The Empire Trilogy Part 62

'Halifax said: "Here two ideals are in conflict: on the one hand the ideal of devotion, unflinching but unpractical, to some high purpose; on the other, the ideal of some practical victories for peace ... I cannot doubt that the strongest claim is that of peace ... Each of us knows by painful experience how consistently it is necessary to recognize that which may be ideally right and what is practically possible ..." And so on. If the League was not prepared to use force then it should submit to the "reality" of the Italian conquest in the interests of peace. Is that not outrageous, Francois?'

'Lord Halifax talkee this fashion,' explained the Major, struggling to find some way of abbreviating Matthew's harangue. ' "League of Nations idea blong plenty proper, plenty fine maybe, but League idea all-same plenty fine motor-car b.u.g.g.e.rup, motor-car no walkee. League of Nations no sendee soldier-man, no can do. Blitish Government idea yes can do."' ('Oh dear, I'm afraid that was a bit complicated,' apologized the Major.) 'Ah so,' nodded Cheong thoughtfully. 'League Nation idea no walkee ... Howfashion Lord Ha Lee Fax no wantchee League idea? Maskee, Maskee,* this blong all-same fool pidgin!' And with a shrug of disgust he, too, took a long pull at his bottle of Margaux (making a face, he preferred rice wine). this blong all-same fool pidgin!' And with a shrug of disgust he, too, took a long pull at his bottle of Margaux (making a face, he preferred rice wine).

'The Emperor replied to Halifax: "The suggestion of Great Britain is to favour general appeas.e.m.e.nt by the sacrifice of a people. This is contrary to the ideals of the Covenant and those ideals so constantly proclaimed by Great Britain and France," and he ended, "It is sheer hypocrisy to attempt to strangle a people by procedure!" '

'Empelor plenty angry,' summarized the Major. 'Empelor talkee: "You b.u.g.g.e.rupim League of Nations!"'

Cheong nodded gravely. He had a.s.sumed that such would have been the Emperor's reaction, for what other complexion could be put on Lord Ha Lee Fax's preference for 'realism', the gospel of the corrupt, entrepreneurial diplomats of the West, over principle? What could be expected, in any case, Cheong wondered, of such strong-smelling diplomats? He had more than once, in his previous employment in Shanghai, had occasion to take the coat of a second or third secretary from one Legation or another and he knew what he was talking about. When the new China arose, as he did not doubt that it would, a new type of diplomat, odourless and strong-principled, would strut the world's stage. Then at last things would be different.

'Will we never be able to loosen the grip of the self-interested and corrupt on human affairs?' demanded Matthew, springing to his feet, his eyes flashing.

'By the way, that reminds me,' remarked Ehrendorf, who had just been splashing himself from the Shanghai jar in the bathroom and now came in drying his hair to join the company, 'it seems that the expression, "the Singapore Grip", refers to the ability acquired by certain ladies of Singapore to control their autonomous v.a.g.i.n.al muscles, apparently with delightful results. The girls from the Poh Leung Kuk agreed to tell me what it was for a dollar. They hinted that for ten dollars it might be possible to arrange a demonstration. Er ... of course I didn't accept,' he added, seeing that the Major was looking upset.

'No, Jim, that's not what the Singapore Grip is,' cried Matthew, his eyes flashing more than ever. 'I know know what it is! It's the grip of our Western culture and economy on the Far East... It's the stranglehold of capital on the traditional cultures of Malaya, China, Burma, Java, Indo-China and even India herself! It's the doing of things what it is! It's the grip of our Western culture and economy on the Far East... It's the stranglehold of capital on the traditional cultures of Malaya, China, Burma, Java, Indo-China and even India herself! It's the doing of things our our way ... I mean, it's the pursuit of self-interest rather than of the way ... I mean, it's the pursuit of self-interest rather than of the common common interest! But one day we shall have a new League of Nations to conduct the world's affairs with reason and justice and humanity! A League of Nations not made up of cynical power-brokers but of philosophers and philanthropists whose only desire will be to bind the nations and the races together!' interest! But one day we shall have a new League of Nations to conduct the world's affairs with reason and justice and humanity! A League of Nations not made up of cynical power-brokers but of philosophers and philanthropists whose only desire will be to bind the nations and the races together!'

Ehrendorf sighed, thinking that in any case the Singapore Grip was about to be pried loose, if that was what it was. After some moments of hesitation and comparing of vintages, he selected the Laffitte. Altogether it had been a hard day.

*Never mind.

Part Six

64.

If you follow the Singapore River, from its mouth where it bulges and curves beneath the Fullerton Building, back along its many twists and turns, between sampans and barges so tightly packed that in places there is scarcely a channel wide enough for the flow of water-traffic, back almost as far as The Great World, then you will see an unusually handsome G.o.down on the right bank, taller than any of the other G.o.downs that line the river at that point, taller than any building of any kind for some distance and made taller by the familiar sign on its roof: Blackett and Webb Limited, painted white for the jubilee ... Or rather, you would have seen it in those days, for now it no longer exists. The place where it once stood is now dominated by several many-storey apartment buildings where the resettled inhabitants of former Chinese slums now live, and even The Great World itself is mostly shuttered and empty, trembling on the very brink of no longer existing: its fortune-tellers, quacks and ronggeng ronggeng dancers, its Chinese actors and mounte-banks, its brewers of monkey-soup and sellers of fruit, its pimps and soldiers and wh.o.r.es, have all been dumped in the dustbin of history and the lid clapped firmly on top of them. Their place has been taken by prosperous-looking workers from the electronic factories out for an evening stroll with their children, by a party of polite j.a.panese tourists with cameras who have strayed here by mistake, and by the author of this book writing busily in a small red notebook and scratching his knuckles where some lonely, last-remaining mosquito (for even they have mostly departed or been done away with), ignoring his dignified appearance, has not hesitated to bite him as he scribbles. dancers, its Chinese actors and mounte-banks, its brewers of monkey-soup and sellers of fruit, its pimps and soldiers and wh.o.r.es, have all been dumped in the dustbin of history and the lid clapped firmly on top of them. Their place has been taken by prosperous-looking workers from the electronic factories out for an evening stroll with their children, by a party of polite j.a.panese tourists with cameras who have strayed here by mistake, and by the author of this book writing busily in a small red notebook and scratching his knuckles where some lonely, last-remaining mosquito (for even they have mostly departed or been done away with), ignoring his dignified appearance, has not hesitated to bite him as he scribbles.

