It was strange, he had spoken almost the same words that night in the bar with Irvine and the others, when he had been worrying more about Dalziel than himself. Now they had changed roles yet again. He was back to when he had first stepped aboard the Terrapin.
The tannoy boomed around the upper deck, halting the tired and grubby seamen even as they prepared to go below to their messes.
‘Clear lower deck! All hands lay aft!’
Dalziel said, ‘Just put ’em in the picture about our new orders.’ He chuckled. ‘Not that I know much myself yet. But it might buck them up a bit.’
Chief Petty Officer Corbin stepped heavily over an anchor cable and saluted. ‘Lower deck cleared, sir.’
‘Very well, Cox’n. I’ll come now.’ He frowned with sudden irritation as a car nosed its way between the piles of crates on the jetty and stopped in the shadow of a giant gantry. ‘Blast him!’
Standish saw that it was Captain Jerram, pausing beside a smart marine driver to peer up at the frigate and at the assembled ratings on her quarterdeck.
Dalziel snapped, ‘Well, he will have to wait. You see to him, Number One. If he must come popping up at inconvenient times then he’ll have to be inconvenienced.’
Standish walked to the gangway and saluted as Jerram climbed slowly on to the deck. He looked tired and much older than his years.
‘The commanding officer sends his respects, sir, but he had already arranged to address the ship’s company.’
Jerram glanced aft and then said bleakly, ‘So I see. I might as well take a look at the repairs while it’s going on.’
Standish followed him up on to the forecastle and waited until Jerram had examined the newly painted plates.
Then Jerram said slowly, ‘You’re off to sea again tomorrow.’ He seemed ill at ease and Standish guessed that he had heard of his meeting with Sarah Dalziel.
He replied, ‘So I understand, sir.’ Well, he would not give the first opening.
Jerram took out his blackened little pipe and peered at it without recognition. Then he said, ‘Try and keep the ship out of trouble, eh? Otherwise the disposal people won’t be able to give her away, let alone sell her when the time comes.’ He appeared to reach a decision. ‘When a ship pays off, finally and completely, she leaves many memories behind. The same ship in a lifetime can break one man and bring distinction to another. But she leaves more than memories. Her people who are serving at the time when her commissioning pendant is hauled down are suddenly without purpose. They are scattered and must begin again elsewhere. You’ll be affected like that.’ He forced a smile, the effort adding to the criss-cross of tiny wrinkles across his face. ‘Take young Irvine for instance. He’ll be due for his half-stripe in a few months, and probably a command of his own. Of course he’ll never stick it. His sort never do. Become a captain maybe, and then plunge off into politics or some family business.’
Standish waited. It was coming soon.
Jerram continued in the same tired voice, ‘Then there’s you of course. Quite a different matter altogether. You had some bad luck, but that’s nothing new. This short appointment to the Terrapin could be the new start for you, too. And who knows, if all goes well there might be a command waiting again.’
Standish looked away, suddenly tired and sickened by the fencing.
‘And what about the captain, sir? Are we discussing him, too? Or wouldn’t that be quite the thing?’
Jerram looked surprised and then smiled. ‘A bit touchy today, eh?’
Standish shook his head. ‘Not that, sir. I’m just sick to death of hypocracy. I’ve had my share lately.’ Now that he had started he could not stop. Even if he had wanted to. ‘If you’re dissatisfied with Commander Dalziel, why did you accept his appointment? And if you’re confident in his ability to command this ship, then why doesn’t everyone get off his back? When I held a command and I disliked what a subordinate was doing, I told him to his face.’ He added harshly, ‘I didn’t try to make trouble through my admiral, nor did I get at him under his wife’s apron strings!’
Jerram said coldly, ‘I think we’ve both said enough.’
‘And so do I, sir. In spite of what the captain may say, I know that I was partly to blame for the state this ship was in when he took command. And believe me, it was a pretty mess. Commander Dalziel’s methods seemed a bit strange at first and there was plenty of resentment, not only on the lower deck either. Whatever else he has done, he has made this ship come alive again.’
