by Peter Tonkin
At the door Robin turned and paused, waiting for Sam to come back with the night glasses. She was close to Captain Sin now and she did not have to raise her voice, but even so her words carried clearly as she tried to motivate the stunned man into rapid and decisive action. ‘Captain we have to assume that the ship will be invaded by a large number of men who will stop at nothing. If we are going to survive, we must make the bridge here our defensive position. You need to do two things immediately while waiting for the others to come back with their armaments. You need to check that there are only bona fide crewmen here and that every face is familiar before you let anyone back in here. Secondly, you must put up some kind of barricades at the points where attacks could be mounted and post watches at those points. With my team, I will go and get my gun. Then I will try and get a lifeboat radio and any flares I can get hold of too. Finally I will go and spy out the after sections with the night glasses and a walkie-talkie so that I can warn you when the pirates begin to come aboard. The more we know, the safer we will be. Do you agree?’ Inconsequentially, she wondered whether Captain Sin had read Sun Tsu. The more people among the crew who knew about The Art of War the better.
‘Yes,’ acceded Captain Sin. ‘If you are correct and we are about to be boarded, then we must make our defences.’
‘Good. I will stay out for as long as I can and pass on as much information as possible. But I won’t be taking any silly risks. Neither should you. Anyone coming aboard will simply be looking to steal whatever they can either from the accommodation areas or from the cargo. No one is going to want to risk a pitched battle. If you are all safely barricaded in, then it is highly unlikely that you will even be attacked.’
As she said these bracing words, Robin was joined by a breathless Sam Yung. She took the glasses from him and led her little team out onto the first stairwell. As the five of them, with herself and Sam in the lead, went down the stairs on tiptoe, her mind was full of tactical considerations so that as she moved, with every sense concentrating on what was immediately around her, her thoughts remained preoccupied with the layout of the bridge above their heads. On the face of it, the crew should have no trouble barricading themselves safely in the navigating bridge. The bridge itself was a long room with a wide window forward overlooking the deck and another aft looking out into the main lateral corridor. At each end of this corridor were massive iron doors out onto the external companionways. Once these were secured shut, there was no way in through them. On either side of the bridge itself were two slightly lighter doors leading out onto the bridge wings. They, too, were capable of being secured and, once closed, would keep any invaders safely outside. Even the glass panels in their upper sections were double-strengthened and effectively unbreakable.
Leading aft from the bridge on the port side were the chart room with the captain’s watch cabin behind it — scarcely more than a cupboard with a bunk — but it was secure. On the other side was the radio room, out of order but also secure. Aft of the lateral corridor were two internal companionways and a lift shaft going down. All they had to do was to jam the lift and barricade the top of the companionways and they were impregnable. Especially if they had enough weapons to put a protracted wave of fire down the steel-walled, steep and narrow companionway wells. It would be a classic siege situation. The pirates could stop the engines and cut the power, but unless they had some skilful big-ship men working with them, they could not turn the ship off her course, so their time would be severely limited. Even drifting, Seram Queen would start to attract official attention early tomorrow morning and the Hong Kong coastguards would probably be aboard by noon.
By the time they were at the foot of the second set of steps, the team had formed itself into a line of overlapping pairs, as though they were all carrying guns with which to protect each other’s backs. They proceeded silently down the corridor towards Robin’s cabin, three against one wall, two against the other, eyes everywhere, ears on full alert. Although she did not clearly recognise the fact, all the men were keeping a special watch on her, each one tensed, coiled, like a steel spring, ready to run to her aid. But the corridors through which they were creeping, the com-panionways down which they were tiptoeing like a patrol in enemy territory were empty and, apart from the sullen grumble of the slow-revving engine, silent.
But in a siege situation Robin was thinking, with two sets of forces in an intractable position, it was likely that intelligence would be of the first importance. In order to ensure their survival, Robin’s crew would need to have as clear an idea as possible what the pirates wanted, how far they would go in order to get it, how they would react to the unexpected situation, and what sort of timescale they would allow themselves to get the situation resolved. The pirates had put two spies aboard. Robin could not hope to put any spies in the pirates’ camp but she could try to overlook their positions and report back with some idea as to what they were doing. Mentally, she began to list all the highest points aboard which would allow an observer to watch without being seen. At the back of her mind, however, sat Sun Tsu’s heartening observation, ‘ … he who occupies the field of battle first and awaits his enemy is at ease …’
At the door to her cabin, she stopped and signalled the three crewmen to keep watch, then she unlocked the door and, with Sam Yung at her back, she went into the dark room. All the curtains had been drawn at sunset, as was standard practice, but even so, Robin did not want to risk turning on the light. In the shaft of brightness from the open door she pulled the briefcase from under her bed and knelt beside it, opening it and turning it so the broad beam showed the contents. Under the papers and documents, the little moulded foam compartment lay snugly filled with cold metal. With a silent sigh of relief, Robin pulled out the weighty little gun and held it in the brightness so that she could see what she was doing. It was the work of an instant to push both the switches forward, and a bright red dot appeared on the wall above her rumpled bunk.