This particular G.o.down was the one to which Walter had taken Joan to propose that she should marry Matthew (how far off that seemed now!): it was the oldest, the biggest, Walter's favourite, the replica of that first warehouse in Rangoon which, in happier times, he had been so pleased to point out to visitors when he was showing them the paintings that hung in his drawing-room. To that first G.o.down in Rangoon who knows what happened? No doubt it was knocked down, or fell down, or a fine offer was made for it, or perhaps it was even turned into a cinema. Walter did not know. But he was glad that this one still existed. For Walter had learned something important from his life in commerce: that business is not simply a matter of making profits.

A successful and respectable business, on the contrary, is deeply embedded in the life of its time and place. A respectable business supports the prevalent beliefs of the society of which it is a part. If society at large considers it immoral for a woman to smoke a cigarette in the street or for a man to wear a hat at his dining-table, then you will certainly not find Blackett and Webb countenancing such behaviour in their staff. Not only at Blackett and Webb but at every other business of standing in Singapore the clerical staff, despite the temperature, were expected to wear white suits and black ties. Even the better Asiatic houses followed this custom. Respectability is important in business because it generates more and better custom: it means you will pay your debts and deliver the goods, resisting the temptation to make a bolt for the hills. Better business in turn generates more respectability. But in order to be respectable you do have to know what society approves of. Provided you know that that, then there is no problem: your business can play its full part in the community. It is only at a time like the present when it is hard to be sure what society at large believes, or if it believes anything at all, that a businessman grows baffled and uneasy and perhaps with a shrug of his shoulders gives it up and limits himself to a dogged pursuit of his profits.

Walter certainly had not reached that stage; witness the effort and expense he had consecrated to his jubilee celebrations. But already, it seemed to him, Blackett and Webb was beginning to stand out as an oasis of old-fashioned virtues in a desert of less scrupulous businesses. It was 'the spirit of the times' again, that is what it was! Wherever you looked you saw it at work. Now, Walter had heard, in England women were no longer wearing hats and were going into pubs. Some women, even in Singapore, had taken to wearing trousers, not something he would have permitted to his own women-folk. Well, continue along that road and one fine day you would find that a gentleman's word was no longer his bond, but more likely an attempt to talk you into something. Why was this G.o.down important to Walter? Because for him it symbolized the old-fashioned virtues and beliefs which were melting away all around him, progressively, in concert with the decaying spirit of earlier times to which he had been accustomed.

And yet ... a man must move with the times. Think of those rice-millers in London for whom the Suez Ca.n.a.l had proved a banana skin on the road to prosperity! This G.o.down was also important to Walter for the great qualities of raw rubber that it contained. A business cannot embody the highest aims of society without trading profitably from its warehouses. What they contain must not be wasted or abandoned. It was out of the question to allow these warehouses not to make the profit which lay piled up within their shadowy walls.

Now on Monday, 8 February, came the news that the j.a.panese had succeeded in landing on the Island in the course of the night. Walter found himself faced with a disturbing prospect: the contents of this building on the river and of several other G.o.downs nearby would most likely be destroyed in accordance with a contingency plan for the denial of useful materials to the j.a.panese. He had long expected something of the sort if the j.a.panese pursued their advance. Reports had reached him in recent weeks that officials from the Public Works Department had been snooping about making enquiries as to the contents of his various G.o.downs. Their first visits had been discreet: the authorities had been anxious not to sap morale by making too obvious preparations for a capitulation ... Lately they had become more officious.

Today there came word that the Governor had authorized destruction of British-owned engineering plant, oil and rubber stocks, liquor supplies and various others goods and materials that the j.a.panese might consider valuable. Well, he had expected that it would come to this ... But above all it was the selective nature of the Governor's denial plans that stung Walter: Blackett and Webb (Engineering) Limited would be razed while neighbouring Chinese enterprises would be left untouched! It was an outrage. He promptly telephoned the Governor ... but could not get through. He tried to arrange an appointment with the Governor's staff: he had never had any trouble doing so before, yet now when it was necessary he found himself being headed off by pipsqueaks of secretaries. He would be left for minutes at a time holding a telephone receiver, obliged to listen to baffling electrical interference: strange hiccups, faintly tinkling xylophones, the ringing of distant telephones on other lines, and ghostly voices speaking gibberish which, however, sometimes held a queer sort of significance.

'Old men must die. They'd not be human otherwise,' someone remarked cheerfully in the middle of a blizzard of clickings and buzzings. 'We're all on a conveyor belt, each one of us. We all must fall off at the other end. Does that answer your question?' Walter strained his ears but only to hear what sounded like a whole office full of telephones ringing. He put the telephone down, shattered. He was not used to making his own telephone calls at the best of times: that was his secretary's job. He picked up the receiver again: this time he heard what he was convinced was a stream of j.a.panese followed by high-pitched laughter. But they had only been on the Island since the previous night: they would hardly be using the telephones already. He tried to summon one of his a.s.sistants who understood j.a.panese but by the time he arrived the voice had been replaced by silence and, eventually, by the ominous ticking of a clock.

'Would you mind getting off this line, please?' demanded a woman's voice rudely.

'I certainly would!' snapped Walter. 'Blackett here ... of Blackett and Webb. I want to speak to the Governor and I've been kept waiting forty minutes already.' A click. No answer.

Walter was abruptly seized by a dismaying thought: he had surely recognized the woman's voice. Had it not been Lady Thomas herself? He was almost sure of it. But no, wait a moment. Lady Thomas was ill. He had heard someone saying so at the Club and he himself had even sent one of his staff to Government House with a basket of orchids and a note signed by ... by his wife, a forgery to which he was well accustomed and to which she had never raised any objection. He had forgotten for the moment that his wife was now in Australia. Moreover, Lady Thomas would certainly know she was there and would be perplexed to receive a note from her in Singapore ... But the man he had sent had returned still with the basket of orchids and the note (why had he not grabbed it back, oh fool!) saying that he had not been allowed past the gate, that the place was a shambles. How a shambles? Bomb-craters everywhere. Walter had flown into a rage, suspecting that the fellow had not bothered to go to Government House at all, that he considered such a messenger's job beneath his dignity. Bomb-craters indeed! Walter had ordered him back to Government House and told him not to show himself again until he had delivered the orchids. Neither the messenger, nor the orchids, nor the note had been heard of since. Lady Thomas must consider him completely mad ... a note sent by his absent wife ... he himself rude to her on the telephone ...

'Things do not look particularly rosy,' agreed the telephone. And then: 'Thy s.e.x to love!' Or was it: 'Three sets to love!'? Walter strained his ears but could not be sure.

