Pride and the Anguish (25 page)

He had been to tell the captain's wife that Corbett was sailing in the
Beaver.
He could have sent a messenger, but he wanted to see the girl, although he knew he was unwanted. He had caught sight of her sitting with Corbett's son at the back of the house and had gone to speak to her. He had tried to tell her of her father's last moments alive, that there was nothing anyone could have done for him.

She had looked up at Trewin's worried face, her eyes shadowed by her dark hair. “Then there's nothing more to be said, is there, Lieutenant?” She had turned her face away. “You should have let me stay, too. Now please leave me alone.”

Corbett's wife had been waiting beside the windows. She had been wearing a silk robe, her tanned face fresh from a shower. She had said, “You'd better leave her. She's still shocked.” She had tossed her damp hair as if it were of no importance. “What about a drink, Ralph? You can probably do with it.” It was not just the casual use of his name which flashed a warning. There was something very inviting in Mildred Corbett. She had an almost animal warmth about her, as if it was all she could do to control her inner emotions.

As he had made his excuse to leave she had brushed against him, letting her breast move over his arm, while she had kept her eyes on his with that bright, direct stare he had seen at the party.

“Well, anytime you're passing, Ralph.
Anytime
.”

As he had walked down the drive he had heard her humming to herself. Perhaps she was just another reason for his inability to think clearly about Corbett. Angrily he told himself that it was not his concern. Corbett's wife and career were nothing to do with it. Corbett's stubborn conceit was the only thing to consider. He must realise what he was doing, the risks he was taking with lives other than his own.

He looked back at Hammond and said evenly, “I'm sorry, Sub. I didn't mean to jump down your throat.” He saw Hammond
relax slightly. “But I still think it has to be your decision. She may feel worried about going to England. This is her home.” He bit his lip. He was really speaking about Clare. He tried again. “Things have moved so fast, it is hard to plan anything too far ahead.”

Hammond slumped in an armchair. “Two months since the Japs landed in Malaya. Just two months. And now, here we are back in Singapore.” He sighed. “It doesn't make sense.”

Trewin watched Ching moving around the wardroom gathering up fallen newspapers and replacing them in their rack. He looked shrunken and vaguely sad. We've all got our worries, he thought. Hammond and his girl, Tweedie and his bungalow in Hampshire. And no doubt Ching was feeling a personal disgrace for himself and the whole ship. In the past few days eight of the Chinese sailors had deserted, vanished without a clue. They had probably heard the rumours that the Japs were making savage examples of the Chinese they had captured in Malaya. After years of fighting them in Manchuria and Indo-China they were apparently doing their utmost to butcher any found in their advance, partly to impress and cow the Malays, but mainly it seemed for their own amusement.
Porcupine
's Chinese sailors were probably trying to get back to their families, and who could blame them? But Ching felt it deeply. It was a matter of honour. Of loyal service. In some ways he was rather like Corbett, Trewin decided.

Maybe Corbett would explode when he heard about the desertions and blame him for them. Trewin found himself hoping he would. By losing his temper and his control he might be able to have it out with Corbett, once and for all.

He thought of Mallory, ashore drinking with some woman or other.
He
would not hesitate, nor would he worry about personal involvements. Only that evening, just before he had stepped into the shore-boat, he had said calmly, “It's better already with you in command. You ought to keep it!” He had looked towards the distant hills, his eyes dark and expressionless. “A word in the right place would do it fair enough. Nobody amongst the brass
likes Corbett. He's a has-been.” He had cocked one eyebrow. “So why not give it a try?”

Now, looking back, there seemed more to Mallory's advice than he had first seen.

He stood up, defeated and angry. “I'm going to turn in, Sub. I want a couple of hours before the night's ‘hate' gets going.”

Hammond stood alone in the wardroom and then ran his fingers over the ship's crest. “Touch me not.” He spoke half to himself, and was really thinking of the girl. “It could have been written for you, Jacqui!”

