Pride and the Anguish (10 page)

Corbett said icily, “Not like the meat business, eh?” He seemed to be enjoying himself. “Steer two eight oh!”

There was a sudden explosion which threw a blinding red flash as far as the horizon. Trewin felt the shock wave like a hot wind in his face, and sensed the savage power which had torn the other ship apart. He could smell the stench of cordite and charred wood, of ignited fuel and the acrid stench of a hull being turned into an inferno. Before the light died and the sea closed over the shattered remains he saw the
Beaver
and her two consorts bright in the red glow, like ships from hell.

Corbett said, “Half ahead together.” The vibration lessened slightly and he added, “Report damage.”

Masters, the yeoman, sucked his pencil and said carefully, “
Squalus
reports that her bows are stove in, sir. Cannot make more'n two knots. Requests assistance.”

Trewin lifted his face from a voice-pipe and heard himself say flatly, “No damage or casualties, sir.” He felt ice-cold, yet unable to sense any sort of reaction to what had happened. It was almost more unnerving than if his limbs had started to shake or his voice had refused to respond to his mind.

The admiral showed his teeth. “Excellent work! Bloody marvellous!” He became suddenly businesslike. “Signal
Beaver
to take
Squalus
in tow and return to base.
Prawn
can go as additional escort.” He laughed a little too readily. “Provided she doesn't run out of coal, what?”

Corbett was watching him, his face white in a sudden patch of moonlight. “Any further orders, sir?”

The admiral appeared to consider it. “Er, yes. You can hang about here until daylight and make contact with the Army. Tell 'em we've done their work for them.
Shrike
and
Grayling
will stay with you, of course.” He watched the shaded signal lamp stabbing across the water and added casually, “I'll shift my flag to
Beaver
and return to base with her. I must keep my finger on the pulse, y'know!”

“I see.” Corbett's tone was cool. “As you say, sir.”

Mallory stepped to Trewin's side and whispered, “He wants to get back and grab all the glory for himself, the bastard!” He
peered at Trewin's impassive face. “You feeling all right?”

Trewin nodded. “Yes.” He turned to watch the smoke drifting past the ship from the few remaining patches of wreckage. A gesture, he thought. But it was something.

Corbett said, “Signal for
Beaver'
s motor boat, Yeoman. And then tell the flag-lieutenant to collect the admiral's gear.” He added dryly, “That is if he hasn't
swum
back to base already.”

Trewin heard the admiral retort sharply, “That was not very funny!” He raised his voice slightly. “You've done quite well tonight. Don't spoil it by bringing up old scores!” He seemed to sense that Trewin was behind him and added in a more normal tone, “I'll send you fresh orders when I know what's happening at base.”

They heard the stutter of
Beaver
's motor boat, and then Corbett asked mildly, “Can I expect any air support at daylight, sir?”

The admiral threw his oilskin on the deck and flexed his muscles. “You'll be all right here, Corbett. I'm the one who'll cop it if the Japs fly over!” He looked at Trewin and grinned. “Towing a poor lame duck with a coal-fired relic as escort, what?”

They saw the admiral down to the motor boat and then returned to the bridge. Corbett watched the boat's wash fade against the dark water and murmured, “We'll steam in a wide circle around the bay, Trewin. If it's clear of danger we'll anchor until first light.” He seemed to shrug. “Then we'll just have to see.”

Trewin could feel the numbness in his body giving way to an uncontrollable shaking. Yet when he looked down at his hands they were quite still.

Corbett said, “I wonder if there were any survivors from the landing barges?”

Trewin answered harshly, “I hope not!” He saw Corbett's eyes watching him, but added, “I hope the bastards found out what it was like before they went under!”

“I expect they did.” Corbett resumed his seat by the screen and then said, “I will take over the con. You go round the gun
positions and tell them they did very well.” He waited a few moments before adding “So did you. But don't start getting bitter. It only blunts your judgement!” He removed his cap and laid it behind the screen. Then in a crisper voice he said, “Now then, Pilot. Give me a new course. I don't want to run up on to the damn beach, eh?”