Never mind. Never mind all that. It was of no great importance what she thought. Besides, it was clear to him that he was being deliberately baulked by the Government House staff, with or without the Governor's permission. All right, all right, he thought, making a feeble effort to look at both sides of the question, it was true that the Governor must have a lot on his mind with the j.a.panese on the Island ... but not to be able to get hold of him for such an important matter, that was an outrage! 'And whose taxes go to paying the salaries of these stuffed shirts I should like to know!'

But never mind. Even if he succeeded in b.u.t.tonholing the Governor, he doubted whether he would be very helpful. Sir Shenton would be too conventional to entertain seriously the proposal which Walter had in mind. For, to Walter, the matter was plain: the j.a.panese were going to get more rubber than they had a use for, whatever happened. They already had under their control the entire production of Indo-China and Malaya. The j.a.panese would very likely agree that it was senseless to destroy the rubber in Walter's G.o.downs. Well then, why should it not be kept pending the end of the war or, even better, sold under a strict guarantee to some non-belligerent nation such as Mexico or Portugal? Here Walter would have trading contracts and experience which the j.a.panese could put to good use: an understanding beneficial to all could certainly be reached with one of the zaibatsu. zaibatsu. Walter had, he considered, an advantage over the Governor. He had had dealings for years with the j.a.panese. They were not ogres to him, as they undoubtedly were to Sir Shenton. Hard compet.i.tors they certainly were, but for that Walter could only admire them. Yes, an advantage could be won for Blackett and Webb in concert with, say, Mitsubishi, which would do no harm to anybody, least of all to the British War Effort. But Walter knew he must be realistic. There was little prospect of the Governor accepting such a plan. Walter had, he considered, an advantage over the Governor. He had had dealings for years with the j.a.panese. They were not ogres to him, as they undoubtedly were to Sir Shenton. Hard compet.i.tors they certainly were, but for that Walter could only admire them. Yes, an advantage could be won for Blackett and Webb in concert with, say, Mitsubishi, which would do no harm to anybody, least of all to the British War Effort. But Walter knew he must be realistic. There was little prospect of the Governor accepting such a plan.

Again he picked up the telephone. 'Who's there?' he demanded. For a while there was only that distant cascade of cymbals. 'You see,' said the telephone suddenly, 'capitalism used to mean used to mean a compet.i.tive export of goods, but that's all a thing of the past, I'm afraid. We now export cash instead ... sending it out here where it can make a bigger profit, thanks to low wages and the land available for estates. The result is that we've become a parasite on the land and labour of Malaya and our other colonies. Did you know, Walter, that bond-holdings brought in five times more revenue than actual foreign a compet.i.tive export of goods, but that's all a thing of the past, I'm afraid. We now export cash instead ... sending it out here where it can make a bigger profit, thanks to low wages and the land available for estates. The result is that we've become a parasite on the land and labour of Malaya and our other colonies. Did you know, Walter, that bond-holdings brought in five times more revenue than actual foreign trade trade for Britain?' for Britain?'

'What?' demanded Walter. 'Are you talking to me?' But the voice had faded once more into the ghostly plucking of a harp. And anyway, it must have been someone else called Walter.

On the other hand, Walter realized suddenly, there was probably no need to worry about the rubber, at least for the moment. For there was so much of it, several thousand tons. Unless they had some mad idea of burning down the buildings as well, which was surely not the case, the PWD busybodies would need several weeks merely to shift the rubber from the G.o.downs to a suitable site for burning. The same was probably true of other commodities which Blackett and Webb held in their G.o.downs. It was evident that what was most at risk was the investment in engineering and motor-a.s.sembly plants. It was that which would need protection. It was that which the PWD men would go for first.

But oddly enough, as it turned out, they did not. They went for Walter's liquor G.o.down at the docks. A telephone message chased him round the city, warning him. He could no longer bear to sit in the improvised offices in Tanglin surrounded by a staff which had by now shrunk, thanks to the demands of the pa.s.sive defence services, to an efficient young Cantonese, a couple of elderly Englishmen who but for the war would long since have been put out to gra.s.s, and two or three Eurasian typists. So, despite the danger, Walter had himself driven about the city inspecting the various Blackett and Webb premises and offering a word of encouragement to whatever staff remained (for here, too, the number of his employees was shrinking daily, almost hourly). Mohammed, his syce syce, did not seem to mind: he, too, seemed anxious to pursue his normal life.

Although he seldom stayed for more than a few minutes at each place he visited, it now took so long to cross the ruined city that the better part of Walter's day was spent in the car, an ancient Alvis which Mohammed had found somewhere. Monty had evidently succeeded in getting both himself and the Bentley away on the Felix Roussel. Felix Roussel. Apart from faint surprise that the boy should have had sufficient initiative, Walter had no strong feelings about his son's desertion. On the whole he was better out of the way. Once or twice, though, staring out with sightless eyes at the boiling streets, the thought of Harvey Firestone's five efficient sons made him clench his fists and caused the bristles to stir on his spine. How promising life had once appeared, how disastrously it had turned out! Apart from faint surprise that the boy should have had sufficient initiative, Walter had no strong feelings about his son's desertion. On the whole he was better out of the way. Once or twice, though, staring out with sightless eyes at the boiling streets, the thought of Harvey Firestone's five efficient sons made him clench his fists and caused the bristles to stir on his spine. How promising life had once appeared, how disastrously it had turned out!

Even the city now was hardly recognizable any longer as the place where he had spent such a great part of his life. The roads were clogged with military vehicles, there were gun emplacements every few yards, each crossroads seemed to have its own traffic jam which sweating military policemen were trying to free. And everywhere he looked he saw bomb-craters and rubble, shattered trees, uprooted lamp-posts, tangled tramway cables, and smoke from the buildings burning on every side. With the smoke there came, barely noticeable at first, a disagreeable smell. Old Singapore hands like Walter were used to unpleasant smells: they came from everywhere ... from the drains and from the river above all, but also from less likely places, from Tanglin rose-gardens for instance, where the 'boys' sometimes failed to bury properly the household excrement, or someone's spaniel dug it up again. In Singapore you could never be quite safe: even while you stood smiling fixedly under the great candelabra in the ballroom at Government House, once a gift from the Emperor Franz Josef to the third Duke of Buckingham, you might suddenly get a distinct whiff of something disagreeable. But this was different. This was altogether more sickening. It seemed to cling to your hair and clothes. When you took out your handkerchief to blow your nose it was there, too. Presently, it became stronger and not even the swirling smoke could disguise the fact that it came from the bodies stretched in rows on the pavements which no one had yet had time to bury.

