Send a Gunboat (1960) (11 page)

A long, white bungalow-type house loomed into view, and from its shaded veranda several figures watched the car’s approach. Laker was the first down the steps, accompanied by several khaki-clad servants, who with military precision removed the car, the officers’ caps, and then hovered respectfully in the rear.

“Like the car, eh?” Laker boomed. “This year’s model. Had it shipped in from Formosa, y’know. Would have preferred a British one, of couse, but these Yankee jobs stand up to the appalling roads better.”

He guided them into a wide, cool lounge which ran the whole width of the house, and Rolfe blinked to accustom his eyes to the seemingly dark interior.

With the casual grandness of royalty, Laker introduced his other guests, who crowded round the newcomers with real enthusiasm. Mrs. Laker was surprisingly small and had, Rolfe thought, once been very beautiful. Now, her thin features bore the sheen of yellow parchment, part of the price she had paid for a lifetime overseas. She welcomed Rolfe warmly, but with several nervous glances at her beaming husband, who patted her with the affection of a master to his pet dog. Rolfe sympathized with her inwardly and turned to the others. There was Edgar Lane and his wife, Rolfe mentally ticked them off his list. He already knew that Lane was the other of Laker’s managers who handled the timber side of the estate. He was a slight, studious man with sad, watery eyes, and his wife, Melanie, looked to Rolfe like a faded chorus girl. He answered their friendly enquiries but was thankful when Laker tugged him on to the others. “Don’t listen to Lane,” he confided noisily. “Sticks with his damned trees so much he’s forgotten how to talk to real people!” He nudged Rolfe gleefully, and a strong aroma of whisky floated around them.

“An’ this is Mrs. Grant, you’ve already met her old man.” Rolfe muttered something suitable to the cheerful, bronzed woman, and was thankful when he was introduced to the last bobbing faces. Charles and Anthea Masters were rather younger than the rest and had the appearance of nervousness. Laker announced that they were his “newest imports” to Santu, Masters being an engineer newly out from England. Anthea Masters had a shy, suburban smile which had already wilted under the glare of her new surroundings.

“Well, that’s the lot, Captain! We’re not exactly a Crown Colony, but we’re pretty useful in our way, eh?” He laughed noisily.

Rolfe frowned, mentally checking his list. “But isn’t there an English doctor here, too?”

As he asked, he felt a slight tension in the air, but Laker seemed indifferent to atmosphere of any kind.

“Oh, the Feltons? Well, they’re English by birth, I suppose. But that’s about as far as it goes, if you follow me, eh?”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” Rolfe’s tone was deceptively mild and for a second a flicker of annoyance crossed the older man’s face.

He rubbed his hands together irritably. “Not quite the right type, y’know. Live down in the town with the wogs!” He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Fact is, old boy, the feller’s a bloody red, no doubt about it!”

Rolfe digested this information. “How come the General hasn’t asked them to leave, then?”

Grant, who had quietly approached from the side, laughed shortly. “He needs a doctor for the natives, that’s the reason. Otherwise he’d have him shipped out a bit sharpish!”

Laker glared at his assistant. “Forget ’em! They don’t exist! If I had my way I’d—”

“Horsewhip them?”

They turned at the sudden interruption and then Laker’s face dissolved into an affectionate beam.

“Oh, Captain, I almost forgot me own daughter! Ursula, this is Commander Rolfe.”

Rolfe took her hand and felt a growing uneasiness. Ursula Laker was tall for a girl, and at thirty-three had reached the
fullness of her perfections. Her steady green eyes and short blonde hair, bleached almost white by the sun, clashed dazzlingly with her smooth tanned skin. If her mouth was a trifle wide, it was generous. And if her body, tantalizing beneath her light frock, was inclined to fullness, Rolfe had a feeling that it might be generous, too.

“I hope you like what you see, Captain?” Her voice was a soft drawl, with a throatiness that was vaguely exciting.

Rolfe grinned uncomfortably, and Laker, his eyes glinting watchfully, patted his arm. “Eyeful, eh? Just like her mother used to be!”

Rolfe found it hard to picture Mrs. Laker as the voluptuous creature confronting him.

A gong chimed discreetly in the background and as the servants quietly folded away some giant screens, Rolfe saw a vast, laden table glittering with food and drink.

