If they did not leave, Serpent would become a sitting target.
Kerr had reached the forecastle and was standing in the eyes of the ship and although he could not see him, he knew that Bill Doggett, the leading hand, and the rest of his party were ready to run aft with the wire as it snaked dangerously inboard.
‘Standing by, sir.’ That was Podger Barlow the Gunner (T), doing his bit on the bridge now that two officers were missing.
‘Pilot boat’s on port bow, sir!’ Onslow, the Yeoman of Signals, a man who had accepted his loss. For the moment.
Lian would know they were leaving. She always did. Thank God she was getting out of it. Their beautiful house would not avoid bombardment much longer. Her sister was still in her hospital as she had firmly declared she would be. Brooke didn’t know about her husband Harry. With America in the war, like it or not, he might have wanted to be back in his own country rather than in a British Colony, as he had called it.
‘Midnight, sir.’
‘Very well.’ He touched the medallion beneath his shirt. Part of her. Midnight. Thirteen days to Christmas. It was better not to think about it.
He stared at the shaded blue light on the pilot boat’s stern. ‘Slow ahead together!’ He pictured the Chief with his throttles. They had discussed this many times. Each trusting the other.
He shouted, ‘Slip!’
He heard Kerr repeat the order and the metallic click of a slip being released. Then men running, the wire rattling over the deck and past A-gun.
‘All clear forrard, sir!’
‘Wheelhouse!’ Brooke leaned over the voicepipe’s bell mouth.
‘Cox’n, sir.’
‘Can you see the pilot’s light?’
‘Yessir. I’ve got younger eyes than mine keeping a look out, too!’
They were moving, the dark water hissing down either flank, while the knife-like stem remained lined up on the blue light.
Occasionally wreckage jagged into the side. It would move up and down with the current for weeks. Bitter reminders.
Brooke thought of the shabby dignity of the Man Mo temple. How she had found him there, knowing it was where he would be.
He heard Kerr come to the bridge, his brief exchange with Calvert.
Hong Kong. Magical city, as she had called it. Would they ever come back? Together?
Calvert said, ‘No course to steer until we drop the pilot boat, sir.’
‘Thank you, Pilot.’ But he was staring at the island, in total darkness but for some flickering fires which still had not been extinguished from the last raid. After tomorrow it would be pointless to sound air-raid warnings any more. The Japs would be using Kai Tak, which was only three and a half miles from the dockyard.
When he looked again, the little naval base had been swallowed up.
He wondered if Kipling and Barrington-Purvis were still there. Watching them leave. In the same breath, he knew that they were.
Sub-Lieutenant Nigel Barrington-Purvis watched wearily while his companion busied himself with a knife and some fresh bread. Kipling’s hands were none too clean but the sight of the bread and the thick slices of corned beef with enough butter for a whole loaf made him realise how hungry he was.
It was five days since they had stood together and yet apart, each with his own thoughts, and watched the destroyer’s pale shape working clear of the buoy, hearing the sudden turbulence of her screws, those so familiar sounds of fans and telegraphs until, it had seemed in seconds, she had gone.
Since then, they had been working to a plan given them by Commander Gould.
Even Barrington-Purvis had been impressed by the nimble way in which Kipling, with the aid of some seamen from the base, had wired up certain machinery, pumps and stores, heedless of the occasional random shots from Kowloon.
The first full day the dockyard had come under heavy shelling, with some air attacks for good measure, the noise had been devastating but casualties were surprisingly minor.
Another Japanese delegation had crossed the harbour in a boat flying a large white flag. They had come from their commander, Lieutenant-General Takashi Sakai, with his demand for surrender. It was refused, and the bombardment started up again.
Barrington-Purvis had almost expected Kipling to detonate some massive explosion right under the Jap delegation. He had never seen him or anyone else so coldly angry.
‘Look at the bastards, will you? All so proper and correct, so sure that we’ll not fire on a white flag while they go round killing and raping innocent people! I’d give ’em bloody flag of truce!’
