A Ship Must Die (1981)

by Reeman, Douglas

  Fairfax nodded very slowly. ‘I’ll see to it.’

  He picked up his cap and walked out into the passageway where Macallan, the master-at-arms, and therefore the most unpopular man aboard, was waiting.

  ‘You takin’ defaulters in lieu of this mornin’, so to speak, sir?’ His eyes flickered over Fairfax’s unbuttoned shirt as he added coldly, ‘I can ’old ’em back for a while if you like, sir.’

  Fairfax shook his head. At times like these he was heartily grateful for the humourless Macallan. He would expect his officers to be perfectly turned out if they were walking the plank.

  ‘I’ll be up in three minutes, Master.’ He touched the man’s arm. ‘Thanks for telling me.’

  Macallan watched him hurry aft to his cabin. Bloody Aussies, he thought savagely. No respect, that was their trouble.

  On the upper deck a young American sailor paused beside the Catalina’s small yellow dinghy and looked at it for a long while.

  The gangway sentry said, ‘A car’s come for you, Billy. So long, chum. Take care of yerself.’

  The youth nodded and walked blindly down the brow. Seeing the little dinghy had brought it all back. Now he could never forget.

  The car with the naval markings swung off the main road and slowed to take a sharp bend. Blake kept a firm grip on the door, conscious of the girl beside him, the fierce way she drove, as if every minute counted.

  Melbourne had fallen a long way behind, and the countryside into which the car was heading was empty, with sunburned scrub, timeless hills, with the sea showing itself every so often. Sometimes they passed near a deep cove, or saw the sea only far-away like the high water of a dam. It all helped to give a hint of the country’s size, that they were merely on a foothold of it.

  She said, ‘Something’s wrong, isn’t it?’ She glanced sideways at him, her hair, free of the tricorn hat, whipping in the hot breeze.

  Blake thought of Fairfax’s voice on the ship’s telephone, shared his difficulties as he had told him of the signal from that other world.

  He replied, ‘My father died last week. I just heard.’

  The car slewed off the road, its wheels embedded in rubble, as she swung round in her seat to look at him.

  ‘I’m sorry. I really am.’

  It was suddenly very quiet as she cut the engine, and the dust settled across the bonnet and the two occupants.

  He said, ‘He’s been ill for years.’

  She nodded. ‘I know.’ Her hands moved in her lap. ‘I – I’m sorry. I heard a lot about you at HQ.’

  Blake looked past her, at a strange bird on the hillside. Another world, and in the twinkling of an eye it had all changed. He had been expecting it for a long time, but that did not help. He could see his father in the garden as if it were yesterday, or this morning. In his old panama hat, his pockets full of twine and oddments he used for his roses. He clenched his jaw, suddenly unable to bear it. For it was still bleak and cold in the old garden on the Surrey-Hampshire border. Maybe it was just as well. No roses to leave behind.

  He said quietly, ‘I never really knew if he understood what was happening. But he was always there, somehow.’

  He looked down as she put her hand on his.

  She said, ‘What about your wife?’

  He watched her hand, the tiny golden hairs on her wrist.

  ‘She never cared for him.’

  Another quick picture. Diana on that first night of his leave. Tossing her head with anger as she had brushed her hair in front of the mirror, her eyes watching him in the bedroom.

  ‘I promised we’d go out! Life doesn’t just revolve round the Navy, you know!’

  Blake said, ‘Sorry to let you in for all this. I knew he couldn’t last. My aunt will write about it when she can.’ He looked away. ‘The Admiralty doesn’t have much skill at sending this sort of signal. Usually they’re going the other way.’

  ‘Do you still want to meet my people?’ She watched him gravely. ‘Or do you just want to be quiet?’

  He tried to smile. ‘You drive. I’ll talk about it, but stop me if you get fed up with it.’

