Pride and the Anguish (19 page)

Trewin had asked, “I don't see what that has to do with this situation?”

Mallory had continued calmly, “Well, our skipper had already been warned for slackness. That rusty old freighter was the bottom of the ladder for him, the last chance, so to speak. He knew bloody well that when the owners heard what had happened he would be given the bum's rush.” Mallory had spread his hands. “Then we got an S.O.S. from some Greek tanker which had lost her rudder. There were plenty of ships nearby, but our skipper had to get there, too. He damn near wrecked the ship and lost a man overboard to do it, but he got there in the end. When we reached port the papers were full of it. Our skipper was the hero of the day. Even though the tanker broke up in the storm before we could get a line across, the skipper was spoken of as the man who had risked his life and his ship for the brotherhood of the sea!” He had shaken his head. “Fortunately the bastard died of alcoholic poisoning the next year before he could kill anybody else!”

“And you think the captain only acted out of self-interest?” Trewin had felt his sympathy for Mallory giving way to anger.

“Could well be! He made me con the ship upriver. Treated me like a kid and watched me every foot of the way. But if I'm asked, I shall tell what I think about it. He ran aground because he's past it! And he's too damn pig-headed to admit that anyone else could handle the ship as well as he can!”

Trewin felt his eyelids drooping and said quickly, “I think I'll be getting back, Doctor. It's late.”

“I suppose you think it thoughtless of me to keep you talking?” Massey regarded him gravely. “But I believe you needed to talk. To get away from what you had to do this morning.” He shook his head. “When I was told what you did I guessed what you must be feeling.” He studied Trewin with his deepset eyes. “You've had a tough time. I've heard about some of it from your captain. Some I worked out for myself.” He smiled. “And you can wipe that guarded look from your face, my lad. I'm a doctor, remember?”

At that moment the door opened and Corbett came into the room with the girl at his side. He said, “I've just been looking at Clare's garden, James. It's very good. Just like a little piece of England.”

Clare Massey looked across at Trewin. “Feeling better now?”

Trewin replied, “Much.” It was strange how tongue-tied she made him. From the moment he had returned to Talang he had known that he wanted to see her again. Perhaps it was fear of a rebuff, or some mistake in his memory of that other meeting which made him tell himself not to leave the ship. To invent tasks when his whole being was crying out for rest and reprieve from those hours on the hillside. All through dinner he had watched her across the table. She looked so young, so sure of herself, and when she spoke with her father it seemed more as a companion than as a daughter.

She said, “The rains have battered the flowers down a bit, but they're very hardy.” She shivered. “It's getting dark outside now. I don't know if I shall be able to sleep tonight knowing the Japs were so close last night.” She checked herself and added to Trewin, “I'm sorry. You've been fighting them, and I'm moaning about myself.”

Trewin watched her hair shining in the lamplight. He could see the fine line of her neck and throat, the firmness of her body beneath the khaki shirt. He said, “It seems quiet enough now.”

Corbett was watching them with his cool, unblinking eyes. “We must be going, Trewin. We sail tomorrow for Singapore and
the next job to be thrown our way.”

Trewin wished that he could make some excuse to be alone with the girl. He did not know what he wanted to tell her, or how he would begin. But it was suddenly very important to him.

Massey stood up and yawned hugely. “I'm sending Clare down to Singapore in a day or so, Greville. Do her good to get away from this place for a bit.”

Corbett nodded, his eyes still on Trewin. “I agree, James. She can stay with Mildred again, eh?”

Trewin thought he saw a quick exchange of glances between the girl and her father, but she replied quietly, “I should like that.”

Trewin heard himself say, “Maybe you could have dinner with
me
if I'm in harbour?”

Corbett picked up his cap. “I expect we shall be very busy, Trewin.” It sounded like a warning.

But the girl replied, “I should like that, too.” She smiled, showing her even teeth. “So mind you look after yourself this time.”

As they walked back to the ship Trewin noticed Corbett's sudden change of mood. He seemed deep in thought, his footsteps quick and impatient. He snapped, “She is a fine young girl. Known her since she was a child.”

