‘Nothing, sir. There’s not even a place to get ashore. It’s like a damn great block of granite.’
When Wishart arrived on the bridge a few moments later his report was little better.
‘I could have got ashore, sir, but it might have meant stoving the boat in. There’s a pretty steep swell under the cliffs and a lot of caves. But nothing larger than a launch could get near the place.’
Dalziel had brought his special chart on to the bridge and was making pencilled notes against the two small islands. He said sharply, ‘Well, we’ve made a start. It’s going better than I expected.’
Irvine gave a brief smile. ‘Really, sir?’
Dalziel did not seem to notice. He was still studying his chart and said, ‘The reef extends in a rough north-westerly direction for another twenty miles. After lunch we’ll weigh and continue the search.’ He looked up. ‘That will be all, gentlemen.’
But the afternoon’s operations did not go quite so smoothly, for within an hour of anchoring again the motor boat’s engine began to overheat and had to be stopped. While the ship’s company watched helplessly from a mile away, the crew were fully occupied in warding off some wicked looking reefs with their boathooks and feet, and were in real danger until the Whizz-Kid arrived to tow them clear. By the time the fault had been put right the best part of the day had gone, and Dalziel said irritably, ‘We will remain at anchor until dawn. We can finish the investigation tomorrow.’
Later that evening in the wardroom Irvine remarked on Dalziel’s choice of words. ‘Investigation did you hear that? It’s not a search any more. He knows damn well there’s nothing to find, and never was!’
Wishart said, ‘What about that paper with the ship’s name on it?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, it might have meant anything.’ Irvine looked at him, his eyes scathing. ‘It won’t do much good when we make our report. You should have listened to me in the first place.’
Standish stood up. ‘We don’t seem to have much choice these days. I suppose you’re gloating now? Waiting to make a big thing of it?’
Irvine looked away. ‘I was merely pointing out the utter futility of it. The longer we frig around like this, the greater will be the wrath which lands on the captain’s back. I should worry. He’ll have to admit it himself soon enough.’
Standish walked from the wardroom and climbed to the quarterdeck. Beneath a ceiling of stars the nearest islet looked unreal and gaunt, like a section of the moon’s surface, he thought. Across the unbroken water he could hear the dull boom of surf and the sound of the sea exploring the deep caves which seemed to be common to all the islets. One day the sea would eat them away and they would fall down to join the rest of the reef.
If only they could have found something. Even a tiny piece of evidence might have justified Dalziel’s actions, and which added to the capture of the diesel oil would have distracted attention elsewhere. But Irvine was right. There was nothing here. It only needed a signal from Jerram, a demand for an exact position, to put Dalziel in line for an immediate court martial.
He put a match to his pipe and thought of the weeks ahead. Of the exact moment when he would step ashore and see Suzane again. It was strange to think of her having been aboard this ship. To have seen and shared the typhoon’s fury with the rest of them. She would be on her way to Singapore now, and might even be thinking of him, and the Terrapin.
He turned as a muffled burst of cheering floated through the wardroom hatch. A figure scrambled across the darkened deck, and he heard Wishart say excitedly, ‘Here you are, Number One! We’ve just got the news!’
Standish stared at him. ‘News? What sort of news?’
Wishart waved his hands happily. ‘A signal. It’s the recall.’ He leaned forward. ‘It’s all over. We’ve been ordered to cancel the patrol immediately and proceed to Singapore!’
‘Is the captain in the wardroom?’
‘No. He sent a messenger.’ Wishart seemed lost in his thoughts. ‘Now that it’s happened I can’t really take it in.’ He dropped his voice and added more calmly, ‘And I’m glad for you, Number One. It’ll mean a new start for you. And after what you’ve done for me, I’d like to think we might meet again sometime.’
Standish thrust his pipe in his pocket. ‘Thanks.’ He tried to discover what was worrying him. ‘I’ll be back in a moment. I must see the captain.’ He walked quickly towards the bridge, knowing that Wishart was still staring after him, his expression one of complete bewilderment.
He found Dalziel in his small sea cabin, the chart spread across his bunk below a reading light.
