The Empire Trilogy Part 50

Walter, by no means sure that this reference to his qualifications as an adviser was not subtly but slightingly intended, followed with a suspicious eye the distinguished figure of the Governor as he retreated a few steps to perch with a weary, languid air on the arm of a chair. Extending a neatly creased trouser leg which terminated in a brilliantly polished shoe, Sir Shenton began to move it back and forth in a very deliberate imitation of a casual manner. However, Walter was obliged to give his attention to the Governor's question which was precisely that which he himself had not ceased to ponder ever since he had learned of Sunday night's air-raid.

'Not to mince matters, sir,' he replied, 'I would expect apathy towards both us and the j.a.panese until it becomes clear that either one side or the other is likely to get the upper hand. A possible exception, and one in our favour in most cases if not all, would be the politically-minded Chinese. Fortunately, the j.a.panese are even less popular with them than we are, thanks to their war in China. But as you know, discontent among the Chinese and even the Indians has been increasing steadily over the past four or five years, to judge by strikes ...'

'Then you take a pessimistic view? Did you read this?'

Walter took the paper which the Governor handed to him. It was the Order of the Day Order of the Day, published that morning. '... We are confident. Our defences are strong and our weapons efficient. Whatever our race, and whether we are now in our native land or have come thousands of miles, we have one aim and one only. It is to defend these sh.o.r.es ...' Not knowing quite what was expected of him Walter nodded gravely as he handed the paper back; but this p.r.o.nouncement, when he had read it earlier, had seemed to him to be futile and inept. It simply served to draw attention to the fact that the different races in Malaya did not have one aim only, however ardently the Administration might wish that they did.

The Governor was evidently satisfied with his nod and did not pursue the matter further. He looked at his watch: the interview was at an end. Walter now found himself obliged to gulp off a large gla.s.s of beer while the Governor waited for him, tapping his foot. 'No hurry,' he said, noticing that Walter was becoming breathless, but at the same time stared about the room as if contemplating already the important matter which he would attend to as soon as he had got rid of his guest. Again Walter felt that he was being patronized and wished, having at last drained his gla.s.s, that he had simply put it aside with dignity, untouched.

To Walter's surpise, however, the Governor courteously set out with him on the long trek back across the deserted room: this gave him an opportunity to ask if there was any news of the fighting in the north. The Governor replied grimly that he had heard nothing definite, that the Military, as Walter could imagine, were inclined to keep these things to themselves, but that he suspected that they were not very much wiser than he was, as to what was happening. And a grimace of pain pa.s.sed fleetingly across the Governor's handsome features, for Walter's question had touched on a raw nerve: Sir Shenton had known of the plan to launch an attack over the border into Siam to forestall j.a.panese landings at Singora and Patani. He had a.s.sumed, therefore, that if the j.a.panese had been obliged to land on Malayan soil at Kota Bahru it was because British troops had denied them Singora and Patani.

But this had proved not to be the case. They had landed successfully at all three places and were threatening not only the difficult and inhospitable east coast but also the fertile and vulnerable west coast. It was the west coast that mattered, after all! But, in theory at least, the j.a.panese should only be able to get at the vulnerable west coast by using the road from Singora. And on that road defences had been prepared to deal with them, protecting the rich, rice-growing area of Perlis and Kedah, the important aerodrome at Alor Star, a staging post for aircraft reinforcements from Ceylon, and, some way farther south, Penang itself. So a great deal would depend on these defences which had been set up a little to the north of Alor Star, at Jitra.

There did remain, however, just one other way in which the west coast might be threatened: that is to say, along the road from Patani that led through the mountains. Luckily Brooke-Popham and Malaya Command had thought of this and had sent two battalions up the road into Siam to occupy the only defensible position on it (The Ledge) before the j.a.panese could get there. The Governor was grateful for their foresight because even he, though no military expert, could see that if the j.a.panese started coming down the road from Patani they would be coming in behind the defences at Jitra and would be able to cut their communications. And if Jitra had to be abandoned, the important aerodrome at Alor Star would be lost, and perhaps even Penang into the bargain.

The two men had reached the door now and had paused on the point of saying goodbye. Or rather, it was the Governor who had paused: in the middle of some valedictory remark he had got stuck again in the contemplation of Walter's chin ... For it seemed to Sir Shenton that, simply stated, the situation was this: if the Ledge went then the Jitra defences would be untenable; if the Jitra defences went then Alor Star would go, too; if Alor Star was lost then Penang and another important aerodrome at b.u.t.terworth would be in danger; and if ... but, of course, it had not come to that and the Army was there to see that it never did. Why then had Blackett touched a raw nerve when he had asked for news of the fighting in the north? Precisely because the absence of news was beginning to be a cause for concern. The j.a.panese had landed at Patani in the early hours of Monday morning. Very well. But it was now Tuesday evening and he had still had no confirmation that the Ledge had been successfully occupied although more than thirty-six hours had elapsed. Sir Shenton did not know off-hand how far it was from the Malayan border to the Ledge but it could hardly be more than fifty miles. And the distance the j.a.panese would have to travel along that same road from Patani to reach the Ledge would not be much greater. In other words, by now both sides had had ample time to get there. Sir Shenton did not like to admit even to himself the possibility that the j.a.panese might have got to the Ledge first. Most likely there had been some breakdown in the communications which linked the Army with the Government.

'... For giving up your time. I know how busy you must be at the moment,' he said, concluding an earlier remark and at the same time releasing Walter's chin from his gaze. 'I hope you're doing something about that cough, Blackett,' he added, realizing that for the last few moments Walter had been trying to clear his bronchial tubes. 'They can be the devil even in this climate.' His eyes once more shifted towards Walter's chin as he said vaguely: 'Yes, yes ... A jubilee? What jubilee?'

'Ours, sir ... Blackett and Webb's,' said Walter patiently, but at the same time wondering whether it would be regarded as treason or merely as common a.s.sault to knock down His Excellency the Officer Administering the Government; he was also annoyed with himself for having twice in the course of the interview addressed the Governor as 'sir'. 'You and the Colonial Secretary both agreed that it would be of benefit to the morale of the Asiatic communities if we made a bit of a splash with our jubilee. You may remember our slogan: "Continuity in Prosperity" ... Well, I just wanted to rea.s.sure you that we would keep steadfastly to our plans regardless of the j.a.p invasion.'

