Black August (25 page)

He was greeted by a flood of breathless questions from Ann and Veronica, and after he had laid the Lieutenant on the table he told them roughly what had happened, suppressing Gregory's extermination of Leading Seaman Nobes.

Veronica bent over Broughton. ‘What have you done to the poor sweet?' she cried angrily as she saw the ugly wound on the side of his head.

‘Silas Harker had to knock him out and he hit his head on an iron stanchion as he fell. Sallust says you are to bathe that cut and take care of him.'

‘Of course we will, but where can we get some water?'

‘One of the cabins I should think.' Kenyon was hurriedly pulling the Lewis guns from under the settee and Veronica looked over at him sharply.

‘Where are you off to with those things, Galahad?'

‘Taking them up to the bridge; General's orders.'

‘Fee-fie-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman!' she said suspiciously. ‘Are you about to enliven us with a little war?'

‘I hope not. Just a precautionary measure.'

‘I don't like the look of victim number two at all,' said Ann. ‘Can't we get him off this hard table?'

‘I'll lift him on to the settee if you like,' Kenyon volunteered.

‘No, carry him along to his own cabin, he'll be more comfortable there, and we can wash his wound properly if there's water handy.'

‘I must get these things up on the bridge.'

‘Oh, we'll take the arsenal for you, if you'll carry him.'

‘Right!' Kenyon handed over the Lewis guns to the two girls and pulled the recumbent sailor on to his shoulders again. They followed him out of the wardroom and along to Broughton's cabin where Kenyon laid the wounded man in his own bunk. Then he turned with his finger on his lips.

‘For goodness' sake don't make a noise,' he whispered, ‘I think Cousens lives next door, and if we wake him it will only mean more trouble. Sallust will probably be able to tackle him quietly once he's got control of the ship.'

Ann nodded silently and stepped over to the basin. Veronica was already pulling one of the Lieutenant's best white shirts out of a drawer to make a bandage.

Kenyon collected the guns again and turned for a second in the doorway. ‘When you've done what you can for him, don't stay here. Get back to the wardroom, and to be on the safe side lock yourselves in—though there's not likely to be any trouble this end of the ship.'

Back on the bridge he found that Harker had already assembled his Greyshirts, and to the troops on the forecastle Gregory was giving quick instructions. The Chart-house on the lower bridge was to be used as a guard-room where two-thirds of the small force were to doss down for the night. The remaining third were being posted as sentries; a screen of four abaft the bridge, Sergeant Thompson and Rudd at each extremity of it and two more men towards the bows in case of a surprise attack from forward.

Rudd was busy at the moment serving out a stiff tot all
round from various bottles, which, with his amazing nose for the whereabouts of supplies, he had collected.

They were back now with the North Foreland Light abaft the beam, and Gregory, after a quick look at the chart, set a new course, which he knew to be roughly accurate, although for the time being he was unable to make any allowance for the tide.

The Lewis guns were mounted, the ammunition carried up, and it seemed that no more could be done for the moment when the Chief Petty Officer appeared. Gregory spotted him coming up the port ladder to the bridge and hastily blocked his way by running down a few steps to meet him.

‘What is it, Wilkins?' he inquired.

‘I was about to report to the Commander, sir.'

‘He's busy on the upper bridge—so I'll take your message.'

‘I think I'd better go up, sir—there's more trouble forward with the men.'

‘I see. Well the Commander has asked me to take measures for the protection of the bridge with my troops so you'd better let me know what is happening.'

‘There's another meeting, sir, an' I don't like the looks of things at all.'

‘All right, you'd better remain with us, but go and fetch Petty Officer Sims first, we need all the reliable men we can get.'

‘It's a bit difficult, sir. They've made him attend the meeting. Half a dozen of them cornered him, and I think he reckoned it would be more than 'is life was worth to refuse.'

Gregory grunted angrily.

‘And what's more, sir,' added the C.P.O., ‘the magazine keys is missin' from the board. I wanted to report that to the Commander.'

‘I'll tell him. You stay here and keep your eye on the forward hatch.'

