Pride and the Anguish (26 page)

She said suddenly, “What did my father say?” Her voice was very quiet but controlled. “What did he tell you before he died?”

Trewin replied slowly, “He told me what you meant to him. He died with the wish that you should be safe.”

“Is that all?”

Trewin pictured the charred hospital, the sudden loneliness and terror. “There was not much time. But I waited until the end. That I promise you.”

She turned and looked up at him, her face in shadow from the lamp. “Thank you.” Her hands moved vaguely against the gown. “I don't know what to say. Once before you made me feel ashamed. Now I do not know what I can add to repair the wrong I did you.”

Trewin said, “I understood exactly what you were feeling.” He heard the horn again. “I will have to leave now.”

The urgency in his tone seemed to bring her to life. She said, “When my mother died in a fire Greville Corbett saved my life. After that I had only my father, and his work out here.” Her shoulders moved in what might have been a shrug. “Now he is dead, and Greville is away fighting.”

Trewin said gently, “Your father told me about Corbett's eyes. He's been going blind for some time. He's kept it to himself, but there's too much at stake now to keep it secret.” He added quietly, “So I expect he will be sent to a shore job. Then you will be able to keep in touch.” He felt helpless. “It's not much, Clare, but it's something to hold on to.”

She was looking fixedly into his face, her eyes shining through the shadow. “I never knew about his eyes!” She stepped forward and gripped Trewin's hand. “Poor Greville, but you must try and
help him. Make him see it's for his own good as well as yours.”

He replied, “I'm not thinking of myself, Clare.”

She nodded. “I know.” She kept hold of his hand as he stepped back into the passage. “But
I
am.”

They walked to the door and stood with the cool air on their faces. Then she asked quietly, “Why did you come here? What was the real reason?” She pulled her hand away and added firmly, “I
must
know.”

Trewin found that it was quite easy to answer. “Because I love you, Clare. I've wanted you since we first met. Your father seemed to understand that, too.”

She said, “And now
I
know.” She looked towards the gates. “Come back soon. I won't go until you tell me again. Properly.” Then she stepped close to him and kissed him briefly.

He tasted the tears on her cheek and felt the determination of her body not to break down. He said, “I'll get back. Somehow.” Then he turned and ran back along the drive and threw himself into the car.

When he looked back the house was already lost in the dust from the racing wheels, but in his mind he could still see her face, just as he could feel the touch of her mouth against his own.

He pressed his head in his hands, feeling suddenly lost and defeated. What was the use? It was hopeless before he had started. And if Corbett was taken from the
Porcupine
there was less chance than ever of getting back to see her. She would disappear, and his memory would soon fade from her mind, left behind with the rest of the pain which this place had come to mean to her.

He barely noticed the transfer from car to launch, and when he climbed aboard the gunboat he had to force his mind to grapple with the protests and problems which waited for his attention.

Chief Petty Officer Nimmo, stubbornly anxious to point out the dangers of too little fuel. Mallory, bleary-eyed in the wardroom with a pot of black coffee. And Tweedie making it all too
obvious that whereas he was prepared to serve under Trewin at anchor it was another matter entirely to have him in command at sea.

Trewin pushed his way to the upper bridge, suddenly anxious to get away, if only to speed the possibility of return. “Stand by to slip from the buoy in five minutes!” He knew his voice was hard, but he no longer cared. “Hands will go to action stations as soon as we leave the harbour limits.”

Only when his eye fell on Corbett's empty chair did he realise exactly what lay ahead. He had often disagreed with Corbett's decisions, but decisions they had been. Now his was the strength or weakness which could commit the ship and her company to the fates of
Shrike
or
Grayling,
and all the others.

Hammond said quietly, “Engine room standing by, sir.”

Trewin rested his hands on the screen, feeling the waiting power pulsating gently through his palms. His hands felt clammy and he was sweating badly.

“Very well. Slow ahead together.” He heard the telegraphs clang beneath him. “Slip!”