‘I’ve just heard, sir.’ He waited, seeing the look of set concentration on his face.
Dalziel did not lift his eyes from the chart. ‘There is a good channel to the north of us here. And two more small islets. Maybe I was wrong to go for the larger ones first. But from the chart and the small amount of information available, it is hard to understand until you actually see them.’ He looked up, his eyes blank. ‘Heard what?’
‘The recall, sir. We’re returning to Singapore.’
‘Quite right. Yes, it’ll be quite a feather in our caps, eh? I told you when we left the place we’d make ’em sit up when we returned. And by God I was right!’
‘Have you acknowledged the signal, sir?’
Dalziel smiled gently. ‘Naturally. Don’t want to arouse any unnecessary suspicions, now do we?’
Standish felt a cold hand on his heart. ‘We are outside our patrol area. Any further delay here would certainly draw attention to the fact.’ He hesitated. ‘It would look bad for you, sir.’
Dalziel threw back his head and laughed. ‘Bad? Why, they’d skin me alive if it was all to no good purpose. But you know, Number One, all through history it has been the same. If you are proved right after you have committed some trivial error the rest cannot harm you.’
‘I take it that you intend to remain here until the search is finished, sir?’
‘You may take it, yes. Why, do you have any objection?’
Standish eyed him steadily. ‘I know I am as much to blame as anyone, sir. At first I agreed with you on this. But now that it looks so unlikely I think we should, no must return to Singapore as directed.’
Dalziel stared at him for several seconds. Then he said very quietly, ‘I am surprised you should say that. I thought you were different. Perhaps I was wrong to place so much faith in that direction, but I needed your support, as I still do.’ He stood up and paced restlessly to the open scuttle. ‘But support or not, I have every intention in seeing this thing through to the end.’ He swung round, his face suddenly angry. ‘Do you hear me? I’ve had just about all I can take. And now, now that I’m on to something really important, I find you of all people are against me! What sort of bloody attitude is that?’
Two spots of colour glowed on his cheeks, and Standish could see the knuckles showing white as he bunched his hands into fists against the seams of his trousers.
‘It’s nothing like that, sir. I don’t want to see you crucified, that’s all.’
Dalziel looked away. ‘Really?’ He seemed momentarily confused. ‘Oh, I see. Well, in that case.’ He did not go on.
Standish put his hand on the door clip. ‘But I will back you up.’ He smiled gravely. ‘Whatever happens.’
Dalziel’s shoulders moved stiffly. ‘Good. That’s settled then.’ In a faraway voice he continued, ‘I had a young subordinate in the Harrier. Couldn’t make decisions. Wouldn’t take his proper responsibility, you know. But he would have made a fine officer if I’d had more time.’ He faced Standish again, his face sad. ‘He was killed in the collision. The one man who would have told those smug-faced idiots of the court martial what happened. But in this world you have to take chances. Life wouldn’t be worth living if we just sat back like a lot of damn sheep, eh?’
‘I understand that Captain Jerram was aboard your ship when it all happened, sir.’
‘What?’ Dalziel’s head jutted fo
rward. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘I believe you mentioned it to me.’
‘Did I?’ Dalziel shifted his legs on the swaying deck. ‘Bloody man saw it all. All it needed was one word, one small piece of evidence which would have cleared my name completely. But oh dear me no. He just stood there like a lump of wood. Didn’t see anything. Didn’t want to see anything, was more like it!’ Dalziel was speaking fast and very loudly. ‘Always was a crawler. Never trusted him right from the first. Even when my wife told me that …’ He broke off sharply and then added, ‘Long time ago. Finished.’
‘I’d better leave now and do my rounds, sir.’
