‘And Dumbarton, sir?’
Granville looked at him as if he had already forgotten Stallybrass and his old cruiser.
‘Singapore, then eventually England. Major refit, I understand.’
They looked at one another without saying anything, each thinking of Stallybrass who would lose his appointment as commodore. He would probably end up in command of some training establishment, one of those peacetime windswept holiday camps on the east coast. A White Ensign and a lick of paint could work wonders.
Brooke waited, knowing this was not the reason for his summons to Tamar, the Ark.
Granville said, ‘Islip will stay with her until . . .’ He seemed to become irritated. ‘Look, we’re not children. I’ll spell it out. As your brother told us, we have to be prepared. We have a ship ready to evacuate non-essential personnel although nobody seems very keen to leave before Christmas! Your friend Charles Yeung does not wish to go at all!’ He saw Brooke’s surprise and added, ‘The Japanese would love to get their hands on him.’
‘May I ask why?’
Granville smiled, reassured that others did not know as much as he did.
‘He has been the prime force for obtaining arms and military supplies for Chiang Kai-Shek’s Nationalists. We could not become involved, officially anyway, but in my view the Japs would have broken down all resistance by now but for those supplies and would probably have left us alone.’ He lit another cigarette. ‘I’ll be glad when Mr Yeung gets his Dutch pilot for that damned seaplane of his – perhaps he’ll buzz off out of our lives, eh?’
Brooke felt for his pipe but found he had left it aboard Serpent. Perhaps he had known all the time. The horrific attack on one vessel and the torpedoing of another had been swept under the carpet. Not involved, as Granville had just explained.
‘He carries a lot of weight in the Colony, sir.’
Granville stubbed out the new cigarette with angry, quick stabs. ‘I know, I know. That’s all I hear!’
He relented slightly. ‘And you are really going to marry his daughter? I wish you luck, when you get to England, I mean.’
A telephone rang noisily and Granville swivelled round in his chair as if to exclude his visitor.
‘Of course, old chap, naturally we’ll be there! The biggest event of the season – nothing would keep us away!’ He replaced the telephone and said, ‘With Islip at sea, your ship is pretty well the most important one here. What a joke, eh? I’ll be damned glad when she returns.’
Brooke saw him glance at the clock. Here it comes.
‘I must ask you to limit local leave for your chaps. Just until Islip gets back.’ He waited, watching him impassively. ‘Carry on as if everything’s normal.’
Brooke stood up. While you go to the biggest event of the season.
He said quietly, ‘That should be easy, sir, as I don’t know what the hell is going on!’
Surprisingly, Granville smiled. ‘You destroyer people – you never let up, do you?’
An hour later all Serpent’s officers and the whole of the Chief and Petty Officers’ Mess were packed into the wardroom.
Brooke laid his cap on the shelf by the pantry hatch and looked at their faces.
‘This ship will be stored and fuelled as if we were going to sea at two hours’ notice.’ He saw the Chief scribbling on his pad, Kerr frowning as he considered another list which must forget nothing.
‘We shall remain at the buoy, and the local liberty boats will be used for any runs ashore.’ He glanced at the Gunner (T). ‘You, Mr Barlow, will issue sidearms to all those present. Sentries will be doubled and a senior rate placed on each watch. All this is confidential, although it cannot stay a secret for long.’ He looked at Calvert and saw him touching the fading scars where his beard had been.
‘Keep your department up to date, Pilot. Check with Tamar that we know everything there is to know.’ He looked slowly around at their intent, familiar faces.
Kingsmill, the mournful petty officer steward. He moaned a lot but ran his wardroom as if it were Claridge’s. Pike the coxswain, deeply thoughtful, but his eyes very alert and bright. It would be good to know he was in the wheelhouse if things went against them. Andy Laird, the chief stoker and Pike’s drinking companion, Onslow, yeoman of signals, Vicary the torpedo gunner’s mate, and of course Fox the Buffer. Of the officers Kipling seemed the most unaffected; if you did not know him you might even think him indifferent. Barrington-Purvis, stern and proud, the image of his father and previous senior officers in the family, no doubt. Cusack, ready to go to his engine and boiler rooms, a new garden catalogue unopened on his lap. Calvert, thinking about his girl. As I am. Lastly Kerr, remembering perhaps his own fear when he had boarded the sinking fishing boat with its cargo of murder. Only Kipling’s inner ruthlessness and experience of survival had saved him. Kerr might even be thinking that if anything went wrong up there on the unprotected bridge he would be called to command. He would know that all his training, ambition and hope might come to nothing if that happened.