'That's the ticket, Blackett,' said the Governor with rather hollow enthusiasm. 'That's the spirit. Wish everyone had your ... Well, I must be getting on ...' His eyes settled on Walter's chin again like two b.u.t.terflies, but just for an instant, then they were away once more, chasing each other this way and that.

'You know, Walter,' he said suddenly and with unexpected warmth, 'we don't see enough of you and Sylvia. We're all too busy, I suppose. What lives we lead! Well, we must make amends one of these days! Goodbye.'

'Thank you, sir. Goodbye.'

'The Governor's not such a bad chap when you get to know him,' Walter was thinking as he descended the staircase, humming The Roast Beef of Old England, The Roast Beef of Old England, towards the marble hall. 'Rather out of touch, perhaps.' towards the marble hall. 'Rather out of touch, perhaps.'

31.

Walter's more cheerful frame of mind was not fated to last much farther than the drive of Government House: sitting in the back of the Bentley as it crept out into the darkened city he recalled the Governor's distraught air and his mind filled with foreboding. If the j.a.panese became established on the peninsula, he had said, 'as they look like doing' ...

Slowly they made their way up Orchard Roard in the gloom; the other cars they pa.s.sed loomed up simply as dark shapes, headlights masked with metal grilles or paper. A steady rain had begun to fall. If it were like this in the north it would not be much fun fighting the j.a.ps in the jungle. The Malay syce syce peered ahead into the darkness through the swirling, flowing windscreen wipers. Walter sighed and sat back, folding his arms impatiently. It irritated him to be driven at this speed: he had a great deal to do. Before he got down to work, however, he must look in at the Mayfair to see whether Matthew was showing any signs of recovery. And that was another important matter which must be seen to: Joan must be married off without any further delay. The many uncertainties which faced international commerce over the next few months and years required that a business should have the strongest foundations. He was fairly confident, however, that Joan could be left to deal with that side of things. It was true that so far, by her own account, she had not made as much progress as either of them would have hoped. At first, as she now admitted herself, she had underestimated the difficulties of attracting a young man like Matthew. For one thing he spent so much time talking about 'unreal things' ... yes, she meant abstract ... that it had been hard to get him to fix his attention on peered ahead into the darkness through the swirling, flowing windscreen wipers. Walter sighed and sat back, folding his arms impatiently. It irritated him to be driven at this speed: he had a great deal to do. Before he got down to work, however, he must look in at the Mayfair to see whether Matthew was showing any signs of recovery. And that was another important matter which must be seen to: Joan must be married off without any further delay. The many uncertainties which faced international commerce over the next few months and years required that a business should have the strongest foundations. He was fairly confident, however, that Joan could be left to deal with that side of things. It was true that so far, by her own account, she had not made as much progress as either of them would have hoped. At first, as she now admitted herself, she had underestimated the difficulties of attracting a young man like Matthew. For one thing he spent so much time talking about 'unreal things' ... yes, she meant abstract ... that it had been hard to get him to fix his attention on her her rather than whatever it was that was pa.s.sing through his mind. Hard, not impossible. Right from the beginning she had noticed him staring at her legs, which was encouraging. 'For another thing,' she had explained to Walter, 'half the time I believe that he can't actually rather than whatever it was that was pa.s.sing through his mind. Hard, not impossible. Right from the beginning she had noticed him staring at her legs, which was encouraging. 'For another thing,' she had explained to Walter, 'half the time I believe that he can't actually see see me ... physically, I mean. Which makes things difficult. I often feel like s.n.a.t.c.hing off his spectacles, giving them a good polish, and then putting them back on his nose again. He does me ... physically, I mean. Which makes things difficult. I often feel like s.n.a.t.c.hing off his spectacles, giving them a good polish, and then putting them back on his nose again. He does peer peer at you terribly! And if he can't see me properly, I have to get him to at you terribly! And if he can't see me properly, I have to get him to touch touch me. Fortunately, he seems quite keen on the idea of me. Fortunately, he seems quite keen on the idea of that that ... but it's not all that easy to find opportunities. And now he's got this dratted fever just as I was beginning to make some solid progress. Oh, and incidentally, we must send Vera Chiang packing before he's up and about again. She's a distraction. We must keep his mind on ... but it's not all that easy to find opportunities. And now he's got this dratted fever just as I was beginning to make some solid progress. Oh, and incidentally, we must send Vera Chiang packing before he's up and about again. She's a distraction. We must keep his mind on me. me. No, Daddy, of course she isn't ... at least, not a serious one.' No, Daddy, of course she isn't ... at least, not a serious one.'

Well, so much for Matthew. He would be dealt with. There remained the j.a.ps. It was intolerable that they should have been allowed to land at Kota Bahru. What did the Army think they were up to? Or was it the RAF's fault? His mind went back to the tedious disputes of the previous year between Bond and Babington as to who should be responsible for the defence of Malaya. It had been decided, had it not, that it was to be the RAF's job and that the Army would protect the northern airfields, of which there was one at Kota Bahru, the very place where the j.a.panese had succeeded in landing! Could it be that the years of endeavour that had gone into the building of Blackett and Webb into a successful enterprise were now to be put at risk by a handful of pig-headed officers and sn.o.bbish emissaries of the Colonial Office? 'Thank heaven that at least with the Prince of Wales Prince of Wales and the and the Repulse Repulse in the Straits we have some protection for shipping!' in the Straits we have some protection for shipping!'

'Watch, Mohammed!'

The Bentley had braked suddenly, narrowly missing some dim object that had lumbered across its path, perhaps a rickshaw, it was impossible to tell in the swirling darkness. Walter sighed with irritation and his hand closed over the door handle. For a moment he was tempted to step out and finish his journey on foot despite the rain. He mastered his impatience, however, and sat back again.

