The Empire Trilogy Part 61

Watching Adamson and his dog, calm but determined, going about their business, Matthew thought: 'Surely there are people like this all over the world, in every country, in every society in every cla.s.s or caste or community! People who simply go about doing the things that have to be done, not just for themselves but for everybody.' Such people, whether they were Socialists, or Capitalists, or Communists, or paid no attention to politics at all, because they were entirely committed to whatever job it was they were doing were bound to be the very backbone of their society; without them people like himself who spent their days in speculation and dispute could scarcely expect to survive. Matthew was anxious to know Adamson's thoughts, to know whether he had consciously decided to behave in the way he did. But he found it difficult to corner Adamson and even more difficult to get him to say what he thought about anything. He would merely answer with a smile or a shrug when Matthew tried to sound him out on some political question. Once he admitted reluctantly in reply to Matthew's question that, after the war, if he got back to Britain, he would vote for a Labour Government 'to change all this' and he gestured vaguely with a stick at the smouldering warehouses around them. After a moment's silent reflection he added: 'I read somewhere that the boatman who rowed King William back across the river after the Battle of the Boyne is supposed to have asked the King which side won ... To which the King replied: "What's it to you? You'll still be a boatman."' Matthew had to be satisfied with this.

In the course of the past few days Adamson had hurt his foot and now limped rather, but he still managed to convey the impression that he was merely out for a stroll among the burning buildings; his casual air was increased by the fact that he had taken to carrying a walking stick he had picked up somewhere. Once Matthew came upon him unexpectedly. Not far from one of the dock gates there was a sad little parcel of tattered clothing and personal odds and ends, abandoned by someone unable to carry them in the stampede to reach one of the last ships to leave. Other similarly abandoned suitcases had in the meantime vanished or been rifled of their contents. Now Adamson, leaning on his stick, was contemplating a battered old hairbrush with bristles splayed by use, a sponge-bag, a couple of books including a child's picture-book, what might have been a cotton dress or ap.r.o.n and several other indeterminate pieces of cloth or clothing. He continued to gaze at these things for a moment with raised eyebrows and a grim expression on his face; then he limped on, swiping with his stick at a tennis ball he saw in the gutter with a shoe and one or two other things. The dog, which had come back to see what was the matter, went racing off again to seek out more fires. Matthew would remember for a long time to come that bitter, ironic expression he had glimpsed on Adamson's face as he limped away down the empty street after the dog which had already disappeared into the rolling smoke.

But already the Mayfair unit had gained so much experience that its members depended less and less on Adamson's advice and directions. The Major himself had become a hardened fireman and no longer would have dreamed of taking the risks he had taken in the beginning. Not that fire-fighting had become any less dangerous. Quite apart from the heavy carpet-bombing raids by gigantic formations of bombers (still in multiples of twenty-seven) which continued and intensified in the first week of February, now lone fighter-aircraft would appear suddenly out of nowhere, zooming up and down the main thoroughfares of the city and machine-gunning anything that moved, even rickshaws or Cold Storage 'stop-me-and-buy-one' tricycles ... one day they pa.s.sed an overturned tricycle with a Chinese youth beside it, his brains spilling into a pool of milk or ice-cream in the road. Anywhere, coming and going to fires, you might suddenly have come upon a row of bodies stretched out on the pavement following the appearance of one of these aircraft.

The city of Singapore which, in unison with the rise of Blackett and Webb, had grown from a small settlement into the greatest trading port of the Far East had been the home of something over half a million people in peacetime. Now in the s.p.a.ce of a few weeks the population had suddenly doubled to over a million as refugees poured across the Causeway from up-country. By the time a hole had at last been blown in the Causeway and the flow of refugees had dried up, the Island, and Singapore Town in particular, was swarming with people who had nowhere to go. From now on, almost everywhere you went you would see people with suitcases or bundles sitting by the roadside in whatever shade they could find, under trees or on the pavements of covered ways, cl.u.s.tering around water-taps or begging food from pa.s.sers-by. To Matthew and the Major and even to Dupigny who had spent so many years in the swarming cities of the East, this sudden increase in Singapore's population was quite unnerving. Among these aimless crowds of refugees they themselves felt a loss of ident.i.ty and purpose. They felt themselves losing their accustomed rank as Europeans, their special status, in that great, amorphous, anonymous herd of humanity trapped there in a burning city and unable any longer to exert any control over its own destiny.

Even after the demolition of the Causeway more refugees still continued to appear in Singapore Town, evacuated from the northern part of the Island by the Military who were preparing their defences. From the beginning of February a curfew from nine p.m. to five a.m. had been in force, but you cannot confine people to their houses if they have no houses to go to; it was not very long before the city's population, abnormally swollen by refugees and demoralized troops, had begun to show signs of getting out of control. The first sporadic cases of looting occurred in bombed-out districts. Rumours of the excesses of undisciplined troops, for the most part Australian, circulated among the alarmed Europeans: someone had had his car hijacked at gun-point-by drunken soldiers carousing with prost.i.tutes from Lavender Road, and someone else had heard of a rape of English nurses on waste land near the biscuit factory. This sudden collapse, which you could almost feel in the air, of normal standards of behaviour normal standards of behaviour was the most frightening thing of all, more frightening even than the j.a.panese bombers. As a result, anyone who had still hesitated over leaving, and who had permission to do so, now made up his mind. was the most frightening thing of all, more frightening even than the j.a.panese bombers. As a result, anyone who had still hesitated over leaving, and who had permission to do so, now made up his mind.