Brooke said, ‘You are all experienced men, a team that held together in that other war which we left behind when we came out here. Make no mistake: this war could be twice as deadly.’ He patted his pocket and saw Kingsmill pull out a tobacco pouch. ‘Thanks.’ Some of them watched his steady fingers as he tamped the tobacco into his pipe. They had to see him as the man they could trust: if the balloon went up there would be more than enough panic to go round if past experiences were anything to go by.
‘Questions?’
Barlow, the Gunner (T), crossed his legs and folded his arms. It was like a quiet show of defiance.
He asked, ‘Would they dare to attack, sir?’
‘I think they might, Mr Barlow.’ He removed his pipe and watched the smoke swirling into the air-duct. Like the old Man Mo temple, he thought.
He said, ‘There is one thing you should know. No matter what the circumstances, or what stupid instructions come from on high, this ship, our ship . . .’ his glance locked with Pike’s and he recalled their meeting on the day he had come aboard at Scapa, ‘. . . will not be shamed into surrender.’
Kerr asked, ‘Shall I delay the party, sir?’
Some of them laughed, and Fox was heard to say, ‘Good old Jimmy th’ One! Some bloody party!’
Brooke felt the tension running out of his limbs like sand from a glass.
‘Postpone, shall we say.’
He picked up his cap. ‘Carry on, gentlemen.’ He looked at Calvert. ‘A moment, Pilot.’
He led him down to his own quarters and closed the curtain.
‘You are going to marry Third Officer Yorke.’ He smiled briefly. ‘Sue.’
‘We thought we could do it here, sir, but . . .’
Brooke watched the clear sky through a scuttle. He had telephoned Lian when he had gone over to Islip. How deserted it seemed now without the Dumbarton at her moorings, or the flotilla leader alongside. The Dutch cruiser Ariadne had left while they were at sea.
She had sensed his pain at their separation. When he had asked about her father she had said quietly, ‘He tells me nothing.’
It was clear now why he wanted to get his daughters out of the Colony. Maybe that was the only reason he had given his permission for their marriage.
Brooke said, ‘Captain Granville is sending her out of here in the next ship.’ He saw the sudden anxiety in Calvert’s eyes. Almost harshly he added, ‘I agree with him for once. Shall I explain to her? It might be easier coming from me.’
Calvert smiled at him. Brooke could not remember ever seeing such warmth in his eyes.
‘No, sir. I’ll do it. You were right. I want her safe. The time will soon pass.’
Brooke said, ‘Thank you for that.’
Calvert was saying, ‘I never believed I’d ever find a girl like Sue.’ He looked at the holstered revolver in his hand, which he had just signed for. ‘Or that I’d ever get into a bloody plane again!’
Brooke said, ‘Take the boat o
ver to Tamar now. She’ll likely be there. I can spare you tonight . . .’ Their eyes met again.
Calvert said quietly, ‘Will she be going tomorrow, sir?’
‘I think so. We shall know by noon.’ He looked away. ‘Good luck.’
Later, Kerr came aft and reported that all work was going smoothly. ‘I think we’re glad to be doing something at last!’
Brooke pushed a sealed letter towards him. ‘I want you to take this to Charles Yeung’s house. I shall get a car for you. The Senior Officer will not . . .’
Kerr smiled broadly. ‘With respect, sir, now that Islip’s gone I think you’re the senior officer here!’
Brooke touched the letter. ‘I want you to explain to Miss Yeung,’ he looked up from the desk, ‘my fiancée, that I need her to come down to the base tomorrow. I have to see her and explain what she must do.’