Well, what of the enemy? Walter knew better than to accept the general view in Singapore that the j.a.panese were either ridiculous or incompetent. Indeed, the skill with which the Army had gradually tightened its grip on j.a.pan's economy over the past decade was impressive. The policy of girding the economy for war, begun in Manchukuo under the sinister auspices of the South Manchuria Railway Company, had in due course spread back to j.a.pan itself, leaving the zaibatsu zaibatsu (the old capitalist groups like Mitsui, Mitsubishi, Yasuda and Sumitomo which now found their enormous shipping, textile and trading industries beginning to flag) to compensate themselves as best they could with increased profits from their munitions and armaments factories. This diversion of resources from the (the old capitalist groups like Mitsui, Mitsubishi, Yasuda and Sumitomo which now found their enormous shipping, textile and trading industries beginning to flag) to compensate themselves as best they could with increased profits from their munitions and armaments factories. This diversion of resources from the zaibatsu zaibatsu, which had become even more p.r.o.nounced since the beginning of the Sino-j.a.panese war, had provided Blackett and Webb with some relief in their Far Eastern trade as they struggled to recover from the Depression. Nevertheless, Walter had watched apprehensively the rise of the 'new zaibatsu', the firms like Mori and Nissan whose fortunes had been derived from the manufacture of armaments and whose future prosperity would depend, perhaps, on the successful use of the weapons they manufactured.

At last the car was edging its way off the road by the dim glow of its masked headlights. They had evidently arrived at the Mayfair. Walter continued to sit huddled in the back of the car, however, while the syce syce groped for his oiled-paper umbrella. Sometimes, in his rare moments of depression, Walter would imagine the whole of Malaya spread out before him with its population of Malays, Indians and Chinese all steadily working away. He would see the rubber and oil-palm plantations, the tin mines and rice fields, combining to produce a strong-flowing river of wealth. Above the mines and plantations, each of which sent its tributary to the main current, he would see a little group of Europeans ... he saw himself and his family, he saw his colleagues from the Singapore Club, the men from Guthrie's and Sime Darby and Harrison's and Crossfield and the Langfields and Bowsers, all of them, the whole pack, he saw the police and the Government and the Military, the Shenton Thomases and Duff Coopers, the Brooke-Pophams and the Bonds and the Babingtons ... he saw them all, herded together in a tiny elite group directing the affairs of the country. And then he would ask himself what would happen if, perhaps, some higher force removed this tiny elite group and replaced it by another ... say, the South Manchuria Railway Company's executives ... Would the Colony then, as one might expect, wither away promptly, like a plant whose head has been cut off, or would it, on the contrary, continue exactly as it had before, producing that steady, strong river of wealth exactly as if nothing had happened? Experience had taught him that the answer which condensed in his mind in response to this question varied according to his frame of mind. Thus it provided him with a useful barometer to his health and spirits. groped for his oiled-paper umbrella. Sometimes, in his rare moments of depression, Walter would imagine the whole of Malaya spread out before him with its population of Malays, Indians and Chinese all steadily working away. He would see the rubber and oil-palm plantations, the tin mines and rice fields, combining to produce a strong-flowing river of wealth. Above the mines and plantations, each of which sent its tributary to the main current, he would see a little group of Europeans ... he saw himself and his family, he saw his colleagues from the Singapore Club, the men from Guthrie's and Sime Darby and Harrison's and Crossfield and the Langfields and Bowsers, all of them, the whole pack, he saw the police and the Government and the Military, the Shenton Thomases and Duff Coopers, the Brooke-Pophams and the Bonds and the Babingtons ... he saw them all, herded together in a tiny elite group directing the affairs of the country. And then he would ask himself what would happen if, perhaps, some higher force removed this tiny elite group and replaced it by another ... say, the South Manchuria Railway Company's executives ... Would the Colony then, as one might expect, wither away promptly, like a plant whose head has been cut off, or would it, on the contrary, continue exactly as it had before, producing that steady, strong river of wealth exactly as if nothing had happened? Experience had taught him that the answer which condensed in his mind in response to this question varied according to his frame of mind. Thus it provided him with a useful barometer to his health and spirits.

'You blighters don't know how lucky you are, Mohammed,' growled Walter to the syce syce as the door beside him opened to the streaming blackness. The as the door beside him opened to the streaming blackness. The syce syce, who was used to having cryptic fragments of Walter's inner debates addressed to him, nodded and smiled politely, holding out the umbrella for Walter to step under and ignoring the rain that hammered on his own unprotected shoulders.

'Why don't they oil that d.a.m.n thing?' Walter wondered a few moments later, standing in almost total darkness just inside the verandah door. There were distant sounds of movement and a scampering near the floor in the obscurity. He became aware than an animal of some sort was leaning forward to sniff him cautiously. A few seconds pa.s.sed during which neither Walter nor this creature cared to make a move. Then an electric light was switched on, revealing a large Dalmatian. It wagged its tail briefly and then whisked away into the jungle of rattan furniture. Presently it returned followed by the Major.

'Ah, Major, I see you have a dog.'

The Major, who appeared to have just awoken, stared somewhat dubiously at the Dalmatian and said: 'Actually, it's not mine. It goes home tomorrow with luck.' After a moment he added: 'Watch out, there's another one behind you,' causing Walter to give a violent start; it was true: another shadowy animal had crept out of the furniture and with its head tilted on one side was running its nose over his ankle. It uttered a yelp as Walter aimed a kick at it; then promptly waddled away to take shelter behind the Major. As far as Walter could make out in the dim light it was an elderly and decrepit King Charles spaniel: its coat, which had plainly come under attack from some worm, was in some patches bald, in others matted and filthy; its tail hung out at a drunken angle and was liberally coated in some dark and viscous substance resembling axlegrease.

'I found it here when I got in this evening. Someone had left it tethered to the gatepost, with five dollars and a note. Probably someone who had heard of my lectures. Here, have a look.'

The note, typed with a great number of mistakes and unsigned, declared that the writer had been recalled to Europe at such short notice that he had had no time to settle his affairs. He urged the Major 'as a lover of dogs' to be so kind as to have this one destroyed. The money was enclosed to cover mortuary expenses. A harrowing postscript a.s.serted: 'He was a faithful friend.' As if this were not enough the dog, perhaps divining that its fate was under discussion, set up a doleful whine and turned its bulging, bleary eyes up at the Major.

'It's a bit thick, frankly. I have enough on my plate already without having to deal with this poor little brute,' said the Major gloomily, stooping to tickle the animal behind one cankerous ear.

'Does it have a name?' asked Walter, retreating as the repulsive creature, rea.s.sured, made to approach him.

