by Nevil Shute
They went in. Godfrey said, “This is Mr. Corbett, sir.”
Corbett saw a stocky little red-faced man, with grey hair, rather stout. “All right, Godfrey. You needn’t wait. I’ll send Mr. Corbett along to the wardroom when I’ve done with him.”
Godfrey withdrew; Corbett was left alone with the admiral. The stocky little man looked him up and down. “So you’re the young man who was in the yacht! What were you running like that for? Couldn’t you carry sail?”
“No, sir.” He hesitated. “If I’d had a full crew of men on board, we might have sailed her. But I’d only got my wife. I thought I’d let it blow itself out a bit.”
“You’d got three children on board, they tell me. One of them a baby.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, I’m very grateful to you for picking up my men. How do you earn your living?”
“I’m a solicitor. In Southampton.”
“Public school boy, by the sound of you.”
“I went to Repton.”
“How long have you been yachting?”
Corbett hesitated. “Well, I’ve lived all my life in Southampton. I’ve sailed boats ever since I can remember. I’ve owned this one for five years.”
The admiral stumped over to a large, square port. “That’s her, lying over there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many tons is she?”
“Five and a half tons register. About nine tons, Thames.”
“East coast boat, by the look of her.”
“Yes, sir.”
The other turned back from the port. “How do you navigate her? Can you take a sight?”
“No, sir.”
“Compass and log?”
“Yes.”
“Know anything about signals?”
“Nothing to speak of.” Dimly Corbett began to perceive what this was leading up to.
“What compass variation do you put on?”
“Eleven degrees west, sir.”
“Do you know your buoyage? What sort of buoys mark a channel, starboard hand going in?”
“Conical ones.”
“What does a green buoy mean?”
“A wreck.”
The admiral crossed to his desk, and sat down. “We need fellows like you for our auxiliary craft.” He stared Corbett in the eyes. “I should like to recommend you for a commission as a sub-lieutenant in the Volunteer Reserve. Would you take it?”
There was a pause.
“I should like a minute to think that over, sir.”
“By all means. Sit down in that chair. I have some things to do here.”
Corbett did not sit down, but turned back to the port and stood looking out over the harbour, bright and sunny in the morning light. There was a boat alongside Sonia, and people moving about on board. If Joan saw that she would be wondering who they were. The morning was getting on; she must be up by now. Joan ... She would never be able to get to Canada alone, from Portland. This commission — it would be too tough on her for him to think of. And the kids ... He’d brought children into the world, and it was up to him to give them a square deal.
He turned back to the desk. He said, “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’m sorry. But I’ve got my wife and children to consider.”
The admiral looked at him for a long moment, inscrutable. Then he motioned to the chair. “Sit down, Mr. Corbett. Take a cigarette.” He watched Corbett while he lit it. “Now, let me understand you properly. You say you have your wife and children to consider?”
“Yes, sir. I couldn’t go away and leave them.”
The older man gave him a hard look. “Why not?” he asked directly.
Corbett did not answer at once. He blew a long cloud of smoke. “Well, what would happen to them?”
“Send them home.”
Slowly the anger rose in Corbett. “I see that you don’t understand,” he said evenly. “My home is a ruin and a wreck. There’s no glass in any of the windows. The ground floor and the garden are flooded with sewage. There’s no water to drink but polluted water running in the gutters of the road. There’s no milk for my baby. There’s no fresh meat for the children. It’s in a cholera district. It’s bombed to hell every night — for all I know it may have been hit by now. That’s my home, sir. If you think I’m going to send my wife and children back to that while I join the Navy, you can bloody well think again.”
He got up to go. “I’m sorry if I’ve been rude,” he said, a little hesitantly. “But it’s really quite impossible.”
The admiral said, “Sit down again.” Corbett sank back into his chair.
He looked at Corbett for a moment.
