The Blue Dress Girl

by E. V. Thompson

  By noon the next day, the vivid colours of the sky had faded. A menacing bank of black cloud stretching from sea to sky was moving towards the land from the south. Ahead of the storm the sea was already alarmingly rough. Chinese fishermen and boatmen were enlisting the aid of friends and relatives to drag even the largest boats well away from the water’s edge.

  There was nothing more Kernow could do in the barracks and he was concerned for the safety of She-she. He sought and obtained permission to go to the mission and help them cope with the expected onslaught.

  As Kernow hurried through the streets towards the mission house the wind howled about him. Its voice in the bamboo scaffolding surrounding the many new building projects on Hong Kong island added urgency to the activities of those taking last-minute precautions to secure belongings and property against the approaching holocaust.

  Kernow turned a last corner on his way to the mission house – and was promptly blown back again. Picking himself up he went around the corner on hands and knees. When he rose to his feet he sprinted the last few yards during a momentary lull in the wind.

  The mission house was closed and shuttered and there was no response to his hammering on the door. It might have been that no one could hear him above the din of the storm. Kernow thought it more likely that everyone in the house had gone to the substantially built mission hospital building.

  As he made his way along the streets once more he was surrounded by the noise of falling tiles and pursued by a variety of debris. Gathered by the wind it carved a dangerous and frenetic path through the colony.

  Overtaken by basketwear, coolie hats, an occasional wooden bucket and a variety of broken bamboo scaffolding, Kernow learned to be particularly careful when he rounded corners. Once, a battered wooden shutter flew over his head, ripped from a nearby window, and all about him now was the constant noise of breaking glass.

  Kernow had succeeded in rounding the last corner to the mission at the third attempt when he heard a new and terrifying sound. It sounded like the drumming of the hoofs of a brigade of cavalry charging across a wooden bridge. It took him a moment or two to realise the sound was torrential rain advancing at an ominous speed across the rooftops of the town.

  The time for caution had gone. Bending almost double against the strength of the wind, Kernow ran like a drunken man in a bid to reach the mission hospital before the rain caught him.

  He almost made it. It would have taken him no more than fifteen paces to reach the door of the mission hospital when the deluge crashed upon him with the weight of a waterfall. Kernow was knocked to the ground. Fighting for breath, he thought he was drowning. Indeed, by the time he had fought to regain his feet he was floundering in water that swirled about his ankles and was rising rapidly.

  Somehow he made it to the steps of the hospital and stumbled inside the porch. He was not even aware that his hat, secured with a leather chin strap, had been sacrificed to the Chinese Wind God.

  It was more sheltered here, but he was still buffeted by wind and rain and it felt as though a giant hand was constricting his chest, trying to prevent him from breathing. Somehow in the darkness of the storm he managed to find the door handle, quietly praying the door had not been barred on the inside.

  He was fortunate, the door opened – only to be snatched from his hand by the wind. It crashed inwards against the wall, the glass shattering. Fortunately it was also protected by a wooden shutter, but the sound, together with the wind that howled inside the hospital corridor, brought two Chinese hospital porters running. The combined strengths of the three men eventually succeeded in closing the door. Then the bedraggled Royal Marine officer was helped along a corridor and into a room where Doctor Jefferies was re-lighting a lamp, extinguished when Kernow had entered the building.

  This was one of two storerooms, situated on the ground floor. With no windows and only one door to each room, Doctor Jefferies had decided these were the safest in the building. The whole of the hospital staff, patients and missionaries, was here. So too were She-she and Kau-lin.

  Everyone in the room expressed their concern at the state of the young officer. Relieved to find She-she safe, Kernow noticed only her genuine anxiety for him. It made the terrors of the past minutes worthwhile.

  ‘What on earth were you doing out in this….’

  Even as Doctor Jefferies spoke the words there was a frightening crash from somewhere close at hand and the whole building shook, causing the flame in the lamp to flicker as though trembling in fear.