‘Yes.’ Dalziel watched Standish’s hand on the door clip. ‘Sorry I barked at you earlier. A bit strained, I suppose.’ His whole face lit up with a grin and he said, ‘But by God it will be worth it to see their faces when we make the headlines, eh? And you won’t have to worry about your next appointment either. When I go up for mine I’ll damn well tell them what you’ve done to make this last effort the success it will be. I remember when I first saw you. The day I stepped out of the helicopter. There you were waiting to meet me, wondering what sort of bastard you were getting, I’ll be bound. And I thought to myself, now here’s a young chap who’s got the makings, that’s what I thought. A bit scruffy, a bit weighed down with some old bother or hangover.’ His grin widened. ‘Like the ship, in a way. But you both had the makings. It just needed me to bring it out.’ The grin faded. ‘Goodnight, Number One. Tomorrow morning we’ll get on with the job we came to do.’
Standish walked out on to the darkened bridge, his mind hanging on Dalziel’s words, his eagerness, and the pathetic vulnerability.
In the wardroom he found the others cheerfully discussing the prospects thrown wide open by the recall.
He waited until they were all looking at him and then said, ‘Tomorrow morning we will repeat the same routine as today. Boats’ crews fall in at seven bells for instructions.’
Irvine was the first to break the stunned silence. As Standish knew he would be.
‘So it’s like that, is it? He’s finally gone over the edge.’ He glanced at the others, his voice very calm. ‘I wondered if this might happen. In a way I suppose it will be interesting to watch.’
Pigott said thickly, ‘Damn and blast it!’
Standish kept his gaze on Irvine. ‘If you watch closely enough you should make a fine witness when required, eh?’ Then he turned on his heel and left them in silence.
* * *
The last two islets lay about half a mile from the Terrapin’s anchorage, and in the harsh afternoon sunlight they looked like grotesque brown monsters. During the night the sky had been covered by a thin layer of cloud which had persisted throughout the day. While the ship had edged slowly amongst the outflung spurs of reef, her echo sounder and sonar hard at work, there was not a man aboard who had not looked at the occasional telltale feathers of spray across some protruding fang of rock, and held his breath.
The sonar had contacted several wrecks, some of which were shown on the chart as dangerously near the surface, as well as others which had been smashed and scattered into the deeper chasms and valleys beyond the reef. The Bombay Queen could have been any or none of them.
As the day dragged on Standish found himself thinking more and more of the wrecks. Remnants of past wars or victims of great storms, their ending made little difference. But to see the reefs gliding close abeam made him very aware of the ship’s predicament. Beyond the deserted islets and spines of reef was another stretch of open sea. It was over sixty miles to the Cambodian mainland, but as he shaded his eyes against the million glittering reflections he realized that here distance made little difference. They were the only living thing, the last moving vessel these reefs had seen.
The Terrapin dropped her anchor as close as possible to the nearest islet, but even so it was necessary to keep constant watch on the cable and take regular bearings to ensure that she was not dragging. For here the sea’s rocky bottom dropped more steeply, and it was possible to see a whole jumble of dark rocks protruding above the surface less than a cable from the ship’s hull.
As the two power boats were dropped alongside Standish saw several groups of ratings looking up at the bridge as Dalziel called his instructions to Irvine and Wishart before they left on the final inspection. Most of the men were staring towards the bridge with expressions ranging from anger to critical impatience. It was probably all over the ship by now, Standish thought bitterly. That the captain was forcing all of them to remain here, when by rights, and in fact according to Dalziel’s acknowledgement to the recall signal, they should have been steaming for Singapore.
It could not last much longer. If after the boats returned with another negative report Dalziel persisted with his search, anything might happen.
Wills appeared on the bridge with coffee and hard biscuits. There was no bread left, or any fresh food at all. Pigott had said there was not much coffee either.
Dalziel was peering through his glasses watching Wishart in the Whizz-Kid until they were out of sight around the nearest islet. At a more sedate pace, Irvine in the motor boat was chugging towards the nearer one.
He said, ‘I have a feeling that this may be the day, Number One.’
Standish looked at him, suddenly moved by his trust. ‘I hope so, sir.’
‘It’s all quite clear to me. No wonder our people and the Americans never had reports of a submarine passing through the area. Once in the Gulf she could stay as long as she pleases, knowing that her fuel supply was arriving at regular intervals. She could shadow and report on everything. I’ll wager she tracked the Cornwallis until she was ready to home those junks on to her.’
