Pride and the Anguish (22 page)

He heard Corbett tearing at the chart table hood and the scrape of instruments as he leaned down to study the ship's course and estimated position. He could not imagine what was holding Corbett together. He never slept, and rarely left the bridge for more than minutes at a time. On occasions he was like a stranger, brooding and pacing, or slumped in his chair his eyes staring straight ahead as if for some new encounter.

Trewin managed to avoid any open conflict. He forced his mind to stay in the tight confines of duty, shutting out the agony and despair of the massacred soldiers, the pathetic attempt at normality by his own men.

Corbett stood up, his face gleaming momentarily in the shaded chart light. For an instant as he gathered his thoughts
he showed some of the strange inner force which was tearing him apart. He looked much older, and Trewin noticed that he had developed a small, persistent tick in one eye.

Corbett saw him looking down from the gratings and snapped, “Keep an eye on your quartermaster! He's wandering about the sea like a drunken duck!” He seemed to be trying to think of another reproach when the handset buzzed at the rear of the bridge. Before Trewin could move he ripped it from its rack and barked, “Bridge!” Then in his old tone he added coldly, “This
is
the captain, you fool!”

Trewin thought of the luckless telegraphist on the other end of the line and sighed.

Corbett dropped the handset and said, “I'm going down. There's a long signal. I can't trust them to deal with it.” He peered at Trewin's dark outline. “Just remember what I said, that's all. Don't let them slack!”

Trewin asked quietly, “Who, sir?”

Corbett clung to the rails of the ladder, his head craned, like a ferret ready to strike. “Don't you get clever with me, Trewin! I've just about taken all I can from your sort!”

When Trewin remained silent he turned violently and ran down the steps.

Trewin found that his anger was quite gone. It was now merely a sensation, like all the others. Fear, shock and complete tiredness left little room for more outward emotion. Perhaps later, he thought dully. Later, there might be time.

When Corbett returned to the bridge he was quite calm again. He stepped up beside Trewin and lifted his glasses to search for the
Grayling.
She was still astern, her shape little more than a smudge above her bow-wave. He said slowly, “We are going to Talang.” He sounded as if he was wrestling with his inner self again. “The enemy has landed a striking force further down the coast, about fifty miles below the Pahang River.”

Trewin looked away. It was all happening in an exact pattern of what they had shared on the opposite coast. If the line held
then the enemy drove a pincer behind it from the sea. He said bitterly, “What the hell is the matter with our people? Why can't they stop them landing like this?”

Corbett opened the voice-pipe by his side and shouted above the drumming rain. “Full ahead together!” To the crouching signalman he added, “Make to
Grayling
‘Keep close station astern.'”

Then he seemed to consider Trewin's outburst. He replied, suddenly, “It's not as easy as that. There are offshore islands, countless creeks and inlets. The enemy can afford to bide his time.”

“And without air cover we just have to take it!”

Corbett said coldly, “Air cover is not everything, Trewin.” He shrugged his shoulders beneath his oilskin. “Anyway, this is the plan. We enter Talang and take off all unwanted personnel immediately.”

Trewin had a sudden picture of the settlement lying inside the arms of the two enemy pincers. He spoke his thoughts aloud. “At least Clare Massey's out of it. I only hope that your friend the doctor will agree to leave.”

Corbett stared at him. “That's just it. She's still there. I checked with my wife while we were in harbour.” He shook his head. “I wish she
were
out of it, believe me.” He watched the rising bow-wave sluice back through the hawsepipes and around the forward gun mounting. Then he said firmly, “We will have the destroyer
Waltham
to cover us from seaward. But it will have to be quick this time.”

It always is, Trewin thought bitterly. He said, “Have you told base about
Prawn
and
Beaver,
sir? We're at half strength now.”

Corbett shrugged. “No to your first question. Radio silence is the thing at this stage. As to your other piece of pessimism, we can manage better without the others. We don't want to attract attention.” In a rising tone he added, “Surely even you can see that?”

