He remembered the midshipman's voice when he had said, He'll try and get his own back on you.
Or, maybe he had started it all himself when he had defended the boy at the dinner table. Had walked into the trap which he had sprung by his own carelessness.
In those dragging seconds he could even see the looming bulk of the Benbecula leaning against the piles in the bright sunlight. Now even she was being taken. That realisation most of all was more than he could bear.
`Look, Lindsay, try not to take this too badly. The war is not going to end next week. And who knows, you'll probably find new orders in England which will make all this seem like a bad dream.'
A bad dream. It seemed to linger in his mind. Perhaps someone aboard his own ship had made the first move. Had listened to his ravings as he relived the nightmare. Had recorded every small action or mood in order to destroy him.
He thrust out his hand. `I will leave now, sir.' He met the other man's troubled gaze. `I would not have been in your shoes for this. Thank you for trying to spare my feelings.'
The Chief of Staff smiled. `I have tried. But I feel like an executioner nonetheless. I only hope the men who pass through your hands appreciate what you will no doubt offer them.'
`And what is that, sir?'
`I am not going to indulge you with all the trite words of leadership and example.' You'll get plenty of those later.' He sat down again, his eyes suddenly distant. `Give them the same sense of value, of belongingas you have to the old Benbecula. That'll be more use than a room full of admirals.'
Lindsay picked up his cap and walked slowly to the door. It was over. For him and the ship.
He said, `I willl try to remember that. There will be plenty of time from now on.,
Outside, the flag-lieutenant handed him an envelope and said, `Here's a brief rundown on appointments, sir. It will be all right to mention them to your people if you so wish.'
Lindsay walked through the building without another word. He got vague impressions of men at desks, the chatter of telephones and typewriters. A different sort of war. One he would soon be joining or watching from the sidelines.
He returned the salutes of two marine sentries and headed for the parked staff car.
He must hold on. Just long enough to reach his cabin. Hide, like Stannard and Maxwell. But he knew it was only a deception. For there was nowhere he could hide from himself.
Goss stood a few paces away from Lindsay's desk, his face hidden while he listened to the neatly typed instructions.
`So you will have the ship after all, NumberOne.' Even as he said it Lindsay thought this bare fact was the only shred . of comfort which really affected him. `And with promotion, you should be well placed after the war with another shipping company when you may be competing with younger men.'
He did not know what he had expected. Goss's silence was like something physical. He turned in his chair and asked, `Aren't you pleased? I thought it was what you wanted?'
Goss opened his big hands and closed them again. `I always wanted the Becky. Ever since I can remember.' His fingers clenched into tight fists. `But not like this!'
`She'll be safe as a depot ship. No more convoys. No being left alone with nothing but a few First World War guns to hit back.'
Goss said quietly, `A ship dies when, she's inactive. I've seen a few good ones go like that during the depression.' He seemed to be struggling with his words.. `A ship should be at sea. She needs it. It's her• life. Her purpose for being.' He turned slightly so that Lindsay saw the emotion on his heavy features. `Like an old man who takes to his chair. He starts to die from then on. He can't help it.'
Lindsay tore his eyes away from Goss-'s despair. `I'll leave it to you to tell the others. You can use this list. Stannard's to go on an advanced navigation course. He'll probably be appointed to a new destroyer. de Chair and his marines are to be sent to Eastney Barracks for re-allocation, and Maxwell's to get his half stripe. He'll be going to Whale Island for an instructor's course.'
He wondered how he could keep his voice so level when his whole being was screaming like a tortured instrument. Calm, even matter-of-fact. It had to be that way. The only way.
He recalled the time his mother had made her decision to leave for Canada. For good. He had wandered round the old house, watching the familiar things which he had always taken for granted, going under the auctioneer's impartial hammer. Things he had known all his young life. Things he had loved.
It was like that right now. Familiar faces being parted and sent to the winds.
`Young Dancy is going on a navigation course, too. His work with Stannard will stand him in good stead. The other young subs are being transferred to escort vessels when they return from home leave. Hunter is to be gunnery officer in one of the Western Approaches ships.'