Jerram walked to the gun mounting and switched on the speaker system. Dalziel’s voice flooded around them, and Standish was suddenly reminded of that first time when he had spoken to his new command.
‘… and so we are returning to Kuala Papan for further duty. I will not ask you to expect any miracles. After all, we can’t hope to keep on snatching ships full of armed terrorists away from those who should have caught ’em, oh?’
Standish heard some of the assembled company laughing in the background, and when he looked at Jerram he saw him running his hand across his face as he muttered, ‘Oh, the damned idiot!’
Dalziel was saying, ‘We’ve shown them what we can do. You joined a fine service to serve your country, and if necessary die for it, although I think some had let that fact slip their minds until I came aboard.’ There was more laughter, louder this time. ‘When you go ashore tonight I want you to do something for me. Don’t just think of yourselves as naval men, or even British naval men.’ There was a pause and Standish could hear Jerram breathing heavily behind him. ‘I want you to remember, each and every one of you, that you are of the Terrapin. When you go down into the town, I want you to swagger, for if the rest of the world is in ignorance, I want you to know that I personally am proud of you.’
Jerram switched off the speaker and looked at Standish.
‘Would you ask the commanding officer to see me as soon as possible?’
There was a light step on the forecastle ladder and Dalziel said curtly, ‘I’m here, sir.’ He was breathing hard and the front and armpits of his shirt were dark with sweat.
Jerram seemed to have forgotten about Standish.
He said coldly, ‘You are sailing to Kuala Papan to rejoin the squadron. This time there will be no independent actions, no further hit-and-miss operations without first obtaining permission.’
Dalziel eyed him calmly. ‘I know that, sir. I was just telling our people about it.’
‘I heard some of that.’ Jerram walked to the guardrail and gripped it with both hands. ‘You knew when you were speaking that your next duty is pure routine, an attached picket if you like. Yet you stood up there as if you were just going into the biggest battle ever visualized.’ He swung round angrily. ‘In God’s name, man, what do you think you’re doing?’
‘My job, sir.’ Dalziel was smiling, but his eyes were like flints. ‘As I see it, and as I was taught, to keep the peace you must be prepared for war.’ His tone hardened. ‘Once already my ship has been edged into the sidelines. I accepted it. I even tried to see some sense in it.’
Jerram seemed to be speaking to himself. ‘Your new assignment will involve little more than local patrol and survey. You may even be required for carrying stores for the squadron.’
Dalziel thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘Carrying stores, sir?’ He nodded. ‘Then we’ll carry stores better than any other damned ship in the command, never mind that collection of iron they call a squadron!’
Jerram straightened his back and looked round as several seamen appeared on the opposite ladder. Some of them were laughing and chattering.
Jerram said quietly, ‘I hope they’ll still be laughing in a month or two, that’s all.’
He made for the ladder and Dalziel said, ‘Thank you for coming, sir. Was there any specific reason?’
Jerram faced him. ‘There was. I was going to warn you. But when I heard your speech I knew I was too late.’
Dalziel followed him to the gangway and saluted.
; The car moved unsteadily across the jetty and vanished from view.
Standish said quietly, ‘We’ll be seeing him in Kuala Papan, I suppose?’
When Dalziel failed to reply he turned and saw that he had walked inboard and was touching the ship’s bell with one hand, feeling it almost gently.
Standish followed him, and as Dalziel turned slightly felt something like shock.
Gone was the cool insolence Dalziel had used when defending his ship against Jerram. Or even the rabble-rousing attitude he had presented on the quarterdeck. Beneath the tan his face was pale, and his eyes were bright, even moist as he said between his teeth, ‘The bastard. To use my ship to get at me! The bastard!’
Standish said, ‘It was true what he said, I suppose. The new duty is just another job on the fringe.’ He looked away as Dalziel wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and added, ‘All your visits to the C. in C.’s office were no good?’
Dalziel replied, ‘I couldn’t stand there on the quarterdeck and tell them that! My God, we’ve not been left much in this world, but pride is something they’ll not take away. Not from me or my ship.’