It was not even safe to move about in the open. The enemy took shots across the eight hundred yards of water on the off chance that they might hit somebody. But the real danger was right here on the island, from snipers in abandoned buildings. Kipling had pitched a grenade through a shattered window and after the sharp explosion they had heard a few short-lived screams.
Kipling looked up, as if he guessed what he was thinking.
‘Cop hold of this. Something like a sandwich!’
Barrington-Purvis took a careful bite. He had never tasted better. Even the mustard was perfect. He could not begin to guess where Kipling managed to obtain his various finds. There was beer too. Kipling had found two mugs, explaining, ‘I’ve been cooling the beer in the harbour, so you can’t be too careful!’
They finished their food and Barrington-Purvis searched for a cigarette.
Kipling opened a tin. ‘Home-rolled, old son. But good Ticklers tobacco!’
They smoked slowly, only half listening to the distant explosions.
‘Er – what do you think Serpent’s doing, Paul?’
Kiping picked a crumb off his chin. ‘Getting ready to leave, I expect. As soon as Islip’s ready to make a dash for it.’ He grimaced. ‘I know I bloody well would!’
Barrington-Purvis looked away. A prisoner of war. It could always happen. But not to this ruthless enemy.
Kipling watched him. ‘The island’s been told to hold out, right? Ordered to do so. Now, you’re the traditional naval officer. What do you think?’
Barrington-Purvis glanced at him, searching for sarcasm or amusement. There was neither.
He got to his feet but sat down again as Kipling dragged at his sleeve and said, ‘Stay here, old son. You’re too young to die just yet!’
Barrington-Purvis dropped his eyes. ‘I want to go, Paul. The ship is different.’ He looked quickly, afraid he had made a mistake by blurting it out.
Kipling nodded, satisfied. ‘Good enough for me.’ He was suddenly serious. ‘I think they’ll be coming at us very soon.’ He glanced at the White Ensign above one of the buildings. It was riddled with holes, but strangely brave and defiant. ‘They’ve made three demands for surrender. Not like the Japs, that isn’t. I think they weren’t quite ready.’ He ground out the cigarette with his shoe. ‘Now they are.’
‘I see.’
Kipling said quietly, ‘We’ve done all we can here. Bloody waste of time anyway.’ He blinked as a shell whined over the dockyard and exploded in the nearby houses. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’ Like old men they stumbled, half-crouched, to one of the cellars, and Kipling produced a key for the padlock. Then he opened the door to allow the smoky sunlight to penetrate the interior.
Barrington-Purvis exclaimed, ‘A motor-cycle!’
Kipling smiled. He would call it that. He said, ‘A Royal Enfield, army job by the look of it. Good bikes. I rode one down the Kingston by-pass not too long ago. Went like a bomb.’
Barrington-Purvis stared at him. ‘Where did you get it?’
‘Never mind that. You tell me, Nigel, how far is it to this Aberdeen place?’
He frowned and looked somehow vulnerable, lost without the order and purpose of the life he knew.
‘About three miles, I think. A bit longer on the coast road.’
‘That’s the one we’ll take, old son.’
‘But what about our orders?’
‘We’v
e done what we were told to do. Our gallant Captain Granville is in Aberdeen right now.’ He winked. ‘Can’t imagine why. And dear old Commander Gould has enough on his plate. He couldn’t care less about us.’ He added impatiently, ‘Are you game?’
Barrington-Purvis bit his lip. ‘Look, I’m sorry about the way I behaved . . .’
Kipling smiled. ‘Not much of an angel myself, was I?’
He saw the sub-lieutenant’s sudden determination as he said, ‘Let’s do it then!’
‘I’ll just look at the petrol situation. I “borrowed” a can this morning. Hope it’s all right. But as my old granny used to say, you can’t always tell the marmalade by the label on the jar!’
He added in a harder tone, ‘I think it will be tonight. If we don’t make it for any reason, don’t let the bastards take you – alive, that is. Okay?’
He picked up a satchel of grenades, the shabby professional again.
‘All primed, four-second fuses. Just in case we meet anyone argumentative.’