“In yer honour!” announced Laker solemnly.

This must surely be the climax of my varied career, thought Rolfe, as with Laker at one side and Ursula on the other, he seated himself at the table. Perhaps it would be better to approach all of them on the matter of evacuation now; the idea seemed to blind him with its dreadful possibilities, Laker on his own might be too crafty an opponent. He ran his eye carefully along the happy, flushed faces. It would be worth a try.

He felt the heat rise in his body as the girl’s knee pressed against his own under the table. The pain of his old memories came flooding back, and almost without noticing, he downed the tall glass of pale liquid by his plate.

“By jove!” Grant exploded admiringly. “Our very special home brew, and he takes it like water!”

Laker grunted at his side. “Damn strong stuff that, Captain! Should have warned you. Still, you navy chaps know a thing or two, what!”

The pressure on his knee increased, and he turned to the green eyes, which were regarding him with lazy interest.

“Silly old fool, isn’t he?” she whispered, and the corners of her mouth twitched. She was so close to him that he could feel the hard pressure of her breast against the sleeve of his tunic. The wine flowed in his veins like fire, and for the first time in
many months he felt a glimmer of his old self. He smiled back at her, immune to the babble of conversation and the stares of his officers.

It would be so very easy, he pondered, just to let everything else drop, let the others go to hell. What did anything matter any more, what did these people mean to him, anyway?

“You’re pretty fed up, aren’t you?” she kept her voice low, and Rolfe’s eyes widened slightly.

“Does it show?”

“When you’ve been stuck on this place as long as I have you get to notice even the smallest bit of emotion.” She wriggled her shoulders and pouted, “I’m sick to death of it!”

“Pretty lonely for you, I expect?”

“Lonely? That, my dear Captain, is the understatement of the year! I go for the odd trip each year, but what the hell! People who matter treat you like a hick when they know you live on this god-forsaken spot!” She glanced across Rolfe at her father. “Of course, you’ve noticed Daddy thinks it’s heaven here. That’s because he’s the local tin god!” She eyed him dreamily. “I expect you get a bit lonely, too?”

“At the moment I feel completely alone!” admitted Rolfe grimly, although his mind was working along a different track.

“Perhaps we can do something about that?” she breathed, her lip quivering. “You’ll have to let me show you round while you’re here!”

Vincent watched them carefully, shading his eyes with his lashes. She’s whimpering for it, he thought enviously. Wish I could hear what they’re saying. Queer type, the Captain. The more you saw of him, the more surprising he became. Vincent’s heart pounded as he watched the girl draw an imaginary design with her finger on Rolfe’s sleeve. He shifted his eyes to his Captain’s face and immediately became irritated by the blank expression in those cold, grey eyes. What sort of a man is he? Must have ice-water in his veins! One minute he looks like a young sub-lieutenant at his first party and the next his face is as hard as rock.

A servant refilled his glass and he drank deeply, feeling the sweet tang of the rice wine tingling in his throat. Wonder how Fallow feels about all this drink? The fat fool, he thought contemptuously.
There was a slight disturbance as Laker heaved his huge body upright. Vincent leaned forward, showing an affected interest. Actually he was amusing himself with the mental picture of Laker and Fallow trying to pass through a door together.

“Hrrm! Ladies an’ gentlemen!” Laker stared solemnly round the table. “I give you a toast. The Queen!” The glasses clinked obediently and automatically. Laker was apparently behaving as usual. He beamed at them and raised his glass again. “And another, to our guests, the officers of the gunboat
Wagtail
!”

There were several polite “Hear, hear”, and Laker stared down at Rolfe, his small eyes flashing.

“We’re all delighted to see these chaps, and I know you’ll want me to speak for you in that respect. It makes us all proud and humble, too, to realize that we’ve not been forgotten in our hour of need!”

Vincent watched Rolfe’s taut features for some sign of alarm or discomfort, but there was no answer to his probing glance. Rolfe sat stiffly in his chair, staring fixedly at his glass.

Vincent trembled with excitement. What a story this would make when he got back to Government House! All these pathetic characters, cut off from the outside world, but living what they believed to be normal lives, and still imagining that they were protected by the umbrella of British democracy. He shivered suddenly, gripping the sides of the chair. Rolfe had risen to his feet as Laker, flushed and breathing heavily, sat down.