Thanks to the Major's influence at the Chinese Protectorate, Matthew had at last succeeded, after more anxious hours of waiting, in having Vera's name registered at the P & O's temporary office in Cluny Road. But Vera, though she had seemed in mortal fear of the j.a.panese while they were still hundreds of miles away in the north, now that they had come to within a few miles, and could even be seen with the naked eye (so one of the transient officers at the Mayfair a.s.serted) strutting on the sea front at Joh.o.r.e Bahru, had grown calm and apparently resigned. When every day, Matthew telephoned the P & O to find out if there were any ships sailing and, again every day, he received a negative answer she did not seem to be particularly disappointed. She merely shrugged her shoulders and smiled. In any case, he had less opportunity to see her now. While most of his waking hours were spent at fires, Vera had taken to working equally long hours as a volunteer nurse at one of the makeshift hospitals which had sprung up on the fringes of Chinatown to cope with the steadily increasing civilian casualties. Matthew continued doggedly to telephone the P & O, however. He was determined that she should not be in Singapore when the j.a.panese arrived. But would there be any more ships leaving? So the first week of February came to an end.

They slept side by side. Matthew was dreaming deeply, anxiously about Geneva. Things would go terribly wrong unless he was careful: he knew that Vera's life would be at stake unless he could persuade someone of something, whom and of what was not clear. He uttered a shout, waking himself up. But no, someone was there, hammering against the wall, telling him to wake up. He sat up immediately in the stifling darkness. He could see someone standing there in the faint glow from under the rolled-up bamboo window blinds, and he thought: 'They have have come to arrest her, after all.' come to arrest her, after all.'

'Sorry, I think you were having a nightmare,' said a familiar voice. It was the Major. He wanted to say that someone in the Control Room in Hill Street had told him that a Free French ship, the Felix Roussel Felix Roussel, was due to sail for Bombay in a few hours and anyone who wanted to sail on her was advised to reserve a pa.s.sage without delay. The P & O office was already besieged. There was no time to waste.

The following morning a cheerful crowd sat amid the jumble of mattresses and chairs in the Mayfair. Everything had at last been arranged. Matthew, jubilant, sat reading again and again the printed instructions they had been given at the P & O office. Vera was to report to Collyer Quay at eight o'clock that evening, bringing only what luggage she could carry herself. Matthew had been given a pa.s.s which would allow him to drive home after seeing her off, which would necessarily be after the curfew. As for Vera, though she smiled from time to time, she said nothing. Matthew was puzzled by her calm. Was she upset by the prospect of finding herself alone in Bombay?

'A little,' Vera agreed. 'But no, not really.' She had been used to this sort of thing from childhood, being uprooted from one place after another.

'You've got the address of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, haven't you?' Matthew asked anxiously, not for the first time. 'It's in Churchgate Street. I'll write to you there and join you when I can.' Vera smiled again and squeezed his hand. Matthew suspected that she still did not really believe she would get away from Singapore.

While they sat around talking they were startled by a whirring sound like a great bird pa.s.sing over the house, followed by an explosion, perhaps a quarter of a mile away.

'I didn't hear the sirens, did you?' They stared at each other in surprise. Only the Major knew immediately what had caused the explosion. He had heard that sort of noise before. He sighed but said nothing, bending his ear politely to listen to what his neighbour was saying. This man, a purple-faced planter from the Kuala Lumpur area, was one of the many refugees who had wandered in unannounced, having heard somewhere that there was shelter to be found at the Mayfair; he had brought several bottles of whisky with which he fortified himself at intervals, waving a roll of paper. On this roll of paper, he said, were the plans of a new type of anti-aircraft gun he had invented in the long evenings on his estate. It would fire twice as high as anything they had at present. He had written to General Percival about it but his letter had gone unanswered. 'Save the whole of Singapore, old boy,' he was now explaining huskily to the Major. 'But the blighters won't look at it... Save the British Empire, come to that!' And he waved his blueprint despondently.

Again there came that whirring, whistling sound, followed by another explosion, more distant this time.

'What on earth is it?'

'I'm afraid they've started sh.e.l.ling us now,' said the Major. 'They must have moved up some heavier guns to reach this side of the Island.' He felt a sudden compulsion to jump to his feet and start walking about, because if you kept on the move ... well, more than once in the trenches in the First War a sh.e.l.l had exploded where he had been sitting or standing a moment before. Nevertheless, he obliged himself to sit still, staring somewhat gla.s.sily at Matthew and Vera opposite him. He did not want to start all that again at his age! It had taken him years after the war to get over this compulsion to be always on the move. How many years had he not spent with invisible sh.e.l.ls exploding in dining-rooms and drawing-rooms he had just vacated!

'At this range they'll only be able to send over the small stuff,' he added, lighting his pipe.

'The Major means that if you are lucky you will only be hit by a small sh.e.l.l,' observed Dupigny wryly from the doorway.

'Ah, Francois! I suppose you know there's a French ship sailing tonight for Bombay? Will you be aboard?'

Dupigny shook his head. 'I shall stay a little longer, I think.

'This may be your last chance.'

Dupigny, however, merely shrugged.

'I saw Walter a little while ago. He said that Joan and Nigel would be leaving tonight. They're to be married in Bombay and then go to Australia to join the others as soon as they can ... Joan would have left the other day but could not get on the boat. It seems that ...' The Major paused. Matthew, with his finger to his lips, was signalling in the direction of Ehrendorf who lay sprawled on a mattress at the far end of the room with a folded newspaper over his head.

'What are you going to do about this poor fellow?' Matthew asked in order to change the subject.