‘Ay, ay, sir.'

Gregory went up the ladder again and walked over to look at the gyro compass. The Quartermaster was still carrying on his duties at the wheel with an imperturbable face. A soldier with a fixed bayonet, however, now stood just behind him. Silas and Kenyon were talking together nearby in low voices. In a few words Gregory told them about the forcible detention of Petty Officer Sims.

‘Let's go and get him out,' said Harker promptly, but Sallust shook his head.

‘No, I'd like to but we should be mad to go and put our heads in the noose again. They won't do him any harm if he does what he's told—and if there is going to be trouble I prefer to fight on my own ground.'

For some minutes they stood talking together while the destroyer ploughed its way evenly at half speed through the tumbled seas. The night was dark and still and no sound came from the forward quarters, which, Gregory agreed with Harker, was a bad sign. They knew that the sailors had access to the rum ration and if they had been singing it would have been a better omen. The stillness of the crew constituted a silent menace and his rudimentary knowledge of the ship's topography caused Gregory constant anxiety as to what might be going on below decks. Suddenly one of the forward sentries challenged.

A figure had risen from the forward hatch. There was a short consultation and then Petty Officer Sims was led up on to the bridge.

Gregory could see at once that the man was badly rattled and throughly ashamed of the part he was being forced to play, as he stumblingly excused himself for acting as the messenger of the mutineers. ‘Rudd,' he called.

‘Ay, ay, sir.'

‘A tot of something for Petty Officer Sims.'

‘Certainly, sir 'ere we are.' Rudd hurried forward with a bottle and an enamel mug.

The Petty Officer swallowed the proffered beaker at a gulp. ‘Ha, that's better, sir,' he sighed, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth.

‘Out with it, Sims,' said Gregory. ‘What's happening now?'

‘There's been another meeting, sir. That devil Crowder is making trouble among ‘em, and they've sent me with what they call terms.'

‘Terms, eh!' sneered Gregory. ‘Never mind, let's hear them.'

‘The First Lieutenant's to alter course to Harwich—most of them's Harwich men, and they want to get home, not knowing what's happening to their families. If he'll take the ship in they promise not to molest him or the officers or you and your men, and they'll set you all ashore; but if you won't sir—'

‘Well?'

‘They say they'll shoot the lot of you, and run the ship in themselves.'

‘Thank you.'

‘I'm to take back the reply, sir.'

‘There is no reply, so you will remain—that is unless you prefer to return to them.'

‘No, sir, no,' replied the Petty Officer hastily, ‘I sticks by my officers and you.'

‘Good man—you'll find the Chief Petty Officer on the port ladder; better park yourself with him, I'll go and let the Commander know that you are safe back with us again.'

‘Thank you, sir.'

The ship slithered on into the darkness West-South-West with occasional spray lifting over her bows as they cut through the waves. Gregory kept a watchful eye on the compass but all was silent once more on deck. Then something happened—for the second he hardly realised what, but a sudden absence of vibration told him that the ship was easing down.

He swore softly beneath his breath.

‘What'll this mean?' asked Harker.

‘'Fraid they've got control below,' Gregory answered softly. ‘We shall know in a minute.' He stood by the binnacle peering intently at the compass in the guarded light of the hood.

For a few moments the ship swung silently, rolling a little in the trough'of the waves. Then the propeller started to thud again and the bows of the vessel veered slowly towards the East.

‘Ship not answering to the helm, sir,' reported the impassive Quartermaster, and as they watched the lubber's point it swung from West-South-West to North-Eastward, then steadied.

‘They've got us,' muttered Gregory, ‘they've set a course for Harwich as near as they can.'

‘But surely the ship is controlled from here?' said Kenyon.

‘Yes,' Sallust made a wry grimace, ‘in the ordinary way, but obviously they have disconnected the fore bridge steering, so now we can't do a damn thing.'

‘Can they steer her from below then?'

‘Looks ter me as if the matloes is usin' the after control position, sir,' volunteered the Quartermaster.