  ‘I came because I thought you might need some help.’ It sounded foolish. Those in the storeroom were quite secure. Kernow felt like some half-drowned animal.

  There was another crash and the sound of rending timbers from somewhere outside.

  ‘We’ll need all the help we can get as soon as it’s possible to go outside. I don’t know when that’s likely to be, though. This is the worst typhoon to strike Hong Kong for very many years. It sounds as though the whole city of Victoria is being blown to pieces.’

  ‘You’re lucky to be alive, young man.’ The comment came from Esme Pilkington. ‘But I admire your spirit in coming out to help us.’

  Kernow did not know whether he was imagining it, or if Esme’s glance linked him to She-she. Right now it did not matter very much. He was here and so was She-she and they were both safe.

  ‘You’d better get out of those wet clothes.’ The practical suggestion came from Hannah. She called in Chinese to one of the orderlies who had brought Kernow to the room and the man hurried away.

  ‘I’ve sent for some clothes for you. They will be coolie clothes and not as elegant as your uniform, but they’ll be dry and you’ll find them comfortable.’

  The Chinese orderly returned with a tunic and trousers, both made of coarse cotton, and a pair of black cotton slippers.

  Kernow changed in the darkness of the corridor outside. The tunic and trousers were a good fit but the shoes were too tight for real comfort. However, it was a relief to be out of his wet clothes.

  Out here in the corridor the sound of the typhoon was far worse. Kernow believed part of the roof had been brought down. This seemed to be confirmed when he found he was walking in a slowly advancing puddle of water. It was hardly likely the water outside would have risen high enough to lap over the steps. The hospital was on a slope and should have been immune from flooding.

  When he re-entered the storeroom carrying his sodden uniform, She-she stood up quickly and took it from him, saying quietly, ‘I take these. You have them back when clean and dry.’

  Thanking her, Kernow told Doctor Jefferies of the water in the corridor.

  ‘That could prove to be serious. We have a lot of equipment in the hospital that cannot be replaced. I must go and check.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Kernow’s offer was echoed by Arthur and, with less enthusiasm, by Ronald Calvin.

  ‘Arthur and Kernow can come with me. We’ll bring the orderlies too. Ronald, I suggest you remain here. Take care of the women should anything untoward happen.’

  The Europeans and Chinese groped their way along the corridor in the wake of Doctor Jefferies. It was quite impossible to use lanterns. There was enough wind in the corridors to suggest that a window, at least, had blown in.

  When they reached the stairs leading to the upper storey it became apparent that the damage was more serious than a mere window. Debris blocked the stairs and much of the passageway. Part of the roof had collapsed. Water tumbled down through the rubble and it was this that was flooding the corridor. The ground floor would have suffered far more had the rubble from the roof not blocked the stairway. It could not keep the torrential rain from pouring through, but it did block much of the wind’s terrifying force.

  ‘We can’t do anything about it just yet,’ declared the missionary doctor, grimly. Years of hard work had been destroyed in the storm. ‘Let’s check the ground floor ward.’

  Floodwater was ankle deep on the floor of the ward, but alt
hough the wind rattled the heavy wooden shutters alarmingly, they were holding. The same was true at the school end of the building. Hundreds of tiles had been torn from the roof, but the main structure was intact.

  They were returning along the corridor in the direction of the store room when Kernow came to a halt.

  ‘Listen!’

  Everyone in the party stopped and after a few moments Arthur said, ‘I can’t hear anything.’

  The wind had suddenly dropped and the ensuing silence was uncanny.

  ‘We must have caught the full force of the typhoon here,’ said Doctor Jefferies. ‘We’re in the calm at the eye of the storm right now. The wind will come back with renewed force in a while.’

  ‘No … listen again!’

  Everyone fell silent. There was an unusual sound outside and at first everyone thought it was the low moaning of the wind in the distance. Not until it continued for some minutes and swelled in volume did they realise what they were hearing. It was the sound of human voices bewailing a tragedy of monstrous proportions.