Each sh.e.l.l that had exploded had produced a groan from beneath an elegant lacquered writing-desk which supported a field-telephone 'for emergencies' which no one could get to work and an ordinary telephone, as well as several other things. Presently the author of the groan crept out and went to slump down under the Major's chair. With his refined sense of imminent danger The Human Condition had evidently sensed that these strange new explosions boded ill for his chances of survival.

'I'm afraid I'll have to take him to the vet this evening. We may as well bring him along at the same time as you go to the boat, poor creature.' At these words The Human Condition rolled his eyeb.a.l.l.s up to the Major's face and uttered a piteous whine, licking the Major's hand at the same time.

'I think that dog must be rotting internally,' remarked Dupigny objectively.

62.

Ehrendorf made his way, carrying a towel and swimming trunks, towards the Blacketts' compound, lingering for a moment among the exotic blooms which glowed like lamps amid the dark leaves. For a while he watched the b.u.t.terflies which still swooped and fluttered in this little glade, impervious to the bombs that had fallen round about. Then, with a melancholy sigh which was partly counterfeit because he was now seeing himself as the ill-starred hero of his novel in its first version (innocent American abused by cynical Europeans), he moved on in the direction of the swimming pool.

Although he had paid a brief visit to Walter by darkness the other evening, it was several weeks since Ehrendorf had last seen the Blacketts' house by daylight. It seemed to him to have a forlorn and deserted air. During the raid on Tanglin a bomb had fallen at one edge of the lawn, uprooting the 'flame of the forest' tree beneath which, several months ago, he had been standing with Joan when she had thrown wine in his face at the garden-party. No effort had been made to fill in the crater on whose raised lip the gra.s.s lawn continued peacefully to grow; in the facade of the house itself several of the windows which had once been glazed for the air-conditioning now gaped darkly where once they had sparkled with reflections from the pool.

He plodded past the tennis courts whose white lines, washed out by the monsoon rains and not repainted, were by now scarcely visible. Normally, too, there would have been several Tamils working in the flower-beds or cutting back the lalang lalang but today he could not see a soul. He paused to stare uncomprehendingly at an untidy ma.s.s of broken spars and tattered paper which stood at the margin of the nutmeg grove and which he failed to recognize as the remains of damaged floats for the jubilee celebrations. Can Walter and Joan have left already? he wondered and, resigned though he already was to the fact that he was unlikely ever to see Joan again, he was nevertheless surprised by the intense and chilling sadness which suddenly enveloped him. but today he could not see a soul. He paused to stare uncomprehendingly at an untidy ma.s.s of broken spars and tattered paper which stood at the margin of the nutmeg grove and which he failed to recognize as the remains of damaged floats for the jubilee celebrations. Can Walter and Joan have left already? he wondered and, resigned though he already was to the fact that he was unlikely ever to see Joan again, he was nevertheless surprised by the intense and chilling sadness which suddenly enveloped him.

The summer-house, in which the Blacketts in happier times had invited their guests to change their clothes, remained undamaged; Ehrendorf changed rapidly and plunged into the pool which was full of dead leaves and other flotsam. He dived and swam under water for a few feet but the water was murky and disagreeable. How different everything was! Surfacing he b.u.mped into a piece of floating wood on which the words '... in Prosperity' were written. He took a deep breath and dived again; this time he dragged himself on and on through the silent grey corridors, counting the grey tiles on the bottom, inspecting weird grey objects which lay there: a broken flowerpot from which still trailed a slimy grey plant which wavered slightly at his pa.s.sage, a brick, a rusting metal golf club, a slimy, swollen, disintegrating grey head, horribly merry, which had once belonged to one of the floats and which he also failed to recognize. He would have liked to drag himself on and on through that grey world but his lungs insisted that he should return to the surface. Shaking the water out of his eyes he saw that Joan was walking rapidly towards the pool. Her face was flushed and agitated.

'Oh, hiya. I hope you don't mind me using the pool. I didn't see anyone around. I thought you'd all gone.' He was aware of an extraordinary stiffness of the muscles of his face as he spoke.

Joan had stopped at the edge of the pool and was gazing down at him with an odd expression on her face, restlessly fingering the turban she was wearing. She ignored his greeting, turned away, looked at her watch, turned back to him. At last she said: 'You must help me get to the boat. I've been trying to ring people but everyone else has gone. There's only Abdul here and he's too old ... They say there's already a terrible traffic jam beginning ... All the "boys" have cleared off, even the kitchen "boy", and Father has gone off somewhere ... and Monty, I don't know where he is ... Nigel had to go and settle some business at the last moment and I'm to meet him at the boat but unless you help me ... You see, they've all gone! Father was supposed to be back ages ago to take me down to the docks himself, but even the syce syce isn't there and it's getting late ... Jim, I can't manage the luggage by myself, d'you see? Oh, go away! You're completely useless!' she screamed at Abdul suddenly for the elderly servant had followed her out on to the lawn and was rubbing his hands anxiously. Shocked, he fell back a few paces but continued to watch Joan. isn't there and it's getting late ... Jim, I can't manage the luggage by myself, d'you see? Oh, go away! You're completely useless!' she screamed at Abdul suddenly for the elderly servant had followed her out on to the lawn and was rubbing his hands anxiously. Shocked, he fell back a few paces but continued to watch Joan.

Ehrendorf had turned over on to his back and was no longer looking at Joan but straight up at the sky which was cloudless though covered with a white haze. Floating with arms and legs outstretched he thought: 'From above I must look as if I'm floating like a star-fish ... or perhaps like a piece of flotsam.' In spite of the water bubbling in his ears he could still hear Joan's voice, though quite faintly now. He could tell from its pitch that she was panic-stricken. And this was the girl who had refused to help Matthew get Vera away! He said to himself, floating placidly: 'I wouldn't help her even if my life depended upon it!'