Mallory clumped up the ladder from the chartroom before Trewin could retort, and Corbett swung round to face him. “You
took your time, Pilot!” He glared at Mallory's shape by the chart table. “Well, have you calculated what I asked?”

Mallory said evenly, “Our E.T.A. at the Inlet will be 0430, sir.” He added, “Low water at that time.”

“I
know
that.” Corbett joined him beside the table and rolled back the hood a few inches. “Signal
Grayling
to take the lead. She draws a foot less than we do. We will follow up when the tide gives us a better channel.”

Trewin turned back towards the sea. He was thinking of that last time when the
Porcupine
had gone aground outside the Inlet. The captain was obviously taking no chances.

He swung his glasses slowly over the port beam and tried to see the darkened shoreline through the steady rain. But they were standing too far out. Maybe that was just as well, he thought grimly. The Japs might have no intention of using their new landing to waste time striking north. The troops caught between their two armies would have to fight their way out anyway, so the Japs could well use their fifty-mile advantage to increase their march on Singapore.

But surely to God they would be able to stop the Japs soon. In the narrowing strip of the Malay Peninsula the line would be shorter, easier to hold.

He sensed that Corbett was again standing beside him and he asked quietly, “Where will we make a stand, sir?”

Corbett took several seconds to reply. When he did his voice was calm, almost gentle. “We're not, Trewin. That signal was from the admiral. It seems that we are going to abandon the peninsula altogether. Singapore is the fortress, and was after all the main purpose of our defence commitment.”

Trewin felt his mouth go dry. “Just like that?”

Corbett nodded firmly. “Just like that.”

Trewin tried not to think of the hundreds of miles of hardfought jungle, the ships sent to the bottom in the face of persistent and carefully planned attacks. Of the pain and the hopeless bravery. He said, “So it was all for nothing!”

Corbett lifted his glasses to watch the
Grayling
's pale shape surging past to take the lead, her blunt bows throwing up the spray in a white curtain. He replied, “No sacrifice is in vain. No matter how great or how small.”

Trewin clenched his hands and then let them drop at his sides. What was the point of trying to argue with Corbett? He was unreachable within himself.

Corbett slid on to the chair, heedless of the rain which bounced from his cap and oilskin. If there were any doubts in his mind, the
Porcupine
's captain concealed them very well.

W
ITH HER ENGINES AT DEAD SLOW
the
Porcupine
pushed stubbornly against the fierce offshore current, the swirling water on either side of the hull giving a false impression of urgency and speed.

For the tenth time Corbett snapped his fingers and asked, “Time?”

Mallory replied, “0445, sir.”

Corbett muttered, “Where the hell
is
she? She should have been in and out by now!”

Trewin moved his glasses very slowly from bow to bow. It was still very dark, although the rain had given way to a steady, soaking drizzle. But for it and the persistent cloud he might have been able to see something, but although the dawn was very close the actual line of the shore remained hidden and remote. The waiting was getting on his nerves. Corbett's anxiety about the
Grayling
was more than justified, he thought. She had gone on ahead hours earlier with Corbett's orders to carry out the first and main part of the evacuation of nonessential personnel.

He blinked as another pattern of dull red flashes outlined the hills inland. All the way up the coast it had been hard not to watch the ominous reflections of duelling artillery and the glow of burning trees.

They had arrived off the Inlet ahead of time, and while the ship stayed in deep water, steaming in a wide circle, every
look-out had strained his eyes for the
Grayling
's returning shadow, so that Corbett could go in to complete the task. He could not enter the Talang River without waiting for
Grayling
's return, as it was quite impossible for two craft to pass in its treacherous bends and deceptive shallows.

Trewin wondered why Corbett had not taken the plunge from the first and accompanied
Grayling,
instead of waiting for the dawn light and an extra foot of water.

Was it his imagination or was it already lighter? He peered over the screen and saw the restless gunners behind the four-inch and the pale blob of Hammond's cap. He listened to the sporadic rattle of machine-guns and watched a flare drifting palely above the headland. No doubt the enemy were probing with their patrols again and the defenders of the river line were searching for them in the treacherous tangle of jungle below the hills.