The single wire snaked back through the fairleads and he felt the ship edging forward, nudging the buoy aside with calm indifference.

“Starboard fifteen. Half ahead together!”

He watched the mounting froth creaming back from the bows. The
Porcupine
too seemed glad to be leaving the land behind.

M
ALLORY STRAIGHTENED HIS BACK
above the chart table and said sharply, “Alter course now. Steer two five eight!”

Trewin nodded but remained motionless behind the screen as Mallory relayed the order to the wheelhouse. His whole body felt tensed as if to receive a blow, and he was conscious of the steady engine beats as the
Porcupine
steamed through the next leg of the narrow Sinki Strait. It was nerve-racking and frightening, and he had the feeling that the ship would strike full tilt into a jutting headland or charge across a lurking sandbar. The ship was steering into complete blackness, broken only by the outflung arrowhead of her white bow-wave. What he had first thought to be a bank of unbroken cloud was in fact a drifting pall of smoke, and only occasionally could he see the stars beyond, aloof and indifferent to the world of men.

Mallory said, “I think we should reduce speed.” He waited for Trewin to reply and added harshly, “You'll rip her guts out if you strike now!”

Trewin ignored him and concentrated his full attention on a darker patch beyond the starboard bow. He knew Mallory had been against his choice of route, and now that the ship was committed to this treacherous, unlighted channel he had to force himself to ignore the warning which moved through his mind with each swing of the screws. By taking this channel between the offshore islands around the southwest coast he could save an hour.
Or lose the ship,
the warning voice persisted.

He saw the wash break into dancing spectres against the foot of a tall-sided cliff less than fifty yards abeam, and held his breath until the jutting spur of land had dropped astern into the darkness.

The gun below the bridge squeaked on its mounting as it was trained towards the next piece of channel, and he could imagine
the men at the controls straining their eyes into the drifting smoke and waiting for the first tell-tale sign of an enemy.

The gunfire was still constant, but more muffled by the cliffs and hills, and every so often the upper bridge was lit by brief, savage explosions from inland, which made the tense look-outs and gunners stand out like crude waxworks before they vanished once more into one solid outline.

A feeble green light moved to greet them, and as the
Porcupine
dashed past without faltering Trewin saw that it was a warning lantern hanging dismally from a listing freighter which had run aground five days earlier after being bombed and set ablaze.

Mallory said, “That bloody wreck gives me a good fix. We seem to be more or less where I estimated.” He sounded doubtful.

“Well, you're the navigator!” Trewin found himself grinning, but his face felt like a mask. “Just another few miles and we'll be clear.”

A telephone buzzed and Petty Officer Dancy said, “Masthead reports a fire ahead, sir. A ship by the look of it.”

Trewin licked his lips. They were parched and dry. The lookout could probably see over the next clump of islets to where the channel widened out to meet and mingle with the entrance to the Johore Strait.

Mallory said, “Alter course again. Steer three two zero!”

Trewin watched the thin line of breakers moving past the hull and then said, “All guns prepare to open fire. And tell the chief to stand by for emergency full speed!” He wiped the mist from his glasses and trained them over the screen as the dark edge of the nearest islet hardened in a new flickering glare, low down, somewhere close inshore.

As the
Porcupine
nosed out into open water a star-shell burst with blinding brilliance less than a mile ahead. For a moment it was impossible to see anything but the searing glare pinioned between the unruffled water and the drifting smoke above.

Then a look-out yelled, “There's the
Beaver,
sir! Fine on the
port bow!”

Trewin shifted his glasses and watched as the distant gunboat was suddenly bracketed by two tall waterspouts. There were so many flashes from both the mainland and the island that it was not possible to gauge the bearing and distance of the hidden battery. He saw the
Beaver
swinging in a fierce turn, her bow-wave silver in the drifting flare, her guns firing back over her port quarter, their muzzles high-angled for maximum range. Following in her wake were the two remaining armed trawlers, their guns joining in the barrage as they zigzagged between another set of waterspouts, their hulls shining like glass from the spray thrown up by the Japanese shells.