Trewin awoke with a start to find the cabin flooded with light and Tweedie's hand dragging roughly at his shoulder. He struggled into a sitting position and stared at the clock. He had been asleep less than half an hour. He said, “What is it, Guns? Another raid?”

Tweedie shook his head. “The admiral wants you ashore double quick.” He jerked his thumb at the door. “There's a launch alongside waiting right now.”

Trewin shook the dullness of sleep from his mind and began to fumble for his shoes. He asked, “Do you know why?”

Tweedie looked away. “The Japs 'ave landed on the island. I got it from the cox'n of the launch. The bastards are crossing the Johore Strait in a full-scale attack!” He sounded as if he was still unwilling to believe it.

Trewin snatched his cap, his mind now working at full speed. “Are all the libertymen off yet?”

“All but three petty officers,
and
the pilot.”

“Right. Tell the chief to flash up and get ready to get under way. Call all hands and prepare for sea, and make sure that nobody tries to desert.”

Tweedie eyed him bleakly. “The Chinks, d'you mean?”

“I mean anybody!” There was a rasp in his reply. “Some of our people have got native women ashore who weren't evacuated. They'll want to see them, to make sure they're safe at a
time like this.” He jammed on his cap and added flatly, “So see that they stay aboard!”

He ran on deck where Hammond was waiting by the rail above the swaying grey shape of a powerful launch. It was very dark, but the sky was paler towards the northwest, and he could hear the steady rumble of gunfire.

As the launch shoved off from the side he called to Hammond, “Get hold of Mallory, and send someone for the P.O.s. They'll be in the harbour canteen.” Hammond's reply was lost in the throaty growl from the launch's screws as it curved towards the inner harbour.

Trewin hardly noticed the looming shapes of moored ships or the busy bow-waves from other launches. He was thinking about Clare, of the sudden closeness of new danger.

At the steps he found an open car waiting for him, a marine at the wheel. At his side was another with a sub-machine-gun across his knees. They both looked grim and tense.

But as the car roared through the outskirts of the city Trewin found time to wonder if the threat was as serious as Tweedie had made out. There were plenty of people in the streets, and at least one cinema had a “house full” sign at its doors.

He craned forward, suddenly realising that the car was not taking the usual route. But in answer to his question the driver yelled, “The admiral 'as changed 'is H.Q., sir! 'E's on the other side of the town, by Kallang Airfield.” He swore savagely as a crowd of shouting figures jumped across the shaded headlights and swayed drunkenly at the side of the road. “You'd think they
wanted
to be killed!”

They paused momentarily at a barbed-wire barrier, and after exchanging shouts with armed sentries, roared forward again towards a low-roofed, concrete bunker, where a messenger greeted Trewin with something like relief. “The admiral's waiting, sir. This way.”

Trewin found Fairfax-Loring beside a map table surrounded by busy staff officers and jangling telephones. The air was thick
with tobacco smoke and the urgent voices of officers who received a constant barrage of demands and questions from the ever-ringing telephones.

The admiral looked up as Trewin entered. His face was grim, and his normally immaculate drill uniform was darkly patched with sweat. “Good. You got here then.” He gestured at the map. “They've landed in force to the northwest. About four places, as far as I can make out. Corbett's group ran right into some of them at the entrance to the Johore Strait.” He scowled. “The M.L. and one of the trawlers have been sunk, and
Prawn
has been damaged, how badly I don't know.” He swung round and barked, “Flags, have you got any more news?”

Lieutenant Hughes looked remarkably calm. “Nothing, sir. I'm still trying to get some confirmation.”

The admiral stamped his foot. “Well, get a bloody move on!” Then to Trewin he said heavily, “I want you to put to sea immediately. Can you do it?”

Trewin replied, “We are very low on fuel, sir. We've only just come off the slipway. But I have already ordered the chief to get steam up.”

