Black August (24 page)

Absolute silence greeted the Chief Petty Officer's words, and Gregory added sharply: ‘You hear that men? At the moment I am in a position to give orders here and I mean to stand no nonsense.'

The men at the nearer tables shuffled awkwardly and looked at their boots. This quiet Army Officer was obviously not to be trifled with, but Nobes had a reputation to maintain.

‘'Ear that?' he shrilled: ‘oo's this blinking soldier to order us abart, eh?'

The sailors muttered, looking angrily at their erstwhile companions in khaki.

‘Look at 'im!' screamed Nobes; ‘in 'is brass ‘at—‘e's the sort wot grinds the faces of the poor! Wot did I tell yer abart my cousin in the army—tied 'im to a gun wheel they did—jus' cause 'e overstied 'is leave w'en 'is old woman was aving' a kid.'

‘That,' rapped out Gregory, 'is a lie. Field Punishment No. 1 was abolished in 1915. Come here, you—or do I come and fetch you?'

For a moment Leading Seaman Nobes shrank back behind his large companion; then feeling so many eyes riveted upon him, came slouching out towards Sallust, a leer upon his face, a half-burnt cigarette dangling from his lip.

‘Leading Seaman Nobes?' questioned Gregory smoothly.

‘That's me,' the ferret-faced man nodded.

‘You were under arrest until this evening. No order has been given for your release.'

Nobes shook his head, and blowing through his cigarette with a smirk, puffed the ash off on to the deck.

‘You will surrender yourself at once to the Chief Petty Officer,' said Gregory. ‘Quick march!'

The sailor did not move an inch. He only grinned a little side-ways at the crowded tables, half-closing his eye in the suggestion of a wink. A distinct titter showed the general appreciation of his humour.

‘You refuse to obey me?' Sallust snapped out the words.

Nobes nodded with silent insolence.

‘All right.' Gregory's tone was silky now: ‘You realise that the country is in a state of war, and that for the maintenance of general discipline it is my duty to make an example of you?'

‘'Ark at 'im?' said Leading Seaman Nobes: ‘just 'ark at 'im!' Gregory's left hand still held the cigarette. He smiled faintly, almost as though appreciating the humour of the crowd at the amazing wittiness of Leading Seaman Nobes. His right hand closed upon the butt of his automatic; in a flash he had advanced into the centre of the compartment within a yard of Nobes, and in the same instant the weapon was levelled at the Leading Seaman's head.

Arty Nobes was twenty-nine years of age. He had light brown hair and rather pale blue eyes; his mouth was large with mobile lips, which may be taken as a sign of generosity or of looseness of character—the two very often go together. His nose was short and freckled, his hands better cared for than those of the majority of his shipmates.

Early in life Arty had associated himself with those discontented elements in his home port whose avowed objective was the downfall of what they termed ‘the bloody capitalist'. He was married to a very decent woman a year or two older than himself who was a good hand at cooking him a dish of steak and onions; she secretly kept a scrap-book of those photographs which appeared in the daily press chronicling the many activities of the Royal Family. She had often told him with a cheerful unbelief that sooner or later his political opinions would land him in jug. He also contributed small but regular sums towards the rent of a small, plump-breasted young woman who occupied a room in the back streets of Harwich. He had one daughter aged five, and was a teetotaller.

As the flash came, the upper half of Arty's cranium lifted like the lid of a box. The human head is apt to react that way if the frontal bones are struck in a certain spot by a bullet fired at at close range.

Arty pitched forward, and Sallust stepped back. The comparatively small amount of grey matter which had constituted the brain of Leading Seaman Nobes, spilled upon the spotless deck.

The smoke drifted away from the barrel of the automatic in a little eddy. The report in that confined space had been so shattering that the silence which succeeded it was almost frightening. Only the sound of the water swishing past the scuttles and the rumble of the engines continued unabated. Then Gregory spoke:

This man has died, not through his folly alone, but largely through your encouragement. Every man of you here is partially responsible. See to it then, that, by encouraging others, you do not compel me to make further examples. Sergeant!'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Order your men to their quarters.'