Trewin tried to see his face in the darkness. “I know, sir.”

Corbett added stiffly, “I wouldn't like to see her upset in any way, do you understand?”

Trewin felt so weary and drained that he did not know whether to laugh or be angered by Corbett's remarks. He sounded possessive and guarded, as he did when speaking of his ship. Perhaps there was some grain of truth in Mallory's explanation after all. He said carefully, “There might be an enquiry at Singapore, I suppose, sir.”

Corbett sniffed. “I shouldn't wonder. Still, we can report that we've done very well. Very well indeed!”

But if Trewin thought he had successfully changed the subject
he was wrong. As they reached the darkened gangway Corbett said, “She'll meet someone one day, and be happily married.” He paused with one foot on the sidedeck. “So just keep that in mind, eh?”

Trewin walked into his cabin and slammed the door. For a moment he stared at his reflection in the mirror and then nodded. “I will bear it in mind,” he said. “Indeed, I will!”

T
REWIN SOON FOUND
that Corbett had been right about one thing. Within three days of their return to Singapore Island they were ordered to sea yet again, but not to the familiar eastern coastline which had become part of everyday life. Under cover of darkness, while the city waited for yet another air attack, the four gunboats steamed west and then north into the Malacca Strait. So restricted had life become for the crews of the gunboats that even the other part of the war away from the east coast had seemed remote, a matter for someone else to worry about.

There had been talk of fierce fighting from the moment the invasion had started, of the same pattern of retreats and desperate counter-attacks. Penang had fallen, and Kuala Lumpur had followed quickly in the list of defeats.

But British resistance was hardening, and as the enemy pushed down on each side of the Malay Peninsula more troops and artillery were rushed northwards to fill the gaps and stem the fast-moving tide of destruction and death.

On the third day at anchor Corbett had received a summons to Fairfax-Loring's H.Q. The once neat buildings were now little more than blackened skeletons, victims of the many air raids over the dockyard and anchorage, but in the sandbagged cellars beneath the admiral had set up his operations room, and if anything seemed to thrive on the inconvenience.

All the gunboat captains and their first lieutenants had been there, and the admiral had wasted no time in getting to the point.

“The enemy has made another breakthrough
here
!” His flag-lieutenant had moved a long pointer across the map until it reached the town of Malacca. “It's the same sort of pattern as we had on the east coast, but here the country is more difficult for supply and communications. The Army is pulling out of the town and falling back
here
,” he had paused for the pointer to
move slightly, “so they will need support from the sea.”

He had looked around their intent faces. “The C.-in-C. is pleased with our efforts over the past weeks, and I suggested that we should lend our strength to the west coast for a change.” He had chuckled. “At least on the eastern side things have hardened a bit, what?”

It was true that the Pahang River line was still intact. There had been much patrol activity on both sides and a good deal of artillery fighting. But the line was holding, and every day meant more reinforcements and a better chance of hitting back. The war was like a pendulum. If the Japs were held on one coast, the momentum of their pressure swung to the opposite side. So far both fronts had stayed about level, but now with this latest breakthrough the enemy were smashing south again, nearer and nearer to the final goal. Malacca was only one hundred miles from Singapore. On the map it had not looked half that much.

Fairfax-Loring had continued in the same brisk tone. “We know more about the enemy now. We've got the feel of him.” His smile had shown nothing but confidence. “This time we'll give him a bit of a shock!”

Keates of the
Beaver
had plucked at his grey beard. “What support are we getting, sir?”

The admiral had wagged one finger. “Everything I can throw your way! You'll have an anti-aircraft cruiser and her destroyer escort tracking you along the coast, and just to make everyone happy I've laid on some good air cover.” He had saved this part for the last. “Hurricanes! Fresh out from England and raring to hit the Japs where it hurts!”