“Well, young man,” he said. “It’s not every day that I’m called a fool in my own cabin, but I’m glad to have heard what you said. Out here, you know, we only see the bare bones of the situation at home. We don’t get the whole story. All we know is that since the war began, recruiting has been slow — very slow indeed. A certain flow of young men to the colours, of course, but really nothing to signify.”
Corbett nodded. “I’m not in the least surprised.”
“Your home is in Southampton?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you feel that your first duty is to make proper arrangements for your wife and children?”
“Yes.”
“H’m.”
The stocky little man got up again from his desk, stumped over to the port, and stood looking out for a moment. Then he swung round on Corbett. “Well, I’m going to tell one or two of the officers in my command what you’ve said. That I could bloody well think again!” He snorted, smiled, relaxed, and became quite suddenly a fatherly old man. “It really is an assistance to us if we understand what the people on shore are thinking, and doing. It prevents bitterness....” He left that subject, and reverted. “Now about yourself, Mr. Corbett. All these schemes for helping people in your position that I hear about from London. They provide for your family, don’t they?”
“What schemes are those, sir?”
“This Rehabilitation Order.”
Corbett stared at him blankly. “What is that?” He hesitated. “I left Hamble five days ago, and I’ve heard nothing since then. And then there were no papers to speak of, and no radio.”
The admiral nodded. “A great deal has been happening in the last few days. The Government are very much alive to this problem.” He paused. “Well, broadly speaking, the scheme seems to be that people in your position are accommodated in quarantine camps till they are proved safe from infection. In the meantime their homes have been rendered habitable for them on their return. It all seems to be going ahead.”
Corbett hesitated. “I hadn’t heard of this. Do you know where these camps are, or what they’re like?”
The admiral shook his head. “I suppose there’s a good deal to be done yet.”
Corbett nodded. “At first hearing, sir, I don’t much like the sound of it. I know what things are like on shore.” His lips tightened. “It sounds to me like this. You find a couple of thousand diseased people living in their motor cars in a wood without any sanitation or supplies, put a fence and a guard of soldiers round them to prevent them getting out, and call it a quarantine camp. I’m not so stuck on sending my family back into that sort of thing. I think I can do better for them myself.”
There was a silence.
He said, “I do appreciate your offer of the commission, sir. I’d like to have it. But this is my first job. I’ve got them safe so far, and I’m going to see them through. And if I send them back on shore, I think they’ll die.”
The older man looked at him keenly. “Very well, Mr. Corbett,” he said at last. “I’m sorry personally, because I think you would make the sort of officer we want. That’s my first interest, of course. But I appreciate what you’ve said, and I understand your position. In your place I should probably do the same.”
“If my position changes — if I get them safe — may I get in touch with you again?”
The other smiled. “By all means. I should be glad for you to do so.”
He stood for a moment, eyeing Corbett seriously. “You must be quick,” he said quietly. “You, and everybody like you. We reckoned on your help in time of war — you temporary sailors, soldiers, and airmen. We counted on you. We always have counted on you, and up till now you’ve never let us down.”
Corbett nodded. “I know, sir. I understand all that.”
The admiral smiled, and held out his hand. “Good-bye, then, Mr. Corbett. Come back if you are able to. Where are you off to now?”
“The captain’s been advising me to go to Brest. I want to get my people on a ship for Canada.”
The older man nodded. “A very good place to go to. You can make it, in your little boat?”
“I can have a stab at it. It seems about the only thing to do.”
“Good luck.”
Corbett went out, and the flag lieutenant took him to the wardroom. Godfrey was there. “I’ve seen the navigating officer and had a chat with him about your passage,” he said. “He’s looking out some stuff for you. We’ll go along there presently.”
“It’s very good of you.”
They drank a gin together. As they drank, Godfrey questioned Corbett closely about his stores.
“I told them that you’d want some meat,” he said. “They’ve cooked you a round of beef. It should be cold by now — cold enough to take on board. Then there are these other things.” He had made a list; they went through it together.