Standish looked away and rubbed his eyes. The glare and the ship’s uneasy motion was dulling his mind.
He said, ‘Perhaps the submarine was making her last trip, sir. It’s possible that the attack on the village could not be avoided. My guess is that her job was to ferry guerillas and supplies and then get the hell out of it. The coastal waters are too damn shallow for a submarine’s liking.’
Dalziel nodded absently. ‘Good point. Although you will have observed that around the length of this reef barrier the very opposite is the case. Beyond the twenty fathom line there are some quite considerable depths. That is why it would make such a good rendezvous point for …’
He broke off as Burch said heavily, ‘Mr. Wishart’s returnin’, sir.’ He lowered his big telescope. ‘’E’s signalled a nil report, sir.’
‘Thank you, Yeoman.’ Dalziel picked up a cup of coffee and stared at it without recognition. ‘Not to worry, eh?’ But he was not smiling.
As the Whizz-Kid slewed round towards the port side Standish heard a brief chorus of derisive cheers from the main deck, and saw several seamen calling down to their mates in the boat’s crew.
Dalziel said vaguely, ‘Well, they sound cheerful enough. I think they understand the necessity for all this.’
Standish bit his lip. All at once he remembered Sarah Dalziel’s words, as if she had just spoken to him. Anything he dislikes or mistrusts he shuts off from his mind. Completely. Was it really possible he had not noticed the cheers were just the men’s way of showing what they thought of him and his delusion? And Petty Officer Harris. For just a few moments it had been as if Dalziel had put his death right out of his mind. Shut it off like a watertight door.
Wishart seemed genuinely disappointed when he reached the bridge.
Dalziel listened to him and then replied, ‘Well, we shall just have to keep trying, eh?’
When the ancient motor boat returned thirty minutes later Irvine strode on to the bridge and faced Dalziel without even bothering to salute.
‘I made a complete search, sir. There’s an inlet, about two cables long and half a cable at the widest part. But the sides are as steep as a house.’ He paused and added slowly, ‘The Bombay Queen is just inside the mouth of the inlet, that’s why we didn’t sight
it from seaward.’
Dalziel was staring at him, watching his lips as if he was afraid he might miss something. As Irvine fell silent he said urgently, ‘Well? What else?’
‘Nothing.’ Irvine glanced round the watching faces to let his words sink in. ‘No boats, no fuel lighters, and from what I could see of it, nobody has been there since that wreck went aground twenty-eight years ago.’
For a long time nobody spoke. Standish looked down at the main deck where an off-watch mechanic was unwrapping a fishing rod by the guardrail, oblivious and uncaring of the drama above his head. Further forward by the gun mounting Caley was leaning against a stanchion, arms folded as he stared at the anchor party in the bows. Probably still thinking of his daughter and what he would find when he eventually got home.
Dalziel said suddenly, ‘You are quite sure it was the right ship?’
‘Yes, sir.’ It sounded like of course. ‘Only the forrard half is still there, but the name is visible. The rest is so much rusty scrap.’
‘All the same.’ Dalziel crossed and then recrossed the bridge. ‘There must be something. Any oil slick on the water? Some recent flotsam perhaps?’
‘Nothing, sir.’ Irvine was breathing heavily. ‘Has it occurred to you that the fishing boat might have been smuggling stolen oil and nothing more sinister than that?’ He glanced at Standish. ‘This reef could be a rendezvous for almost anything.’
Dalziel looked at him and then around the bridge. All at once he seemed very tired, and the lines around his wide mouth more deeply etched.
Then he said in a low voice, ‘I am going to look for myself.’
Wishart darted a glance at Standish, his youthful face suddenly troubled. ‘My boat has to take on more fuel, sir.’
Dalziel walked past him. ‘I’ll go in the motor boat.’
Standish followed him down to the main deck and asked quietly, ‘Why not let me go, sir?’
‘No.’ Dalziel faced him, his eyes empty of expression. ‘I’d like to see. If the weather changes you can signal me on the siren.’ Without another word he climbed down to the boat and sat in the cockpit staring straight in front of him.
The Greatest Enemy Page 31