'The note doesn't say. Francois has taken to calling it 'The Human Condition" for some reason. I think he means it as a joke.'

'Well, you'd better have it done away with before it gives us all rabies,' said Walter. He became brisk again: 'I just came to enquire after young Webb. How is he?'

The two men set off down the corridor towards Matthew's room, the Major explaining that since the fever still had not abated they were continuing to give him large quant.i.ties of liquid. Dr Brownley was optimistic that the patient would soon be over the worst. The Dalmatian loped cheerfully after them, followed, groaning and gasping, at some distance by The Human Condition.

After a brief look at Matthew, who appeared to be still too busy thrashing and sweating beneath his mosquito net to recognize him, Walter took the Major by the arm for, as it happened, visiting the sick had only been part of his purpose in coming to the Mayfair. He also wanted to discuss Blackett and Webb's jubilee parade with the Major and, if possible, to conscript him to play a more active part in it. 'You'll be lending us a hand, won't you, Major?' he asked with a winning smile, and he went on to emphasize the great importance which the Governor himself was placing on this event, as he happened to know for a fact, just having come this moment from Government House. To cut a long story short Sir Shenton was absolutely relying on this parade to keep up the morale of the Straits Settlements at this dire turning-point in their history ... 'And he expects every one of us, Major, to put his shoulder to the wheel,' he was obliged to add, seeing that the Major was still showing signs of reluctance. Although work on the floats was well in hand there was still a great deal to be done in the way of organization. As soon as Matthew Webb had come to his senses again, every pressure must be exerted on him in order to persuade him to take the place that his father would have occupied had he lived: that is to say, he would have to sit on the throne as the symbol of Continuity and, no less essential, deliver a keynote speech on Prosperity as it affected workers of all races in the Colony.

Since the Major still hesitated and hung back, murmuring that he had a great deal to do in organizing his AFS unit and carrying the burden of his Committee for Civil Defence, Walter launched into an enthusiastic description of the way in which their plans for a parade had evolved into something more impressive: Blackett and Webb's jubilee parade would not only be a patriotic cavalcade of a magnificence rarely seen, it would also be a living diagram, as it were, of the Colony's economy in miniature, since the company was involved at least to some extent in every one of Malaya's principle trading and productive activities (though only indirectly in tin-mining and no longer to a great extent in the entrepot business) ... 'With the exception of palm-oil,' he muttered as an afterthought, looking uneasy. The Major was surprised to notice the look of uncertainty which pa.s.sed fleetingly over Walter's commanding features. Walter coughed in a hara.s.sed sort of way and scratched the back of his head ... but the next moment he was off again, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with confidence as he explained his 'grand design' to the Major.

The old idea, as the Major might remember, had been to have a series of floats depicting Blackett and Webb's commercial ventures, plus a few of the dragons that are de rigueur de rigueur in any Chinese festival, a bra.s.s band or two and the usual fireworks. But, one of his brighter young executives had suggested, since the idea of the parade was partly to instruct, should they not broaden their scope in order to include some of the hazards which these commercial ventures had had to overcome, and still in any Chinese festival, a bra.s.s band or two and the usual fireworks. But, one of his brighter young executives had suggested, since the idea of the parade was partly to instruct, should they not broaden their scope in order to include some of the hazards which these commercial ventures had had to overcome, and still were were having to overcome? A brilliant notion! In this way the idea of a counter-parade to accompany the parade had been born. And so what was now projected was to have Chinese acrobats, schoolboys, and volunteers of all races dress up in appropriate costumes as devils and imps accompanying the main procession, tumbling and turning cartwheels and playing pranks on the crowd, squirting water over them and so forth. Did the Major not think that was an idea of genius? These imps and devils would carry pitchforks to prod maliciously at the characters of Continuity and Prosperity, throwing banana skins in front of them and so on. And, of course, they would wear placards identifying them as the particular enemies of Continuity and Prosperity. Thus there would be imps and devils representing: 'Labour Unrest', 'Rice h.o.a.rding', 'j.a.panese Aggression', 'Wage Demands' (what a fearful lot of banana skins this devil would scatter in front of Blackett and Webb's proud floats!), 'Foolish Talk', 'International Communism', 'Fraudulent Accountancy' (a great trick of the Chinese businessman who habitually keeps two sets of books), 'Racial Enmity', 'Corruption and Squeeze', 'Slander Against Government and British Empire', 'Slander Against Private Enterprise', 'Irresponsible Strikes' and many, many more: indeed, there were so many possibilities that they must be careful not to bury the floats completely ... Well, what did the Major think? Would he enter into the spirit of the thing and perhaps wear one of the devils' costumes not yet allocated? Would he mind personifying 'Inflation', for example, which would mean dressing up in a fiery red costume with horns and a tail and lashing about with a tennis ball tied to a stick? having to overcome? A brilliant notion! In this way the idea of a counter-parade to accompany the parade had been born. And so what was now projected was to have Chinese acrobats, schoolboys, and volunteers of all races dress up in appropriate costumes as devils and imps accompanying the main procession, tumbling and turning cartwheels and playing pranks on the crowd, squirting water over them and so forth. Did the Major not think that was an idea of genius? These imps and devils would carry pitchforks to prod maliciously at the characters of Continuity and Prosperity, throwing banana skins in front of them and so on. And, of course, they would wear placards identifying them as the particular enemies of Continuity and Prosperity. Thus there would be imps and devils representing: 'Labour Unrest', 'Rice h.o.a.rding', 'j.a.panese Aggression', 'Wage Demands' (what a fearful lot of banana skins this devil would scatter in front of Blackett and Webb's proud floats!), 'Foolish Talk', 'International Communism', 'Fraudulent Accountancy' (a great trick of the Chinese businessman who habitually keeps two sets of books), 'Racial Enmity', 'Corruption and Squeeze', 'Slander Against Government and British Empire', 'Slander Against Private Enterprise', 'Irresponsible Strikes' and many, many more: indeed, there were so many possibilities that they must be careful not to bury the floats completely ... Well, what did the Major think? Would he enter into the spirit of the thing and perhaps wear one of the devils' costumes not yet allocated? Would he mind personifying 'Inflation', for example, which would mean dressing up in a fiery red costume with horns and a tail and lashing about with a tennis ball tied to a stick?

'Well, Walter, I'm not sure that I ...'