At the end Corbett said, “Well, I can’t think of anything else. But look here — I’ll have to pay for all this stuff.”
The lieutenant commander smiled. “The captain told me to put it down to the mess.”
“It’s terribly good of him.”
They finished the gin. “Let’s go and have a look at those charts.”
In the navigating cabin in the island bridge they met the navigating officer, a lean, saturnine commander. He had his charts out ready for them; together they bent over the table. “Well,” he said at the end of five minutes, “there you are. From the Bill to Le Four is two degrees thirty-seven minutes south, forty-eight west. A hundred and fifty-seven miles. And then on to Brest through the Chenal du Four, about twenty-eight. And five from here to the Bill.” He totted up quickly on a writing pad. “Say a hundred and ninety miles in all.”
Corbett stared at it. “It’s the hell of a long way.”
“How long would it take you?”
“With a fair wind — fifty to sixty hours, sailing easily. And one couldn’t push her for that length of time. With a headwind — anything you like.”
He stood in silence for a minute. “It’s exhaustion that I’m worrying about,” he said. “The boat would do it on her head. But I’m not used to passages like this. If I get too sick to work her when we get to all this rocky stuff round about Le Four, it’ll be just too bad.”
Godfrey nodded comprehendingly. “You’ll have to sleep all you can — let Mrs. Corbett do the work for the first part of the trip. But you’ll make it all right.” He paused, and then he said, “I wish to God my wife and kid were with you.”
The navigating officer laughed shortly, without merriment.
Corbett said, “Well, I’d better have a crack at it.”
The commander said, “Good enough.” He turned to the charts. “You’ll want this one of the Channel — I’ve got a spare. Here’s one of the Chenal du Four and Ushant. You’d better take this one of the approaches to Brest and the Rade. It’s out of date down here—” he scribbled rapidly upon it— “but that won’t matter to you. You can take these parallel rulers, and these pencils and rubber.”
He bent over the channel chart and drew quickly on it in pencil. “Look, that line’s your course from the Bill to Le Four. I’ve marked it off in ten-mile intervals. You’ve got a patent log on board, haven’t you? Well, set it going at the Bill, and then you’ll be able to see at a glance how far you’ve got.”
“It’s awfully good of you.”
“Not a bit.” He went to a cupboard, and produced a very battered, dog-eared old book. “You’d better take this volume of the Channel Pilot. I’ve got a later issue.” He operated quickly on the book with a penknife. “These pages that I’ve cut the corner off deal with the Chenal du Four and the approaches to Brest. Look out for the Vierge lighthouse — there. You’ll probably see that first.”
Corbett surveyed the little heap of information on the desk. “You’ve made it very easy for me,” he remarked. “I’m very grateful.”
“I don’t think you’ll have any difficulty. It’s a rough sort of coast down there, but it’s all beautifully buoyed.”
They went through to the meteorological cabin, where a bored young officer was translating long strings of coded figures into isobars. “A sort of string of secondaries coming over France, so far as I can see,” he said. “Look, like this.” He sketched rapidly in pencil on his chart. “Easterly or southeasterly winds for a bit, not very strong. Say fifteen to twenty-five miles an hour.”
Corbett said, “Fifteen’s all right. Twenty-five will be all I want.”
Godfrey asked, “How long will that go on for?”
The other shook his head. “It’s difficult to say. Might be twenty-four hours from now, might be for two or three days. But I really can’t tell you.”
Corbett said, “It’s really pretty good.”
The met. officer nodded. “You ought to be all right.”
“I think I should,” said Corbett. “I think I’ll get away this afternoon, while the going’s good.”
Half an hour later they were on board the little yacht. In the interval since Corbett had left her she had been transformed. The sails had been properly stowed and the ropes coiled down in beautiful Navy circles on the deck; below, she had been scrubbed out from stem to stern. She was very clean, and smelt aromatically of soap. The mattresses were dry, and the blankets, dry and fluffy, were folded neatly on the berths. Even the pillow cases had been washed and were white and inviting on the pillows.