‘Fall in,' bellowed the sergeant and the troops quickly separated themselves from among the sailors. Even the red-faced Brisket and Saunders of the protruding teeth, who were among Stoker Crowder's group, suppressed their sullen looks and stepped hurriedly into place.

‘Party, ‘Shun! Right turn—up the ‘atch. Quick March!' Most of the soldiers were little more than boys and few had ever seen a man killed before. With white scared faces they filed past Gregory to the upper deck.

‘Chief Petty Officer!'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Have this cleared up.' Gregory nodded toward the body of Arty Nobes, and stood there grimly silent, while the remains of the leading seaman were carried away and the deck swabbed down. He then addressed the sailors.

‘Now, men, wherever this ship may go, one thing is certain, it must finally return to a naval port. If you continue with your duties satisfactorily until then, I will recommend to your Commander that in view of the very terrible example which I have been compelled to make, he should take no further action against any of you. If you make further trouble, however, bear in mind that your court martial and punishment are inevitable.'

As he turned on his heel, the C.P.O. called the sailors to attention again, and after a last stern glance round Gregory left the compartment.

He had no regrets about the swift action which had so suddenly terminated the existence of Arty Nobes. The fact that he had no right to issue orders to anybody, or to the uniform he wore, hardly occurred to him. He was living for the time being in the part which he had created for himself, and he knew that although many people in his situation might have shirked such a terrible responsibility and endeavoured to restore order by half-measures, the result would almost certainly have been failure. At least he had put an effective stop to the threatened outbreak, but as he breathed in the sharp salt-laden air of the upper deck again, he wondered grimly for how long.

He answered Harker's challenge from the upper bridge and with Kenyon and Rudd at his heels ran up the ladders to join him there.

‘Where's Broughton?' he asked in a sharp whisper.

‘Here.' The American nodded towards the darkness over his shoulder. ‘I'm mighty sorry but I had to knock him out.'

‘Hum! What happened?'

‘He started an argument at once when I showed up again instead of Fanshawe. Then we thought we heard a gun go off and that settled the matter. He dived for the ladder so I hit him hard. Only thing to do I thought.'

‘Quite right. It's the devil, though, having to rough-house these officers. It's certain to drive the loyal men into the arms of the mutineers, and they're a pretty nasty lot. The shot you heard was mine; I had to out one of the ringleaders.'

‘Say! that's bad.'

‘Only thing to do. If I'd climbed down it would have meant open mutiny, and if I'd shot to wound we should have had the whole pack on top of us. Now the next act is to slow her up and about ship. The helmsman still thinks Broughton is up here I suppose?'

‘Yes; with it blowing like this he wouldn't hear a thing.'

‘Right!' Gregory turned to Kenyon. ‘Think you can imitate Broughton's voice, Fane? Mine's too deep and the chap below us in the wheel-house would notice Harker's accent.'

‘I'll have a shot if you like.'

‘Good man; look, there's the voice pipe.'

Kenyon leant over it. ‘What shall I say?'

‘Not so close, you fool. Now, just say “put the telegraphs to half speed”.'

In a voice that Kenyon would never have recognised as his own he gave the order. ‘Repeat, sir,' came the answer of the Quarter-master below.

‘“Put the telegraphs to half speed,” ' Kenyon said again, and Gregory stroked his lean cheeks with quiet satisfaction as he heard the reply gongs ring.

‘Hard a' port,' he whispered a moment later, and when the order had been repeated the long destroyer slowly made a big half-circle with a great churning of waters.

‘Steady,' Gregory ordered. Kenyon reiterated the command, and they headed once more to the southward.

‘That will do for the moment,' Gregory nodded. ‘When we come opposite the North Foreland Light again I'll set another course to pass outside everything and then head down mid-channel. We must keep our eyes skinned for shipping but fortunately there's little enough of that about these days.'

‘Did you put those other men who broke prison behind the bars again, General?' Harker asked suddenly.

‘No. To be quite frank, I didn't dare risk it. I'm pretty certain their leader's got a gun. He was playing with something devilish like it when I first went below—and a few more of them may be equipped in the same way. If they had once made a rush for us we should have been downed in no time so I had to take a chance on the moral effect of outing one.'