Rolfe put down his glass carefully, conscious of the silence and the pounding in his veins. He spoke slowly, his clear, firm voice lending impact to his words. He thanked Laker for his kind welcome, and for a moment Vincent imagined that he was going to by-pass the main issue, but the next instant he knew that the real drama had begun.

“As you all know, the menace to this island from the Communist mainland has been growing considerably during the last few months, and the situation here, for the small British community especially, has taken on a much graver aspect. It is for that reason that I am speaking to you in this manner, as I have the unexpected opportunity of seeing you all together in this convenient and friendly setting.” He paused and sipped at his
glass, which had been imediately refilled. Fallow stared blankly at his plate, his fat chins working miserably as he unseeingly demolished a dish of prawns. Rolfe eyed him for a moment and continued: “Her Majesty’s Government have watched your growing danger with some concern and that is the real reason for my ship’s presence in Santu.”

Laker nodded gravely and whispered to Grant, “Told you so, old boy!”

The muscle in Rolfe’s cheek jumped noticeably and he appeared to be speaking with some effort. “It is therefore my duty to inform you all that arrangements have been made to evacuate you to Hong Kong in my ship within the next forty-eight hours!”

There was a stunned silence and Vincent hardly dared to glance at the others around him. It was like a first-night at a really good play. Rolfe had spoken his lines with terrific impact and the audience had reeled before him.

Laker was the first to recover his speech. He jumped to his feet, his mouth working frantically. “What the devil are you sayin’, sir? Are you mad? Off yer head?”

Rolfe eyed him for a full four seconds without answering, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

“If you would be so good as to let me finish, Mr. Laker,” he answered quietly. A few tiny beads of sweat glinted on his upper lip. Apart from that, he was outwardly the calmest person in the room.

“I was going to add,” he continued, “that I have just received a signal from my Commander-in-Chief to the effect that a full military invasion is now imminent, and I’m afraid, unavoidable! So further delay, or any other solution which might once have been possible, is now out of the question. I shall make you as comfortable as I can aboard, although I’m afraid that only personal gear, and small possessions can be carried with you.”

Laker was still standing at his side, his small eyes popping with rage. “You’re talking rubbish! We’re not leaving with you, or anyone else, d’you hear?” He glared round for support. “What the devil is happenin’ here, eh? Has everyone gone completely mad?”

“Please, dear!” His wife fluttered anxiously to his side. “You mustn’t excite yourself so!”

“Excite meself! I’ll damn well show ’em!”

“Just a moment, suppose it’s right what the Captain’s just told us?” Edgar Lane interrupted uneasily. “I mean, we’ve seen what can happen when the Reds move in on a place!”

The young Masters couple moved closer together in alarm, their faces white.

“I can assure you I am right,” said Rolfe, when the babble of voices subsided. “There is no alternative.” He turned to Laker. “I would have told you about this business at once, sir, but I didn’t know then what I now know to be the facts. I know how you feel and I sympathize with you deeply. “But—” he shrugged—“it is the luck of the draw.”

Laker stared at him incredulously. “What are you saying? Why, it’s—it’s rank impertinance! I’ll break you for this, if it’s the last thing I do!”

Grant rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Calm down, sir, you know as well as I do that it’s none of the Captain’s doing. We must face facts!” He smiled bleakly at Rolfe. “You don’t pull your punches, I must say, but looking back over the last five minutes, I don’t think I would have been in your place for a million pounds!”

Laker collapsed into his seat, his face suddenly very old. “God!” he whispered in a thick voice, “it’s the end! The finish of everything!”

Ursula Laker hadn’t stirred from her lounging position, but her face twisted into a scornful smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. Daddy! We’re not short of cash, and I for one will be glad to see a bit of life again!” She raised her eyes to Rolfe, the green lights dancing beneath her lashes. “Well spoken, Captain. Now tell us the rest of the good news!”

Rolfe studied her face thoughtfully without recognition and then leaned his hands on the table. “I have been instructed to tell you also that there must be no panic and no undue warning of our intentions!”

Laker roused himself from his posture of despair. “Dammit! Must we slink out of here, too?” He laughed shakily. “Just like all the others, eh? India, Africa, Palestine, Suez and all the rest! Creep out with our tails between our legs!”