Pride and the Anguish (28 page)

The admiral leaned over the map, then took a paper knife and scored a deep line right across it. “They've got half the island, Trewin! In less than forty-eight hours they cut the bloody place in two!” He threw the knife aside. “There's nothing we can do about it. Nothing anyone can do at the moment!”

Trewin thought of the soldier in the car outside and replied bitterly, “The stupid, incompetent bastards!”

The admiral smiled dryly. “There's more to fighting a war than just one campaign, my lad. You'll learn that if you live long enough.”

Hughes reappeared at the door. “Car's ready, sir.” He glanced at Trewin and gave a small shrug.

Fairfax-Loring stood up and picked his briefcase from the table. “I am sending
Prawn
after the
Beaver
as soon as I can, Trewin. She'll probably be the last ship to go of any size, and I want every available person crammed aboard. Hughes has a list, and I've got my people rounding them up right now.” He became vague.
“Some nurses, a few wives, and so forth. All those who did not take advantage of the more comfortable transport last week.”

Trewin could not withhold his anger. “Perhaps they were stupid enough to believe the bulletins, sir! Maybe they really trusted the people in authority who promised their safety and final victory!”

Fairfax-Loring watched him unmoved. “Corbett will be sending his wife and child with the
Prawn.
You had better see that Massey's daughter goes, too.” He looked around the bunker. “Ah well, one command post is much like another!”

As he crossed to the entrance the admiral added calmly, “You can send your people ashore if you like. Those you can trust. It'll be your responsibility of course. Some of them may want to make sure their homes are in order and so on. But get them back aboard as soon as you can, so that the ship can be repaired while there's still time.” He showed his teeth. “You don't want to be stuck here all alone, do you?”

Trewin wanted to hit him. You smug, hypocritical bastard! You don't really give a damn about anyone, do you?

He said quietly, “How long have we got, sir?”

“Two or three days.” The admiral studied him as if surprised by the question. “Not much more.” He added suddenly, “But if you need any help I shall be ready to do what I can.”

Trewin replaced his cap and then replied bitterly, “No, sir. I don't want anything, thank you.”

He walked back to the car and leaned for several seconds against the warm metal. He could hear the rumble of guns and the unending murmur of voices in the street beyond the gates. It was like a new nightmare.

The admiral had said nothing about his disobeying Corbett's signal. It was surprising how little it mattered any more. One thing stood out foremost in his mind. Clare must be got out as soon as possible. He would check with
Prawn
's captain and then fetch her himself. When the final battle started it would be something to know that she was safe.

The soldier looked down at him and grinned. “All done, sir?”

Trewin climbed into his seat and stared straight ahead. “Yes. All done.” He saw a polished staff car with a rear-admiral's flag on its bonnet nosing through the compound towards the bunker.

The soldier let in the clutch and said, “Well, at least we've got the harbour intact. The Navy'll lift us out, like they always do, eh?” He was looking at the road and did not see the despair on Trewin's face.

A
S THE MOTOR BOAT DARTED
alongside the landing stage Trewin sensed that Corbett had returned to the
Porcupine
before him. Both the coxswain and the bowman were in spotless whites, and in spite of the wired-off jetty being deserted but for two sentries they went through the full drill of getting the boat neatly laid by the stone steps, as if they were under the eye of the commander-in-chief.

Trewin saw Hammond waiting at the gangway, and as he climbed from the boat he asked, “Well, Sub, why the anxious look?” Even his attempt at humour sounded hollow. His mind was still buzzing with thoughts and impressions he had gained on his short visit ashore. The admiral's casual acceptance of defeat, the grim-faced soldiers and the thought of Clare Massey waiting for someone to help her.

Hammond said, “Thank God, I was beginning to think you were making a day of it, Number One.” He dropped his voice. “The captain came aboard just after you'd gone. He's been yelling for you every other minute. He tried to get through to H.Q., but some joker said that the lines are all disconnected.”

Trewin frowned and glanced at the bridge. “That was no joke, Sub.” He looked along the deck where men were busy with hoses and scrubbers and Dancy was instructing some Chinese seamen in the art of repairing a torn awning. “What the hell is happening?”

