name's Higginbottom, if you want to know, and many a time when I'm up there,' he jerked a thumb towards the crow's nest, 'many a time I could run you bang into a mine or a bloody sub if I wanted to.'

  Why didn't you?'

  'I wouldn't like to see you sinking. That's all.'

  A head had appeared over the bridge. 'What's all this damn row down there?'

  'This man—' Mr. Hump lumped up to see Dunford's eye upon him – 'this man—'

  'They're trying to take this man to the madhouse, Captain, when he isn't mad. There's nowt wrong with him, I was—'

  'Get for'ard there, you! What the devil are you doing hanging round here?'

  Without a word Rochdale swung round on his heel and went for'ard. He clattered down the steps, he seemed to lurch, shrug his shoulders. Once he glanced round to look up at the bridge.

  'Goddam disgrace I call it,' he said. 'Them fellers doctors! Wonder they haven't killed the lot of them by now.' He had an idea that robbers did sometimes kill those they robbed. 'And I haven't bin reading any fairy tales, either.' He would always remember the expression upon that soldier's face. There was something so childlike, so soft, just like Annie herself in fact, when she said, 'Love me – Love me!' Poor kid.

  'Hello! Where've you been wandering to?'

  Rochdale looked up. It was William
s.

  'Listen! Let's sit here on the ladder. I want to say something to you. Don't think it funny, because I'm dead serious, you know,' Williams went on. 'Dead serious. I don't believe we'll ever get home. Have you noticed anything funny about this ship?' he asked. His eye followed the length of mast.

  Rochdale grinned. 'Don't know as I have, Williams,' he said. 'What put this idea into your head, anyhow? The ship hasn't stopped or anything. She's still going. Listen to the engines. And we haven't been holed?'

  'Common sense! Hasn't it occurred to you that the wireless is beggared up.'

  'And the operator blown to hell too. Go on, spout it out.'

  'Then who can work it now it's broke down?' asked Williams.

  'Mr. Ericson. He's qualified for that, I understand. But what's the idea?'

  'Oh, it's not the wireless only! We know that's a washout, anyhow. The thing is I really don't believe we're going anywhere at all. I don't believe we'll see land any more. Straight I don't! And I'm getting the bloody creeps besides. Go ahead! Laugh, you soft cod. Laugh! I'm telling you straight! They only used us as a bloody target near that beach, and you know it! Look at us now! Look at these fellers down the hold! Whose cock-eyed work is that? And those poor bastards all in a line there! What's it all coming too? Is the man crazy?'

  'Don't be silly,' said Rochdale. 'Target my behind! If it comes to that we were all targets more or less—'

  'Yes,' interrupted Williams, 'but d'you think we're all blind except you? You saw what happened. They used this ship as a plain target I tell you. They ordered her to clear out. Why didn't they order all the lot? They were no different to us. Soldiers were three a bloody penny anywhere, mate! No bloody fear, mate. I'm not blind – neither are the others. It's a wonder to me we didn't get sunk right away. That wouldn't have been half so bad as this mess.' He waved his arms in the air. 'Rajah's right. A blasted coffin-ship.'

  'Don't talk through your hat, Williams! You're like a parrot, you repeat what you hear somebody else say. Have we to call the Skipper a liar? It was an accident. Anything can happen in war, lad. I'm surprised! And you bin on bleeders into the bargain. Why, that reminds me, I was gassing with one of those wounded lads up there – and funny thing is he had the same idea as you. He thinks we're going in circles. But then, poor lad, he's got a hole in his head as big as an egg, and I reckon his brains have turned upside down or something. He kept saying, "He was a simple man. He stood with simple men!" Oh, he was well away, poor lad. Said his name was Carney. He was in the Fusiliers when he was fourteen. And the next minute he was in the Buffs. Poor cow. He had his hand in mine. God! What strength! But they say that fellows who go potty do have a strong grip. Ugh! It unnerved me. And suddenly he fell fast asleep. Just like a little kid. Didn't you hear me shouting before? Aye! They're taking him to the mad-house. When you look at some on 'em you say to yourself, "Should be sucking his mother's breast." Well, have you got any more ideas? They're two a penny aboard this ship. The latest is the best I heard! We're going a cruise to Honolulu. Think of that!'

  Williams scowled. He looked at Rochdale, at his pugnacious nose.

  'You can't kid me, mate! I'll take a bet, there you are. I'll take a bet we never see Alexandria. I'll stake every penny I've got and I've got a clean twenty-three pounds seven shillings. Somehow I don't think this money is any good now. Funny, I just got it into my head. Nowhere to spend it.'

  'Then bloody well eat it. I prefer a plain tea myself. There's a nice smell coming from the galley there! What is it? D'you know?'

  'Let's see.'

  They went to the weather-side door, opened it and peeped in. The cook was whistling 'Two lovely Black Eyes' while he stirred a pan of Irish stew.

  'Not stew for tea, surely?'

  'No – to-morrow's dinner, you mug. He'll be ashore tomorrow lying on top of the Countess of Cairo or some other lady. So if he cooks it now, he'll be able to go ashore early tomorrow! Lucky cows – cooks.'

  They shut the door and went back and sat down on the hatch.

  'Just look at the lovely sea! Sometimes I'd like to dive in and have a thundering good swim,' said Rochdale. He laid his hands on his knees, became thoughtful. 'Well, I'm not going to worry myself with anybody's ideas,' he announced. 'I've got my own! Too old fashioned though! Wouldn't cut any ice with you.'