When he turned over to swim to the side he could no longer hear her voice, but she was still there, kneeling in tears of rage at the side of the pool, hammering at it with a piece of broken wood. As he gripped the rounded lip of the pool and heaved himself out of the water he glanced at her, musing on the wonder of a beautiful woman with a disagreeable personality. Such a woman, he mused, was like a lovely schooner with a mad captain. The custodian of this lovely body was a hardhearted b.i.t.c.h. It was altogether astonishing.

'Of course I'll help you,' he said. 'Just wait a moment while I get changed.

Mr Wu's Buick, which had been under repair for some days, was now on the road again and heading towards Wilkie Street where The Human Condition was to be left at the vet's en route en route to Collyer's Quay. The dog sat on the front seat and stared out uneasily at the darkening streets. But when they reached Wilkie Street they found a large crowd of harrowed-looking people grasping dogs, cats and birds of all shapes and sizes already waiting. It seemed that these doomed creatures had sensed the anguish of their owners, too, for they were setting up the most distressing din of shrieking, whining, miaouwing, barking and piping. The Major had no appet.i.te for this and said: 'We'll call on the way back from the boat. There won't be anyone there after the curfew. Besides, we'd better not waste any time.' The Human Condition, who had been staring with dismay at this frantic queue of fellow-victims, uttered a heart-rending groan. For how long had he been reprieved? to Collyer's Quay. The dog sat on the front seat and stared out uneasily at the darkening streets. But when they reached Wilkie Street they found a large crowd of harrowed-looking people grasping dogs, cats and birds of all shapes and sizes already waiting. It seemed that these doomed creatures had sensed the anguish of their owners, too, for they were setting up the most distressing din of shrieking, whining, miaouwing, barking and piping. The Major had no appet.i.te for this and said: 'We'll call on the way back from the boat. There won't be anyone there after the curfew. Besides, we'd better not waste any time.' The Human Condition, who had been staring with dismay at this frantic queue of fellow-victims, uttered a heart-rending groan. For how long had he been reprieved?

When they reached Collyer's Quay they were thankful that they had not delayed any longer for already the quay itself and the surrounding area was jammed with cars full of anxious people. Holding the paper that Vera had been given at Cluny Matthew plunged into the crowd of people trying to get tickets and embarkation instructions. He was gone for a long time; meanwhile the traffic jam around them had worsened considerably. When he at last returned he had Vera's ticket but he was looking worried: he explained that they still had to drive to the P & O wharf some three miles away and the traffic by now was scarcely moving. To make matters worse, pa.s.sengers were only allowed to board the ship in groups which had been staggered alphabetically in order to prevent everybody arriving at the dock at the same time. Because Vera's surname began with C this regulation should have worked to her advantage, but by some error the official who had taken her name, perhaps a.s.suming that she had given her surname first in the Chinese fashion, had reversed her names and allotted her to the last group. In any case pa.s.sengers were not arriving at intervals as had been expected and some of those who had arrived too early were being made to wait, blocking the quayside. Nevertheless, although the boarding arrangements were no longer achieving what had been expected of them and were, indeed, only adding to the confusion, they were still being rigidly adhered to by the authorities in charge of the embarkation.

'We should still make it all right. The boat doesn't sail till one o'clock. We can always walk if the worst comes to the worst.'

It took several minutes before there was even an opening that allowed them to pull into the line of traffic crawling along Collyer's Quay; then, for long stretches, they were obliged to stop altogether. Sometimes they discovered the reason for these delays, a car that had overheated or run out of petrol perhaps; then they would overtake a demented man peering at his engine in a cloud of steam, or a weeping woman sitting by herself with a pile of luggage, while those behind cursed and hooted at her to get her car out of the way.

'This is dreadful.' The Major's face grew increasingly grim as the minutes ticked by. Presently a whole hour had fled. They still had not reached the sh.e.l.l of the Sailor's Inst.i.tute at the end of Anson Road.

'Perhaps they'll delay the time of sailing.' But this, Matthew knew, was unlikely for if the Felix Roussel Felix Roussel was to escape the j.a.panese bombers she would have to be well on her way from Singapore before dawn. was to escape the j.a.panese bombers she would have to be well on her way from Singapore before dawn.

For some time now they had been following a large open Bentley which contained a party of elegantly dressed young ladies sitting on pigskin suitcases plastered with gaily coloured steamer and hotel labels. Since it was already quite dark and all street-lights had been extinguished in accordance with the blackout regulations there only remained the Buick's papered-over headlights to cast a faint glow on the party travelling in front. But from time to time a match would flare as a cigarette was lit ... (it appeared that the young ladies in the Bentley had no inhibitions about smoking in public) ... then a cheerful little scene would be briefly illuminated, for to celebrate their departure from Singapore the ladies had brought two or three bottles of champagne and some gla.s.ses. And so, while another hour went by, the grim party from the Mayfair, with their doomed little dog sitting on the front seat, sat and watched the beautifully marcelled tresses in front of them and listened to the clink of gla.s.ses and the giggles, shrieks and popping of corks. Presently it occurred to the Major that there was something familiar about the Bentley.

'Isn't that one of Walter's cars?'

'I've been wondering the same thing. But what are those young women doing in it? There's something familiar about them, too. But it surely can't be Walter driving, nor his syce syce either, come to that.' The driver, whoever it was, remained invisible slumped far down in the seat in a manner which by contrast with the exuberance of his companions, was almost furtive. either, come to that.' The driver, whoever it was, remained invisible slumped far down in the seat in a manner which by contrast with the exuberance of his companions, was almost furtive.