‘Don't you figure there'll be more trouble before morning then? I'd bet a hundred bucks to a nickel they're in conference again by now.'

Gregory laughed a little bitterly. ‘I wouldn't take you even for a nickel, and I've been thinking of the best plan for holding the ship till morning. Once daylight comes we'll start in on the general round-up, but it's a question of hanging on till then.'

‘How about shifting all the troops aft?' Kenyon suggested.

‘No. I'd thought of that but unfortunately they are not all reliable. Brisket and that other chap were on the revolutionary committee, you saw that yourself, and after the hot air they've heard this evening a lot of the others may have been won over.'

Harker nodded. ‘Well, what's the drill then?'

‘Go down and see Sergeant Thompson. Tell him that I don't want any but real tigers about the bridge, and that he's to pick a dozen of the best N.C.O.'s or men, then bring them up here with as much ammunition as they can carry. Now, what about your lot?'

‘All for King and country; they wouldn't be Greyshirts else.'

‘Good, that gives us another seven. Tell Thompson to borrow rifles for them from the men who are left below. Excuse to the men they are taken from: rifle drill for the Greyshirts first parade in the morning. It's a bit thin but it's better than nothing and you'll be behind Thompson if there's any trouble.'

‘Right, I'll see to it, General. What about this lad here?' Harker indicated the dark form of Broughton which lay stretched out behind him.

‘He'll be coming round in a moment I suppose.'

‘I doubt it; he hit his head on a stanchion as he fell, poor chap, so I reckon he'll be under for some little time.'

‘Never mind, we'll look after him; you get below and fetch up the Praetorian Guard.'

Kenyon was kneeling beside the Naval Lieutenant. He looked up at Gregory as Harker moved away. ‘His head's cut badly, and he's bleeding like a pig.'

‘Is he? We must get him below then. I don't mind killing mutineers or rioters, but I hate this business with the officers; they're only decent fellows doing their proper job.'

‘If we carry him down the ladder the Quartermaster will see that we've laid him out and then the fat will be in the fire.'

‘That's true, but we must get him down somehow.'

‘What abart them there signal ‘alyards,' suggested Rudd who had been standing quietly in the background. ‘Can't we ‘itch 'im on to them, sir, an' lower 'im aft of the bridge darn on to the deck?'

‘Splendid; that's the idea. Come on, give me a hand to lift him up. You slip down on to the deck, Fane, and we'll lower him to you.' Gregory seized the unconscious sailor.

They tied the halyards firmly under his armpits, but just as they were about to put him over the rail, the Quartermaster's voice came weirdly to them from the pipe amidships.

‘Damn,' muttered Gregory, ‘hang on a minute and I'll see what it is.'

Rudd supported the Lieutenant while the General strode over
to the tube. A moment later he was back again. That infernal Quartermaster is asking for his relief. I daren't send for the C.P.O. or he'll want to know what's happened to his officers. Quick, heave this chap over, hang on to the rope now, we don't want to break his neck.'

Broughton was lowered in a series of jerks to the waiting Kenyon and then Gregory turned back to Rudd. ‘Nip down to the wheelhouse. The Quartermaster is certain to know that there has been trouble forward, tell him that owing to that he cannot be relieved at present. If he kicks and wants to speak to his officer stick your gun in his ribs and make him carry on. Harker will be back in a minute with the men.'

‘Ay, ay, sir.' Rudd ran lightly down the ladder.

‘Fane,' called Gregory in a sharp whisper leaning over the rail.

‘Yes.'

‘Have you got him off the line?'

‘Yes, just finished.'

‘Can you get him to the wardroom on your own?'

‘I'll manage somehow.'

‘Right! Tell the girls to look after him and bathe his head. Come back as soon as you can, and bring the Lewis guns with you; I had them stowed under the settee.'

‘All right.' Kenyon slid his arm under the legs of the sailor, and gripping his wrist hoisted him over his shoulders in a ‘fireman's lift.' Then he staggered aft and down the hatchway to the wardroom.