Then as the last piece of islet moved away to starboard Trewin saw the
Prawn.
She was nudging into a smooth-backed sandbar, if not actually aground, and smoke was billowing out of her aft superstructure, where tiny figures flitted across the eager flames, their efforts to control the blaze made puny by distance.

Mallory said between his teeth, “
Prawn
's had a direct hit by the look of it. Her after gun has gone, and so has her mainmast.”

They ducked as a shell shrieked overhead and exploded with a vivid flash on a small islet far abeam.

Trewin shouted, “Full ahead together!” Then to Mallory, “Get a fix on that gun if it fires again!” Another shell whipped above the bridge and he added, “There! Did you get it?”

Mallory yelled, “About green four five! The Japs must be firing from Singapore Island itself!”

Trewin watched the flare drifting slowly towards the sea and said, “That would make them about five miles inland already!”

Masters touched his arm. “
Beaver
's signalling, sir!” His face looked blue in the eerie light. “Signal reads, ‘The group will retire forthwith and return to base.'”

The
Beaver
was still swinging in a wide arc, her masts and upperworks dipping to the power of her screws. Trewin saw her signal lamp stabbing urgently from the bridge and imagined Corbett watching the
Porcupine
and waiting for her to respond.

The
Beaver
's outline shone briefly in a bright scarlet glare, and beyond her one of the trawlers reeled out of line and began to capsize in a welter of flames and escaping steam.

“Direct hit, sir!” Masters turned back to Trewin. “Shall I acknowledge?”

Dancy was still staring at the
Prawn.
He said suddenly, “They're jettisoning coal by the looks of it. By God, they've got that fire nearly out!” He waved his cap in the air. “That's right, lads! We'll show the buggers!”

Trewin watched the
Beaver
as she surged towards him, the last trawler close on her tail like a shadow. There was no sign of the armed yacht, so she was probably sunk also. Two trawlers, an M.L. and a small pitiful yacht, all sunk within hours. With sudden desperation he stared towards the
Prawn.
Now that the flare had almost died he could see that the fires were nearly out, while from alongside her listing hull he could see the white splashes of coal cascading into the shallow water as Adair, her captain, fought to save his ancient command.

Trewin made up his mind. “Signal
Prawn.
Ask what assistance she requires.” He waited until Phelps had started to use his lamp and added, “We'll not leave her now!”

“From
Prawn,
sir. ‘One direct hit from heavy shell. Engine room flooded but ship still afloat. Would appreciate your shoulder to cry on!'”

Trewin smiled tightly. “Acknowledge. We will go alongside and take her in tow.”

Phelps came back in less than a minute. “She says, ‘God bless you!' sir.”

“Tell her that porcupines are very partial to prawns, Bunts!”

Trewin felt Mallory gripping his sleeve. “What is it, Pilot?”

“You're not going to do it, surely?” His face was inches from Trewin's. “The enemy has the range! They'll be on to us as soon as another flare goes up!” When Trewin did not answer he shouted, “Corbett left that trawler, so why do we have to go after
Prawn
? Are you trying to prove something?”

Masters called, “Signal from
Beaver.
‘Obey my last order instantly!'”

Trewin felt a strange anger moving through him. Corbett was watching him, just as if he were here on this bridge. He was afraid of losing his precious
Porcupine,
just as he mistrusted his first lieutenant's competence to deal with the task of saving
Prawn.

Savagely he said, “Well, if he won't do it,
I
will!” He pushed Mallory away, adding, “Now get aft and turn to all available hands to rig towing gear, and be sharp about it!”

He watched Mallory groping for the ladder and looked towards the
Beaver.
She was sweeping past about half a cable clear. He could see the pale blobs of faces on her bridge, the distant gunfire reflected in the raised binoculars along her screen. He turned away. “Starboard fifteen. Slow ahead together.”
Porcupine
's stern would be a better reply to Corbett than any signal, he thought bleakly.