Pride and the Anguish (6 page)

“The hospital.” Mallory gestured to the road. “It's up there. Built for a big rubber plantation some years ago. But the place went bust and the jungle moved in again. The hospital has been kept on because of,” he tapped his nose, “the
International Situation
!” He quickened his pace and pointed towards the tall, ramshackle house which was indeed built on stilts. “The club!”

It was a dreary place, filled with small cane tables and
battered chairs to match. The walls were open to the river and covered with mosquito netting, and the fan which churned the humid air back and forth across the threadbare carpet was hand-worked by a wizened Malay who sat on an upended beer crate as if he had been there since the place was built.

Mallory banged the zinc-topped bar. “Two beers!”

An unsmiling Malay brought the beer which looked better than it tasted.

Mallory slumped in a chair and said, “Dead as a doornail! It livens up a bit at nights though.”

“Who comes here, for God's sake?” Trewin sipped the beer and watched two flies crawling on his knee.

Mallory shrugged. “Engineers mostly. They're adding to a big fuel dump about a mile up the road. The Army are a bit cut off up here and will need a lot of stores if the balloon does go up.” He groaned and banged down the glass. “The Japs'd be nuts to come this way! The insects would eat 'em alive!” He saw Trewin was interested and added, “Ten miles to the north of where we're sitting there's a whole brigade dug in.” He grinned. “Aussies, of course! They always stick our chaps out in the bloody bush!”

Trewin considered the remark. Penned in by jungle away from the smell of the sea it was hard to picture the overall strategy which went to the defence of Malaya.

Mallory said soberly, “It's a good spot,
militarily
speaking, of course. They've got the Pahang River to the north of them, which is better than any Maginot Line. And this little river down here to protect the flank. Next time we come this way I'll take you up there. They're a good lot of boys. One or two of 'em from Queensland, too.”

Two more beers were placed on the table and Mallory said gloomily, “We had the admiral aboard on the last visit. Hell, he nearly blew his top. He wanted to do a sort of grand tour, and old Corbett insisted on visiting the flaming hospital just when he was about to go inland.” He shook his head. “God, there's no love lost between those two jokers!”

Trewin recalled Kane's words. He said, “The captain knew the admiral before, I gather?”

“S'right. I don't know what happened.” He shook his head. “But whatever it was has made Corbett very edgy indeed. He's like a cat on hot bricks when the top man appears.”

“Oh there you are, sir!”

They both turned as Petty Officer Masters, the yeoman of signals, clattered across the rough flooring and handed Trewin a crumpled signal flimsy. Masters was very overweight and sweating badly. He added, “For the captain, sir. Immediate.” He peered at the bar and sniffed.

Mallory said, “Some sort of flap on?”

“Recall to Singapore, sir.” He sounded vague. “We are to assume state
Medway.
” He shrugged. “The captain'll know, sir.”

The portly yeoman walked away and Mallory said slowly, “Hell, it looks like you may be right, Number One. State
Medway
is the bloody code for the squadron's emergency!” He grabbed his cap. “I'd better go aboard and get things started. Will you tell the Old Man?”

Trewin was staring at the crumpled signal. “Yes. I'll tell him.”

Leaving his second beer untouched Trewin walked out into the sun and along the dirt road. All at once the frustrations and disappointments of Singapore seemed unimportant and the green jungle walls were no longer inviting and tranquil. He quickened his pace, the sun fierce across his shoulders so that he almost walked right past a long, low-roofed bungalow building with a faded red cross painted on the roof.

Several Malay women were washing clothes in big enamel troughs on the hospital veranda, and there seemed to be about thirty children playing noisily in the dust below. An orderly in a white coat bobbed his head and smiled. “You wish to see doctor?”

Trewin nodded, and as he followed the little Malay into the shade of the entrance hall he saw rows of neat iron beds, mostly filled with native women and more children. In another ward he
saw some tough-looking Malays bandaged and splinted, and he guessed that they were injured workers from the new fuel dump.

The orderly stopped by a door. “I go see if doctor is busy.”