Corbett snapped, “Give me a course for the centre channel, Pilot. I can't wait any longer.” He sounded hoarse.

Mallory said at length, “Two five two, sir.”

Corbett grunted. “Very good. Bring her round and increase to half-speed.” To Trewin he said, “We've still got a mile before we are committed to the last approach.
Grayling
should be showing herself by then, eh?” Half to himself he added harshly, “That ass Nye! If he gets stuck halfway downstream I'll have something to say about it!”

The gunboat gathered way, her powerful screws sending a steady tremble up through the bridge and the limbs of the men at their action stations.

The starboard bridge look-out suddenly jerked upright behind his glasses. “Sir! A light in the water!” He fumbled for words. “It's gone now, but I think it was a red light!”

Corbett leaned forward on his chair. “I don't see anything!” Then, “Slow ahead together!”

Trewin stood beside the look-out and peered over the wet steel. “Are you sure? What sort of light?”

The look-out sounded confused. “It was red, sir. Yes, I'm sure it was there. Very low down. Very small.”

His voice faltered as Corbett said impatiently, “Well, it's not there now!”

Mallory called, “There are no buoys hereabouts either.”

The look-out said stubbornly, “It was too small for a buoy.”

Corbett twisted in his chair as if it was restricting him. “Oh, for God's sake! We'll be here all morning at this rate!” To Trewin he added, “Go forrard and see if you can see anything from the stem. The drizzle might not mist your glasses from there.” He called after him, “And get a damn move on!”

Trewin climbed down the ladder and hurried along the spray-dashed forecastle where he found Petty Officer Dancy already leaning over the guardrail, his figure crouched like a runner waiting for the gun.

“Anything, Buffer?” Trewin dropped on one knee and pulled his glasses from inside his oilskin.

“Nah. I came when I heard the look-out, but it looks just as bloody horrible as it always does.”

Corbett's voice, metallic through a megaphone, made them both look back at the bridge. “Well, is there anything, Number One? I'm still waiting!”

Trewin almost fell as Dancy seized his arm and pointed excitedly. “I saw it, for God's sake! Look, sir, fine on the port bow!”

It was little more than a pale red glow, and appeared to be half submerged in the water.

Dancy added in a grim tone, “I think it's a lifejacket lamp, sir. There must be some poor bugger in the drink.”

“Maybe.” Trewin strained his eyes through the drizzle and wondered why they had not seen the light from the moment the look-out had reported it. It must have been hidden, but by what?

With sudden apprehension he clambered to his feet and ran back towards the bridge. As he reached the gun mounting he cupped his hands and yelled upwards towards Corbett's hunched silhouette. “Sir! Use the searchlight!”

Corbett shouted, “Are you mad? We'll be visible for miles!” But something in Trewin's voice made him reconsider, and as Trewin ran back to the bows the bridge searchlight cut the darkness apart in a blinding, glacier beam which threw Dancy's shadow ahead of the ship like a grotesque figurehead.

The light was only switched on for a few seconds, and as Trewin clung to the guardrail he imagined for one terrible moment that the ship was taking the wrong course and heading straight for a weed-covered sandbar.

Far away he heard Corbett yelling, “Full astern together!
Emergency full speed!
” But his eyes remained riveted on the long, slime-covered thing which lay across the
Porcupine
's path, and as the deck jerked violently to the reversed thrust of the screws he knew it was the upturned keel of the
Grayling.

The bobbing red light came from her stern, where a sodden corpse in a lifejacket twisted and turned with the current, caught firmly in one of the triple rudders.

Dancy yelled, “Get back, sir! We're going to ram her!”

Without the searchlight Trewin's eyes were momentarily useless, and he had vague impressions of men throwing themselves to the deck and the whole ship shuddering like a mad thing in her efforts to pull clear.

When she struck he felt the pain of the collision lance up through his chest as if he too had been injured, and he lay quite still for several seconds listening to the scream and scrape of torn metal, the grinding embrace which seemed endless, until with a final convulsion the
Porcupine
jerked clear and backed away from her stricken consort.