'The Governor and Lady Thomas will be personally grateful to you, I happen to know,' said Walter, pressing his advantage as he saw the Major begin to weaken. 'He sets particular store by having a mixture of races. What we must have above all is Europeans! That is crucial to the whole exercise. We've even considered having an additional slogan: "All in it together!" "All in it together!"'

'Well, I suppose, in that case ...'

'Good man! I knew I could depend on you ... Well, Major, I think it should be a success but sometimes I do have the feeling that there's something missing, that we still need a single float representing Singapore herself. We've thought of all the usual things, the Lion City and so on, but it's weak, it's been done before ... We need to show Singapore in her relationship with the other trading centres of the Far East, holding them in a friendly grip. It's deuced hard to think of anything suitable, I can tell you! All we've managed to think of so far is to have Singapore at the centre of a float as a sort of beneficial octopus with its tentacles in a friendly way encircling the necks of Shanghai, Hong Kong, Bombay, Colombo, Rangoon, Saigon and Batavia. Of course, the snag is that the octopus does not have a very good reputation whereas ...' Walter fell silent.

They were standing in the corridor. From a few feet away they could hear the springs of Matthew's bed as he thrashed and muttered and groaned in his fever. From the dim depths of the floor The Human Condition peered up at Walter in perplexity with its bulging eyes. The Major cleared his throat. 'Forgive me mentioning this, Walter, but I noticed a moment ago that you had a spot of something yellow on your chin ... a spot of, well, egg, I suppose.'

'What?' cried Walter, clapping a hand to his chin in horror.

'Oh, it's nothing,' said the Major hurriedly, taken aback by the effect of his words. 'Just a spot of something ... You can hardly see it.' Walter spat on a handkerchief and began to rub his chin violently. Watching him at work the Major could not help thinking: 'Walter is is getting rather odd in some ways.' getting rather odd in some ways.'

32.

Poor Matthew! What a terrible fever he had to endure! Every two or three hours he would be roused from his churning dreams and would find himself surrounded by a circle of Oriental faces, for Cheong had summoned a.s.sistance from his relatives. Then he would become aware of many hands hoisting him into the air while other hands dragged away the sodden sheets and replaced them with dry: these dry sheets would be wringing wet too, though, within a few moments. At intervals he would find a gla.s.s of cold liquid held to his lips: then he would gulp for his life, while faces flared up before his eyes. 'h.e.l.lo you!' said Joan brightly, puffing away at a long cigarette holder, to be replaced in a moment by Charlie informing him that there was a huge demand for cheap coolie labour during the rice-milling season from January to May, or by an unknown doctor, an Englishman wearing a linen jacket and a striped tie. This man, he found, was talking to him cheerfully and evidently had been doing so for some time, encouraging him to swallow some white pills which lay in his yellowish, h.o.r.n.y palm. As Matthew took them the doctor opened his mouth and gulped sympathetically, as if he too had some pills to swallow; then, satisfied, he beckoned Cheong forward with a pitcher of iced lemonade. Matthew gulped down gla.s.s after gla.s.s, before sinking back into his dreams ... only to find a moment later that the Major's worried countenance was looming over him. He could tell by the Major's expression that something had gone dreadfully wrong. What was it he was trying to say to Dupigny on the other side of the bed? The Prince of Wales had called but had been repulsed! Matthew could just reach consciousness with his fingertips. If he could only drag himself up a little further! 'I had no idea he was even in Singapore,' he just managed to say before losing his grip and tumbling back head over heels into his churning dreams again.

Hours pa.s.sed. Some time later, in a moment of lucidity which occurred while he was trying to thrash his way out of a net that German spies were throwing over him to prevent him rejoining the League 'somewhere in the Atlantic', Matthew found himself hanging upside down out of bed, neatly trussed up in a coc.o.o.n of mosquito netting which he had somehow dragged off its frame. From this odd position he had an excellent view of a number of neatly swept floorboards in diminishing perspective. Standing on these floorboards under the bed was what he at first took to be a chamber-pot ... a moment later he realized that it was simply a basin which had been put there to collect his own sweat which was soaking through the mattress and steadily dripping into it. The basin was already br.i.m.m.i.n.g.

A faint clicking sound approached him across the floorboards and suddenly he found that his own eyeb.a.l.l.s were a mere inch or two from another pair of eyeb.a.l.l.s; these ones, bulging and bleary, were set in the hairy face of a Chinese demon, of a kind he had hitherto only seen sculpted in stone outside temples. Matthew was on the point of howling for Cheong to come and drive off this horrid little creature (it was not exactly sweet-smelling, either) but at this very instant the German spies, one of whom bore a stern resemblance to the portrait of his father in Walter's drawing-room, abruptly caught up with him and he was off again like a hare, twisting now this way, now that. His sweat continued its steady drip, drip, drip through the mattress.

When he finally returned to his senses the fourth day since he had been ill was just beginning. He lay half awake, listening for the drip of sweat beneath the bed. But now the silence, except for a distant creaking from outside the window, was complete. He crumpled the sheets in his fist: they were dry. Thank heaven for that! He wondered how many basins of his sweat had been poured away since his fever had begun; he felt so exhausted that it was as if he himself had been poured away.

The distant creaking, he noticed, was punctuated by an occasional thump. Creak, creak, thump! He dozed for a moment and woke again. Creak, creak, thump! Curiosity at last gave him the strength to make a move. Beside him lay a 'Dutch wife', a long narrow bolster whose purpose was to allow the air to circulate: he fought with it weakly and at last overcame it. Then with great difficulty he negotiated the fish's gill exit from the mosquito net. The window shutters were open and he could see that it was already growing light in the compound outside. Somewhere on the other side of the house the sun must be just rising. It was pleasantly cool by the window.

The creaking was coming from the clearing beside the recreation hut where the abandoned vaulting-horse stood with its companion, a big horizontal bar tethered by rusting guyropes. A slender girl who appeared to be Chinese was swinging by her hands from this bar, attempting by a sudden kick and a stiffening of her arms at the elbow to bring her waist up to it. (Did she have red hair or was that just a glint of sunrise?) But what caused Matthew to blink and wonder whether this was still part of his feverish fantasy, now taking a more agreeable turn, was the fact that she appeared to be stark naked.