Kerr watched him as he got up and strode to an open scuttle. Brooke did not turn but said quietly, ‘Don’t alarm her. I cannot leave the ship, you see.’
Kerr asked quietly, ‘You know, don’t you, sir?’
The tawny eyes settled on him. ‘I hope to God I’m wrong.’
Calvert propped himself on one elbow and looked at the sky through the open window. It was surely brightening already. Then he looked down with love at the girl’s face on the pillow, her eyes wide while she stared at him.
‘I don’t want to go, Toby. Not now that I’ve just found you again.’
He touched her cheek, which was wet with tears. ‘It’ll be a lot safer for you, and I’ll be happier too, knowing that we’ll meet in England. Then we’ll marry in style . . .’
She held him tightly against her body: that too was hot, feverish.
‘I love you, Toby. It’s been wonderful – so beautiful!’
Calvert thought of the noise which had lasted for most of the night. It had come mostly from the Peninsula Hotel, the big ball everyone had been going on about.
He said, ‘They may change the order by tomorrow.’ Oh God. It was today.
They had made love, but more with sadness than passion. Longing, the despair of parting, it was all and none of it. It was like a door being slammed. Oblivion.
How quiet the little apartment block seemed. When he had asked her about her neighbour the nursing sister, she had made a little grimace. ‘Ruth Shelley? She’s gone north for a while. Some new army hospital, I believe. She’ll be back.’ Then she had cried, unable to stop. ‘And I shall be gone!’
‘We’ll go down to Tamar together, Sue. Find out the latest.’
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, unable to fight it any longer.
How long was it? An hour, or minutes?
Calvert felt her naked body stiffen in his arms, her voice frightened as she exclaimed, ‘What is that noise?’
Calvert tried to clear his mind. It was probably another mob of revellers staggering home.
His limbs seemed to freeze as he recognized the distant banshee hoot of a destroyer’s siren.
‘God, it’s Serpent!’
They stared at one another until she said very calmly, ‘Then it’s happened, Toby. We will be staying together.’
The ship’s siren cut out, but the sound seemed to hang in the air like a dying scream.
Calvert dragged on his clothes and buckled the unfamiliar holster around his waist.
He watched her pale shape ducking and opening drawers while she followed his example.
‘What shall we do?’
Calvert looked for his cap and said, ‘We’ll go down to the ferry and get over to Victoria as soon as possible.’ He touched her shoulder. ‘It’ll be safe there. Leave it to the experts.’ He examined his feelings. It was strange, but he felt no fear. He took her hand. ‘Ready, Sue?’
She nodded. ‘Aye, ready!’
‘All present?’ Brooke stepped over the coaming into the wardroom and looked around at the same assembly of officers and petty officers who had been gathered here before. Faces creased with sleep, eyes questioning, apprehensive.
Kerr said, ‘Except for Pilot, sir.’
‘I sent him ashore.’ Brooke gave himself a few more seconds to arrange his thoughts. He had to appear patient, prepared. For some reason he thought of his brother.
He had peered at his luminous watch without knowing what had awakened him when Barrington-Purvis, who was the O.O.D., had burst into his cabin.
Looking at him now, Brooke was relieved to see he had recovered his aloof superiority.
Brooke said, ‘Just before five-thirty this morning I was informed that the Japanese army had crossed the frontier on the Kowloon side and breached the first line of defence. The infantry are said to be supported by tanks and cavalry. I am assured that our troops are ready and able to hold the line on the mainland. If they cannot, this harbour could come under artillery fire in a matter of days.’
Some nodded gravely, other glanced towards their special friends, men with whom they had already seen and done too much.
Brooke continued in his unhurried tone, ‘This ship is consequently at State One readiness.’ He turned to Kerr. ‘How is it?’
‘Slip-wire rigged to the buoy, sir. All short-range weapons closed up, duty part of the watch mustered on the fo’c’sle.’
The deck gave a slight tremble and the Chief said, ‘That’s my department at State One, sir.’
Kerr asked, ‘What’s the next step, sir?’