When he spoke again his voice was almost normal. ‘Gave you you a bad time, did he? Sorry to leave you with him, but I had to speak to our chaps before he could get his oar in.’
Standish followed him towards the screen door. ‘I don’t think he likes me very much.’
Dalziel paused with one foot poised above the coaming. ‘Really? Then you must come and have a gin with me, Number One.’
Standish thought of the decanter and two beautiful glasses. He found too that he was able to smile again as he replied, ‘I think I need it rather badly.’
Dalziel’s voice was muffled as he ran lightly down the next ladder. ‘Capital. Can’t abide …’
The rest was lost as the tannoy boomed, ‘Attention on the upper deck! Face aft and salute!’
It was sunset. The end of a very long day.
* * *
Standish paused on his way to the upper bridge and looked up at the sky. Even though it was still early morning the change in the weather was apparent, and the long banks of streaky cloud which moved purposefully overhead seemed vaguely menacing, their underbellies tinged with dull copper from the low sunlight.
Through the open door of the wheelhouse Corbin remarked, ‘Looks as if the weather might break sir,’ He was neither curious nor worried. It was just a statement of fact.
Standish nodded. ‘Could be.’
It even felt different. Normally the morning was about the only time you could hope for any sort of freshness. Now the air was sultry and clammy, and his shirt already felt as if he had slept in it. From the frigate’s single funnel came a steady trail of greasy smoke, streaming abeam towards the other ships, and through it Standish saw the masthead pendant standing out stiffly like a small lance. Yet the wind was without vitality, and only succeeded in making the air more humid.
Corbin grinned. ‘Quite a string of defaulters for you, sir. Seems they had a good run ashore last night.’
Standish glanced down at the forecastle. The seamen were already taking the lashing from the mooring wires, and he guessed that some of them might soon have their hands gashed by stray barbs, their minds still too blurred from the night’s drinking to take proper precautions.
He had seen and heard some of them staggering back aboard himself. Drunkenness amongst shore-going sailors was as common as the ships they served. But as they had reeled, or had been carried bodily up the brow by their companions, he had sensed something different. A kind of defiance. Or maybe resentment.
More than one had been in fights with sailors from other ships, and several had been escorted on board by shore patrols and the local police. Now, with the hot wind and the threatening sky it seemed as if the whole ship was suffering from one giant hangover.
‘I’ll weigh ’em off later, Swain.’ Standish half listened to the subdued voices of the sea dutymen, the discreet stammer of morse from the radio room, while around and beneath him the bridge superstructure trembled like a nervous animal to the controlled beat of engines far below.
He saw Dalziel’s head and shoulders framed against the sky and continued his climb to the upper bridge. There it seemed normal enough. Bosun’s mates and the duty signalmen. The lookouts, and a rating mopping up spilled coffee from one of the gratings.
Irvine was leaning on the chart table, his chin propped on one hand while he compared his calculations against a small notebook.
Standish saluted. ‘Ready to proceed, sir.’
Dalziel faced him, his eyes hidden by dark glasses. ‘Well, we can’t leave yet.’ He sounded sharper than usual.
Perhaps he had good reason, Standish thought. Like the dark glasses, the captain’s edginess was probably a leftover from his own private drinking.
Dalziel added, ‘I’ve had a signal to take on some medical stores for Kuala Papan. And two passengers.’
At that moment a lorry ground on to the jetty and Dalziel snapped, ‘Bosun’s mate! Tell Petty Officer Harris to get those medical stores inboard at once!’ He glared at the dull-eyed seaman. ‘Well, go on, man, chop bloody chop!’
A car had followed the other vehicle, and Standish saw two figures emerge from it, accompanied by a Malay with several cases.
‘Women passengers?’ Standish looked at Dalziel. ‘For us?’
‘My God, Number One, that is a crashing glimpse of the obvious!’ He relented slightly. ‘As a matter of fact, I was asked to take them as far as Kuala Papan. They’ll go on overland after that. I suppose that as we took ’em off the Cornwallis in the first place it’s fair enough.’ He cupped his hands and yelled, ‘Tell that fool to get a move on, for heaven’s sake! We’re sailing this morning, not bloody Christmas!’