Trewin climbed slowly down to the sidedeck and leaned against the cool steel ladder. He could hear the gunners chattering and calling to each other, their voices alive with both excitement and relief. He thought about Corbett's self-control and wondered if he too knew that the quick success amounted to no more than luck. It had been a brave and necessary gesture. But tomorrow was a new day, and at daylight the enemy would come looking for them.

He saw Hammond talking with his gun crew and automatically straightened his back. Corbett was right about one thing. It was no use being bitter. It had got well beyond that stage, he thought grimly.

I
N THE PALE MORNING
sunlight the bay looked peaceful and deserted. At its southern end the steep-sided headland cast a deep shadow on to the milky water, and from the thickly wooded shoreline which fringed the beach there rose a steady steamlike haze as the warmth penetrated the rain-swollen leaves and tangled creeper beneath.

The
Porcupine
tugged gently at her anchor, her shadow touching that of the headland, while at the other end of the bay the
Grayling
floated above her reflection like a scale model. The third gunboat,
Shrike,
had weighed before dawn, and under Corbett's instructions had rounded the northern arm of the bay to investigate the coast road beyond. From the bay itself the road was invisible, cut off from the sea by a razor-backed ridge of low hills and the thick, lush jungle.

Apart from the distant murmur of gunfire the scene was one of absolute peace. During the night the coastal current had
carried the few pieces of scarred flotsam, and what bodies there might have been from the landing barges, clear away from the shore, so there was nothing to show from the brief, savage action.

Corbett seemed unwilling to leave the bridge, or even to seek the comfort of his chair. As the sun cast more light and heat across the placid water so he became more restless and impatient.

Trewin felt the growing warmth across his neck and the smoky stiffness of his face and arms. He looked at the clear, inviting water alongside and the patches of pale green weed which swayed playfully on the sandy bottom, and imagined his body moving through it, soaking away the dirt and noise of the battle.

There was a mixed aroma of smells from both the galleys. Eggs and bacon and the spicy contrasts from the Chinese quarters. But the anti-aircraft guns were manned, and the slender muzzles moved occasionally from side to side, as if sniffing out possible enemies.

Corbett said abruptly, “What the
hell
is the Army doing?”

Trewin looked at him. “They must have heard the gunfire here last night. Perhaps they're too busy inland?”

Corbett stuck out his jaw. “Rubbish! They must have been informed that we were making a sweep along the coast. The very least they can do is come and see us, dammit!” He lifted his glasses and peered at the empty beach. “No wonder the bloody airfield got taken.”

Mallory appeared on the bridge holding a large sandwich in one hand. “They'll be Aussie troops hereabouts. They'll have the job in hand all right.”

“I hope your optimism is well founded.” Corbett shot him an irritated glance. “But it doesn't help me.”

Trewin found time to wonder how far the admiral had got with the other ships. They had heard aircraft during the night, but no sounds of gunfire from the sea. It was just as if each side was sitting back waiting to see what the other would do.

Corbett said suddenly, “I want you to go ashore, Trewin. There's a village about a mile inland. The Army have a command
post there. Go and ask the C.O. what he wants us to do, and be quick about it. I don't like sitting here waiting for the sky to fall.” He added, “If they don't need us any more I'm heading back south, and fast!”

Trewin stared at the beach. “Yes, sir.” He beckoned to a bosun's mate. “Tell Petty Officer Kane to muster a landing party of six men with sidearms, and call away the motor boat.”

Corbett muttered, “Take Hammond, too. You might need an interpreter.” He said with sudden anger, “My God, if I've put this ship in danger for nothing I shall raise hell when we reach base!”

Ten minutes later Trewin and his small party waded through the cool water and on to the sand, while the boat turned and scurried back to the
Porcupine.

He glanced at his pocket compass and said, “Let's get started, but have your weapons ready, just in case a few of those Japs managed to swim ashore last night.” He knew his voice was unusually harsh and that Hammond was watching him searchingly, but his mind was too busy with other things to care about that. He stepped through a fringe of salt-stained brush and started up the slope from the beach. It was hard going. It would be worse for fully laden soldiers, he thought.