Tired of the endless delays and traffic jams on the way to Tanglin, Walter had a camp bed and a desk installed in the disused store-keeper's office in the G.o.down on the river where he had brought Joan one day not very long ago. Thank heaven that she and Nigel had got away, at any rate! This little office, which was really just a box of wood and gla.s.s without a roof other than that of the G.o.down itself way above, had strong a.s.sociations for Walter, reminding him of the old days. It was peaceful here, too, and very quiet. The dim light, the smell of the raw rubber which rose in tiers, bale upon bale, to the dim heights of the roof, he found infinitely soothing. There was a window, too, in the office from which he could contemplate the river, not so very different even now from the river he had gazed at as a young man from this spot. He needed this tranquillity to restore and refresh himself after his wanderings in the city.

And still the city's collapse had not yet reached a limit which one could consider, however dreadful it might be, a stable state. On the contrary, familiar streets continued at an accelerating pace to be eaten away by fire and to crumble beneath the bombs and sh.e.l.ls. A huge mushroom of black smoke had risen to the north: he paused to look at it from a window of the Singapore Club where he went for lunch. It issued, he was told, from the oil storage tanks at the Naval Base, to which fire had been set to prevent the j.a.panese capturing the fuel they so badly needed. From the Fullerton Building you looked over Anderson Bridge and the river, then an open s.p.a.ce with an obelisk and the solid pile, now distinctly battered, of the Victoria Memorial Hall and Theatre and, away to the right, what might have been the two friendly onion domes of the Arab Community Arch. The smoke had risen on a fat, black stalk which, from where Walter was looking at it, grew just beside the clock tower though in fact its source was on the northern coast: its mushroom cap was growing steadily and spreading to the south-east. Soon it would cover most of the city and, indeed, of the Island itself, snowing as it came a light precipitation of oily black s.m.u.ts which clung to everything, blackening skin and clothing alike.

When they set out to make another journey after lunch, this time to the docks, Mohammed had to switch on the windscreen wipers on account of the black film of soot that crept over the windscreen. But nowadays one needed to be able to see, not only forward, but upwards as well, because of the Zeros that continually tore in over the shattered palms or floated like hawks up and down the main roads, waiting for something to stir beneath them. Mohammed, therefore, opened the sliding roof of the Alvis so that while he drove he could keep an eye out. He also glanced into his rear-view mirror once or twice, half expecting Walter to protest. But Walter sat mute. It was not very long before one or two black spots of soot began to appear on Walter's white linen suit. He tried to brush them off, but that only made them worse. Soon his suit, his shirt and his face were covered in oily black smudges.

65.

The j.a.panese fighters were now flying so low in search of people or vehicles to machine-gun that troops, and sometimes even civilians who had picked up a weapon somewhere, would very often fire back from whatever cover they could find. Several times Walter and Mohammed were obliged to leave the Alvis in the road and dive for cover. On one occasion, before they had had time to take shelter, a two-engined Mitsubishi bomber blocked the sky and a burst of machine-gun bullets from its rear turret st.i.tched along the brick wall above their heads, showering them with fragments. Meanwhile, from a sand-bagged gun emplacement beside them a steel-helmeted corporal blazed away with a bren-gun. It jammed. Cursing, he struck off the magazine with a blow of the back of his hand and clipped on a new one. Nearby stood a shattered army lorry in which sat a headless soldier still grasping the wheel.

Once Walter saw one of the fighter-planes. .h.i.t by a fusillade from the streets and go out of control, crashing with a roar some way away into a steep wooded bank beside the Bukit Timah Road. Yet although he nodded to the jubilant Mohammed and smiled grimly at the cheering Tommies beside the road and muttered: 'Well done ... Good show!' he was not really interested. He was too preoccupied with other matters to care greatly whether a j.a.panese plane crashed or did not crash. And when one of the two elderly Englishmen on his staff came running after him as he was leaving for the liquor G.o.down where the PWD men were about to start demolition work and asked him whether he would like to take a gun with him 'just in case', he replied sharply: 'Don't be absurd, man! We aren't going to take the law into our own hands.'

'But I meant ...' stammered the a.s.sistant, astonished.

In the matter of the destruction of liquor, Walter did even better than not taking the law into his own hands: he lent it his active support, ordering one of the remaining secretaries to telephone the Tribune Tribune and the and the Straits Times Straits Times with instructions for them to send a photographer. His intention was to have himself photographed smashing the first bottle of whisky. In the event no photographer appeared. Nevertheless, he still insisted on smashing the first bottle. with instructions for them to send a photographer. His intention was to have himself photographed smashing the first bottle of whisky. In the event no photographer appeared. Nevertheless, he still insisted on smashing the first bottle.

'We aren't here to launch a b.l.o.o.d.y ship, sir, you know,' said the Volunteer Engineers sergeant who had been seconded to the PWD. 'We've got to get through all that lot and several more bonded warehouses as well. Not to mention the shops, clubs and hotels all over the place.' Walter nodded: he knew better than anyone how much liquor there must be on the Island. After all, Singapore was the distribution centre for the entire Far East. Blackett and Webb alone must have several tens of thousands of crates containing gin, whisky and wine; he could only guess that altogether there would be well over a million bottles of whisky belonging to various merchants and inst.i.tutions in store or awaiting despatch from the Island, perhaps even more when one considered that the flow of spirits from Singapore into a number of Far Eastern ports had been dammed up for the past few weeks by the outbreak of war and the freezing of j.a.panese a.s.sets.

The demolition squad set to work on the cases with crowbars. Walter, thinking grimly of his jubilee year, obstinately grabbed a bottle out of the first case to be opened and smashed it violently at his feet.

'Not here, sir, the fumes will do us in,' said the sergeant, a.s.suming he wanted to help.

Walter fell back then and watched silently as the bottles were carried outside and smashed against the wall. Presently, in a sort of daze from the heat and the noise of the ack-ack guns, that distant slamming of doors that followed you everywhere in the city, he too picked up some bottles and smashed them against the wall. And he went on doing so, despite the heat. Soon he was obliged to take off his jacket: the sweat fell in salty drops from his chin and his shirt clung to his back. The other men had stripped to the waist but this Walter could not do, because of the bristles on his spine.

The smashing of these bottles filled him with a strange exultation. He felt he could go on doing it for ever. Whereas the other men, conserving their strength, merely made the effort required to break the bottles, Walter dashed them violently against the wall. Once, as he turned too quickly, he thought he saw two other men exchanging a sly grin at his expense, but he did not care. He went on and on. He ground his teeth and smashed and muttered and smashed until his head was ringing. A mound of glittering broken gla.s.s rose steadily against the wall and in no time he found himself sloshing back and forth through deep pools of whisky which had gathered on the concrete surface. Even here outside the alcohol fumes soon became oppressive. Once, as he was sloshing through a pool of Johnny Walker, he lost his balance and sat down, cutting his hand on one of the bottles he had been holding and which had broken. He got up immediately, revived by the sharp stinging of alcohol on the wound, and went on with the job, but more carefully now. He was getting tired.