Corbett said, “She hasn’t been like this since she was built.”
Godfrey was pleased. “Now all you want is your stores, and you’ll be well away.”
Presently they went on shore. Corbett got out onto the landing stage; Godfrey stayed in the boat to go back to the Victorious. “I’ll be here at two o’clock to take you off,” he said. “I’ll have your stuff with me.” The boat slid away, put up her bow, and made for the aircraft carrier. Corbett walked up towards the hospital.
He met Joan with the children in the road outside and told her briefly what had happened. “They are kind to us,” she said. “Peter, do you know what they did at the hospital? They washed all the children’s clothes last night, while they were asleep. And they’ve done all the baby’s things for me, too.”
“I know,” he said. “We’ll be starting off this afternoon with stores for a little liner.”
She asked, “Peter, how far is it to Brest? How long will it take us?”
He told her.
“I think we can do that all right,” she said. “I’m sure we can. I mean, it’s very different starting off like this, with everything done for you.”
“You’re not afraid of it?”
She shook her head. “I’d be much more afraid of going back to Hamble. I mean — this is a clean and decent sort of risk. Not like the other.”
“I know,” he said. “I feel like that about it, too. In that case, we’ll get away this afternoon. The tide will take us round the Bill.”
They took the children back into the hospital and lunched in the same room; one of the sick bay stewards took the baby away and gave it its bottle. By two o’clock they were thanking the surgeon captain for all that had been done for them; then they went down to the jetty.
Godfrey was waiting for them in the boat, with a considerable heap of stores and gasolene. They were carried swiftly to the yacht; the boat stood b
y while the lieutenant commander helped them to stow the gas and the stores. Finally Corbett started up his old engine and together they got the anchor up.
Godfrey turned to Corbett. “This is good-bye,” he said a little awkwardly. “Let’s have a postcard when you get to Brest. Send it to the ship, care of the G.P.O.”
Corbett nodded. “I’ll do that. I can’t tell you what you’ve done for us.”
The officer moved down to the cockpit. “Good-bye, Mrs. Corbett. Don’t let him stand every watch. I think you’re going to have a good passage.”
Joan said, “Look, Commander Godfrey. This will be our address in Toronto, when we get there. If your wife goes to Canada — if you think that’s the best thing for her to do — do let me help her.” She said, “I mean, it’s all we can do to repay you for what you’ve done for us. Let us do that.”
He took the slip of paper. “I’ll remember that, Mrs. Corbett.” He got into the waiting motor boat. “Good luck.”
Corbett put his engine ahead, and the vessels separated. The launch turned back to the Victorious, and Corbett headed for the harbour entrance. Near the breakwater he put the yacht up into the wind, Joan took the helm, and he went forward and got up the mainsail. Then they headed for the open sea, and left Portland behind.
Phyllis asked, “Daddy, are we going to have another sail?”
“That’s right,” he said.
“Is it going to be rough, Daddy?”
“I hope not.”
“It was rough before, Daddy.”
John said, “I like it when it’s rough.”
Joan said, “Come on down, both of you. You know you can’t stay on deck when it’s rough. Come on and get to bed, and I’ll read to you while you have your tea in bed.”
The wind was in the east. Corbett, alone in the cockpit, laid the vessel on a course along the Bill towards the south and put on another sweater. He settled down at the helm to steer; with the tide under him he made good progress down the land, half a mile on his beam. Very soon the bluff hid the harbour, the breakwaters, and the battleships from his sight.
As they approached the end of the Bill he got the patent log from its case and made it ready; then he called Joan on deck to help him in the actual passage round the land, inside the Race. For a quarter of an hour they were in rough water. Then they were through; away on their beam they saw the sharply breaking water of the Race. He streamed the log, set it to zero, and settled down again at the helm; Joan went below to finish off the children. It was then about four o’clock in the afternoon.