  And so, as the car bumped back on to the narrow road and headed south-east towards the coastline of the Bass Strait, Blake talked. About his father, and of the Andromeda. Sometimes he had to pause to collect his thoughts, as if, like a painter, he had to capture an exact moment. Perhaps for the first time in his life he was able to share that side of himself he had kept hidden. His fear, and his fear of showing it before others. The moments in harbour when he should have been resting, when the telephone by his bunk had shrilled in the night. The dreadful, ice-cold terror which never completely left. The following minutes while he got over it. Until the next time.

  On a headland high above the blue water she stopped by the roadside and pulled a thermos of coffee from a canvas grip. They stood looking down at a tiny beach, listening to the boom of surf, the noisy argument of sea-birds.

  She said, ‘Remember when you made us stay alive with your quiz games and damned questions about sea-birds? I almost hated you. I think I wanted to die, even though I needed to live.’

  He put his arm through hers and felt her tense momentarily.

  ‘I’m not likely to forget.’

  She disengaged his arm and looked at her wrist-watch.

  ‘Time to move on.’

  Blake sank down on his seat and watched the landscape pass. He must not be a fool, or be such a bastard as to use her for his passing relief. Escape.

  He glanced at her, at her well-shaped legs as she jammed on the brakes while the car rattled round a bend. Her white uniform shirt left little to the imagination and he could see small freckles on her skin where she had bared it to the sun.

  The land lifted like a shoulder and the sea disappeared. The car began to descend, and Blake saw some houses in the distance, and on a far hillside some sheep clustered together like an untidy patch of scrub.

  ‘Home sweet home.’

  The car slowed while she pointed out the individual houses, a store, a sturdy little church and a war memorial with some parched flowers at its base.

  The car rolled to a halt and she switched off the engine.

  ‘This is it. Not exactly Melbourne or Sydney, but the people here like it.’

  Blake got down and stretched his legs. He felt hot and sweaty and there was grit between his teeth. But in a strange way he felt unwound, able to accept what had happened.

  He saw a tall, lean man in a flapping white jacket and a pipe jutting from his jaw striding down the path from the church.

  He said, ‘You’d better move the car. This looks like the vicar!’

  She picked up her hat and bag from the seat and pushed the hair from her eyes.

  ‘Yes, it’s the minister, so mind you language, please.’

  Then, as Blake watched with astonishment, she ran across the road and threw her arms round the minister’s neck and kissed him.

  ‘Hello, Claire! This really is a nice surprise!’ He looked past her at Blake. ‘And who have you brought with you?’

  She turned, her hand in the minister’s arm, her eyes suddenly bright.

  ‘Dad, I want you to meet Captain Richard Blake. He’s a sort of friend.’

  Blake took a firm handshake with a grin. ‘I’m glad to meet you, sir.’

  The girl stood back to watch them, trying as before to hold up her aloof guard.

  ‘He’s quite nice. For a Pom.’

  It was a beautiful evening for a party, everyone agreed who stepped aboard Andromeda’s quarterdeck with its awnings and colourful bunting, and with the perspiring stewards bustling to meet each arrival with a well-loaded tray of glasses.

  From Y turret some of Captain Farleigh’s marines were playing a selection of what they considered to be popular music, and with the officers in their best ‘ice cream suits’ and the women guests with bared shoulders and bright dresses, it could almost have been a peactime affair.

  Fairfax stood with his wife wher
e he could watch the new arrivals, assess their rank or importance and ensure they were received accordingly.

  Sarah, her long fair hair hanging across her shoulders, in a gown which she had warned him had taken a month’s housekeeping money, stared around at the bustle and excitement with disbelief.

  ‘After reading in the papers about that raider, I thought you’d all be in a state of shock.’ She looked at him warmly. ‘God, you’ve changed, Vic. In so short a time, you’ve got something new, I can’t explain it.’

  He grinned. ‘Some of me is the same, as I think I showed you.’

  She dug him in the ribs. ‘Is that all you think about?’

  He said suddenly, ‘You know that Stagg’s coming?’

  ‘I heard. I think you’re mad. He’ll probably get fighting drunk. After what he’s said to your captain, I’d have thought you would keep him at the end of a barge-pole!’

  Fairfax shook hands with a major of marines with a girl hanging to his arm. He said softly, ‘It’s not that easy, Sarah. There are several captains here, even two admirals. It’s impossible to leave out your own commodore!’