He had looked around their faces, suddenly solemn. “I only wish I could come with you, gentlemen. But unfortunately I have to stay and control the operation from here. And the way things are going it does look as if I shall be given the responsibility for both coastal sections until further notice.” He had shrugged, and brought out his old smile. “But now is not the time to think of oneself, what?”

As they had finished writing their notes the admiral had added casually, “I have not had the opportunity to speak to all of you about the
Porcupine
's little adventure at Talang.” His eyes had rested momentarily on Corbett. “It looked very nasty for a bit, but things came out quite well in the end.”

That was all. No censure, not even an inquiry about the grounding report which Corbett had already delivered. The business of getting the ship ready for sea again had pushed this realisation to the back of Trewin's mind. Even the shock with its aftermath of nightmares had lessened in the general air of purposeful preparation.

But now, as the
Porcupine
steamed slowly along the southwest coast, Trewin found time to ponder over Fairfax-Loring's apparent indifference.

One thing was sure, it seemingly had a strange effect on Corbett. From the moment the gunboats had left Singapore he had been unable to restrain his irritation and impatience. It was as if he felt out of place on this new coastline, for as Hammond had remarked, Corbett had never been away from the east coast since he had taken command.

For another three days the gunboats had steamed slowly back and forth along a set patrol area, the first tension of expectancy giving way to the usual air of anticlimax and uncertainty. It was true that the admiral's prophecy about support was correct. They had seen the cruiser
Canopus
and her destroyers far out on the horizon, and regularly twice a day they had been alarmed and then cheered by the sight of low-flying Hurricanes as they flashed overhead following the coastline like birds of prey.

Then on the third day as Trewin had climbed to the bridge to take over the First Watch the news had broken. He had been standing by the starboard screen, his glasses trained on a group of motionless fishing boats, when Corbett had hurried up from the radio room, his face stiff and apprehensive.

“Just had a signal, Trewin. The Japs have bypassed the Army to the south of Malacca and have made a seaborne landing behind
them!” He had pushed Mallory away from the chart table. “They've cut the coast road and are already in command of the hills there.” He had smacked his hand on the chart. “Damn them!”

Trewin had asked, “And our orders, sir? Do we try a bombardment on the enemy positions?”

Corbett had stared at him as if he were talking gibberish. “My orders are to enter the pocket between the two enemy-held areas. There is a fishing port of some sort and a whole brigade pinned down inside it.” He had controlled his voice with an effort. “We will evacuate the troops at first light and take them further down the coast to stabilise the line.” He had glared at Mallory's grim features. “So get cracking, Pilot! I don't want any mistakes this time!”

The group had turned away from the coast, and when darkness fell
Porcupine
had led the little line of gunboats back towards the shore. Navigation for once was made easy in the early stages. The fishing village, such as it was, was lit repeatedly by shell bursts, and far away to port, lighting the night sky like an early dawn, was an unmoving pink glow.

Mallory had said quietly, “That must be Malacca. It'll be burning like hell to give a glow like that.”

Now the glow was fainter, and Trewin was reminded of the hillside above the Talang Inlet as he and Hammond had waited for the dawn.

Corbett sat restlessly on his chair, his glasses trained over the screen towards the flickering arrowhead of water which marked the entrance to the village. The approach was littered with sunken or drifting fishing boats, and more than once Trewin saw a corpse floating face down on the surface, seeming to come to life when caught by the gunboat's wash.

Corbett said, “Slow ahead!” He seemed unable to sit still. “Have you checked the bearing, Pilot?”

Mallory's face lit up momentarily in the glare of a bursting flare. He said curtly, “Oh four five, sir! But once past the
breakwater it'll be all guesswork.”

Corbett snapped, “Don't be impertinent, Pilot! Don't you overstep the mark again!” He swung round as Trewin made to leave the bridge. “And where do you imagine you're going?”

Trewin flinched as the air shivered to a sudden barrage of gunfire. He replied, “Aft, sir. My action station is with…”

Corbett banged his fist on the screen. “You stay here, Trewin! We'll not be engaging any ships this time!” He peered towards the village. “Just get those soldiers aboard and then get out, that's what I say!”