A telephone had been ringing for some time in the storekeeper's office. A whispered conversation took place between Mohammed and the store-keeper who had been eyeing Walter uncertainly. Mohammed finally approached Walter to tell him that his office had rung, afraid that Walter might forget that he had an appointment with the directors of Langfield and Bowser. Mohammed would have liked to ask Walter if he was feeling all right, but did not quite dare. He stared blankly at Mohammed for a few moments. Then he said: 'Oh yes, so I have. What time is it?'

When he had washed his face under a tap, and bound a handkerchief round his cut hand, he picked up his jacket and went outside to the car where Mohammed was waiting, holding the door open. As he made to get in he caught sight of his own reflection in the window. His shirt and trousers were black with s.m.u.ts from the burning oil on the other side of the Island. He hesitated a moment, wondering whether he should first have driven himself to the Club to shower and change. But he was already late. Besides, there was a war on.

Langfield and Bowser's headquarters were in the Bowser Building on the corner of Cecil and Cross Streets. Had Solomon Langfield's house in Na.s.sim Road not been devastated in the January air-raids they would most likely have moved their offices there, away from the centre of town, as Walter had done with his offices. As it was, on account of the sudden flowing back to Singapore of so many troops who had to be found billets, they had been unable to find convenient premises out of the danger zone. 'All the safe places appear to have been hogged by the b.l.o.o.d.y Army,' the Secretary had explained to those anxious members of the board who had remained on the Island. They might have managed to find somewhere even so, thanks to old Solomon's cunning and contacts, had the Chairman not been abruptly called to his reward. That had thrown everything into confusion. The result was that here they still were, holding uneasy board meetings in the Bowser Building 'in the thick of the action' as the Secretary put it. He belched dejectedly; for some reason everything he ate these days seemed to cause flatulence.

Meetings were now held as infrequently as possible, but unfortunately they could not be discontinued altogether: there was so much of importance that had to be discussed. They had been astonished and dismayed to hear of Nigel Langfield's proposed marriage to Joan Blackett and had spent many perilous hours attempting to predict its implications for themselves and their firm. If Walter Blackett got his hands on Nigel's stock or, what amounted to the same thing, got his hands on Nigel, then the future looked black indeed for Langfield and Bowser Limited. Walter would surely waste no time in diverting Langfield's most profitable business into Blackett and Webb's coffers, no doubt doing so with a wealth of plausible-sounding arguments about 'rationalization'. But Langfield's worried directors, sitting around their board-room table in steel helmets and quivering with alarm at the menacing sounds that filtered in from outside, had no appet.i.te for a dose of rationalism administered by Walter ... at least, not if it meant what they thought it would mean.

They racked their brains, wondering what Solomon would have done in such a situation, though really they knew the answer all too well. Soloman would not have got himself into it in the first place. But one thing, above all, puzzled them. Why had Solomon given his blessing to the marriage? He must have known He must have known of the danger of Nigel's being annexed, shares and all, by the Blackett family. Yet he had given his consent. This was altogether baffling. For they had known Solomon well enough to realize that he would not have done so without having some clever plan worked out in advance in the manner of a chess master who sacrifices a piece willingly in the knowledge that, in the long run, it will be to his advantage. Again and again this had happened in the past, though never on such a momentous scale. Solomon had proposed some apparently rash manoeuvre which had then unexpectedly matured before their delighted eyes so that they could hardly prevent themselves clapping their hands with glee. But in this case what was it that Solomon had foreseen? What could it be? of the danger of Nigel's being annexed, shares and all, by the Blackett family. Yet he had given his consent. This was altogether baffling. For they had known Solomon well enough to realize that he would not have done so without having some clever plan worked out in advance in the manner of a chess master who sacrifices a piece willingly in the knowledge that, in the long run, it will be to his advantage. Again and again this had happened in the past, though never on such a momentous scale. Solomon had proposed some apparently rash manoeuvre which had then unexpectedly matured before their delighted eyes so that they could hardly prevent themselves clapping their hands with glee. But in this case what was it that Solomon had foreseen? What could it be?

They took off their steel helmets and scratched their heads and then put them back on again, all in vain. If only Solomon had still been there to answer this one question! Well, as it happened, Solomon was was still there, various freight carriers and pa.s.senger ships alike having refused, even at full fare, to transport him home to his grateful shareholders at such a time. He even looked very little different from the way he had looked in life: his eyes had always had a hooded, half-closed appearance. But though he might still appear to be listening to questions, he no longer gave any answers. Had Solomon pulled a fast one after all? Or had Blackett pulled a fast one? Or, just conceivably, had both of them? It was too much for the worried board to make head or tail of. The best they could do in the circ.u.mstances was to hope that the young couple would be torpedoed on the way home. That, at least, would solve this particular problem. still there, various freight carriers and pa.s.senger ships alike having refused, even at full fare, to transport him home to his grateful shareholders at such a time. He even looked very little different from the way he had looked in life: his eyes had always had a hooded, half-closed appearance. But though he might still appear to be listening to questions, he no longer gave any answers. Had Solomon pulled a fast one after all? Or had Blackett pulled a fast one? Or, just conceivably, had both of them? It was too much for the worried board to make head or tail of. The best they could do in the circ.u.mstances was to hope that the young couple would be torpedoed on the way home. That, at least, would solve this particular problem.

After Nigel's departure from Singapore Walter had telephoned, saying that he wanted to discuss a combined approach to the demolition problem. The directors had eyed each other uneasily (what was he up to?) but they could hardly say no. And so now he was on his way, though already an hour late for some reason. As the minutes ticked by, one or two of the more sanguine members of the board began to have tempting visions of Walter lying riddled with tracer bullets in a ditch. But then, just as their optimism was beginning to increase, he was announced. And when they saw him they could hardly believe their eyes.

Instead of the brutal self-controlled ogre that they knew Walter to be, it was someone more resembling a down-and-out who now reeled through the door and stood gazing at them, wild-eyed. They all knew Walter, of course, at least by sight and reputation, if not personally, and there was not a Langfield man in Singapore (unless it were old Solomon himself) but had not found the mere presence of Walter daunting. Even if you pa.s.sed him quietly drinking a beer at the Long Bar in the Club you could feel the electricity that charged the air around him. But the Walter who had now appeared was, well, pathetic. How could they ever have felt daunted by this dishevelled individual with a bloodstained handkerchief bound round one fist as if he had come straight from a waterfront brawl, this fellow whose suit could have done with a visit to the laundry? ... no, not even the laundry could have done anything with it; it was fit only for the rubbish dump. The board of Langfield and Bowser Limited gazed long and hard at Walter and they liked what they saw. The Secretary, W. J. Bowser-Barrington, smirking politely, rose and offered him a chair.