  ‘Where is your captain, by the way?’ She studied the jostling throng with new interest. ‘I only met him once. I liked the look of him. He seems too young to command this great pile of armour!’

  ‘He’ll be up in a minute. There were some signals for him to see.’

  ‘Pity he hasn’t got someone nice to be with. What with his wife on the loose and now his poor father dying suddenly, he could do with some cheering up.’

  Fairfax replied, ‘You remember Second Officer Grenfell?’

  His wife stared at him. ‘Claire Grenfell, the minister’s daughter? God, not her surely? Your captain’ll get frost-bite if he gets too close to that one!’

  Fairfax shifted awkwardly. ‘Perhaps you’ve got the wrong idea. Maybe we all did. And she had a bad time after the plane was shot down. It was only luck we found her.’

  ‘You mean, you found her. I was so proud when I heard about it. You are a bit of a goer when you get the urge.’ She became serious. ‘Do you think it’s over, the raider, I mean? You’ve been back here for four days and nothing’s happened. Perhaps the Germans have left, gone home.’

  Fairfax smiled. ‘Let’s hope so.’ He looked around the quarterdeck and up towards the guns. ‘I wonder what sort the next skipper will be. Not like Richard Blake, that’s for sure.’

  He stiffened as Blake appeared on deck and moved towards them. He said, ‘Party’s getting going. Big mess bills in the wardroom after this.’

  Blake said, ‘You look very lovely, Mrs Fairfax.’ He took her hand. ‘Too good for him.’

  ‘It’s what I keep telling him.’ She flushed with pleasure. ‘But I can’t compete with Andromeda!’

  Moon eased his way through the throng, avoiding out-thrust hands and demands for attention.

  He saw Blake and raised his small silver tray on which stood a solitary glass.

  ‘For you, sir. Special.’

  ‘With you, it always is.’

  Blake raised the glass to his lips, saw the way the people nearest to him had stopped their chatter to watch. As if it really was a special occasion.

  Sarah Fairfax asked, ‘Can we share the secret, Captain?’

  Blake looked over at Moon. ‘It’s his way of helping. He’s like a prop to me.’ He downed the drink and held back a cough.

  Moon beamed. ‘Thought you’d like it, sir. Learned about it when I was in the old Bombay Queen runnin’ out of Shang’ai in the thirties.’

  Lieutenant-Commander Scovell strode aft from the gangway and said, ‘Your guests have arrived, sir.’

  Blake walked with him while Moon retreated with the empty glass, satisfied with his gesture.

  Fairfax saw the two figures stepping aboard, a tall man with a clerical collar, the girl, in uniform, beside him. He heard his wife murmur, ‘She keeps the uniform on as a barrier.’

  Blake shook the minister’s hand. He had already instructed Weir and the paymaster commander to keep him away from Beveridge, the chaplain. Old Horlicks, with his God enlisted on the side of the Allies, and particularly so with the Royal Navy, would seem a world away from that quiet little church where she had taken him.

  He put his hand through the girl’s arm. She was very tense, but was looking around at the other curious faces with a kind of defiance.

  ‘I’m so glad you could come, Claire.’

  She looked at him. ‘Mother would not join us. Ships, the Navy, you know. She still feels it badly about David. But Dad’s been looking forward to it, bless him.’

  Fairfax saw their exchange of glances and said quietly, ‘Sarah, for just once in your life I think you’ve miscalculated badly. I really do.’

  She put out her tongue. ‘Pull the other one. Now get me another drink, Commander, and let’s have a party!’

  10

  Making a Start

  BLAKE SAT AT his desk, half-heartedly reading the various papers which the new chief writer, Brazier, was methodically laying before him. Brazier was another Australian, one of the latest draft which had come aboard as replacements.

  It took some getting used to. Each time Blake left his quarters he heard new voices, different dialects and saw the lost expressions of men exploring fresh surroundings.