  ‘It’s the people from the shacks behind the hospital. Their homes were far too flimsy to have stood up to the typhoon. The whole area will have been devastated!’ Doctor Jefferies’ voice expressed his distress. ‘We must help them.’

  ‘But you said the typhoon would return.’

  ‘So it will – but we can’t ignore those people out there. They’ll all die unless we do something to help them.’

  ‘I’ll come out there with you,’ said Kernow. ‘But we’ll need to be quick. I’d hate to get caught outside in that typhoon again.’

  Inside the storeroom refuge, Hugh Jefferies told his wife what they were about to do and lit a couple of lanterns to use should the wind outside not extinguish them immediately.

  Outside the mission hospital it was as though the storm had been cut off. The air was still. Uncannily still. Kernow thought it was as though the world was holding its breath in anticipation….

  Yet the night was not silent. The sound of water in motion was everywhere. It leaped down the side of the steep hill behind the city of Victoria in great booming torrents and surged about the feet of the would-be rescuers from the mission hospital.

  There were screams and cries too, coming from the hillside. More than five thousand people not rich enough to own permanent houses had constructed hovels from anything that came to hand. These make-shift houses had been levelled by the high wind and the rain had brought thousands of tons of mud thundering down the slopes of the peak to bury the terrified inhabitants. It was as though nature had made a determined bid to reclaim what was rightfully hers.

  Among the mud and buried debris were men, women and children. In some miraculous manner many had survived the cataclysm – but they could not hope for a second miracle. When the eye of the typhoon passed on they would once more be subjected to the full fury of wind and rain.

  Doctor Jefferies ran amongst terrified and dazed Chinese, shouting in their own language for them to make their way to the mission hospital. The homeless people, dazed by their ordeal, were slow to obey. Meanwhile, Kernow and Arthur, with help from some of the orderlies, began to haul survivors free from the mud and rubbish of the destroyed community. It was not long before assistance arrived in the substantial form of Esme Pilkington who had been unable to remain inside while others toiled.

  When Hugh Jefferies lodged a half-hearted protest against her presence in such an appalling situation, Esme dismissed it with the words, ‘I wasn’t cut out to be a nurse, Doctor Jefferies. I’m more of a labourer and that’s what I think you have need of out here.’

  There was need for a hundred such as Esme Pilkington, although sheer strength was not always enough. Many of those they pulled from the remnants of their homes were beyond the services of either labourer or doctor. Such traumatic discoveries had a sobering effect on the rescuers and they worked in silence, except when they needed help. A great many children were among the dead and the carnage and destruction was distressing beyond words.

  They had been working for perhaps twenty minutes when Esme Pilkington suddenly straightened up. Adding more mud to her forehead with the back of a hand she asked, ‘Can you hear something?’

  Kernow could and he knew exactly what it was. ‘The eye of the typhoon’s passing over. Get back to the mission as quickly as you can.’

  ‘There’s someone here. I can’t just leave her.’ Esme redoubled her efforts to scrape mud and stones from the body of a young woman.

  ‘Arthur, get back to the hospital – QUICK! Take as many people as you can with you.’

  Without waiting to see if he was being obeyed, Kernow dropped to the mud beside Esme and dug as frantically as she in a bid to free the woman she had found. They uncovered the woman’s face only to discover she was dead. At that moment the wind blew out their lantern and Kernow heard the rain coming.

  Grabbing Esme’s arm, he called, ‘Run, Esme. Run for your life!’

  He ran with her, dragging her on when she would have slackened her pace, but the rain overtook them when they were still some distance from the mission. Knocked to the ground they were buffeted by wind and water as they staggered about helplessly, no longer certain of the direction in which they were going. It was sheer luck – Esme would later refer to it as God-guided luck – that brought them to the mission.

  They made it to the door on hands and knees, only to find that the door itself had been blown half off its hinges, the wind playing havoc inside the building. But at least they were free of the rain here.