'I have an idea it's that singing team,' said the Major, 'the Da Sousa Sisters ... the girls Walter wanted to have in his jubilee procession. He must have arranged for someone to take them to the boat in his car.'

After a while, in support of this theory as to their ident.i.ty the young women sitting on their luggage in the back of the Bentley put their marcelled heads together and their arms round each other's shoulders and began to sing: Singapore, hulloa, hulloa!

In silk and satin and boa We are the girlies from Goa!

The Major was too preoccupied, however, to be greatly concerned with the ident.i.ty of some tipsy young women in Walter's car. He was more worried by the glowing clock on the dashboard (had it stopped or was it a quarter-past eleven already?). It was true that they had now almost reached the corner of Trafalgar Street but the nearer they came to the docks the slower their progress. Now increasingly they found themselves halted in the same place for several minutes at a time. The heat, the exhaust fumes and the ever-present drifting smoke from burning buildings made it hard to breathe. Vera lay with her head slumped against the back of the seat, her eyes closed. The minute hand on the dashboard crept on.

In the car ahead of them as time went on the gaiety of the Da Sousa Sisters was replaced by a rather sullen silence: evidently they, too, were becoming anxious about reaching the boat in time. Soon a squabble erupted and they began to scream, either at each other or at their driver, it was hard to say. Then they began to shriek abuse at the car in front of them which for some reason was being abandoned by its pa.s.sengers. Eventually the Bentley managed to pull round it and the column advanced a few more yards. On the sea side of the road a warehouse which had been damaged in an earlier raid had been left to burn, casting a red glow over the line of cars ahead and bringing an intolerable increase in the temperature for some distance round about. It now became clear that a number of the cars ahead had been abandoned and were blocking the road beyond redemption.

'I think we'd better walk,' Matthew said. Vera said that she felt well enough to do so but it was obvious that the smoke, the heat and the fumes were making her feel ill.

'You go ahead,' the Major said. 'I'll see if I can get rid of the car and then come back and help.'

Matthew opened the door, threw out Vera's suitcase and helped her out into the road. As he was doing so The Human Condition suddenly sprang off the front seat into the darkness and vanished. 'Hey! Come back!' called the Major feebly, but this was no time to worry about a lost dog. Matthew picked up Vera's suitcase and, supporting her as best he could, set off with her into the flickering night. As they were pa.s.sing the Bentley another squabble suddenly broke out between the young ladies and their driver. It was clear that they considered him to be responsible for the traffic jam in which they found themselves.

'You said you taking us to b.l.o.o.d.y boat!' they screamed. 'You d.a.m.n well better take us to b.l.o.o.d.y-d.a.m.n boat, OK!'

'Matthew!' called a despairing voice from the Bentley and Matthew stopped, peering at the car in astonishment, for there, slumped in the front seat, his face weirdly illuminated by the flickering light of the burning building nearby as if by infernal flames was Monty Blackett.

'I say, you couldn't give me a hand with some of this luggage, could you, old man? It's so heavy I can't manage it all. Go on, be a sport!'

'Impossible! I have all I can manage already.'

'Look here, Matthew, there's a good fellow,' pleaded Monty in a more confidential tone, 'these young ladies here, who are simply charming, by the way, will let us hide in their cabin till the boat has sailed, in return for helping them, I mean to say ... We'll be in Bombay in two shakes and no one will be the wiser. And they'll probably let us have some fun with them into the bargain. It's our only chance. Don't be a chump! Singapore's done for! It's common knowledge. And I promised these girls that I'd get them on board, you know, and they'll be frightfully sticky if I don't! We just go on board saying we're helping them with their bags and stay there. Things are in such a mess that no one will know the difference!'

'Sorry, Monty, I can't help you. But you're nearly there. I'm sure you'll make it. Goodbye.'

While Monty had thus been pleading for help two of the Da Sousa Sisters, who had begun to pummel him and pull his hair in their indignation, had desisted and fixed their glittering, anthracite eyes on Matthew, allowing their victim to make this last appeal. In the meantime, other Da Sousa Sisters had come hopping forward over the suitcases to perch like leather-winged harpies on the back of the seat, on the door at his side, and even on the windscreen, clutching on with long red fingernails and staring down at him with their cruelly glittering eyes, one or two of them already beginning to dribble from scarlet-lipsticked mouths.

'Be a sport!' wailed Monty.

But Matthew was already on his way with Vera towards the distant P & O wharf. He looked back once, just in time to see Monty's flickering, terror-stricken features disappear under a tide of biting, scratching, hair-pulling Da Sousa Sisters. In a moment there was nothing to be seen but an inner circle of feeding marcelled heads and an outer circle of tight-skirted bottoms. 'Poor Monty!' thought Matthew. 'What a fate!' But he hurried on with Vera, for by now it was getting close to midnight and the Felix Roussel Felix Roussel was due to sail in a little over an hour. was due to sail in a little over an hour.

As they advanced they saw that the road was jammed, not only with empty cars but with all sorts of other objects as well. Clearly no one had taken seriously the instruction to bring only hand luggage. Household goods of all sorts had been abandoned with the cars that had been conveying them: tables, chairs, chests and boxes were to be seen strapped on to car roofs: rolled-up carpets poked through windows. In places, abandoned possessions had been disgorged into the road, which was gradually coming to take on the appearance of a nightmare furniture store: some of them had been dragged by their reluctant owners a little distance in the direction of the wharf; in other cases their owners had not yet been able to make up their minds to forsake them: here and there a man with bulging eyes and swelling veins could still be seen wrestling with some possession too precious to leave behind, a mahogany dining-table perhaps, or a set of carved Chinese chairs, while at his side his wife groaned under a heavy bra.s.s Buddha or some other such fearful fardel.

