Maddon's Rock Read online

  At one o’clock I relieved Bert; at one o’clock on the 5th of March, 1945. He was cold and tired. “Turned a’t nice again,” he said with an effort at cheeriness. The door of our quarters slid to on the muttered “Goodnight” and I was alone with my uneasy thoughts in the menacing darkness. Even when my eyes got accustomed to the darkness, I could see nothing, not a glimmer of light, not even the shadowy bulk of the after-deckhousing behind me. I was alone in utter darkness and the only thing my eyes could see was the glimmer of foaming wave tops as they thundered past the ship. Occasionally I leaned over the rail and looked for’ard along the ship’s side. Far away in the black turmoil of the sea two little pinpoints of light glimmered faintly; the American Merchant not properly blacked out. They seemed the only friendly things in that nightmare darkness.

  Under my feet the steel deck plates vibrated steadily to the roar of the engines that percolated through the closed hatches. But louder than the engines was the sound of the wind howling through the Trikkala’s superstructure and the intermittent thump of the bows as they buried themselves in a wave followed by the inevitable splatter of spray as it hit the decks. I was partly protected by the bridge for the wind was off the starboard bow. By walking for’ard a little I could see a white glimmer of surf pouring across the forepeak and against it the dim outline of the port wing of the bridge. On the extreme end of the bridge wing I could just discern the faint red glow cast by the port navigation light.

  The time slipped slowly by and my thoughts revolved endlessly around all the little things that in themselves were insignificant, but the sum of which had left me uneasy. Two o’clock came and went. Jukes would be at the wheel by now, Why” had the watches been switched? What had Halsey meant when he had said, “It suits us”? I paced up and down. Each time I turned into the wind, spray stung my face, salting my lips. Two-fifteen. I went to the rail and leaned out to look for the friendly pin-points of light from the American Merchant. I gazed for’ard along the line of the ship. There was not a sign of them. All around us was empty darkness shot here and there by the hissing white of the broken wave tops. I went for’ard towards the bridge. I saw the black bulk of it against the ghostly glimmer of the surf pouring across her bows. But there was no sign of the warm glow of the port navigation light. And then a great sheet of heavy spray struck me, stinging the left side of my face. I knew then that we had altered course. That was why I could no longer see the navigation lights of the American Merchant. A U-boat warning? It was common for convoys to zigzag if there was warning of a U-boat in the neighbourhood. But I’d heard no depth charges being dropped. In any case, for the Navy to order the whole convoy to alter course at night would mean breaking radio silence.

  Footsteps clattered down the iron bridge ladder. I saw the figure of a man standing below the port wing of the bridge. He was outlined against the surf breaking across the bows. He was joined by the man from the bridge and they both disappeared into the black bulk of the bridge accommodation.

  I looked at the luminous dial of my wrist watch. Two-twenty. Forty minutes to go before Sills relieved me. I paced up and down, conscious of the position of the wind, waiting for the ship to swing on to the next leg of the zigzag. Probably they had orders to change course at certain times. It hadn’t happened the night before, but perhaps the skipper had received orders to that effect during the day.

  At two-thirty I noticed that the port navigation light was again visible against the steel plates of the bridge.

  Six minutes later the ship staggered under a terrific explosion.

  CHAPTER III

  ABANDON SHIP!

  I was standing almost exactly amidships when the explosion occurred. I remember I had just looked up. A chink of light from the door to the bridge accommodation shone out on the vague bulk of the funnel beside me. I had looked up to see a trailer of sparks float aft in a billow of smoke. Then I looked for’ard again, watching for the two figures I had seen emerge. I saw the bows dip and the water cream across them as she wallowed into the next wave. I saw them lift and the surf begin to cascade over the side.

  Then it happened.

  Shock, sound, sight—all seemed to come on the instant. The shock threw the ship sideways and I was flung against the rail. The sound was heavy and muffled—like the sound of a depth charge, and yet less solid, as though the explosion had been at no great depth. As I hit the rail the top of a wave that was boiling white and seemed almost level with the deck close under the bridge, blossomed like a great white mushroom and then flung itself in a roaring curtain of water at the clouds. At the instant my body hit the rail and I grasped the cold wet iron in my fingers, the white blur of upflung water hovered motionless over the ship. Then it came down. It hit the deck with a crash. The weight of the water was crushing. I fought upwards through it as though I were being smothered. Then suddenly it was over. Save for the sluicing of the water in the scuppers it was as though nothing had happened. The pulsing of the engines continued. The wind howled through the superstructure. The waves went hissing past us in the night.