He removed the dark glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘They can have my quarters. I’ll be using the sea cabin anyway. We may be in for a blow.’ He looked at the sky and blinked rapidly. ‘But there’s worse to come, a whole lot worse.’
Irvine said, ‘No storm warnings yet, sir. I’ve checked.’
Dalziel turned and eyed him calmly. ‘The day I rely on weather reports will be the day.’
He added irritably, ‘Go and hurry those idlers, Number One. I’m not anxious to hang about here forever.’
Standish pushed between the hastily summoned working party and the mounting pile of wooden boxes by the brow. Rideout was there, peering and checking each one against a list, and seemed more hindrance than help.
The two passengers were standing hemmed in by busy seamen and their own luggage. Sub-Lieutenant Caley saw Standish approaching and showed his relief with a deep sigh.
‘These here are the passengers, sir.’
‘Are you going to sign for us?’
Standish turned and saw that the grey haired woman wearing a tweed costume so completely unsuitable for the climate was the one he thought of as ‘the lady in the dressing gown.’
He smiled. ‘Welcome back, Mrs. Penrath.’ He faltered as he glanced at her companion. The girl was dressed in a plain khaki bush jacket and slacks, and stood quite still, as if waiting to be told where to go next.
She had jet black hair which he thought was probably very long, but as it was pulled tightly to the nape of her neck he could not be sure. She was, he imagined, in her early twenties, and had a grave sort of beauty which he had never seen before.
He realized he was staring and said quickly, ‘I’m sorry. But the captain told me you were both from the Cornwallis’s passenger list.’
The girl dropped her eyes and said, ‘Can’t we be shown our cabin?’ She had a low, almost husky voice, and was speaking to her companion and not to him.
Standish saw Mills and beckoned him over. ‘Lead the way to the captain’s quarters.’
Two seamen picked up the cases, and as the girl followed the steward through the screen door Standish felt the other woman’s hand resting on his arm.
‘You really didn’t recognise her
, did you?’
Something in her voice, pity or sadness, made him turn and look at her. It was then that it came back to him with the suddenness of an inner pain.
Perhaps when he had been looking at her his mind had recorded someone familiar, or something about her which had remained in his memory. Now, as the woman’s words returned to him he wondered how he had been so stupid.
Without effort he could see the half-naked girl on the bunk, the absolute despair in her eyes as he had crashed into the cabin, the gun in his hand.
He asked quietly, ‘Where is she going?’
She did not reply directly. ‘Her name is Suzane Gail. She was working as a teacher at a mission school in Saigon and was en route for Thailand with the rest of us when we were attacked.’ She looked away. ‘She is going to get married there. The man is an engineer. Someone she met when he was working in Viet Nam.’
‘He’s a lucky chap.’
She squeezed his arm. ‘I can tell you meant that. But you don’t know much about women, do you?’ She added heavily, ‘She resigned her job, sold up everything for her new life. Now she won’t look at any of the things she bought to wear. She seemed so happy, so full of hope. But perhaps it’ll be all right once she’s living an entirely different sort of life again.’
Standish saw Caley’s men letting go the brow. ‘You must excuse me now, Mrs. Penrath. We’re about to get under way.’
Dalziel was waiting for him, his features working with obvious impatience. ‘I thought you’d decided to go ashore.’ Then he shot him a sideways glance. ‘Put your foot in it again, did you?’
Standish watched the wind pushing the ship away from the jetty, the mooring wires tautening and sagging to the uncomfortable motion.
‘Something like that.’
Dalziel grunted and then walked out on to the port wing.
‘Ring down stand by on both engines.’ To Burch he called, ‘Request permission to get under way, Yeoman.’
Back came the reply. ‘Affirmative, sir.’
Dalziel paused and then said slowly, ‘The next time we come here there will be no holding back.’ He could have been speaking to himself. Or the ship. ‘Security indeed. They know as much about security as my aunt does about strip-poker!’
The Greatest Enemy Page 19