Matthew and Vera now began to find that the litter of furniture and packing-cases, trunks and suitcases had become so dense in places that there was nothing for it but to climb over. They found themselves having to squeeze between wardrobes or clamber over pianos, their path lit only by the distant light of burning buildings, now seeing themselves faintly reflected in long mirrors, now listening to the sobs and groans of shadowy figures on their knees by the wayside. On one dark stretch they found themselves crunching through a tea-set of finest bone china; in another, stopping to rest because Vera was tired, they groped their way to a chesterfield sofa and sat down on it without realizing that a man and his wife, one at each end, were still trying to trundle it towards the wharf.

At long last they began to near the dock gates and could even make out the funnels of the Felix Roussel Felix Roussel silhouetted against the pink glow of the night. Suddenly a rickshaw loomed out of the darkness along Keppel Road in the jostling crowd that flowed towards Gate 3 and the Empire Dock. Matthew, astonished, just had time to glimpse Joan sitting in it amidst a pile of luggage while Ehrendorf, stripped to the waist and streaming with sweat, galloped onwards as best he could between the shafts. Unable, like Matthew and Vera, to get through in the car Ehrendorf had wanted to abandon it, but Joan had refused to leave her luggage, which included a number of valuable wedding-presents, a set of pewter mugs, bed-linen, material to be made up into curtains according to a colour scheme she had already devised for her first home, a canteen of solid silver and other things. What was to be done? Ehrendorf had happened to spot an abandoned rickshaw beside the road and now here he was, head down and gasping for breath, scattering people right and left as he charged for the open gates. silhouetted against the pink glow of the night. Suddenly a rickshaw loomed out of the darkness along Keppel Road in the jostling crowd that flowed towards Gate 3 and the Empire Dock. Matthew, astonished, just had time to glimpse Joan sitting in it amidst a pile of luggage while Ehrendorf, stripped to the waist and streaming with sweat, galloped onwards as best he could between the shafts. Unable, like Matthew and Vera, to get through in the car Ehrendorf had wanted to abandon it, but Joan had refused to leave her luggage, which included a number of valuable wedding-presents, a set of pewter mugs, bed-linen, material to be made up into curtains according to a colour scheme she had already devised for her first home, a canteen of solid silver and other things. What was to be done? Ehrendorf had happened to spot an abandoned rickshaw beside the road and now here he was, head down and gasping for breath, scattering people right and left as he charged for the open gates.

'Darling! I was afraid you wouldn't get here in time,' cried a voice almost in Ehrendorf's ear. A pink-faced young man in a white linen suit and a trilby was addressing Joan. 'I have someone keeping me a place near the front. I say, who's this johnnie?' he added, noticing at length that there was something unusual about Joan's rickshaw-wallah. For a moment Ehrendorf stared into the slightly popping blue eyes of his successful rival. Then a lock of blonde hair dropped like a curtain from Nigel's forehead and only one blue eye was visible. Nigel reached a hand to his brow and removed the offending lock, allowing the silky hair to sift through his fingers to the knuckle while he contemplated the half-naked Ehrendorf with distaste. Ehrendorf dropped the shafts of the rickshaw and reached for his shirt, murmuring: 'I'll leave the rest to you, if you don't mind.' He hesitated a moment, examining Nigel without hostility. 'What on earth can she see in a chap like this?' he asked himself in wonder ... but then, women had appalling taste in men, he had always thought so. Without a further glance at Joan he slipped away, forcing his way back against the stream of people.

'I say aren't you going to stay and help with the luggage?' came a faint, indignant voice following him through the darkness.

When at last Matthew and Vera had pa.s.sed through the gates and saw the state of the quay, they looked at each other in dismay. Between where they stood and the narrow corridor through which the pa.s.sengers were channelled there swayed a densely packed ma.s.s of people. Beyond, sat or stood half a dozen hara.s.sed officials examining tickets, remonstrating, copying names into a ledger, shouting, shrugging shoulders, looking impatient. Every now and then someone tore himself away from this dense ma.s.s and pursued his lonely way through the corridor then up the canvas-sided gang-plank to disappear at last into the looming vessel watched all the way by the boiling throng below. As Matthew and Vera thrust their way into the crowd they saw a woman make her way up to the ship's side sobbing with nervous exhaustion and dragging by the hand a little girl with a pretty, open face and with a ribbon in her hair, herself carrying a doll in a long infant's dress; behind walked a boy with a Meccano-set looking self-conscious and wearing a sun-helmet. After them there was n.o.body for a while, then Nigel and Joan, heavily laden with suitcases, made their way aboard and disappeared from view. Once, a powerful searchlight from the ship's superstructure was switched on, swept over the packed crowds on the quay for a moment, then died.

As the hour drew nearer one a.m. and signs of activity began to appear at the ship's side the crowd pressed forward more anxiously than ever. People shouted and waved tickets above their heads, hoping to attract the attention of the officials and let them know that ticket-holding pa.s.sengers still remained on sh.o.r.e. The rate at which they were pa.s.sing up the gang-plank hardly seemed to quicken, however, even though the officials must have realized that there was a danger of people being left on the quayside. Meanwhile, still later arrivals continued to flood in from behind, straining and pushing forward with all their might.

Abruptly, after an age of being jostled back and forth in the densest part of the crowd, as if by a miracle Vera and Matthew found themselves within reach of the nearest desk and, lunging forward, Matthew managed to slap down Vera's ticket. The official picked it up, looked at it and handed it back with a shake of his head. 'Alphabetical order, sir. Sorry. We aren't ready for this lot yet.'