As he spoke the thresh of the screws increased, and soon the destroyer was forging ahead to the North-Eastward with all the power of her 30,000 horse-power engines.

Gregory snapped his teeth together angrily. These devils will run me out of the oil I need if they mean to maintain a pace like this. We've got to get that after-steering position—they'll slow her down if we can secure that, or at all events we can turn her again the way we want to go. Hullo, what's that!'

A commotion was going on amidships, and a struggling group arrived at the foot of the starboard ladder. It was Lieutenant Cousens, angry-eyed and hatless, in the grip of two flushed sentries.

Tried to break through, 'e did, sir, and wouldn't reply to the challenge,' spluttered one of the Tommies.

‘What the hell's going on here?' demanded the N.O.

‘Good Lord! I'd forgotten all about you; we've been up to our neck in trouble ever since dinner,' Gregory said with a trace of amusement in his voice. ‘Let him go, men. Come up on the bridge, will you, Mr. Cousens?'

The ruffled sailor jerked his tie back into position and stamped angrily up the ladder after Sallust, who led him to the deserted starboard side of the bridge.

‘Now what the devil's been happening in the last watch and where's the Commander?' Cousens demanded.

‘I'm sorry to say there's been a mutiny,' said Gregory.

‘Yes, that's plain enough, but where are the First Lieutenant and Broughton, that's what I want to know?'

‘Prisoners, unfortunately, in the hands of the mutineers. They rushed the bridge and collared them both, while I was trying to quell the trouble on the lower deck.'

‘The devil they did—they darn near got me, too. When I left my cabin I went into the wardroom to get my cocoa before taking over, and there were the matloes with both the magazine hatches up and passing arms out on deck through the after ammunition hand up hatch. They chased me out on deck and your sentries damn near stuck their bayonets through my ribs.'

‘Well, if they've got to the magazines we're in for real trouble; they've got control of the after-steering position too, and disconnected the forward steering-gear.'

‘I guessed that from what little I saw on deck. Of course I'm in command here until we can get the Commander released—but I'd be glad to have your views on what you meant to do, sir.' The sailor was regaining his breath and his temper. The furrows which ringed Sallust's mouth deepened into a smile as he noted
the ‘sir' and the ease with which his story had got over.

‘I had meant to send one of my officers with a detachment of men to endeavour to regain control of the after part of the ship,' he said slowly, ‘but since you've turned up perhaps it would be better if you took the job on yourself. It's much more likely that the mutineers will listen to one of their own officers—you may be able to persuade them to stop this idiocy.'

‘That's true. Anyhow I'll have a cut at it.'

‘Good! I can let you have eight men. I must keep the rest to man the Lewis guns. We'll cover you with them if it comes to a fight and you have to retreat.'

Sallust called Harker over to him and gave instructions. The troops were turned out from the chart-house and the Lieutenant went aft with the eight of them. The remainder lined the bridge, peering anxiously into the darkness.

All except the navigating lights had been put out on the deck and only the reflected glow from the scuttles on the rushing waters afforded any illumination. The ship raced swiftly through the foam which swished and rustled with a continuous quiet hissing noise against her sides, while Gregory strained his tired eyes into the shadows.

The parley was brief. Cousens addressed the men, but Crowder gruffly told him to get back forward and mind his own business if he valued his skin. The Lieutenant raised the rifle which he had taken from one of Sallust's Tommies but there was a sharp crack. Private Brisket who stood by Crowder had seen the motion and the N.O. pitched forward shot through the chest.

There was a sudden crash of shots as the troops replied and other mutineers joined in. Sallust's men were hopelessly outnumbered; another fell, and the remainder bolted, scrambling and tumbling back towards the bridge.

‘Ready,' sang out Gregory. He paused a moment, giving the Lieutenant's party time to get clear, then as the mutineers surged forward he bellowed: ‘Fire!'

The machine-guns opened and the troops joined in with their rifles, aiming for the dark smudges of shadow that slipped from cover to cover on the after deck.

Above the din came a scream and then a blasphemous curse.