At that moment there was a crash of crockery from the ward and a chorus of indignant yells. The orderly frowned. “I go there first! Someone make trouble!” He hurried off clucking his tongue angrily.

Trewin thought of the brief signal and without waiting further thrust open the door. The room was in complete darkness with the shutters drawn tightly across the windows. Trewin blinked, half blinded from the blazing sunlight outside, and in the few seconds which followed he got a vague impression of Corbett's pale figure sitting in a chair, his head thrown right back and his eyes shining like blue stones in the beam of a small lamp which another man was holding barely inches from his face.

“What the devil!” Corbett thrust the other man away and lurched to his feet, sending the chair crashing to one side. He saw Trewin and strode to the windows, where he flung back the shutters with a further crash.

Trewin saw that the other man was a tall, distinguished-looking European with a neat dark beard. He had a calm, serious face, and as he turned his gaze from Corbett's anger to Trewin's uncertainty he said quietly, “I'm Dr. Massey. Do you mind telling me what you mean by bursting in here?” His voice was mild, but there was no mistaking the annoyance in his eyes.

Corbett snapped, “This is my first lieutenant!” He turned on Trewin. “I might have expected something like this.”

Trewin said, “I'm very sorry. I did not realise you were doing anything…”

Corbett interrupted angrily, “You must forgive him, James. He imagines that he is the only one who has ever done anything worth while!”

The doctor relaxed. “I was just examining your captain's eye. I think there is a bit of inflammation, or maybe it's dust there.” He looked at Corbett searchingly. “As I was saying when we
were interrupted.”

Trewin said, “I have a signal, sir. It was urgent or I would not have come.”

Corbett appeared to have recovered himself. “Well, now that you
are
here you'd better let me have it.” To Massey he added calmly, “If it's not one thing it's another.”

Trewin held out the flimsy, but Corbett said, “Read the thing out. That damn light has half blinded me!”

Trewin glanced uncertainly at Massey, and Corbett shouted, “For God's sake, I've known the doctor for years! Are you afraid he'll tell everyone what it says?”

“We are to assume state
Medway,
sir.” The pencilled letters on the signal seemed to dance, and Trewin saw that his hand was shaking with suppressed anger. When he lifted his head he noticed that Corbett was quite controlled, as if nothing had happened.

“Very well, Trewin. That wasn't too bad, now, was it?” He turned to Massey. “All blow over, I expect. Still, it's just as well to be ready.”

Trewin walked from the room and waited in the passage outside the door. He heard Corbett and Massey speaking quietly together and felt the same dull sensation of resentment and anger creeping through him once more. It seemed to take so little to get him on edge now. In spite of every precaution he repeatedly had to find time to cool down, to reason with himself like a wary spectator. He plucked his shirt away from his shoulder and tried to see himself as he had once been before Crete.

At the very beginning of the war, for instance, when serving aboard an escort destroyer, he had had a captain who was generally considered mad by everyone who crossed his path. A character larger than life, he had goaded his officers almost beyond endurance, yet when the storm broke and the ship ran the gauntlet of the Atlantic for the first time Trewin had been the first to admit to his complete coolness under fire, his ready grasp of every phase of attack. While Trewin and his fellow
officers seized the rare opportunities of sleep, a few hours at a time in damp blankets while the ship rolled drunkenly across the steep Atlantic troughs, the captain had stayed stolidly on his bridge. Whenever Trewin had fought off the clinging desire to sleep and had climbed once more to the nightmare of wind and sea, the captain had always been there, waiting and watching, like some superior being.

But once the ship had returned to harbour the same captain had returned to his old outward mould of insulting impatience.

Why then was it that Corbett was getting under his skin so much? He tried to tell himself it was because of his own bitterness at not getting another command. But deep inside his soul, gnawing like some half-healed disease, he thought he knew the real answer.

Unlike the men who had died beside him in the water at Crete, or those who had survived as broken shadows of their former selves, he had been spared for a later, more treacherous fate. His body was healing from the burns and the agony of his dying ship, but his mind was still undecided which path to follow.