Walter was wasting no time. Even before he had taken his seat he had begun to talk rapidly and somewhat incoherently about the destruction of engineering plant ... selective, mind you, they were not going to do a b.l.o.o.d.y thing to the Chinese. What did this mean? It meant that when the war was over the Chinese would have a head start in engineering throughout the Far East. Well, they knew the situation as well as he did, he did not have to spell it out for them! What they had to decide, without more ado, was how they were going to respond. One firm alone standing out against the demolition order was not going to cut any ice at all. Together there might be a better chance, not good but better, of making the Governor see reason. The question was, how were they going to get the Governor to rescind the order in time in time! 'In time!' Walter repeated, stifling a groan, while the Langfield men gazed at him, hypnotized. They had not so much been listening to Walter's words as marvelling at his appearance and manner.

'In time!' he groaned again, striking the table with his damaged fist and causing the blood to well up between his bandaged fingers.

While Walter had been speaking, W. J. Bowser-Barrington had surrept.i.tiously scribbled a little note and pa.s.sed it along to his colleagues; Blackett has been on quite a binge!!! Blackett has been on quite a binge!!! They nodded gravely to each other as this note was pa.s.sed along. The truth of it was undeniable. Moreover, as Walter talked an overpowering smell of whisky permeated the airless atmosphere of the board-room. Yes, the fellow had without doubt been on a considerable bender. He looked as if he were going to pieces. They nodded gravely to each other as this note was pa.s.sed along. The truth of it was undeniable. Moreover, as Walter talked an overpowering smell of whisky permeated the airless atmosphere of the board-room. Yes, the fellow had without doubt been on a considerable bender. He looked as if he were going to pieces.

At length, Walter's speech became halting and eventually dried up altogether. None of the Langfield men had anything to say and for a considerable time they sat in silence in the gloomy little room, listening to the distant rattle and boom of the guns. W. J. Bowser-Barrington wore a pink carnation in his b.u.t.ton-hole and he had turned his head so that his nose rested among its petals; the sweet fragrance was a relief after the smell of sweat and alcohol from Walter. Since a reply was clearly expected, however, he stated his opinion, in terms as vague as possible and subject to all subsequent changes of mind and circ.u.mstances that there was little that could be done to resist, either severally or in concert, these admittedly undesirable developments, but that no time should be lost in bringing pressure to bear in the appropriate quarters in London for adequate compensation for everything that was destroyed.

'And that is something,' he added cautiously, 'which would certainly benefit from a combined operation, perhaps with other Singapore firms who find themselves in the same predicament. And what's more ...'

'Ah, I see,' said Walter, cutting him short before he had a chance to finish. But instead of arguing or protesting, as they had expected (such a noisy scene, my dears, you have no idea! they had already imagined themselves saying to certain old cronies at the Club), Walter simply continued to sit there, breathing heavily, his eyes straying vaguely round the room.

'By the way, where's Solomon?' he asked suddenly. And then, seeing that the Langfield men were taken aback by this question, he added: 'I mean, did you ship him home or is he in a G.o.down somewhere?'

'Well, no, he's here actually,' said Bowser-Barrington, pointing at a long wooden box beneath the table, on which, as it happened, Walter had a moment earlier been resting his feet. 'We'll probably take him with us when we leave. It's pretty clear that things will collapse here in a matter of days. We have a motor-launch waiting at the Telok Ayer Basin to take us to Sumatra when the balloon goes up. You'd better think of coming with us, old boy,' he added, his eyes narrowing insultingly, while the rest of the board gazed at him in consternation.

'Thanks, I'll bear it in mind,' replied Walter shortly. He despised Bowser-Barrington who was not even a real Bowser but had married one of the Bowser women and then changed his name to give himself face. He sighed. Then he got to his feet heavily, paused to look round the table, and with a shrug of indifference blundered out of the room without any further comment.

When the door had closed behind him an excited babble broke out among the Langfield men. What had the Secretary been thinking of! To invite Blackett to come with them, what an idea! Bowser-Barrington sat calmly and with a complacent expression on his face until the excitement had died down a little. Then he held up his hand for silence and began to explain. He now had the answer to that crucial question which had eluded them hitherto; namely, what could have been in old Solomon's mind when he had agreed to the marriage between Nigel and Miss Blackett? For Solomon, with his customary perspicacity, had seen that the real situation was, in fact, the exact reverse of what they had imagined it to be. It was not Nigel and Langfield and Bowser Limited that were in danger of being swallowed up by Walter Blackett, it was Blackett and Webb which had become temptingly vulnerable to Langfield's, thanks to the fact that Walter was going to pieces. Walter was going to pieces. The old Chairman must have seen the tell-tale signs of Walter's imminent downfall and, with a clarity of mind which took your breath away, had drawn the appropriate conclusions. The old Chairman must have seen the tell-tale signs of Walter's imminent downfall and, with a clarity of mind which took your breath away, had drawn the appropriate conclusions.

It was true! What else could it be? It was suddenly so obvious now that it had been pointed out to them that they wondered why they had not seen it before. What a noise of jubilation rose from around the board-room table! So loudly did they cheer their Secretary and Chairman-elect that even Walter heard it and paused grimly on the way to his car, reflecting that the first thing he must do once he had taken control of Langfield and Bowser was to purge the board of its dimwits. But just for a moment, accepting the congratulations of his colleagues, Bowser-Barrington had a frightening feeling, almost as if he had heard what might have been a faint grunt of exasperation and a tapping against wood from beneath the table. But no, he was, of course, imagining it. It was merely one of his directors drumming with his shoe on the lid of the box in his excitement.

66.

Singapore Island (which, if you recall, resembled the head and ears of an elephant on the map in General Percival's office) was now under siege. Late on Sunday night the first j.a.panese landing-craft had crossed the Strait to attack the north-western sh.o.r.e. This had come as an unpleasant surprise to General Percival because it meant that the j.a.panese were attacking the top of the elephant's right ear. In other words, they were attacking the wrong one wrong one! He had confidently expected them to attack the other ear, using Pulau Ubin to shield their approach. Even when the reconnaissance patrol sent across the Straits by General Gordon Bennett had reported large troop concentrations opposite that right-hand ear General Percival still had not ceased to hope that they might nevertheless attack the other one ... where they would find the fresh, newly arrived British 18th Division waiting for them. After all, it might just be that this attack in the north-west was merely a diversionary move, intended to make him commit his reserve to that that front while the main attack would still come in from the north-east to deal him a stunning blow on the left ear while he was looking in the other direction. front while the main attack would still come in from the north-east to deal him a stunning blow on the left ear while he was looking in the other direction.