Goss asked abruptly, `What about Fraser?'
`The chief is transferring to a fleet repair ship.'
`I see.' Goss walked a few paces and stopped, as if uncertain where to go. `Isn't anyone staying from the old company?' ,
'Dyke will take over the engine room, although being a depot ship his duties will be pretty limited.' He added, `I thought you disliked Fraser?'
Goss said vaguely, 'Dyke can't do the job. It takes a proper chief engineer. She's old. She must have proper care.' He added with sudden fierceness, `No, I've never liked him much. But he's a good chief. The best inthe company, and no matter what he's told you, he bloody well cares about this ship right enough!'
`I know that, too.' Lindsay stared at the papers on his desk. They were blurred, like those on the Chief of Staff's desk. `You're keeping Barker. He's getting a half stripe like Maxwell.'
Goss walked to the desk and stood looking down at Lindsay for several seconds.
p`And you're on the beach, sir. I know a lot of people'll only see your extra stripe and envy you, most likely. But I know different. I'm not a clever man an' never was. I sweated blood to get where I am, and saw many a useless bastard get romoted over my head because I'm slow by nature. I'm slow, and I take my time. I've never been able to afford mistakes. There's not been a captain in the company I've not envied, nor one whose job I've told myself,I couldn't do better given the chance.' He rested his hands on the desk. `But I've not envied you, because I couldn't have done what you've had to do. No matter what I've kidded myself on that score, I know that, and nobody can tell me otherwise.'
Lindsay did not look up. `Thank you.' He heard Goss moving restlessly to an open scuttle.
Goss added slowly, `Christ, she can feel it already. Poor old girl, she can feel it.'
Lindsay lurched to his feet. `For God's sake, Number One, we have to carry out orders. Nothing else can matter. Ships don't feel. They're steel and wood, pipes and machinery, and only as good as the men who control them.' Even as he said it he saw the other man shaking his head.
`It's no use talking to me like that, sir. You don't believe it either. She feels it all right.' He swung towards the scuttle, his eyes staring into the harsh sunlight as he shouted, `Those toffy-nosed bastards who sit in their offices will never understand, not if they live a million bloody years! I don't know much but by the living Jesus 1 know ships! And above all I know this one.' When he spoke again he was very calm. `Sorry about that. I should be used to kicks at my time of life.'
Somewhere a tannoy bellowed, `Hands to dinner. Leave to port watch from 1400 to 2300. Chief and petty officers 0830 in the morning. Ordinary Seaman Jones muster at the quartermaster's lobby for mail.'
Goss moved to the door. `Can you see her tied up to some stinking pier,, full of gash ratings and layabouts, sir? With nothing to do, no use any more?' He waited, staring at Lindsay's lowered head. `No, and no more can't I.'
As the door closed behind him Jupp entered the cabin and asked, `Will you be wantin' your lunch now, sir?'
Lindsay shook his head. Goss had known. Must have known. One more minute and he would have broken down.
`Fetch some whisky, please.'
> Jupp picked up the dress sword from a chair where Lindsay had thrown it and replied, 'If you'll pardon the liberty, sir, it's not fair.'
`Just the whisky.'
Jupp hurried away. For once in his long life he could think of nothing to say or do which would help him understand what was happening.
In his pantry a young steward said, `What's up, Chiefy? The end of the world comin'?'
Jupp looked at him and saw the steward pale under his fierce stare. `For once in your miserable life, I reckon you're right.' He picked up a clean glass and held it automatically to the light before putting it on his silver tray.
The steward stammered, 'I was only jokin', Chiefy!'
Jupp placed the decanter carefully on the tray and thought of Lindsay in the next cabin staring down at his desk.
Aloud he said, 'You don't joke, son, when someone's dyin'.'
But the steward had already gone.