'But the ship is leaving in five minutes!'

'I can't help that. Next please.'

Matthew had released his hold on Vera in order to deal with the man at the desk. Looking round, he saw that she had been caught in a cross-current of shoving pa.s.sengers and thrown back. But this man behind the desk! Matthew reached out to take the official by the throat, but the people behind who had been shouting abuse at him for wasting time now seized his clothes and dragged him out of the way. As he struggled to reach Vera, something darted between his legs and away towards the gang-plank. It was an elderly King Charles spaniel. One of the officials tried to grab it as it pa.s.sed but it swerved and eluded him; head down it battled its way up the gang-plank, darted past a surprised seaman and, plunging on to the crowded deck, vanished from sight just as the order was being given to raise the gang-plank (thereafter, some instinct directed The Human Condition unerringly towards the bridge where the captain, though worried by j.a.panese bombers and the anxious hours that lay ahead, at that moment happened to be contemplating with regret and longing his own little dog which, by a fortunate coincidence, had died, smothered in comfort, only a few days earlier).

Again a searchlight was switched on and swept hastily over the crowded quays, hesitating for a moment on a great net cradle containing a large motor-car that was being winched aboard. Matthew stared in disbelief: surely it was the Bentley which Monty had been driving! But how had it managed to get to the quayside? There was no sign of Monty. Perhaps he was lying on the floor. There were Da Sousa Sisters perched everywhere, however. A French sailor, looking handsome, clung on to a rope with one foot on the Bentley's running-board and with the scarlet claws of one of the Da Sousa Sisters round his neck. Suddenly, like song-birds struck by a beam of sunlight, the Da Sousa Sisters put their marcelled heads together and trilled: Matelot, hulloa, hulloa!

In silk and satin and boa We are the girlies from Goa!

The searchlight was switched out. Blackness and a sudden silence descended. The next moment a roar of outrage erupted from the disappointed pa.s.sengers on the quayside. The gangplank was beginning to go up.

Again the crowd pressed forward, pinning Matthew's arms to his sides and squeezing the air out of his lungs. He at last managed to free an arm and reach out towards Vera...but as he did so, he saw the back of her reddish-black head vanish beneath the thrusting mob. In a rage he shoved his way through the crowd to where he had seen her go down, shouting at people to stand back from her. But n.o.body seemed to hear. As he groped for her on the ground his hand closed over a piece of wood and he picked it up, flailing about with it until he had driven everyone back from where she lay on the paved quay. He picked her up then and barged his way back towards the gates, still hitting about him with the piece of wood. Blood from her face began to trickle down his back. To the north the thud of guns continued. The j.a.panese a.s.sault on the island was only a few minutes away.

63.

On his way home from the docks the Major, having given up the attempt to find Matthew and Vera in the crowd, had called in to see a friend at the Rescue Control Room in the Munic.i.p.al Offices; together they had gone up to watch the bombardment from the flat roof of the building where a number of other people had already gathered. The flashes of the British guns, the noise, the restless glimmer of the j.a.panese batteries to the north, all combined to bring back memories of his younger days which he would have preferred to forget. After a few minutes he said goodbye to his friend and returned to the Mayfair. In the early hours of the morning Matthew and Vera returned, shocked and exhausted by their ordeal. Vera, though cut and bruised, was not badly hurt. The Major was sorry but he was not particularly surprised when he heard of the crowds left on the quayside.

Despite the lateness of the hour a sympathetic audience had a.s.sembled to hear what had happened at the docks. Everyone had found it hard to sleep, perhaps because there was a feeling in the air that a crisis was at hand. The terrific j.a.panese barrage from Joh.o.r.e suggested that it would not be long before they attempted to land on the Island. Earlier, in response to a rumour that all the alcohol in Singapore was soon to be destroyed lest j.a.panese troops, in the event of a successful landing, should go on the rampage among the civilian population, a party led by Dupigny and Mr Wu had slipped over to the Blacketts' house and returned with several cases of wine from Walter's cellar. Since there were not enough gla.s.ses to go round a separate bottle had been uncorked for everyone. Soon a party was getting under way.

Gradually, thanks to Walter's fine claret, a mood of elation came to replace the sombre atmosphere which had prevailed. Festive sounds also issued from the board-room where the girls from the Poh Leung Kuk, under orders from the Major to accelerate the process of selecting bridegrooms, appeared to be having an all-night sitting. They had asked the Major if they could borrow his gramophone. He had responded dubiously to their request, wanting to know why they should need a gramophone for such a purpose? They had looked so disappointed and abashed, they had blinked their long eyelashes so submissively (and, after all, they had behaved themselves jolly well when you consider the uncomfortable conditions they had had to put up with) that the Major had found himself yielding in spite of himself. So, not without misgivings, he had handed over the gramophone, the only two records which remained unbroken and a box of needles with strict instructions that they were to change the needle every every time before playing a record and not to wind the instrument too hard or they would break the spring. 'And I want to see every single one of you with a husband by tomorrow at the latest,' he had added sternly. 'This choosing business has gone on long enough. If you don't make up your minds I shall ask Captain Brown to do it for you.' time before playing a record and not to wind the instrument too hard or they would break the spring. 'And I want to see every single one of you with a husband by tomorrow at the latest,' he had added sternly. 'This choosing business has gone on long enough. If you don't make up your minds I shall ask Captain Brown to do it for you.'