  Kernow staggered through the door, cursing in a most un-Christian manner as he hit his shin on a piece of broken slate. Suddenly he heard She-she’s voice say, ‘Here,’ and a slim hand reached out and gripped his arm. He kept his grip on Esme and hauled her after him, in spite of her protests that she wanted to go the other way.

  She-she led him along the corridor, away from the storeroom, shouting above the noise of the storm, ‘Too many people that way. All stand. No can sit. You come me.’

  There were people this way too, many wailing with fright. Keeping a tight grip on Kernow, as he tripped over limbs and prostrate bodies, She-she guided him to the classroom. This room too was jammed with people, but they made their way through until She-she suddenly ducked down and spoke in Chinese. The voice of Kau-lin replied and Kernow was pulled beneath one of the tables on which they had taken their lessons.

  ‘Is there room for me under there?’ Esme’s voice sounded unusually plaintive.

  ‘Of course.’ The voice from beneath the table was Arthur’s. ‘Compared with the way they’re packed in at the other end of the building, there’s room for a whole army under here.’

  Kernow was relieved to hear Arthur’s voice. He had been concerned that he and Doctor Jefferies might not have made it to the safety of the mission through the deluge.

  ‘Is Jefferies with you?’

  ‘No, he went to the storeroom. Kau-lin met me at the door and brought me here while She-she waited for you.’

  ‘Waited for me?’

  ‘I was afraid for you,’ said She-she. ‘You very lucky one time. Maybe not two.’

  ‘I’m touched,’ said Kernow, and he meant it. Somehow his hand found She-she’s and squeezed it. She did not attempt to take it away and for some minutes they sat with linked hands in the darkness.

  ‘You very wet.’ She-she’s other hand found his Chinese-style jacket. ‘Take off.’

  ‘It will dry in a while.’

  ‘No, take off. Wait here, I come back.’

  The next moment She-she had gone. Some minutes later she returned and said, ‘You take off?’

  ‘I’ve got the jacket off but I think I’d better hang on to my trousers.’

  ‘Here, take.’

  She-she thrust something into his hand and he discovered curtain rings on one end.

  ‘You’ve given me a curtain.’

  ‘It good. Dry.’

  ‘I wish someone would offer me something dr
y to put around myself. I may be built like a man-o’-war, but I don’t like to feel I’m floating in water.’

  ‘Here.’ She-she reached across Kernow to where she judged Esme Pilkington to be. ‘Other curtain for you.’

  ‘Bless you, girl.’

  Outside, a roof from a nearby house was flung into the air. Part of it crashed against the outside of the mission, causing the building to vibrate. Some of the Chinese women and children cried out in fear.

  ‘Do you sing, Mister Keats?’

  ‘Me? Sing?’ For a moment Kernow wondered whether the storm had caused Esme to take leave of her senses.

  ‘I have a voice that can make itself heard above most things, Mister Keats, but I fear it will need some help if we are to drown out the sounds of a typhoon.’

  The next moment Esme Pilkington’s voice was booming out a recognisable if not entirely musically accurate version of ‘Rock of Ages’.

  Kernow joined in and Arthur’s more tuneful voice was soon heard. A few minutes later the tune was taken up by distant voices from the storeroom at the far end of the crowded corridor.

  Alongside Kernow, She-she moved in a bid to make herself more comfortable. She made no attempt to pull away when his arm went about her and drew her in to him.

  At some time during that violent night, Kernow fell asleep still holding She-she, only faintly aware that Esme’s unfading voice was now stronger than the storm outside.

  Chapter 15

  ‘WAKE UP, MISTER Keats. Wake up!’

  Kernow woke with a start to discover he was still holding She-she. She was snuggled in to him asleep. It took a moment or two to realise he had not wakened of his own volition. Hannah Jefferies had a hand on his shoulder and it was clear she did not approve of what she saw.