He scratched his head and set off in search of spectacles, but it was some time before he managed to find them: Cheong, afraid that he might damage them in his delirium, had removed them to a place of safety. He crammed them on and hurried back to the window just in time to see the girl (Vera! Good gracious! Naked!) at last succeed in bringing her shoulders above the bar. She steadied herself there for a moment, recovering from the effort she had made. In the early light her skin shone greenish-white against the dark foliage around her.

Matthew now realized that he was not the only spectator of this scene, for an elderly orang-utan with elaborate mutton-chop whiskers lay sprawled in a rubber tree on the edge of the glade watching the girl's gymnastics. And while it watched her it distractedly ate an apple, holding it up from time to time for inspection and meanwhile drumming absent-mindedly with the fingers of its other hand on its pale, bulging paunch. Still supporting her weight on her straightened arms, her body curved in a slim crescent, Vera managed to hook one leg over the bar and then, with more difficulty, the other, so that at last she sat precariously on top of it, hands between her thighs gripping the bar tightly to steady herself. When she was satisfied with her balance she let go of the bar with her hands, raised them above her head like a diver and threw herself backwards.

The orang-utan, on the point of taking a bite of apple, paused with its mouth open to watch the outcome of this reckless manoeuvre. The girl's flexed knees were still bent over the bar as she swung down through three-quarters of a circle trailing a stream of red-black hair behind her. Reaching the top of the arc she released the bar by straightening her legs, dropped to all fours on the gra.s.s, staggered a little, recovered her balance, stood up on tip-toe and marched smartly forward for three or four paces before returning to lean wearily against one of the perpendicular supports. Knitting its ginger brows the orang-utan returned its attention to the apple and, having smoothed its mutton-chop whiskers, took a bite.

Vera had her back to the orang-utan and perhaps had not seen it. She was leaning all her weight on the upright as if punting a boat and her chin rested charmingly on her raised arm. The orang-utan paused again in its eating and watched her. Then, holding the apple core delicately by its stalk in the fingers of its left hand it slipped from the branch on which it had been sitting, hung from it revolving by one finger for a few moments, then dropped silently to the ground. Now it hesitated for a moment, clearly in two minds as how best to proceed. It scratched its head, fingered the ginger hair that sprouted between its eyes, and at last began to move circ.u.mspectly towards the girl. Matthew watched as if in a dream (perhaps he was indeed in a dream).

She remained in exactly the same position, resting, lost in thought. The orang-utan moved towards her using the knuckles of its right hand to a.s.sist its progress, still holding the apple core in the other. Matthew would have called out but his vocal chords had ceased to work; besides, the animal did not appear aggressive in the least. As it drew near Vera another access of doubt overcame it. It halted, it looked around and rubbed its stomach dubiously, it plucked a blade of gra.s.s and threw it away. At length, however, it could wait no longer and, taking another step or two forward, it reached out to place one timid, hairy hand on the girl's naked bottom. Without turning she slapped the hand smartly. The orang-utan sprang back, shocked, and returned in haste to its rubber tree. There it set about nibbling with renewed energy at the apple core until presently there was nothing left of it but an inch of stalk which it threw away.

Vera, meanwhile, had turned and seen the pale and haggard Matthew watching her from the window. She waved. For a moment she seemed about to shout something to him but thought better of it, smiled, shook her head, picked up a white bath-robe which she threw over her shoulder and walked away from the house, shaking her finger at the orang-utan as she pa.s.sed. The orang-utan watched her glumly from the tree.

Before she was quite out of Matthew's line of vision she threw the robe away again, poised for a moment, and then plunged forward headlong over the brilliant viridian lawn ... which here astonishingly turned out to be water, for she landed with a great green splash and the lawn rippled about her in every direction and even lapped the edge of the tennis court. A moment later she had vanished from sight altogether and though Matthew waited by the window in case she should reappear there was no further sign of her.

Matthew left the window in a state of considerable excitement, not because he believed what he had just seen with his own eyes, but, on the contrary, because he was inclined to doubt it. Like everyone else he had, in his time, enjoyed a fair number of s.e.xual dreams. Could it simply be another of these? The orang-utan, a clear symbol of male s.e.xuality, had very likely been furnished by his own sub-conscious. The only trouble with this theory was that when he looked out of the window the symbol was still there, sprawled in the rubber tree and once more drumming idly with its fingers on its bulging abdomen ... but never mind, there was no reason why it should not linger after the main vision had evaporated. He began to stride up and down, although rather weakly because of his state of exhaustion, discussing aloud with himself the implications of the strange hallucination from which he had just emerged. He must remember to mention it to Ehrendorf. No doubt the fever had heightened his sensibility, made porous the outer brickwork of his conscious mind!

Presently, though, he found himself climbing weakly back through the slit in his mosquito net, a.s.sisted by Cheong who was cooing reprovingly in Hokkien (or in Cantonese, for all Matthew knew), convinced that he had struggled out of bed in his delirium. And Matthew himself was obliged to conclude as he fell asleep again that his fever, far from subsiding, had perhaps taken a graver though not altogether unpleasant turn. But now he dreamed vividly that an old gentleman with a white beard was throwing a net over him: and he made such a good job of trussing Matthew up that for the next few hours he lay there unconscious, hardly moving a muscle. This unnatural stillness puzzled Cheong who looked in on Matthew from time to time throughout the day. But then, with 'foreign devils' one never knew what to expect: they were doubtless constructed on different principles from normal, beardless, small-nosed, odourless human beings like himself.

Cheong's father and two uncles had been shipped to Singapore as indentured coolies before the turn of the century in conditions so dreadful that one of the uncles had died on the way; his father had survived the voyage but the memory of it had haunted him for the rest of his life. He had transmitted his anger to Cheong, describing to him how agents had roamed the poverty-stricken villages of South China recruiting simple peasants with promises of wealth in Malaya together with a small advance payment (sufficient to entangle them in a debt they would be unable to repay if they changed their minds), then delivered them to departure-camps known as 'barac.o.o.ns'; once there they were entirely in the power of the entrepreneur for use as cargo in his coolie-ships (each person allotted, as a rule, a s.p.a.ce of two feet by four feet for a voyage that might take several weeks). No wonder Cheong was angry when he thought of how these simple people had been swindled and abused, of the thousands who had died like his uncle from illness or by suicide before reaching Malaya and beginning their years of servitude! But what affected him more deeply still was the knowledge that so few people in the Chinese communities of Malaya and Singapore now seemed to remember or care about the exploitation and suffering of their ancestors on these criminal voyages. These things must not be forgotten! Justice demanded that they should be known. With this in mind he had taken in the past few months the first laborious steps in educating himself at a night-school in the city, helped oddly enough by old Webb who had once, as it happened, shipped coolies himself, though only as deck-cargo with the other commodities in which he traded.