The admiral nodded. “That will have to suffice. Sail as soon as you can and head for the Strait. Nothing larger than a gunboat can get close enough to get a crack at the bastards. They've got their artillery pounding across from the mainland, and some heavy naval units coming down the Malacca Strait to support them.” He was breathing heavily. “I have been assured that if we can control the rate of landings the Army can contain the situation.” He glared at Trewin's doubtful face. “God, it's not the end of the world! We were
expecting
them to try and land sooner or later!” He calmed himself. “General Percival, the G.O.C., is pushing up his reserves, and in twenty-four hours we should have either killed or surrounded the Japs who have managed to land.”

Hughes called, “The twenty-second Australian Brigade have reported that more of the enemy have crossed the Strait, sir. They're using rafts and rubber boats.”

An army liaison officer said quietly, “So blowing the causeway didn't make all that difference?”

The admiral turned and stared at him. “I could have told
you
that! You've only got to look at the chart to realise that Causeway or not the water's only four feet deep there at low tide!” He banged the table loudly so that some of his staff turned to watch him. “Bloody fools, they couldn't organise a bottle party in a brewery without some idiot forgetting to bring a corkscrew!” He wiped his forehead and looked at Trewin again. “So get going. Join up with the group and do what you can. I wouldn't drop this in your lap, but I'm hard-pressed for officers right now.”

Trewin smiled faintly. “I'll manage, sir.”

The admiral studied him thoughtfully. “I hope so.” Then he conjured up a shadow of his old grin. “Yes, I'm sure you can!” He turned away as another officer began to shout into a telephone. “One thing is certain. We're not giving up the island!”

Trewin hurried out into the darkness and found the car waiting for him, the engine still ticking over. An air raid was in progress, but it was far away on the other side of the city, the bursting flak making small necklaces of red and gold beyond the darkened buildings.

He said, “Put your foot down.” As the car bounced forward he added, “Go round the other way, driver. I want to stop for a minute at Commander Corbett's house.” He regretted the impulse immediately, but forced himself to remain silent as the car swung around the blacked-out streets, its tyres screaming in protest.

Fairfax-Loring might be right about the ability of the defenders. But if not…He felt the sweat cold on his face as the car roared along the deserted road and skidded to a halt outside the low white building.

The driver said tightly, “You won't be long, sir?” He was looking towards the glow in the sky.

“Two minutes.” Trewin ran through the gates and groped his way across the deep porch, recalling with sudden clarity the
brightness and gaiety of the New Year's party. He thought too of Corbett, fighting with his motley collection of craft against the enemy. Thank God for Keates of the
Beaver,
he thought. He at least would be able to cope, if anyone could.

A sleepy Malay servant answered his knock, buttoning his white jacket as he ushered Trewin inside the door before switching on the lights.

Trewin said, “Where is your mistress?”

The man shrugged. “She out.” He rubbed his eyes dazedly. “She bin out all evening, sir.”

Trewin ground his teeth. “Well, when she returns tell her to pack some things.” He felt like hitting the man's blank features. “Just in case she has to leave, see?”

“Who is that?” There was a step in the passageway. “Is that a visitor, Mali?”

Trewin stood quite still as Clare Massey stepped into the light, her slim figure shrouded in a dressing gown. She saw him and stopped, one hand at her throat, the other pushing the hair away from her face.

Trewin walked towards her, feeling her eyes fixed on his face. He said quietly, “I came to tell you. To warn you.” He heard the marine driver revving his engine meaningly. “The Japs have landed on the island. I think you should get ready to leave. Just in case things get out of hand.” He faltered, not knowing what to add.

She said, “Thank you, Mali. You go back to bed.” As the servant hurried away she added, “Would you come into the other room? The boy is asleep there.”

He followed her along the narrow passage and into the room he remembered so well. Corbett's son was asleep in his bed, his face away from a small light, one arm around his teddy bear.

Then the girl said quietly, “I will tell Mrs. Corbett what you said.”

In the silence of the small room Trewin could hear her breathing, could smell the faint perfume of her dark hair. He said, “I
really came to see you. Commander Corbett is still at sea, and I have to take
Porcupine
to join him.” She did not turn, but he could see her fingers gripping the sleeves of her gown. “Things may get worse. I think they'll probably get very bad. I expect you will be evacuated, and I may not see you again. I just wanted to tell you…”