‘Go around your departments, talk with the men.’ He looked across at the petty officer cook’s round red face. ‘And you, Chef, can rustle up breakfast for everybody!’
They broke up and hurried away. Brooke watched them leave, like the spokes of a wheel, reaching throughout the ship. From him. Their captain.
A telegraphist hovered outside the wardroom until he caught his eye.
‘For you, sir. Priority.’
Brooke read the neat pencilled writing of the P.O. Telegraphist, Alan Brock. It must have come in even as he had left the wardroom.
He could feel Kerr watching him, sense the man’s sudden uneasiness.
‘Force Z and escorts have sailed from Singapore, Number One. The Japs are landing in Malaya. Attacking in strength.’
Kerr sounded dazed. ‘Malaya? I thought . . .’
‘So did everyone else, apparently. Any attack was supposed to be against Singapore island. Rather like here, don’t you think? With all the guns pointing the wrong way!’
How could he be standing here speaking of this disaster so lightly? His whole being was screaming out, consuming him in silence. How could he have been so right, and the experts so blind?
On the foreshore opposite the base there were still large groups of people milling about near the Peninsula Hotel. Some were dazed by the rumours: others, still in ball-gowns and dinner-jackets, were too far gone to understand anything. And when some thirty aircraft burst out of the clear sky a few of the overnight revellers began to wave and cheer. The long-promised reinforcements had arrived!
But the planes carried the Rising Sun, and as the bombs began to fall the five obsolete aircraft, Hong Kong’s sole air defence, were wiped out in minutes.
The speculation was over.
17
Victims
‘Is this the place?’ Acting-Temporary Lieutenant Paul Kipling jammed his foot on the brake and brought the small fifteen-hundredweight army truck to a sudden halt.
The Wren officer in the passenger seat stared past him at the apartment block which in such a short time had come to mean so much to her. Exactly as she remembered it, and yet so completely changed.
She nodded, unable to explain. ‘It was good of you to bring me.’
Kipling said coolly, ‘Toby Calvert would have killed me otherwise.’ He switched off the engine and as the vehicle shuddered into silence he saw her start, the quick frightened thrust of her breasts through her shirt.
She said in a whisper, ‘Gunfire!’
He said, ‘Up north somewhere.’ He stared at the other houses.
They looked deserted, but you could never be certain. He wished he was in his well-worn khaki outfit. You were less of a target.
He said abruptly, ‘Better go in. Don’t want to be too long.’
‘Is it dangerous?’
Kipling shrugged. ‘There’ll be all the usual fifth-columnists trying to keep well in with the Japs when they get here.’ He saw her anxiety. She was a child when it came to this sort of caper, he thought. ‘At the most the Japs are only twenty miles away. I’ll feel a lot safer when I get this truck across to Hong Kong.’
She replied, ‘You haven’t got much faith, have you?’
‘No.’
She looked at the path to the front door and remembered how they had laughed when they were drenched in the sudden downpour, and they had gone to her small apartment and made love again and again.
It was only yesterday that they had been awakened by the Serpent’s siren, and they had dashed from here to the ferry. There had been all those people in evening clothes, running about and staring at the sky when the planes had screamed low over the harbour and the bombs had plummeted down on Kai Tak airport. The enormity of what had happened had stunned everyone. Not only had the Japanese bombed Hong Kong, they had done the same in Singapore, and troop landings had been made on the Malayan coast.
Then, as people had gathered their wits to prepare for a siege, the real bombshell had exploded. The new enemy had also sent its carrier fleet to attack the great American base in Pearl Harbour. Without warning the Japanese had disabled many ships, and sunk others at their moorings.
Only yesterday. She said, ‘The place is empty. Evacuated.’
She handed Kipling the key and watched as he pushed open the door, noticing that he unclipped his unusual-looking holster in the same movement.
‘I’ll go first.’ He walked into the hall and she followed close on his heels. The residents had left in a hurry. Even the army chaplain was gone.
She listened to the far-off gunfire. The army was there. They would stop the Japanese invasion. The staff must have foreseen all this. Even her brigadier had insisted that they would never let the Colony fall to attack.
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