“Captain's orders. He went right over the ship as soon as he returned. Every deck and flat, even the boiler room. He's had the
people hard at it all forenoon so far.”

Trewin thought of the tired, unshaven faces in the dawn light. The empty expressions of men too weary even to feel relief at their return or to find pride in seeing the
Prawn
towed to safety. Now Corbett had them all at work, as if the ship was about to receive a full inspection.

He said flatly, “I'll go and see him.” He ran up the bridge ladder and stared with disbelief at the deserted wheelhouse. The brass telegraphs gleamed like gold, the helmsman's grating was still damp from scrubbing, and there was even a smell of new varnish in the air.

He walked down the connecting passageway and rapped on Corbett's door. Corbett was sitting behind his desk writing slowly in his order book. Trewin said, “I've just come aboard, sir.”

Corbett did not look up. “Yes. I heard you talking with Hammond. I wondered when you might get to me.”

Trewin gripped his trousers by the seams and tried to control the remains of his patience. “As temporary officer in charge I went to see the rear-admiral, sir. I wanted fresh orders.”

Corbett replaced the pen on a silver stand and raised his eyes. They looked cold and dangerous. “Never mind that, Trewin! When I came aboard I expected to find you here. With an explanation in writing. I'd have thought that as an ex-journalist you'd not have found that too difficult?” He did not wait for a comment. “In all my experience I have never seen a ship,
any
ship in such a pot-mess! Had I behaved as you did, I would certainly have tried to present some front of efficiency, if only for decency's sake!”

Trewin eyed him warily. “Have you finished, sir?”

Corbett stood up. “No, I have not finished, and be good enough to pay attention!” He was breathing quickly and the nervous tick had appeared below one eye. “The night before last you disobeyed my signal. The result of which is obvious, even to you. This ship is disabled, and the fault is entirely yours! Ever since you came aboard I have tried to tolerate your lack of
experience, and to guide you towards a chance of making yourself useful in the future. And this is how I am repaid!”

Trewin said quietly, “The
Prawn
had to be saved, sir. The enemy were already close to that part of the coast. They would have taken her as soon as it was daylight.”

Corbett stared at him as if he had uttered some obscenity. “Do you think I don't know all that? My responsibility is to the group, Trewin. God knows, I don't want to lose men, some of whom are dear friends of mine. But I'm not permitted to think of that sort of thing, and neither are you. The group must stay intact.
Porcupine
and
Beaver
are the two biggest ships in the group. And now, thanks to you, there is only the
Beaver.
When she returns we may still be stuck here waiting for the dockyard idlers to carry out our repairs.
Prawn
will never be any use as a first-line ship. She has always been the lame dog, and now it looks as if she will be the only one here in commission until
Beaver
comes back!”

Trewin replied, “She's not coming back, sir.”

“Don't change the subject!” Corbett was shouting. “I want to know why you disobeyed my signal!” He swung round. “
What
did you say?”

Trewin repeated, “
Beaver
's not returning, sir. Not soon. Not ever!”

“I don't believe it!” Corbett sat down at his desk and stared at the neat piles of signals. “Even the admiral would not jeopardise efficiency like that!”

“It was the admiral who told me, sir.” Trewin waited a few more seconds. “And the
Prawn
is to leave Singapore as soon as she's able with the last available evacuees. There should be a signal about it already. He said that you should get your wife and son to the slipway as soon as you can, sir.”

Corbett was still staring at his desk. “I don't believe it,” he said again.

Trewin leaned over the desk and turned over the top clip of signals. “It should be here if…”

Corbett knocked his hand away. “I can look, Trewin! I'm not
a damn cripple!” In his sudden anger his sleeve caught his open book and knocked it aside. Before he could replace it Trewin saw a large magnifying glass lying underneath. It was so powerful that the wording on a sheet of typed paper looked about an inch high.