He looked up as Corbett stepped into the passage, his face once more alert and controlled.

“Right, Trewin. Back to the ship. We'll return to Singapore immediately. The rest of the group will be on their way there, too.”

They fell in step together and walked quickly along the dirt road. Corbett said suddenly, “I met Dr. Massey several years back, before the war. He has been a good friend in many ways. Had a great career ahead of him in England but threw it all up to come out here and work for these people. His wife died in a fire just after he came out here to start work.” Corbett shook his head. “That didn't help much. But I think he's got over it now. And he had his daughter with him, of course.”

Trewin did not answer. Massey was probably just one more failure, he thought bitterly. Could not stand his own inability to find success in England so he had come out to Malaya in the
role of benefactor.

Corbett glanced at him coldly. “Without such men this country would be nothing.”

They reached the pier and Corbett said, “Now just remember what I told you. Our flotilla of gunboats has been welded into something to be proud of. I won't stand for anything or anyone getting in the way of efficiency or one hundred per cent readiness to perform whatever duty is thrown our way, d'you understand?”

Trewin saw the side party waiting by the gangway. “Yes, sir.”

Corbett saluted as the pipes trilled in the unmoving air. “And don't grit your teeth, Trewin. I can't stand people who sulk!”

Mallory sauntered across the sidedeck and watched Corbett hurry towards the bridge. “You told him then?”

“I did.” Trewin suddenly wanted to be left alone. To go to his cabin and take a drink. Or
sulk,
as Corbett had put it.

But in spite of his anger Mallory's unruffled question helped to ease away the tension which had gripped him all the way to the ship. He said wearily, “I suppose I'll get used to this sort of life…eventually!”

Mallory grinned. “The first ten years are the worst!”

They both looked up as Corbett called from the bridge ladder, “When you are
ready,
gentlemen!”

Mallory said under his breath, “Given some encouragement I could take quite a dislike to that one.”

Fifteen minutes later the
Porcupine
sidled clear of the pier and with her screws churning the water into white froth backed out into the centre of the river.

As before Trewin conned the ship downstream while Corbett remained silent and watchful in his tall chair. Only when the bows lifted slightly to the sea's greeting did he say anything.

Then to the bridge at large he remarked, “That was a little better. But there's still room for improvement.” He sat back in his chair and tilted his cap across his eyes.

Trewin sighed and handed over the watch to Mallory. With
men like Corbett you could never win, he thought.

T
HE NIGHTMARE MOUNTED
to its usual terrible climax, and with a sudden cry Trewin rolled on to his side and switched on the bedside light. For a full minute he stared dazedly around the neat hotel room while his disordered thoughts moved back into some sort of pattern. He was sweating badly, and he could feel his heart pounding painfully against his ribs. How long would it be before he could shake off the repetitive dream? he wondered. It had no true order or realism, yet the distorted faces and leaping flames were always there.

Wearily he climbed from the damp sheets and stood beside the bed. With something like hatred he stared at the empty gin bottle on the table and at his clothes which lay where he had thrown them just a few hours earlier. His watch told him it was almost four in the morning, and he knew he would not be able to get back to sleep.

He had hoped that a change of surroundings, if only for one night, would make some sort of difference. Wandering from hotel to hotel, or allowing himself to be carried this way and that by the ceaseless, jostling throng of townspeople should have produced a sensation to replace the anticlimax which had greeted the
Porcupine
's return to Singapore Island. What sense of emergency there might have been seemed to have given way to an atmosphere not unlike a strange carnival. As the gunboat had dropped anchor ahead of her consorts any idea of impending danger or urgency seemed to fade.

The crowded waterfront had abounded with optimism and relief, and even Trewin had to admit there was some foundation for the wild gaiety. In the centre of the crowded anchorage, dominating every other ship by their size and power, were two great capital ships and their newly arrived escorts. The battleship
Prince of Wales
and the battlecruiser
Repulse
seemed to represent
a visible sign that this time there was to be no nonsense. That sure shield which every Briton had come to take for granted had reached out protectively even to Singapore.