‘When shall we go?’ He had never believed it possible to accept Kipling’s word about anything before.
‘The main gate’s open, what’s left of it. I’ll have a sniff at the petrol. After that, old son, soon as you like.’
Commander Gould appeared out of the dust. ‘You off then? Watch how you go, and thanks for your help.’
They stared after him and Kipling said, ‘See what I mean? He couldn’t care less!’
Fifteen minutes later Kipling straddled the khaki-painted machine and kick-started it into life. He flicked his wrist up and down until the air was quivering to the din.
Then he shouted, ‘All aboard! Don’t drop those bloody things, will you?’
Barrington-Purvis climbed on to a rolled gas cape on the back of the motor-bike and clutched Kipling around the waist and held his breath.
Some soldiers guarding a barricade gave them a cheer as they rattled past, and Kipling hoped that none of them had noted the bike’s number.
He heard his pillion rider shout, ‘What if the ship’s already gone?’
Kipling leaned over to take them around a steep bend. He thought of the Skipper’s face and his voice when he had said good-bye to them.
He shouted back, ‘No chance! He’ll wait!’
He felt the air stinging his eyes while he opened the throttle even further.
It might very well end in total disaster. He leaned over again and felt Barrington-Purvis copying his movements. He was learning.
Disaster or not, at least they would all be together.
Lieutenant Toby Calvert wiped his hands on a clean towel and glanced at the gently swaying aircraft. The big doors that opened on to the water allowed the bright sunshine to glint on the fuselage and cockpit cover. He knew the two mechanics who had been helping him were nervous, very aware of the far off gunfire, the muted rattle of automatic weapons. They had done a good job. He grinned. All we need is a bloody good pilot.
He heard a door slam and then Charles Yeung’s usual outburst of coughing after he had finished another cigarette.
Yeung entered and stared at him, his dark eyes impassive.
‘He is not coming. The boat turned back. The master feared for his life. So you see, my friend, you did all this work for nothing. I am sorry, but I thought . . .’ He twisted round as a car door slammed in the yard. It was dangerous enough at night, but in broad daylight with Jap aircraft flying at will across the island, driving was extremely dangerous.
A shadow fell across the floor. It was Charles Yeung’s valet Robert Tan. He spoke to his master, but was looking at Calvert.
‘You have a visitor, Lieutenant, sir.’
Calvert gasped as the small, slim girl with her uniform jacket over her arm stepped from the sunlight into the hangar’s cool gloom.
‘Sue! What the hell are you doing here?’
She ran the last few yards and threw her arms around him.
‘Islip sailed yesterday at dusk.’ She hugged him, her body pressed against his. ‘Don’t send me away! I want to be with you!’
He held her tightly. ‘Mr Yeung’s pilot isn’t here.’
‘I know, I heard that at Aberdeen. It was nobody’s fault about Islip.’ She stared across at the silver-haired Yeung. ‘You haven’t told him!’
Charles Yeung shrugged. ‘I was going to.’ He looked calmly at Calvert. ‘The enemy landed on the island last night at the place you call North Point and at Taikoo Dockyard. General Chaing Kai-Shek’s promised army could not break through to help us. Now they never will. We are not finished, but by tomorrow the Japanese army will be right across the island.’ He sliced the air with his hand. ‘Cutting us in half!’
He walked across to Calvert and put his arms around him and the girl.
‘I will stay here. Someone must lead. I have risked your lives to no purpose.’ He squeezed their shoulders and smiled. ‘Take the seaplane. Fly this girl who loves you to safety. You could do it. You must do it!’
Calvert felt his mind reeling as he stared at the crouching aircraft with sudden fear.
She looked up at his face, reading every emotion. ‘If we did fly away, Toby, where would we go?’
Calvert took her arm and together they walked to the edge of the dock.