  For a whole minute it seemed the ship held its breath in stunned surprise. There was a sort of shocked normality.

  Then somebody shouted. The engine-room telegraph rang twice, the bell sharp and urgent in the gale-ridden night. It rang again. The sound of the engines died. And from below decks a murmur of voices rose louder and louder—shouts, queries, the rush of feet, orders. As though the engine-room telegraph had rung the curtain up the Trikkala shook off her instant’s stupefaction and came to life.

  I found myself still gripping the rail as the crew tumbled on to the deck, vague shadows that ran and collided with each other and swore and asked the world what the hell had happened. I found my rifle which I had dropped. Halsey’s voice thundered out from the bridge. He used a megaphone, but even so I remember thinking what a terrific compass his voice had. “Boat stations!” he shouted. “Get to your boat stations and then stand by.”

  The deck lights were suddenly switched on. Men stopped in their rush towards the boats, blinking sleepily. Some were only half dressed. Others had forgotten their life jackets. I saw one man limping along a boot on his left foot, the other in his hand dangling by its laces. A man called out to him, “Where did it hit us, George?” And he replied, “Number One hold. You can hear the water pouring in amongst that iron-ore cargo.”

  “Lucky it ain’t rice, like we was carrying last time,” somebody said.

  “Threw me right a’t o’ me hammick, it did.”

  “Torpedo, that’s wot it was.”

  “Get away wi” ye. How would a U-boat be after torpedoing us on a night like this? It’s a mine, I tell ye.”

  Scraps of excited talk were flung in my ears by the wind. And the ship looked strangely normal in the bright glare of her deck lights. There was no sign of damage to her superstructure. She had no list. But with her engines stopped she was swinging broadside to the wind and rolling drunkenly. Hendrik appeared out of the bridge accommodation. With him was the little Welshman, Evans. Halsey’s voice boomed out again through his megaphone. Quiet!” he shouted. “There’s no need to panic. Go quickly to your boat stations. Mr. Cousins! Get Number Two boat swung out and then stand by. Chief! Get Number One swung out. Mr. Hendrik! Go below and ascertain the damage. Take Evans with you. He’s right beside you.”

  The normal appearance of the ship had calmed the men. They went quietly to their stations. Some dived back down below for clothes or forgotten life jackets. They clawed their way along the decks as the ship rolled drunkenly. The engines began pulsing again and below the sound of the wind and the seas breaking aboard I heard the roar of the pumps working.

  I clawed my way back to our quarters, clutching the rail. Each time the ship rolled into a trough, the next wave broke inboard. At times I was up to my waist in water. As I reached our quarters, the door was slid back and Bert and Sills pitched out against the rail. Their faces looked very white. “Wot’s up, guvner?” Bert gasped as he got his
breath.

  “Hit a mine for’ard,” I said. “Get your life jackets on.” I dived into our quarters and struggled into mine. I helped the other two on with theirs. When I went out on deck again the starboard boat had been swung out. Some of the men were getting into them. “That’s our boat—Number Two on the port side,” I said.

  Bert grabbed my arm. “That’s the one wot’s got those loose planks, ain’t it? Sills told me.” His voice sounded scared. I’d forgotten all about it until he mentioned it. I felt a sudden surge of panic grip me by the guts. I made no comment. “Get to your boat stations,” I said.

  As we started off along the deck I fancied she was already getting heavy in the bows. Hendrik suddenly materialised almost at my elbow. Evans was with him. They both hurried for’ard. Somebody called out to the Welshman, “Hey, Evans—didn’t you go down with Mr. Hendrik?”

  “Yes, I did,” he called back.

  “How bad is it?”

  “Bad as it could be, man,” he called back. “It caught that weak plate we had strengthened at Murmansk. There’s a hole about a mile wide in Number One and the water’s pouring through like Niagara Falls.” His excitable high-pitched voice carried round the deck.

  Hendrik ran up the bridge ladder. Everyone was watching as he reported to the Captain. Then Halsey turned with the megaphone to his lips. “Mr Cousins! Get the men embarked in the boats. Call a roll. Report when each boat’s complement is complete. The ship’s settling by the head. We’ve got about ten minutes before she goes down.”