Robin moved like a ghost through the shadows to the back of her office beyond. Here she caught up the walkie-talkie on her desk, knowing where it was even in the absolute darkness back here. She pressed it to her lips and pressed SEND.
‘Wai?’ The answer was loud enough to make her jump and shorten the heart-lives of her men by quite a bit.
‘First officer, Captain. Proceeding to the second leg now. Will contact you in due course.’
That red dot led the way downwards through the bright, silent bridgehouse as she took her team on the next leg of their mission. They had no time to hang about. She kept a close eye on the slowly elapsing minutes although she had no way of estimating whether the main body of the pirates could be expected in five, ten, or fifteen minutes. At the very most, she reckoned, they had twenty minutes’ grace, and seven had elapsed already. But she would not hurry. The red dot went round every corner and swept along every corridor, probed every stairwell, before the rest of them followed it.
At last they came to the A-deck door out onto the main deck. Behind here where the corridor came to a dead end, there was a secure weatherproof box. And in that box, checked every day, fully charged up and ready to go, was an emergency radio. On either side of the radio was a set of flares. On top of it were two big battery-powered lamps such as she had used on the sampan last night. Robin undid the security lock and opened the front. The flares slid out silently and were handed back to the nearest seaman. The lamps came out also and were handed to the next. The radio she handed to Sam Yung. This was neither the time nor the place to test it, so she simply motioned with her hand and took point position again.
They made it back up to C deck before fifteen minutes in all had elapsed. Here, the team broke up. Robin gestured that Sam should take the radio on up towards the navigation bridge from where the sound of barricade building was coming. Another gesture informed him that she herself was going out onto the exterior companionway here. As he understood that she was proposing to go out onto the deck behind the funnel which overlooked the poop and
set up her observation there, Sam shook his head and handed the radio to the nearest of his men. Then in pantomime he informed the first officer that he would accompany her on this foolhardy mission. She nodded and gave a tight smile at once. Of all the crew, Sam was the man she would most like to have watching her back in a tight spot. Two final gestures directed the men with the flares and the radio upwards and ordered her deputy observer to follow her outside.
The door onto the exterior companionway was open for only an instant as the two of them slipped out into the night, but even so, Robin was intensely aware of how much of a signal it would be to anyone watching the bridgehouse. They did not linger but ran as fast as was safe down the metal steps of the open companionway and onto the decking on the port side of the funnel. Keeping in the darkest shadows, regretting poignantly that they had not had an opportunity to change out of their white boiler suits, Robin led Sam back towards the aft rail overlooking the poop deck two decks below. Here they cast themselves down on their stomachs and looked downwards. Everything was absolutely quiet and still. So still, in fact, that Robin found herself wondering whether she had panicked needlessly after all. The two piles of containers stood immediately below them, so close as to be a seemingly easy jump away. Beyond these, it was just possible to see the pale end of the company flag fluttering maybe a metre out beyond the aft rail. But the rail itself was hidden by the tops of the containers. A whole army could pull itself aboard over the after rail and they would see nothing. That much was obvious even without resorting to the glasses. Hissing with irritation, Robin turned to look at Sam and explain the problem to him when she saw the shadow just behind him rise into a human shape. Without thought, Robin rolled back, putting the glasses and the neck they were slung round severely at risk. She was holding the gun in two hands and she pointed it by instinct up towards the charging shape. The limbs of the shadowy shape waved and worked distractingly — it was only on cold reflection later than she realised the man was swinging a panga — and for a horrific moment she could see no dot at all. The gun was unexpectedly heavy and even though she held it in both her hands, it began to pull her arms down at once. Sam, seeing what she was doing, reacted physically, beginning to rise, and it was on his shoulder that she first saw the dot. ‘Down!’ she spat and, on her word, he flattened. She saw the dot leap out over Sam’s prostrate body onto the attacking pirate. The dot was more or less in the middle of his charging shadow and wavering downwards as the weight of the gun caused her hands to sink, so she pulled the trigger with all her might. The explosion of the shot was shatteringly loud. The muzzle flash in the darkness was blindingly bright. She did not see what happened to the man she had shot but when she blinked her eyes clear, he was gone. Sam rolled away for a moment, then, before she could bring herself to move he was back. Now he was holding a panga. ‘Thank you, missy,’ he whispered.
The leap out onto the top of the containers was as easy as it looked and that was as well, for Robin’s legs were none too steady as the impact of her first killing hit her system. Not only was standing difficult, an urgent visit to the toilet seemed to be called for. And — if her respiration and heart rate were anything to go by — an iron lung. With her stomach cramping, threatening to squeeze all sorts of liquids out of either end of her, Robin crawled forward over the rough, ridged surface of the container top until she had a clear view of the after rail. Here with Sam keeping close watch with the panga, she at last put the night glasses to her eyes. And as she did so she caught her breath.
It was worse than she had supposed. Out there, bobbing in the wake of the Seram Queen, there were at least ten boats, all clustering in under the overhang of the counter, like leeches ready to fasten onto the ship’s lifeblood. Working feverishly, given extra impetus by the sound of the shot no doubt, one figure was throwing ropes over and out. And even as Robin got the glasses focused and brought the green-tinged scene into proper perspective, the first of the pirates swarmed aboard. She continued to observe closely, until the first figure on the poop, with a growing group around him, turned and gestured with uncanny accuracy towards the exact spot where Robin and Sam were hiding. As the men moved to obey his directive, Robin saw all too many metallic gleams. Knives, pangas, handguns — perhaps the odd rifle. It was not a pretty sight.