'How strange these people are!' he thought, looking at Matthew's immobile form.

'My dear chap, the way the war is going could hardly be better for us! There is no doubt about it. This time the j.a.panese have bitten off more than they can chew!'

It was the Major, standing beside Matthew's bedside with a cheerful expression on his normally anxious face, who had just made this confident a.s.sertion. Matthew had just woken feeling much better after his long sleep. Dr Brownley had had a look at him and p.r.o.nounced himself satisfied: another day or two's rest and he should be back on his feet again. However, Dr Brownley had taken the Major aside on his way out to whisper one or two additional comments. He explained that a patient can suffer a serious depression after such a high fever: the system has to recover from the shock imposed upon it. Well, he happened to know that Matthew was a young man of great sensibility, excitable, given to sudden impulses. He did not, of course, consider it likely that Matthew, on hearing the news of the last few days, would s.n.a.t.c.h up a razor and cut his throat. There was, fortunately, no prospect of his doing anything so foolish (though it would probably be as well not to leave any sharp instruments lying about). It was simply that having just emerged from a debilitating illness a young man who, unlike himself and the Major, had been spared some of the buffets of life, was more likely to take things to heart which a more seasoned campaigner would shrug off without a second thought. For this reason the Major's tone was cheerful as he recounted the reverses of the past few days.

Matthew listened in some surprise, first to the Major's rea.s.suring description of the first j.a.panese air-raid on Singapore, which had barely disturbed the slumbers of those living near where the bombs had fallen, then to his account of j.a.panese landings at Kota Bahru and elsewhere: where the latter were concerned the Major could inspire himself directly from the sedative communiques issued by General Headquarters and did not have to fumble for words. So things were going along splendidly on that front but there was even better news to come! The Major, becoming more pleased than ever with the way things were going, explained that after the Prince of Wales Prince of Wales and the and the Repulse Repulse had been sunk off the east coast a remarkably large ... had been sunk off the east coast a remarkably large ...

'Sunk!' cried Matthew, lifting his large fist and waving it as if ready to fell the Major, not out of hostility but out of a need for a physical expression of his excitement, and at the same time rolling his eyeb.a.l.l.s in a way which gave the Major to believe that perhaps his precautions in the breaking of bad news had not been exaggerated.

'Sunk! But that's dreadful! Our most modern battleship and cruiser ...'

The actual sinking of these two capital ships, the Major agreed hastily, was not altogether good news, but what he had been going to say was that a remarkably large proportion of the officers and ratings of the two ships had been saved, some two thousand men.

'But surely, the j.a.panese Navy isn't ...'

'It wasn't their Navy. It seems they were sunk by torpedobombers. But the thing is that ...' The Major paused, unable to think what the thing was. There was no disguising the fact that this was a terrible blow. Without those two powerful ships, and taking into account the loss of the American Pacific fleet at Pearl Harbor, the j.a.panese would have control of the South China Sea, and perhaps even of the Indian Ocean as well. The Australian and Dutch Navies surely had nothing to challenge them.

'But what was the RAF doing?' demanded Matthew, sinking back weakly against his pillow, extenuated by this sudden surge of emotion. The Major made no reply however, and silence fell. It was very hot in the room. The shutters were partly closed for the sake of the black-out (or 'brown-out'); the only illumination came from a bedside lamp whose shade had been swathed by Cheong in heavy cloth so that it shed an oblique light against the wall. At the edge of this pool of light a tiny brown lizard of the kind known as a 'chichak' had stationed itself on the wall, motionless, its fat little legs flexed like those of a j.a.panese wrestler. Presently it emitted an oddly metallic clicking sound and the Major explained that the Malays believed that chichaks brought good luck to the houses where they appeared and that, moreover ... He sighed and silence fell again.

'What's that noise?'

A roaring sound had begun outside and was steadily increasing in volume.

'It's just the rain,' said the Major, wondering how the rest of the British warships might be faring in the wet darkness. It was on just such a night as this, in April 1905, that Admiral Rozhdestvensky and his forty-five elderly, barnacle-clad Russian warships and supply ships had steamed in a tepid downpour through the Straits of Malacca on their long journey from the Baltic, too late to lift the siege of Port Arthur, aware that they were hopelessly outcla.s.sed by the j.a.panese fleet. What brave men, all the same! Sent to the other end of the world by the incompetents in the Ministry in St Petersburg; with crews untrained in war manoeuvres; without enough ammunition to practise gunnery; obliged to coal at sea as often as not for lack of a neutral anchorage that would accept them; continually obliged to stop as the engines of one ship after another broke down; and at the end of their long voyage only the prospect of being sent to the bottom by the superior j.a.panese fleet. The capture of Port Arthur and the Russian naval defeat at Tsushima, the Major reflected, should have been a warning not to underestimate the j.a.panese.

'Francois has gone up to Penang for a few days. He may have some news of how things are going in the north when he gets back.'

'Just listen to the rain!'

Now another grim possibility had occurred to the Major: if the j.a.panese Navy did get control of the Straits there would be nothing to prevent them landing troops behind the British lines at any point they wished. No doubt there were fixed defences already established at the most vulnerable places, but with such a long coastline to defend it was bound to be difficult. Still, they had the RAF to reckon with.

Now from another part of the house there came the plaintive cry of the door's rusty hinges and, a moment later, voices on the verandah.

'I wonder who that can be? I'd better go and see.' The Major stood up.

'Enter two drowned rats,' laughed Joan, putting her head round the door before the Major could reach it. 'We were halfway through the compound when it started to come down in torrents. It's no good trying to shelter, either. You get just as wet standing under a tree.'