Lindsay could not remember how he had reached this particular restaurant. He seemed to have been walking for hours, his feet taking him down narrow streets and away from the main crush of people and tooting vehicles. It appeared to be quite a small building. The upper part was an hotel under the same ownership and bore a sign depicting a bejewelled elephant and the words `English and French dishes. Only the best.'
It was evening and the sun already hidden beyond a towering white temple on the opposite side of a dusty square. He guessed the hotel. would probably look very shabby in harsh sunlight.
But it was quiet and seemed almost deserted. No uniforms or familiar faces like those he had seen at the Naval Club where he had paused for a drink. He had recognised several people there. From the past. From other ships and forgotten places. They had meant well but always he seemed to see the questions in their eyes. Curiosity, sympathy? It was hard to tell. He had finished his drink and started walking again. He realised now that he was very tired, his shirt clinging to his back like a damp towel.
A board creaked beneath his feet as he thrust through some bead curtains and dropped into a chair at one of the small cane tables. There were fortunately only two other occupants and neither gave him more than a cursory glance. Their conversation seemed to consist entirely of the latest rubber prices. The cost of local labour. The general inefficiency of transport. He guessed they were both planters, so familiar to each other that neither appeared to listen to what the other was saying.
A smiling waiter bowed beside the table. 'Sair?'
Lindsay stared at the proffered menu, realising for the first time that he had been drinking heavily since noon. Since he had seen Goss. But the drink did not seem to have had any real effect, other than to make the thought of food impossible.
`Perhaps the commander would wish to order later?'
He looked up at the second figure who had appeared. Either the newcomer was cat-footed or Lindsay was more drunk than he imagined. It seemed impossible he could have missed seeing such a man.. He was gross, his huge body impeccably covered in a cream linen suit, his girth encircled by a crimson sash to match a small fez which appeared minute on his round head. A chair groaned loudly as the man sank into it.
`A drink first, maybe?' He snapped his fingers. `I have some gin.'
Lindsay eyed him dully. He wanted to leave right now. He did not wish to talk. There was nothing to say.
The man announced calmly, `I am the owner.' He waved a plump hand, several rings glinting in the coloured lanterns overhead. `And bid you welcome.'.
The waiter was pouring out two glasses of neat gin. On the bottle he saw the words. Duty Free. H.M.Ships only.
`Thanks.' He took a glass, wonderingwhat it would do to his stomach.
The owner sipped at the gin and smiled. `My religion regards gin as an evil However.' He took another sip. `One must adapt to the country's ways, eh?' He watched Lindsay unblinkingly. He had very dark, liquid eyes, like those of a younger man encased in a grotesque mask.
He continued in the same gentle tone, `I am Turkish. Once, although some may find it difficult to accept, I was in the Grand Cavalry. A Captain of Horse.' He chuckled, the sound rising from a great depth. `Now it would take more than one beast to carry me, you are thinking?'
Lindsay smiled. `I am sorry.. I am bad company.'
`Only loneliness is bad, Commander.' He signalled to the waiter.'I fought your people on the Dardanelles in that other war. I learned to respect their courage, even though their leadership was less inspiring. So when I had to flee my own country! decided to come here. Halfway between two ways of life. East and West. I will be happy to end my life here.'
Lindsay felt the gin scraping.his throat like fire. `I really
must go.' He tried to smile. `As I said, I am bad company.' The man shook his head. `Not yet. It is not time.' `Time?'
The man smiled gently. `Do not play with fate, Commander. You will have one more glass, and then, perhaps, it will be time.'
Lindsay stared at him. He must have misheard or had finally taken leave of his senses. He looked quickly around the room but it was quite empty. The two planters had vanished..
The man said quietly, `It is all right, Commander. They were there. They have gone up' to their rooms for an arrangement with some women.' He wrinkled his nose disdainfully. `They drink a lot first and then their women begin to appear beautiful again!' It seemed to amuse him greatly.