Percival, trying to s.n.a.t.c.h some sleep in his Sime Road office while waiting for news of the fighting, simply could not bring himself to believe that what Gordon Bennett's weakened 22nd Australian Brigade was now having to repel was the main attack. Communications had been severed by the heavy bombardment from the mainland before the attack: as a result there was a long delay before reports at last began to reach Sime Road. At first it seemed as if things might not be going too badly. There was word of tough resistance by the Australians and of j.a.panese landing craft being destroyed in large quant.i.ties. But that coastline was too long and too thinly defended. Gradually Percival's hopes began to melt away. By the early hours of the morning it had become evident that this was indeed the main j.a.panese attack and that, by daylight, the right-hand ear would be virtually lost to the j.a.panese.

At 8.30 a.m. Percival at last committed his only Command Reserve, the 12th Indian Brigade consisting of Argylls and Hyderabads who had survived the Slim River, to come under Gordon Bennett's orders for the defence of the crucial north-south line where the elephant's ear was attached to its head. This was the Jurong line, the shortest and the last line from which it was conceivable that the j.a.panese might be prevented from seizing the all-important central part of the Island and the high ground at Bukit Timah. Because from Bukit Timah, if they reached there, they would not only be occupying that part of the Island where the main food, fuel and ammunition stocks were held but also be looking down on Singapore Town itself. Then it would be all over: the city would lie in the palm of the j.a.panese hand.

Nevertheless, although this north-south line was in fact the last truly defensible position before Singapore Town itself, Percival was naturally obliged to draw up a contingency plan; after all, even if defeat is a foregone conclusion you still have to do something something (otherwise you would look a fool). Accordingly, after a visit to Gordon Bennett's HQ near Bukit Timah village to discuss how best to defend the head from the lost ear (that is, the Jurong line from an attack from the west), General Percival and his staff set to work with their maps drawing up the positively final perimeter beyond which there could be no further retreat unless to fight through the city streets. (otherwise you would look a fool). Accordingly, after a visit to Gordon Bennett's HQ near Bukit Timah village to discuss how best to defend the head from the lost ear (that is, the Jurong line from an attack from the west), General Percival and his staff set to work with their maps drawing up the positively final perimeter beyond which there could be no further retreat unless to fight through the city streets.

Of necessity this perimeter closely hugged the fringes of the city itself, beginning in the east at the Tanjong Rhu Swimming Club to include Kallang Aerodrome, heading north from there to embrace the vital pumping station at Woodleigh, across country to include the reservoirs and the Bukit Timah depots and then down to the coast again at the village of Pasir Panjang. It was, of course, essential that knowledge of this emergency, last-resort perimeter should not filter down the chain of command, thereby encouraging a retreat beyond the last position from which a serious defence could be offered, the Jurong line. Percival gave details of the final perimeter to Generals Heath and Simmons when they visited him at Sime Road on that Monday evening. It was sent to Gordon Bennett in the early hours of Tuesday morning with instructions that it was to be kept secret. Bennett, however, promptly pa.s.sed on as an operations order to his brigadiers those aspects of it which might concern them. Once again, and now for the last time in the campaign, if Percival had listened carefully he would have heard the discreet sawing of wood.

On this Tuesday, while Walter was smashing whisky bottles four or five miles away, General Percival at Sime Road was doggedly trying to get a clear picture of where the leaks had sprung in his line of defence. This was not easy. The heavy sh.e.l.ling of the north sh.o.r.e had to a great extent destroyed telephone wires; wireless reports, when they came in at all, were confusing. In the course of the morning a flying-boat dropped out of the cloud-covered sky and landed in the harbour, bringing General Wavell, the Supreme Commander, from Java. Percival, therefore, now found himself having to deal with the tricky job of reorganizing his defences with the gloomy gla.s.s eye of his Supreme Commander fixed on him. Together they drove to Gordon Bennett's new HQ on Ulu Pandan Road, just off Holland Road to the south of Bukit Timah village. Wavell's lined and rugged face grew increasingly sombre as Percival pa.s.sed on what he knew of the night's events. The deep furrows which ran from his nose to the corner of his mouth grew deeper, his brow puckered, and his good right eye seemed to recede further into his skull. His lips were slightly parted as if he were on the point of making some bitter remark about the competence of Malaya Command and of Percival himself. He remained silent, however.

Nor did he brighten up at the sight of Gordon Bennett whose optimistic and aggressive spirit had cheered him earlier in the campaign on the mainland. Indeed, his gloom deepened as Bennett began to explain that he had little information about developments in his area. Bennett himself was much subdued. How had the j.a.panese broken through the Australian troops with such comparative ease? This had come as a great shock to him. He could still hardly believe it. Consequently there was little sign of his normal ebullience as the three generals began to survey the situation.

But hardly had they begun their discussion when anti-aircraft guns started up all around them like waking guard-dogs. Within a few moments the whistling of bombs could be heard. 'Take cover!' yelled someone outside and each of the generals dived under the nearest table. Instantly the room erupted in a blizzard of flying gla.s.s and plaster. The foundations of the house quaked as more bombs fell all around. As he crouched under the table Percival noticed something bright and gleaming roll towards him. For a moment he thought: 'My G.o.d! It's Wavell's gla.s.s eye!' but on closer inspection it turned out to be only a fugitive from a box of child's marbles left in a corner!

When the three men stood up and dusted themselves off it was discovered that none of them had been hurt. Moreover, although one corner of the building had been demolished by a bomb (which fortunately had failed to explode) and both Percival's and Wavell's cars had been wrecked, there had been no casualities at the HQ itself. This seemed a miracle. The generals shook the plaster and broken gla.s.s off the map they had been studying and resumed their conference. 'Really,' declared Wavell presently, 'these constant withdrawals won't do, you know. You must attack, you must attack.

Percival and Bennett nodded thoughtfully, but what was in their minds as they stood there, all three of them, in this suddenly shattered room, as if in a tiny vessel tossed here and there in a mounting sea of confusion?