  A shocked murmur ran through the crew. “Cor lumme!” Bert said in my ear. “Bang goes ’alf a million quid’s worf o’ the old bright an’ shinin’.”

  We were just under the bridge now, by our boat station. I heard Captain Halsey call to Hendrik to see that all hands were out of the engine-room. “Mr. Cousins!” he shouted, cupping his hands and leaning over the side of the bridge, “get Number Two boat swung out. Look sharp there!”

  “Are the bulkheads holding, sir?” Cousins asked.

  “Number Two bulkhead’s gone,” the Captain shouted down at him. “Mr. Hendrik expects Number Three to go any minute. Come on, jump to it.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Cousins answered.

  A sailor standing near me said, “That’s funny. Number Two were still ’olding when I come up.”

  “Ain’t yer goin’ ter do nuffink, Corp?” Bert asked me. “I mean, them poor devils oughter be told ab’t that boat.”

  “What’s the use, Bert?” I answered. “It’s the boat or nothing for them now.”

  “Wot aba’t them rafts,?” he asked.

  “There are only two,” I pointed out. “They’d hold about four men apiece.”

  “They could ’ang on to ’em.”

  “And die in an hour from the cold,” I said. “This is the Arctic, you know. Those planks may hold.”

  “You three soldiers,” Cousins called out to us,” come and help swing this boat out.”

  We stumbled forward to where several of the crew were trying to force the boat out on its davits. The Trikkala rolled and we were flung in amongst them. Rankin was there. So was my friend the cook. I remember he had the tortoise-shell cat in his arms. The ship rolled, the davits creaked and the boat swung out. A broken wave top thundered against the ship’s side, blinding us with spray. For an instant we seemed almost submerged in water. Then the side of the ship shook clear of the wave. The sea spouted outboard, dragging at our feet, as she rolled away to starboard. And in all this din of wind and roaring water, I heard Halsey’s voice; “Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cater acts and hurricanoes, spout till you have drench’d our steeples, drown’d the cocks!” He laughed wildly in the teeth of the gale and then shouted down at us, “Come on—man that boat. Mr. Rankin! You and your men in Number Two boat.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Rankin.

  “All clear below, Mr. Hendrik?”

  “All clear, sir,” Hendrik replied.

  “Put Miss Sorrel in Number Two, Mr. Hendrik.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Rankin gripped me by the arm. “In you get, Corporal. Sills, Cook—up you go.”

  I hesitated. The crew were piling into the boat. Oars were being unshipped. It looked crowded and frail. I thought of the planks that had shifted under the pressure of my fingers. I looked aft to where the two rafts still hung in their fixtures above the after-deckhousing. “I’ll take a chance on one of the rafts,” I told Rankin.

  “You’ll do as you’re told, Corporal,” he replied sharply. Give him his due, he didn’t seem scared.

  And almost I obeyed. The habit of obedience was not easily shaken off. But the sound of the sea was all about me. And suddenly my mind was made up. “Remember what I told you about the state of that boat?” I said. “I’m taking one of the rafts. I advise you to do the same.”

  “I’m wiv yer, Corp,” Bert said. “I ain’t hembarking in a ruddy sieve.”

  Rankin hesitated. But at that moment Halsey’s voice shouted down at us, “Mr. Rankin—get yourself and your men into that boat.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Rankin’s Naval training reasserted itself. “Now in you get, both of you,” he said. “That’s an order. Sills?”

  Sills moved towards the boat. “Now you, Cook,” Rankin ordered.

  “I’m going wiv the Corp,” Bert said, and there was an obstinate expression in his face.

  “Coom on, lad,” Sills said to him. “You’ll only get yourself in trouble for nothing. Maybe the planks ain’t as bad as they seemed.”

  “Corporal!” Rankin ordered.

  “I’m taking a raft,” I reiterated.

  Rankin’s hand gripped my arm. His voice was excited. “Corporal Vardv—I’ll give you one last chance. Get into that boat?”

  I shook him off. “I’m taking a raft,” I shouted at him. “Why the hell didn’t you pass on my report to the Captain?”