Lindsay sighed and raised the glass to his lips. What would they be doing aboard the ship? Some might be celebrating their forthcoming promotions and appointments. Others would be ashore, making the most of the last few days in Ceylon. Back in England it would be cold and grey. Air-raids and ration queues. Tired faces and pathetic bravery. The memories of Ceylon would become precious to many of Benbecula's company in the months or years ahead.
The massive Turk snapped his fingers and as if by magic the gin bottle disappeared.
`I must go to the temple and make amends, Commander.' He stood up and took a deep breath. `I have enjoyed our little talk.' He held out one fat hand. `Maybe you will come again. But I think not.'
Lindsay groped for his cap, thinking he should offer to pay for the drinks but knowing also that the man would resent it.
He heard him add quietly, `Now, you may leave. Somehow, I feel that your hurt will be easier to carry.'
Lindsay thanked him and walked out into the purple gloom, his mind still dazed by the unexpected encounter. Perhaps the man was crazy. Why the hotel was so deserted.
He lurched against a shuttered shop front and gasped. But the gin was real enough.
At the end of the street he saw bright lights and the hurrying criss-cross of crowds. Perhaps he might find a taxi. He could not face fighting his way back to the base through those same cheerful throngs of people.
But there was no taxi available, so with tired determination he increased his pace, shutting his ears to the din of voices and music, car horns and rickshaw wheels, while he tried to concentrate on the gross Turk who had once been a Captain of Horse at the Dardanelles.
`Hey, mate, got a light?'
He stopped to face two Australian soldiers who were clinging to each other for support. He took out his matches and waited while one of them made several attempts to light their cigarettes. Their voices reminded him of Stannard.
The first soldier squinted at Lindsay's shoulder straps. Tommy sailor, eh?' He grinned. `But never mind, mate. You got me an' my cobber out of Singapore.' He laughed as if it were one huge joke. 'Leastways, somebody did!' They staggered away, their bush hats strangely alien against the coloured lanterns and bazaars.
He took out his pipe and then realised the soldiers had left without returning the matches. He was still patting his pockets when a taxi scraped against one of the nearby stalls and sent a mountain of fruit cascading under the wheels. A crowd gathered in seconds, prepared to be freely amused by the fierce exchange between driver and merchant. He tried to free himself from the growing crush but it was impossible. Above those around him he saw two impassive faced p
olicemen forcing their way through the crowd towards the taxi which was now completely hemmed in by spectators.
He saw a dark doorway and'decided to make for it. The police would take several minutes to clear the crowd. He might even find some matches. Two white figures were already in the doorway, probably with the same idea as himself. An eddy of figures pressed against him and he felt himself being pushed slowly towards another shopfront. He gave up. It was hopeless, and he'was feeling worse. Sick.
Yet even through the excited babble of shouts and jeers he seemed to hear a voice. It was like part of a dream. A nerve laid bare in his memory.
`Commander! Commander Lindsay!'
All at once he was fighting his way back through the crowd, pushing with all his strength even though he knew it was just one more crack in his reserve.
A policeman grabbed at his arm, yelling at him, but he knocked him aside, his ears deaf to the roar of voices, his eyes blind to everything but the doorway and the two figures in white.
Against the darkness they seemed to hover like ghosts, and in those last desperate moments he imagined he had at last gone mad.
Gasping with exertion and almost sobbing he burst from the crowd and threw himself into the opening. Then he stood quite still. Afraid to blink or breathe, even though it was just one more dream.
She said, `I knew it was you!'
Very slowly he reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. Eve.'He felt her shiver under his grip. `Eve. I thought.....'
She was still staring up at him, her face almost hidden in shadow. The other Wren had moved away and stood uncertainly by the shopfront. Then he pulled her to him. Holding her tightly as he murmured, `Oh Eve. All this time.'
She said quietly, `You're not well.' To the other girl, `Tell that policeman to get us a taxi.' Then she pressed her face into his chest and whispered, `It's a miracle. We were trying to get back to the base. Then this crowd, and I saw you. I had no idea you were here.' She trembled. `I still can't believe it.' Then she looked up at him again, her eyes very large in her face. `You didn't get my letter then?'
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