  'There's some queer business going on somewhere,' Williams said. 'Us soft galoots know nothing, isn't it?'

  'Oh, for the Lord's sake,' Rochdale replied. He put his hands to his head, got up and walked away. Williams followed him. They stood in the scuppers; both looked at the swirling water.

  'Lovely, isn't it?' said Williams sarcastically. Then he shouted, 'Move, ship! Move, damn you! You only crawl. Move! Move!'

  For some moments the two men looked down at the swift-flowing water. They were as one with it, its deep murmurous sound was clamorous in their ears. Others came and went. The lavatory door shut, opened, shut again. One bell. The two men did not move. Was there something mirrored in the depths that held their eyes, glued their feet to the scupper? Rochdale said quickly, 'Funny thing, water, isn't it? What are you thinking of, Williams laddie?'

  'Nothing,' the other said. 'Nothing! I'm just looking at this goddam water. I don't believe what anyone says, we're not going into that harbour. No, sir! A little bird tells me different, sir! Bloody fun of it is they think they are.' He laughed. 'Damn funny.'

  'Half a mo'!' said Rochdale. 'Here's the bosun's mate coming for'ard. See what he has to say. He may have been up there for fresh orders.' He went up to meet the bosun's mate.

  Williams said, 'Go ahead! Ask him! Fat lot he knows.’

  ' 'Scuse me, bos',' Rochdale said, 'is it true we'll be in Alex, round about night?'

  'Expect so,' he said. 'What's the goddam hurry? Judy waiting there for you? Yes, Mr. Higginbottom, this ship'll be tied up and we'll all be ashore before nine.'

  'Don't you believe it, bosun, it's a gag. I know different to that! Besides, how the hell can we go in till we get fumigated? Never thought of that, did you!'

  'No, Mr. Clever, I never,' replied the bosun's mate, 'but I was just wondering though, just wondering how the hell we can get fumigated unless we go in for it.'

  They all walked together to the fo'c'sle. A few seconds later a bell rang and a man named Gordon came rushing up the alleyway shouting: 'Hear the bell, mate! We're nearly there! Land on the starboard bow.'

  'No.'

  'Yes.'

  'Forget it,' Williams said.

  'Let's go and see.' There was a general exodus from the fo'c'sle. They climbed the fo'c'sle head, looked round, looked at one another. Where was the land?

  'Hell! some of you beggars mightn't have seen land for donkey's years,' the bosun shouted up to them. 'Come down to hell out of that. Time to get going. Come along.' And as they came down the ladder:

  'What's wrong with you fellers to-day? Got the bloody channel fever or what?'

  'No. We haven't any channel fever, bosun. It's this goddam smell all the time! By God, we're about sick of it. You can't get the stink out of your nostrils. Jesus! Does this Skipper intend to take the stiffs home, sit 'em in front of his fire, or what? We ought to have kicked up hell long ago. We didn't sign articles to carry stiffs. What do you fellers say?' He swung round, looking from one to the other of the men now grouped at the foot of the fo'c'sle ladder. Two bells rang.

  'Sure! We're fed up with the stink! If they paid us fat money same as they did with those mules, it might be all right. And who cares a damn? Orders. Goddam orders! Today Rochdale went along there where these fellers are lying out on deck. He sat down talking to a lad who's gone goo-goo. He was only trying to cheer him up. What'd the bridge say? "You clear to hell for'ard outer this." '

  'Look here, fellers,' said the bosun, 'It's a mucky damn job, I know. I never expected it any more than you. But beggar me, Jack, there's an excuse for everything. There's a war on! I hope you won't forget that. And consider this also: when you've done your job you can go
below and turn in. But what about those poor glass-backs aft? They're at it day and night. Now get the hoses out and start work. We got to look respectable going into this damn port.'

  'Mr. De-ven-ey! Mr. De-ven-ey!' The voice called down the alleyway.

  'Coming! Coming! Whatever is the matter? I was just reading an extraordinary story. I— Hello, Ericson! Your voice is getting terribly strong, my boy. What is it?'

  'Land, Mr. Deveney! Mr. Dunford wants you on top now.'

  They hurried to the bridge.

  'Anything peculiar about this bit of land, Ericson?' asked Deveney.

  'It looks just like a mud-pie through my glasses, and the water's turning brown.'

  'Funny that,' Deveney said. He took up his glasses and stood by Ericson.

  Mr. Dunford was standing in the port wing, hands in his jacket pockets. He seemed to be looking at something too, but somehow it lacked the tensity with which Mr. Ericson looked through his glasses, and said excitedly, 'Can you see it? It really looks as though we are going to get through after all without any more beastly accidents. The first thing I'm going to do when this ship ties up is to go ashore and absolutely wallow in a Turkish bath.'

  Sometimes Dunford looked their way. Once he walked halfway across the bridge as though to speak to them, stopped, returned to his place again.

  'She can ride Samson, she can! I know all about that. I was there, mate!'

  'Leave me go, you bastard! I want to fight for my bloody King.'

  'Take him off. He's as empty as a bloody cockle shell. Take him off. Want him to crap himself to death, do you? Marvel, you damn fool, you'll kill the man.'

  'My name's Carney! Jack bloody Carney. I was in the Buffs at fourteen I was.'

  'He's like a fox. He'd take the boots off a dead man. Walter, I mean, Walters!'