‘Serpent will sail soon.’ In his mind he was seeing it, as if he had already done it. ‘The Japs will be attacking Aberdeen, anywhere that might be used for an escape route.’ He paused, hardly aware of what he was saying. ‘I could find her. It’ll be too late pretty soon. I know which course the Skipper will take. He won’t run until he knows Islip is clear of pursuit.’ His eyes looked bright, feverish. ‘I could make some sort of landing near the ship. No matter what happened after that . . .’ He hugged her shoulder. ‘You crazy little fool, is that why you came? Because you knew I’d never make it without you?’
Charles Yeung said quietly, ‘I will wait here with you until you leave. If you cannot do it, I will try to hide you.’ He looked at them steadily. ‘If they catch you, they will kill you.’ He glanced away. ‘Eventually.’
The girl whispered, ‘Please, Toby. We’ve nothing to lose!’
He could feel her shivering. She was probably thinking of those terrible screams on the landing telephone.
He said abruptly, ‘Serpent will sail right away, if I know my Skipper.’ He made up his mind. ‘We’ll have a go. Right now!’
The doors were hauled open and the sunshine swept over to greet them. It was still early morning: the morning the Dutch pilot should have landed.
He pulled on his best jacket over his stained trousers, the one with the bright wings on the left sleeve and the crimson ribbon on the breast.
He laughed. ‘Better to look the part, eh?’
Yeung helped the girl on to one of the floats and up into the cockpit. ‘Be safe, my friend!’
Then Calvert was beside the girl, testing the controls. ‘No parachutes, remember?’ Then he waved his arm out of the sliding window and held his breath as first one and then the other big Alfa Romeo engine roared into life.
There was a harness of sorts, and he made sure the girl was strapped in. Then quite suddenly he kissed her, feeling her respond with eager desperation. He shouted, ‘You gave me something I thought I’d lost!’
Then he eased open the throttles and felt the seaplane begin to move across the water, rocking slightly as if to test it. There seemed to be nobody watching but when he peered over his shoulder he saw the green Rolls-Royce standing in the yard, the driver William beside it. In his heart he knew Charles Yeung would destroy it, as he would have destroyed the seaplane, rather than allow the Japs to get hold of them.
Anchored merchant ships flashed past, abandoned or bombed he could not tell. He felt a wildness he could scarcely remember. It was like a drug.
He yelled, ‘I’m going for it now, Sue!’ He glanced at her as she gripped the harness with both hands.
‘I love you!’
He saw her nod and then call something to h
im but the rising roar of the twin engines drowned all of it and made any other thought impossible.
Faster, and faster. Another ship loomed past the starboard engine and he thought Sue had closed her eyes as the wing-tip seemed as though it would collide with the vessel’s listing bridge.
Then Calvert saw the edge of the sea. Open water. They were up. They were flying.
He saw a large launch far below them, thrusting out a great arrowhead of foam. There were soldiers packed into it like sardines. Even a poor old Swordfish couldn’t have missed it. He zig-zagged violently as he saw tracer rising slowly from a solitary gun. But the seaplane’s hawk-like shadow was already streaking across the sea, so near to the water now that it left a pair of deep troughs behind it as if some underwater demons were in pursuit.
He blinked in the glare as he eased the controls. A quick glance at the compass. The rest would be so much guesswork. He looked down and was stunned to see several large bullet holes in the side, sunlight blazing through them like stars. She was reaching out to hold his leg, her body lolling towards him while she tried to speak.
Calvert felt the seaplane diving and veering from side to side, and knew he had lost control.
‘Oh my God, Sue!’
She reached with her free hand but lost the strength to feel her side.
Calvert clung to her. ‘I’m here, darling! Don’t leave me!’
Then she smiled at him, but even as he tried to hope, the smile became fixed and unmoving.
He felt her fall against him and for the first time saw the blood.
How long he flew or on what course he did not know.
He was calling her name. Telling her things, remembering their love.
Then, through a sea-mist, he saw Serpent. Moving slowly on a converging course. The sea all round was pale green, shallow, exactly where the Skipper would choose to be if he was going to fight.
They would see the plane. The guns would be tracking them, but the Skipper would know. He always did.
Calvert began to descend, feeling the wind in his face as he slid open a window. Then he reached over and closed her eyes so that she seemed to be lying against him, asleep.
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