Trewin looked away, holding down the embarrassment and pity, and forced himself to say, “The admiral told me that it's nearly over. We're finished. The powers that be are going to surrender and drop the whole army in the bag!” He could no longer conceal his anger. “So it doesn't really matter what we do now, does it?”

Corbett did not speak for several seconds, and from the ship and beyond Trewin could hear the familiar sounds as if from another world. The sluice of water alongside, the patter of feet on the battery deck, and over all the steady murmur of guns.

Then Corbett said, “I've been over the whole ship myself. There's a lot to do to get her back to shape.” He seemed to be talking to himself. “But she's a sturdy ship. She can take this sort of trouble, and a lot more beside.”

“I know that, sir.”

Corbett lifted his gaze, his eyes empty of expression. “You only think you know. You just look on a ship as a piece of equipment, a means to an end. But you're wrong, believe me!” He slewed round in his chair and looked across the cabin. “The size and power of a ship does not matter. It's the
heart
of a ship that counts. If the ship is treated badly so will she react.” He shook his head. “Because you've seen war it does not make you some sort of super being, Trewin!” He glanced up at him briefly. “You had better go ashore and fetch my wife and son. Dr. Massey's daughter will accompany them in
Prawn
.”

He fixed Trewin with a cold stare. “I would go myself, but I have work to do. This ship will return to normal duty as soon as possible. You don't get that sort of standard by allowing our people to lounge about like a lot of damn vagrants, or by letting the ship get in a state of filth.”

Trewin said, “Very well, sir. I'll go now.”

“And when you return I will want a full written report about your disobeyance of orders. When I write mine I shall not be slow to point out to the admiral your better achievements also. They will be taken into full consideration at the enquiry. To you, the Navy's ways are still strange, perhaps. But they are fair and just, notwithstanding what you may or may not believe.” He picked up his pen. “Now go and see Adair and arrange for my wife to go aboard when
Prawn
is ready.” He dropped his eyes. “She seems to like you well enough, so you should be able to manage that all right!”

Trewin left the cabin, knowing that it was useless to start into a head-on row at this moment. It would be just like Corbett to relieve him of his duties entirely. And there was still Clare's safety to consider.

He walked to the gangway and beckoned to the motor boat. To Hammond he said quietly, “There's to be local leave for those with responsibilities ashore, Sub. Tell Guns to take O.O.D. and get ashore yourself.” He shot him a meaning glance. “Just between us, the
Prawn
is pulling out with the last organised evacuees.” He saw Hammond's eyes cloud over. “I suggest you put your Jacqui aboard. By force if necessary!” Then to the coxswain he shouted, “The slipway, as quick as you can!”

Lieutenant Adair, the
Prawn
's commanding officer, was an extremely tall man, all arms and legs, and with a cluster of large, protruding teeth which seemed to give him a permanent grin. Trewin found him on the slipway squinting up at his ship's weed-encrusted hull, his cap on the back of his head and his shirt as filthy as any of his men's.

He said enthusiastically, “Pretty good show! Just a few dents, but otherwise as sound as a bell. And a few more dents won't be noticed.” He patted the scored and pitted plates with affection. “Lost a lot of coal, but the bomb would have blown
your
ship to blazes, literally that is!” He rubbed his hands on his shorts. “You know about the old Noah's Ark stunt then?”

Trewin nodded. There was something very likeable and reassuring about Adair. “Yes. I'm to fetch Mrs. Corbett and bring her aboard immediately you're ready.”

Adair shrugged. “I'm ready now. We'll unslip her as soon as I can kick the arses of the dockyard maties, and then my chief'll try and get steam up again.” He eyed Trewin with sudden seriousness. “I hope you get away, too. I don't like to think of running out like this.”

Trewin glanced up at the ship's smashed and sagging battery deck, the dried bloodstains around the severed gun mounting. “I think you've done your share.”

Adair grinned, himself again. “Poor old cow!” He signalled to another filthy figure. “Number One! Tell the top man to prepare the slipway. He can drop her in the drink as soon as he's ready. You can take over for a bit.” He looked at Trewin. “I'm going to drive this gentleman on an errand of mercy.”