There was a sudden sharp crack from beyond the bushes, and Trewin dodged sideways as the Japanese was hurled forward by the force of the heavy bullet which had struck him squarely in the spine. As if in a dream he saw the man writhe from side to side, his teeth bared like a savage animal, his hands still clutching at the sword as his blood soaked into the dry ground around him. Then he rolled on to his back, kicked once, and lay still.
When Trewin lifted his head he saw Hammond framed against the sea, his revolver hanging in his hand shrouded in pale smoke.
Hammond did not lift his eyes from the dead soldier. “Had to come back! Couldn’t leave you to die without trying to help…”
His voice trailed away as Phelps burst across the clearing and after the smallest hesitation snatched the sword from the corpse and held it up to the sunlight.
Trewin rested his arm on Hammond’s shoulder and stared at the dead man at his feet. His teeth were still bared, but his face seemed to have fallen away like a shrunken mask. He said thickly, “So this is the enemy. Well, now we know.” He swayed and added tightly, “Thanks, Colin. I shan’t forget what you did!”
Hammond holstered his revolver and shivered. Then he laughed, the sound brittle on the warm air. “You can say that after what you just did!”
Phelps called, “The sword, sir? Can I have it?”
Trewin stared at him for several seconds. “Sure you can, Bunts. You’re more than welcome!”
He felt the creeping fingers of nausea exploring his limbs like fever. “We’d better make our way upriver.”
Discordant but triumphant they heard the Porcupine’s siren as she pushed on up the river towards the settlement.
Hammond said at length, “She sounds pleased with herself.”
Trewin looked quickly at his companion and nodded. “So she should.” He felt the grin spreading over his face in spite of his nausea. “The crazy bitch!”
THE MASSEY RESIDENCE was built on the rear of the hospital, and from outside resembled little more than a lean-to. It was as if it had been constructed only from material left over after the needs of the hospital had been satisfied. But once inside, the effect was entirely different.
Trewin lay back in a deep cane chair a tall glass of brandy and ginger ale at his elbow, his eyelids drooping in spite of his resolve to remain alert and attentive to what Dr. Massey was saying. Behind the lowered blinds and in the glare of several pressure lamps the long room looked comfortable and pleased with itself. One wall was lined with books, and there were several pieces of solid furniture which Massey had managed to bring from England. Trewin guessed that but for the strength and durability of such furniture it would never have withstood the hardship and strain of this strange outpost.
Massey sat with his legs crossed smoking one of his black cheroots and watching a moth attacking the glass of a pressure lamp. In spite of a long day’s work he looked relaxed, and his large scrubbed hands rested on his lap, as if they too were enjoying a brief moment of respite.
Massey was saying, “When I came out here first the people were dying like flies. One damn epidemic after another, with no doctor within fifty miles.” He grinned at some old memory. “And fifty miles out here is the longest distance in the world.”
Trewin thought of the long trudge upriver from the headland, the endless jungle landscape and overlapping ridges of low hills. When he had finally reached the settlement the Porcupine had been tied to the pier with lines of soldiers busily unloading the crates of ammunition and carrying them inland along the dirt road.
Corbett had met him on the sidedeck and had said, “That was a fine piece of work, Trewin!” He had stood back, studying his face as if looking for some clue to his actions. “I shall see that it is brought to the proper notice in Singapore.” He had rubbed his hands and watched the sweating soldiers on the pier. “Most satisfactory, eh?”
Even Tweedie had appeared to be more cheerful than usual. Trewin had said, “Your howitzer did the job right enough, Guns. Bang on the target!”
Tweedie had tried to look unimpressed and pouted his lower lip as if contemplating some disagreement. Then he had replied gruffly, “Always said it was a good weapon. Nobody listened, but I was right.”
Trewin found time to wonder if Tweedie had thought of him as he had personally supervised the firing of his little howitzer, and whether it had bothered him to realise that each shell might be the one to kill the gunboat’s first lieutenant as well as the enemy. If he had considered it, he gave no sign.
Hammond had gone to his cabin, and when after a hasty shower and change of clothes Trewin had gone to see him, he found him lying on his bunk still dressed in the same torn shirt and slacks as before.