  Captain Halsey’s voice sounded from just above us. I looked up. He was leaning over the bridge. His beard glistened with salt spray. His eyes were excited and wild looking. “Mr. Rankin?” he roared. ‘I’m ordering you to get yourself and those two men into that boat. What’s the trouble?”

  “They refuse to embark, sir” Rankin replied.

  “Refuse to embark!” he screamed. “Report to me on the bridge.” He disappeared from view and from the other end of the bridge I heard him ordering Number One boat away. There was a confused medley of orders. Then the boat disappeared from view. In a lull in the wind I heard the falls whistle as they slid through the blocks. At that moment Jennifer Sorrel was escorted on to the deck. She looked white and almost fragile in her khaki greatcoat and the cumbersome bulk of her cork lifejacket. Hendrik was with her. He handed her over to Cousins. The second officer had got all the men embarked. Sills was up there too. His thin, damp face looked white in the lights. He was scared. The cook was hugging his cat, which was struggling and clawing at him in a frenzy.

  I suddenly found Jennifer Sorrel standing beside me. Cousins was about to help her into the boat. The Trikkala rolled heavily. Once again the port rail disappeared in a welter of swirling water. Then we were clear. The girl was right beside me at the rail. “Miss Sorrel,” I said, “Don’t go in that boat. I’m convinced it’s not safe.”

  “How do you mean?” she said.

  “The planks are loose in her,” I said.

  Cousins overheard me. “Stop that nonsense, soldier,” he said, angrily. “Hurry, please, Miss Sorrel. We ought to be clear by now.”

  Suddenly I felt at all costs I must stop her going on that boat. “Please,” I said. “Take one of the rafts. It’ll be cold. But it’ll float.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Cousins’ hand gripped my shoulder and spun me round. “The boat’s all right. I went over it only a week ago myself.” His right fist was clenched.

  “Yes, but you didn’t inspect it last night,” I told him, watching for his fist. “I did. Miss Sorrel,” I said pleadin
gly over my shoulder, “please believe me—you’d be safer on the raft.”

  “Listen, you,” Cousins shouted. “If you’re scared to get into a boat in a rough sea, I’ll have to make you.” There was an ugly glint in his eye and his youthful face was set hard.

  Bert suddenly stepped forward and gripped the wrist of his clenched hand. “The Corp’s right, mister,” he said. “I felt them planks meself. They’re loose. An’ don’t you start nuffink, see.” Then he turned to the girl. “You take my tip, Miss, an’ do as the Corp says. You’ll be safer wiv us.”

  The men were murmuring at the delay. The Trikkala was beginning to feel sluggish at the bows and though it was impossible to be sure in that turmoil, she seemed to have a definite slant for’ard. Halsey’s voice suddenly shouted above our heads. “Mr. Cousins! Clear that boat, will you.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Cousins answered. He threw Bert off. “Come on, Miss Sorrel, please. We’ve got to get clear.” I saw her hesitate. Her eyes searched mine. Suddenly she turned to Cousins and said, “I’ll take a chance on one of the rafts.”

  “My instructions are to take you in this boat,” was Cousins’ reply. “Come on now. I’ve no more time to waste.” And he made as though to pick her up.

  “Leave go of me,” she cried and wriggled away from him.

  “Clear that boat, will you, Mr. Cousins,” Halsey screamed. He sounded beside himself with rage.

  “For the last time, Miss, are you coming?” Cousins asked.

  “No, I’ll take a raft,” was her reply.

  At that he shrugged his shoulders and climbed into the boat. He gave an order as the Trikkala rolled to port. They let go the falls when the wave top was almost touching her keel. As she hit the water something jumped out of the boat and an instant later I saw the cook’s tortoise-shell cat clinging to the trailing falls. The water swirled away from us and the boat slid, out of sight into the inky trough. I went to the rail. The Trikkala reached the height of her roll and then I felt myself swinging down into the sea again. Cousins’ boat came up to meet me. The oars were out and they were fending off for dear life. She looked dry enough. “Mr. Cousins?” I yelled as the boat came almost level with the rail to which I clung. “I’m cutting the port raft into the water. Have your boat stand by it till you know whether it’s seaworthy or not.” He gave no sign of acknowledgment. I don’t know whether he heard me. But it was all I could do. “Bert,” I called. “Give me a hand with that raft. We’ll use the starboard one.”