  It had been touching when the latest batch of old Andromedas had left the ship. They had gathered in an embarrassed, shuffling group while he had said a few words to them. But how did trite phrases and emotional handshakes sum up what he felt, what they all must have felt?

  Those men in their best uniforms, starting back along the passage to Britain. New ships, courses, promotions, adjustments in every way.

  Now he was back in his day cabin he could recall each man as he had once fitted into their elite company. A sun-reddened face yelling defiance as the Stukas had come screaming down. Another murmuring encouragement to a messmate pinned beneath twisted steel. Sailors wading ashore to lift wounded troops from Tobruk, Farleigh’s marines firing a volley over a line of graves.

  He thought suddenly of the wardroom party. A great success, everyone had said. But even though it had been two days ago, it was already hard to hold it in perspective.

  He knew why, but would not admit it. He had seen very little of her during the party because of Stagg’s arrival. Booming voice, a kind of fierce confidence which seemed out of place.

  Now the girl was in Sydney. Whether she had been ordered there or had volunteered to get away from him he did not know.

  Blake recalled exactly when things had gone wrong. He had taken her to the deserted upper bridge, leaving Stagg with two admirals.

  Under the stars, the bridge, usually a place of movement and decision, had seemed strangely ghostlike.

  She had asked him about England again, what he would do after the war. They had stood side by side on the gratings, looking aft where the quarterdeck awnings glowed from the little lights which were hung like garlands along the guard-rails and stanchions.

  He had said, ‘The Navy will be cut back to the minimum. As it was in my father’s day. I’ll probably be politely put on the shelf, until the next blow-up.’

  She had laid her hand on his. ‘Why not come out here? It may seem a bit quiet to you, but it’ll be different one day.’

  She had not resisted as he had turned her on his arm so that her spine had been against the bridge screen. But he had immediately felt the change, the passive resistance, when seconds before he had felt hope and longing.

  A messenger had arrived panting on the bridge and had saved the situation, if only by preventing him making a complete fool of himself.

  Chief Writer Brazier said, ‘That’s the lot, sir.’ He patted the signed papers into a tidy pile.

  Blake smiled at him. Soon there would be none of the old company left. Andromeda would begin again, moulding a new one to suit her own ways.

  He tried to keep his thoughts in order but his short visit to the girl’s home
kept coming back. The little church could have been in England, and when he had said as much she had laughed at him.

  ‘You’ve got that English look again! All green fields and thatched cottages. Even if we win the war it may not be like that any more.’

  He had shared her mood. ‘There’s that!’

  He switched his mind with an effort to Stagg as he had last seen him, here in this cabin. Serious and overpowering as he had laid his beliefs about the raider on the line. The two admirals had been present, one politely interested, the other too far gone to care.

  But there had been no doubting Stagg’s sincerity, nor his obsession with the raider. Perhaps it was as important for him to aim all his hate on the one German as it was for Blake to accept there might be two raiders on the rampage.

  The interested admiral had remarked, ‘You’ve given it a lot of thought.’

  Stagg had leaned on a table, his face glistening in the lights. ‘I had plenty of time to think. Lying in a sweat-box, reeking in my own filth and waiting for the door to be opened, to be half-blinded by sunlight before the little bastards got going with their torture, their ‘amusement’ for the day!’

  Later, as Blake had seen him over the side, Stagg had turned and had muttered thickly, ‘Good party. Don’t go much on them these days.’ He had had some difficultly in making up his mind before he had ended with, ‘I still mean what I said. You ride with me and you’re welcome. Go against me and I’ll not be too happy, see?’ He had given Blake a punch on the shoulder. ‘We’ll show ’em!’

  The door opened and Fairfax entered. He looked relaxed but tired. Blake thought of the beautiful Sarah and then pushed his envy aside. Fairfax was just lucky. It was to be hoped he appreciated it.

  Fairfax waited for Brazier to leave then said, ‘Signal from HQ, sir. Two days’ readiness as of noon today. The last of the supplies will be aboard by the end of the first dog watch. After that, it’s anyone’s guess, I suppose.’

  Blake waved him to a chair. He really wanted to be alone but once again he knew the reason and despised his own pettiness.