Matthew and the Major stared at her in wonder. Her hair had turned a shade or two darker and stuck to her forehead and cheeks in wet ringlets: water was still gleaming on her neck while her sodden dress clung to her so intimately that one could make out on her heaving chest the two little studs of her nipples and the flutter of her diaphragm where the ribs parted: evidently she had been running.

'Come and sit down,' said the Major genially. 'But I can only see one drowned rat. Where's the other?'

Matthew smiled wanly at Joan as she came to sit beside him, clearly not in the least abashed to be seen in wet and semi-transparent clothing. Indeed, she was positively sparkling with health and high spirits after sprinting through the downpour. 'How attractive she is!'

'The other is Papa. He's just gone to get a towel from the "boy". But here he comes now.'

Walter, too, seemed to be in exceptionally good spirits, as if the sudden downpour had revived him. Of late he had a careworn air, as if his manifold responsibilities were at last beginning to get the better of him: he had begun to hesitate in a way he had never done before, to speculate too exhaustively about the possible consequences of his decisions. The absence of old Mr Webb's strong character in the background, the uncertainty which clouded the political future of the Colony, the blunder he had made over those huge stocks of rubber he had waiting on the quays, all these matters had combined to sap his strength of purpose. But Walter was not the sort of man who could be kept down for very long. What were all these difficulties but the biggest challenge he had had to face since the Depression? Having decided to define his problems as a challenge he found that a weight had been lifted from his mind. Now he stood there laughing, his stocky figure radiating energy, quite oblivious of the puddle of water which had formed around his shoes. s.n.a.t.c.hing up a rattan chair he set it down by Matthew's bedside saying: 'Soaked to the skin! That's what comes of trusting your daughter, Major. Well, Matthew, you look a hundred per cent better ... You've lost a bit of weight, perhaps, but there's no harm in that for a man of your size ...' And on he went, his voice reverberating confidently above the roar of rain drumming on the roof.

Matthew and the Major stared at him, hypnotized. The Major, who had become accustomed to seeing Walter despondent or full of bitter nostalgia for the old days, was delighted to see the change that had come over him. Matthew lay back against his pillows looking somewhat bewildered but pleased that everyone should be in such a good mood despite the sinking of the Prince of Wales Prince of Wales and the and the Repulse Repulse.

'Now, my boy,' said Walter affably, 'these are momentous days we're living through and it's time we had a serious discussion about what's to become of you. No, now wait a jiffy, you'll have your chance to say your piece in a moment. What I want to say is this ... Now that your poor father is no longer with us I feel I have a special responsibility not just to my own family but to you as well ... Well, m'lad, I've had my eye on you and if you don't mind me saying so it's become pretty clear to me that you've taken a bit of a shine to my daughter Joan here and, frankly, young man, I can't say I blame you because she's a good young woman even if she does get her old Papa soaked to the skin from time to time, ha! ha! ... and, between you and me, half the young fellows in Singapore are after her ...'

'But, Walter! Well, I mean, good heavens ... !' cried Matthew and began to struggle agitatedly with his sheet and the 'Dutch wife' and a fold of the mosquito net which had come adrift, as if he meant to spring out of bed and start pacing up and down. The Major, indeed, jumped up to restrain him, very concerned by the stare of excitement in which the patient had been thrown by Walter's curious preamble about his daughter. But the Major's intervention was not needed for Matthew had somehow got himself so entangled in his sheet that in his weakened state he could scarcely move and presently subsided again.

Walter, meanwhile, ignoring this commotion, held up his hand and, nodding towards his daughter, went on steadily: 'And she, if I'm not talking out of turn, has a bit of a soft spot for you. Isn't that right, m'dear? Well, in these circ.u.mstances I think that there's only one course for sensible people to take ... And I think we all know what that that is! There now, I've said my party piece.' Walter sat back, thoroughly satisfied with the way the interview was going. is! There now, I've said my party piece.' Walter sat back, thoroughly satisfied with the way the interview was going.

'But Mr Blackett ... That's to say, Walter ...' exclaimed Matthew, still bound to the bed by the folds of his sheet but rolling his eyeb.a.l.l.s excitedly. 'What can I say? I mean, I'm certainly very fond of Joan, that's true, but never for a minute ... I mean, such an idea has never even ... but perhaps I've got the wrong end of the stick ... Well, I simply don't know what to say.' He gazed at his companions, quite overwhelmed by this unexpected development. Once again it seemed to him that reality had taken a dream-like turn, for while Walter had been making his extraordinary speech Cheong had stolen up behind him with a towel and had set to work, his face perfectly impa.s.sive, briskly rubbing down Walter's head and patting his pink, commanding cheeks, so that an occasional word here and there in Walter's discourse had been m.u.f.fled by a thickness of towel, causing Matthew to be not altogether sure that Walter was was saying what he appeared to be saying. When Cheong had finished with Walter he started to rub no less briskly at Joan's damp ringlets, but after a moment she motioned him away. saying what he appeared to be saying. When Cheong had finished with Walter he started to rub no less briskly at Joan's damp ringlets, but after a moment she motioned him away.

Although Joan had not a.s.sented very vigorously when her father had declared that she had a 'soft spot' for Matthew (instead she had gazed calmly at the floor where another puddle was beginning to form between her feet) neither had she uttered any word that might be interpreted as a disclaimer. Now, when she spoke, it was merely to ask, looking round: 'Has the "boy" gone? If so, I'm going to take off this wet dress if you don't mind. You don't mind, do you, Papa?'

'I don't mind in the least, m'dear, but you'd better ask these gentlemen ... though I'm sure they're men o' the world enough not to mind seeing a fat little piglet like you in your underwear ... You don't mind, do you, Major?'

'Oh, me? Not at all, not at all,' mumbled the Major, laughing and clearing his throat; and he puffed with embarra.s.sment at his pipe, stopping and unstopping its bowl with two fingers to make it draw. He might have been thinking, as he cast a hasty, sidelong glance at Joan's agreeable figure, that even with advancing years a man might still be troubled by thoughts of ... well, never mind ... who knows what he was thinking as he puffed at his pipe, for presently he had disappeared into a blue haze of tobacco smoke?

As for the patient, despite his weakened condition and his confused state of mind, his eyes wandered appreciatively over Joan's gleaming skin as she stepped out of her sodden dress and he seemed to be thinking: 'Well, a body's a body, for all that,' or something of the sort.