Hammond had said without looking up, “Today I killed a man! I shot him down with no more thought than for squashing a beetle!” He had shuddered violently. “I never thought it would be like that. Before it was always faceless and without real meaning. A gunsight, or a position on a range map.” He had examined his hands, turning them over as if searching for some sign of what he had done. “But I shot that Jap. I killed him!”
Trewin had answered quietly, “I’m damn glad you did, too. But I know what you are feeling. It always comes later. Sometimes it never leaves you.”
Hammond’s head had dropped and the next instant he had fallen into a deep sleep. Shock and exhaustion had drained away his last resistance, and Trewin had stood for several minutes looking down at him. Then he had covered Hammond with a blanket and had left the cabin.
Given a chance, Hammond would get over it all right, he thought. He was young, and had someone to live for.
Massey said, “And now I’ve got two more doctors to help me. Both Chinese, and excellent chaps.” He grinned. “I was afraid the Army might foist some of their doctors on to me and turn this place into a military hospital.”
Trewin brought his tired mind back into focus. “Would that be so bad? There is a war going on.”
Massey became serious. “This hospital belongs to the local people. It was theirs by right, and will remain so after all this wretched fighting is over.”
“I see.” Trewin thought of the stench of death in the hut above the headland, the merciless whine of shells through the trees. “It isn’t always possible to stay out of a fight, Doctor.”
Massey lumbered to his feet and replenished Trewin’s glass. He said calmly, “I was in the last war, as a matter of fact. Not as a doctor either.” He straightened his back and stared at the moth by the lamp. It was dead and shrivelled, its beauty gone. “I was in the infantry. Flanders.” He shrugged vaguely. “That changed me. For the better, I hope. I couldn’t find what I wanted in England, so I specialised in tropical medicine and came out here. This is my home now.” It sounded final.
“And your daughter?” Trewin watched him over the glass, but there was neither resentment nor caution on Massey’s bearded face.
“Clare wanted to come. She’s happy most of the time.”
Trewin waited, feeling the tiredness dragging at his senses like claws. He had not intended to come to the hospital at all. After going to the army command post and passing over the information about the concealed battery, he had returned to the ship with little in his aching mind but sleep. But Corbett had said almost jovially, “We’ll go and eat, Trewin. We have an invitation to dinner with the Masseys.”
Together they had walked along the road, greeted by cheerful waves from the soldiers who were loading the last of the ammunition into their vehicles above the pier.
When Trewin had asked Mallory if he had been invited to the dinner he had exploded, “Not bloody likely! And I wouldn’t have accepted anyway!” He had watched Trewin angrily, his dark face creased into a frown. “I knew the skipper was off his rocker, but this last day has done it.” He had drawn one hand across his forehead. “I’ve just about had it, up to here!”
In quick, staccato sentences Mallory had described the events which had followed Trewin’s departure in the din
ghy. “Corbett was like a bear with a sore arse. He never stopped snapping at me.” Mallory had banged his fists together. “And when the shooting started he was passing more bloody orders than an admiral’s wife.” He had dropped his voice suddenly. “I know you did well, Number One, and I’ll be the first to admit that I couldn’t have done it myself. But Corbett’s part in all this was quite different. As soon as that clapped out scow came under fire he deliberately steered towards her! He knew that the admiral would have his guts for garters for running the Porcupine on the putty, so he did the only thing he knew. He didn’t give a tuppenny damn for the lives of his men, he only cared for how it would look when the top brass heard how brave he had been.”
Trewin had interrupted firmly, “I think you’d better calm down. This is no help to anybody, is it?”
Mallory had sighed. “Sure, sure! You are the first lieutenant. Loyalty to the ship and all that.” He had added lazily, “I was in a proper old rust-bucket once as third mate. We had a skipper who was so drunk most of the time he didn’t know his arse from his elbow. His first mate carried him along, but one day the Old Man went too far. The ship had been badly stowed, and when we were two days out the bloody cargo started to shift. God, I can see it now. A crew of half-baked Lascars, and the skipper so tanked up he could hardly see the funnel.”
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!”
8 | Stabilise the Line!
TREWIN 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!”
Pride and the Anguish Page 14