Once into the jungle of small, gnarled trees they could have been one hundred miles from the sea. A few birds shrilled and squawked in the distance, but they did not see a single movement.

Petty Officer Kane kicked a scarlet fungus aside with a grunt of disgust. “Bloody dump! Enough to give you the squitters.”

Hammond said quietly, “What'll we do if we can't find anyone?” He looked up at the criss-cross of branches through which the sun was hardly able to penetrate. The air was humid and clammy, so that his shirt was already sticking to his body.

Trewin said shortly, “They'll be here.” He hitched the unfamiliar pistol over to his hip and added, “Where's that damned village?”

They plodded up the slope in silence, while the thorns and
low branches plucked at their arms and legs like vicious, eager claws.

Towards the top of the ridge the trees thinned out and the sun swept down to add to their discomfort. Trewin said, “Take a breather.” He pulled out his binoculars. “I'll have a look around.” He looked at Kane, “You come too, and bring your tommy-gun.”

Hammond sat down on a flat stone while the six sailors of the party threw themselves into a patch of shade, breathless and grateful for the rest from this unfamiliar exercise.

Trewin said, “I won't be long, Sub. I should be able to see the road from up there.” He turned on his heel without waiting for a reply and pushed through the bushes with Kane at his back.

Hammond tilted his cap over his eyes and stared at the tiny, busy insects which were already exploring his shoes. It was strange how easy it was to rely on everything Trewin said or did, he thought vaguely. He was quite unlike anyone he had ever met. He rarely seemed to smile or share his confidences, and he had an air of alert caution about him, like a wild animal surrounded by its natural enemies.

When he had first joined the gunboat as first lieutenant, and Hammond could recall the exact moment, he had seemed like a man who had seen and done too much in a short time. Hammond had imagined that he would resent serving under a temporary officer, but quite the reverse had happened. Trewin was unlike Mallory, for instance, who from the moment he had stepped aboard had kept up a steady flow of criticism and complaint about the Navy in general and the British in particular.

He tried to picture Trewin as he must have been before the war, but he could not visualise him as anything but what he was now. Even Corbett seemed content with him, and that was surprising. The captain had frequently and noisily disagreed with poor Foley, the previous first lieutenant. Foley had been an affable but not too intelligent officer, and it was quite impossible to see him playing Trewin's role during the past few days, Hammond decided.

Last night, for instance. He glanced quickly at the tired sailors. The rattle of tracers, and the terrifying scream of cannon shells whipping overhead, it had been far worse than he had believed it would be. But just before the guns had opened fire Trewin had spoken to him on the bridge telephone. His quiet, unemotional voice had acted as a buffer when the actual moment of danger had arrived. And afterwards in the noisy excitement and wild aftermath of battle Trewin had come to visit the gun position. He had been calm and cheerful, as if the whole thing had been part of a drill.

He recalled too the moment when he had almost confided in Trewin about the girl in Singapore. It seemed stupid now, but at the time, with the smoke from the air raid drifting over the island like a pall, he had wanted to tell Trewin about her.

A sailor rolled on his stomach and cocked his head nervously. He said, “They're comin' back, sir.”

Hammond stood up thankfully and stretched his arms in the sunlight. His smile changed to shocked surprise as Trewin and the petty officer pushed through the bushes their faces streaming with sweat.

Between them, hanging like a limp puppet, was a young army lieutenant. His uniform was in tatters, and a revolver hung unheeded from a lanyard about his neck. His eyes and forehead were hidden under a filthy bandage, and his cheeks were covered in several days' growth of beard.

Trewin said sharply, “Here, you men! Carry him to the beach, and be quick about it!”

The soldier groaned and rolled his head from side to side as the sailors lifted him from the ground.

Trewin gripped the signalman who had been sent ashore to keep contact with the ship. “Bunts, run like hell for the beach and call up the
Porcupine.
” Hammond could see Trewin's chest heaving from exertion, the small lines of strain around his eyes. “Tell the captain to up anchor at once. Tell him to recall
Shrike,
too.” He glanced back up the hill. “Christ, what a mess!”