As a matter of fact, the Major had expected to find the bungalow quiet by the time he returned from the docks, but evidently the girls, in order to hammer out their final decisions, had found it necessary to retain their prospective bridegrooms even after the curfew. Now from behind the closed door of the board-room came the sound of laughter in the silence which followed Noel Coward singing 'London Pride'. The Major tried to estimate whether there was enough time for them to have changed the needle before the other record began.

The moon that lingered over London Town, Poor puzzled moon, He wore a frown ...

The Major, too, wore a frown. He took a swig from the bottle of Chateau Ducru Beaucaillou he was holding, hoping that nothing untoward was happening in the board-room. He really should have insisted on the bridegrooms leaving before the curfew: he could hardly expect them to leave now. Perhaps he would turn them out at five o'clock.

How could he know we two were so in love, The whole darn world was upside down?

And as we kissed and said goodnight A nightingale sang in Berkley Square ...

Soon, the Major did not doubt, it would again be the turn of Noel Coward.

Presently, Cheong, who was also finding it difficult to sleep, joined the circle and he, too was given a bottle of claret. Cheong's status had undergone a remarkable change in the past few weeks. He was no longer to be considered a servant. On the contrary, he had now become a figure of considerable authority, organizing meals on a large scale and allotting s.p.a.ce to transients who needed shelter both inside and underneath the bungalow. The Major depended on him heavily. On his own initiative he dealt with a variety of matters which, but for him, would most likely not have been dealt with at all. Had the Major not come across him burying someone quietly in the compound? To bury someone between breakfast and tiffin was nothing these days to Cheong. Sometimes the Major could not help wondering, such was the man's initiative, whether Cheong might not secretly be a graduate of the University of the Toilers of the East. Not that it mattered, of course.

Under the influence of the wine the conversation grew animated. Matthew, still full of bitterness after his experience at the docks and quite unable to put it out of his mind for more than a moment, began to discourse volubly in an anguished tone on the kind of society which must follow this one. It was the injustice which he saw all around him that maddened him! Why should privilege and self-interest rule in everything instead of justice and reason? There was no need for it. A society based based on justice would get the best out of its members by appealing to their better instead of their worse natures! Dupigny shook his head sadly but did not bother to explain that this view of human psychology was hopelessly ingenuous; he could see that Matthew was upset. But, in due course, when Matthew had turned, as he often did when in a state of nervous excitement, to Geneva in order to make extravagent claims for those such as Emperor Haile Sela.s.sie and himself who had foreseen years ago that the devious, unprincipled behaviour of the Big Powers would end in wholesale carnage, Dupigny, pausing only to gargle blissfully with a mouthful of Haut-Brion, could not resist challenging him. 'I can't believe, even with the Italian invasion of Ethiopia to inspire him, that Haile Sela.s.sie could foresee in 1936 the troubles that we now are facing ... unless at his court he had a fortune-teller with the crystal ball.' on justice would get the best out of its members by appealing to their better instead of their worse natures! Dupigny shook his head sadly but did not bother to explain that this view of human psychology was hopelessly ingenuous; he could see that Matthew was upset. But, in due course, when Matthew had turned, as he often did when in a state of nervous excitement, to Geneva in order to make extravagent claims for those such as Emperor Haile Sela.s.sie and himself who had foreseen years ago that the devious, unprincipled behaviour of the Big Powers would end in wholesale carnage, Dupigny, pausing only to gargle blissfully with a mouthful of Haut-Brion, could not resist challenging him. 'I can't believe, even with the Italian invasion of Ethiopia to inspire him, that Haile Sela.s.sie could foresee in 1936 the troubles that we now are facing ... unless at his court he had a fortune-teller with the crystal ball.'

'Aha!' cried Matthew. 'And yet, Francois, in 1936 he said: "Do the peoples of the world not yet realize that by fighting on until the bitter end I am not only performing my sacred duty to my people but standing guard in the last citadel of collective security. but standing guard in the last citadel of collective security. I must hold on until my tardy allies appear. And if they never come then I say prophetically and without bitterness, the West must perish.' " I must hold on until my tardy allies appear. And if they never come then I say prophetically and without bitterness, the West must perish.' "

But Cheong, and perhaps Mr Wu too, had had difficulty in following the Emperor's words and now he was looking enquiringly at the Major. Apologizing for the poor quality of his pidgin, which contained odds and ends picked up here and there on his pre-war Eastern travels, the Major interpreted as best he could. 'Empelor talkee this fashion ... My fightee long time but world people no wantchee savee. My makee number one pidgin my people, same time makee all-piecee nation pidgin. Empelor talkee: Whobody come? My must stop look-see fliend no come by and by. Spose fliend no come, Blitain, Flance, Melika, all catchee too-metchee bobbery! All catchee die, chop-chop! ... Er, I'm afraid that's about the best I can do,' and the Major sank back, puffing his pipe.

'It's always the same, Francois. Your Foreign Office and mine, instead of making a principled stand on the Covenant of the League of Nations, always preferred some private horse-trading behind the scenes.' Matthew tipped up his bottle and indignantly swallowed half a pint of Laffitte: almost immediately he suffered the odd delusion that he was a lighthouse and that his indignation was a small boat rowing steadily away from him. The thought of Lord Halifax, however, caused it to row back a little way.

With the Major desperately trying to keep up with him in pidgin he described what it had been like in Geneva when Haile Sela.s.sie had come with the Ethiopian delegation to protest about the Italian annexation and to demand that the Council of the League should not recognize it. On that occasion Halifax had risen to make what was surely the most grossly hypocritical speech in the history of international affairs: this, too, but involuntarily, Matthew knew by heart, simply because he had been unable to forget it.