‘They’re coming up to check on the shot,’ she breathed. ‘I think it’s time to go.’
‘How many are coming aboard?’ asked Sam, his voice little more than a breath.
‘Ten boatloads.’
‘That could be more than a hundred!’
‘Too true.’ Robin pulled the walkie-talkie out of her pocket and pressed the SEND button.
‘Wai?’
‘First officer here. There may be as many as one hundred pirates and they are coming aboard now. I suggest you get your defences ready and your sentries out as soon as possible.’
‘All done, missy. You come back now.’
‘Aye aye, Captain!’ She lifted her thumb and spat at Sam, ‘Let’s move!’
Getting back up onto the mid-deck was unexpectedly difficult, especially for Robin who found the night glasses round her neck and the walkie-talkie in her pocket added immeasurably to the weight of the gun in her hand. In the end Sam leaped first and hung onto the outside of the railing there so that she could hurl herself across into his waiting arm. Then, side by side, they scrambled over the top and onto the deck. Running back towards the external companionway, Robin nearly tripped over the sprawled legs of a supine figure on the deck. So it was that she saw the results of her handiwork with the gun for the first time.
Stricken, Robin faltered in her flight, looking down at the dead man, but as she did so, Sam grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into motion once again. It was fortunate that he did so, for as they slipped back in through the door and through to the C-deck companionway they heard, perhaps one deck below them, the sibilant rush of bare feet. Running for their lives they sprinted up the three halfflights of stairs until at the last turning Robin had the good sense to pause. ‘First and third officers coming up! Don’t shoot,’ she bellowed.
‘Yes, missy,’ called a nervous voice from above and the pair of them were in motion once again. At the top of the stairs was a solid-looking wall made of planks of wood, sections of shelving, bits of chairs and heaven knew what else. The captain’s bunk, the chart chest, all the instrument housings and much of the spare shelving from the radio room seemed to have been used. The wall was perhaps a metre and a half high, extending the top step, and looked quite imposing, topped as it was with a motley range of weaponry.
And it was as solid as it looked Robin discovered, as she threw herself up on it and was hauled over it into the relative safety of the navigating bridge. The corridor behind the bridge was clearly designed as the arsenal. Here a range of guns and knives, meat cleavers, rolling pins and ammunition were piled against the low wooden wall ready to hand. Beside the weapons were the packets of flares and the powerful flashlights she had sent up with the radio.
No sooner was she safely in the corridor than she walked down to check that the second barricade was equally solid. It was. And it was equally well manned. Having satisfied herself on that account, she checked on the lift — but someone had been quick-thinking enough to put it out of commission. There was no way for the pirates to get onto the bridge, and no way for the rest of them to get off, for the time being. And in spite of what she had said about intelligence being so vital in this position, she knew that only a lunatic would venture over the wooden walls out into Indian territory tonight.
No sooner had Robin completed her cursory inspection of the defences than the lights died. The auxiliary lighting clicked in at once, glowing dully. Then it, too, died. At once the searchlight beams of the torches speared down through the shadows to the first landing in each stairwell. Robin looked at her watch. It was surprisingly late — after two already. Well, in little more than four hours it would be dawn; then things were bound to look up. Picking her way carefu
lly, she moved onto the bridge proper and crossed to the radio room where Yuk Tso was trying with no great success to raise some traffic on the lifeboat radio she had liberated.
Robin crossed back to the watchkeeper’s chair which held the somnolent form of the captain. Although he seemed to be asleep, he roused at once to her presence and they discussed the limited number of tactical alternatives open to them. In spite of his initial unwillingness to accept the danger of their situation, Captain Sin had taken charge quite adequately during her reconnaissance mission. The sentries had been split up into watches and everyone had some kind of duty to perform somewhere along the line. As the dark hours passed, the watches changed and the trapped men felt that they had some kind of control over their situation, and this boost to morale was important, for the sounds of destruction from below made everybody up here think of treasured or valuable keepsakes which they would never see again. As the hours ticked by, the sounds of the destruction slowly came closer but no one ever put his head round that last little turn of stairway into the torch beams or the fields of fire.
Sometime after five, when dawn was beginning to threaten, Sam Yung shook Robin by the shoulder just hard enough to rouse her from her restless, nightmare slumber full of dark figures spinning slowly away from the deadly flashes of her pistol and gestured towards the nearest bridge wing door. There was just enough light to see that its handle was turning, slowly and silently. The third officer was all too ready to go and interfere with whatever was going on, but Robin held him back. The door was tried, silently, but it would not yield. There was the faintest scratching, as of someone testing whether a lock might yield to a pick; then a slightly heavier scraping, a sound like the blade of a panga might make, testing the strength of hinge and jamb. But these sounds stopped. Whoever was out there gave up and went away as stealthily as he had come.