More cars were found. Wavell, determined to find out what was happening in the Causeway area, had decided to go forward to see General Heath at 11th Division. Just as they were leaving the Australian headquarters Percival was dismayed to see a group of Indian troops in filthy uniforms shambling along the road, rifles held any old way and not even properly formed up into column of route. He could not help glancing at Wavell: that merciless gla.s.s eye betrayed no emotion but Percival guessed what must be in his mind. How dreadful! Undisciplined men shambling about under their GOC's nose, that is the sort of thing that can have a bad effect on a fellow's chances if the rumour of it gets back to the Powers That Be. Of course, compared with everything else that had gone wrong this was a minor matter. The trouble was that this column of Indians was not alone by any means. Behind them, like a wound filling up with pus, Singapore Town was harbouring an increasing number of stragglers and deserters; in particular, it was reported that deserters from the untrained Australian reinforcements at the General Base Depot were running wild.

Exhausted though he was, Percival maintained a stoical determination to do his best with whatever opportunities the military situation offered. He was determined to show no sign of defeatism in front of Wavell. It was, however, only when they reached General Heath's headquarters that the really heavy blows began to fall. From Heath they learned that the 27th Australian Brigade under Brigadier Maxwell had withdrawn during the night. Maxwell? Was he not that same militia officer, a doctor by profession, whom Bennett had promoted as his protege to the command of the 27th Brigade despite his lack of experience and seniority? This withdrawal had left a crucial gap between the Causeway and the Kranji River: this meant in turn that the most important road on the Island (that which began at the Causeway and headed south for Singapore Town by way of Bukit Timah village) lay open for the j.a.panese to push southwards behind behind the Jurong line which Percival had been hoping to hold. This was simply disastrous. Why had Maxwell withdrawn from his crucial position? He a.s.serted that Gordon Bennett had authorized the move. The result, in any case, was that Percival now found his entire defensive edifice crumbling. He promptly ordered Maxwell to counter-attack to recover Mandai village and reoccupy his former position. He also ordered three battalions of the 18th Division to come under Bennett's command on the Bukit Timah Road, concentrating them at the racecourse to act as badly needed reserve. But these, as Percival well knew, were desperate measures. the Jurong line which Percival had been hoping to hold. This was simply disastrous. Why had Maxwell withdrawn from his crucial position? He a.s.serted that Gordon Bennett had authorized the move. The result, in any case, was that Percival now found his entire defensive edifice crumbling. He promptly ordered Maxwell to counter-attack to recover Mandai village and reoccupy his former position. He also ordered three battalions of the 18th Division to come under Bennett's command on the Bukit Timah Road, concentrating them at the racecourse to act as badly needed reserve. But these, as Percival well knew, were desperate measures.

It was half past two in the afternoon before Wavell and Percival returned to Gordon Bennett's headquarters. Here Bennett denied having authorized Maxwell's withdrawal during the night. In any event, there was worse to come. Brigadier Taylor's 22nd Australian Brigade, already shattered in the fighting which had taken place during the night, had been obliged to fall back to the Jurong line. Now, while Percival and Wavell had been visiting other units, news had reached Bennett that in the meantime Taylor had received the secret contingency plans for the last-resort perimeter round the city itself, including details of the sector south of the Bukit Timah Road which had been allotted to his brigade. Taylor had interpreted these plans as an order to fall back to this position. Accordingly, the last defensible position before Singapore Town, failing a successful counter-attack, had been abandoned without having been seriously put to the test by the j.a.panese. Given the confusion which now reigned behind the British lines, however, the units out of touch with their headquarters, the traffic jams, the communications difficulties and the hazards of organizing resistance with heterogeneous forces in territory that was unfamiliar to them, there seemed little prospect that a counter-attack would succeed.

By the time they had returned to Command Headquarters it was four o'clock in the afternoon. Now Percival was met by a worried Brigadier Torrance: a report had come in that the j.a.panese were approaching Bukit Timah village. Apart from its alarming general implications this news also indicated that the large reserve petrol depot to the east of the village was in danger of being captured. Percival ordered its immediate destruction and by six o'clock it had been set on fire. Wavell, meanwhile, had himself driven to Government House to see Sir Shenton Thomas. He was tired himself after the long day of visits and conferences. What must it be like for Percival and the others who had had no respite for days or weeks? Pa.s.sing through the gates of Government House his eyes happened on a great basket of orchids decked with bright ribbons lying on the gra.s.s a few yards inside the railings. They had evidently been hurled over by some well-wisher too shy to present them. Most likely a sign, he mused, that the British were still popular among the native population in spite of their military reverses. He sighed as the car came to a stop and the door was opened for him. He must make a point of persuading Lady Thomas, who was sick, to return with him to Java in the Catalina.

At nine that evening, before leaving Singapore, Wavell went to Flagstaff House to say goodbye to Percival. The day, which had begun with at least some cards still held by the defenders, had ended with the defence a shambles. Nevertheless, before leaving, he had Ian Graham, one of his ADCs, type out a final exhortation for Percival to pa.s.s on to his troops; this was inspired by a signal he had received earlier in the day from Churchill comparing the British resistance unfavourably to that of the Russians and the Americans elsewhere and instructing the British troops to fight to the bitter end. Then, having ordered the last remaining squadron of Hurricanes to be evacuated from the Island, he shook hands with Percival and set off through the dark streets to the waterfront in the second of two cars, accompanied by Count Mackay, a member of his Java staff, and by Air Vice-Marshal Pulford. On the way they heard occasional shots. Looters, sensing the imminent collapse of the city, were already beginning the sack of shops and stores in the less frequented areas.

The Catalina was moored in the middle of the harbour. The car stopped beside the sea wall in the darkness and Pulford got out to look for a motor-boat to take Wavell and his party out to it. He was gone such a long time that Wavell, in frustration, suddenly opened the door on his left-hand side, the side of that blank, gla.s.s eye which throughout the long day had been picking up reflections of the British collapse. He sprang out... but the car had parked so close to the sea wall that there was no ground left on this side of the car. He fell several feet in the darkness on to some rocks. He lay quietly where he had fallen for a little while, breathless with the shock and pain, thinking: 'Singapore is done for,' until presently he managed to shout and his ADCs, groping anxiously, located him and carried him to the motor-boat. He was laid in the bottom of the boat and presently they forged out on to the black waters, lit here and there by the fires burning on the sh.o.r.e all around. When they at last reached the flying-boat it was found impossible to lift Wavell into it without unshipping the machine-gun which had been mounted at the door. The Dutch crew of the flying-boat, unfamiliar with the mounting, set to work on it as best they could. At last they succeeded in removing it and Wavell was hoisted up from the swaying boat. But even when Wavell was safely aboard and had been given whisky and aspirins to dull the pain he was suffering and the sacks of governme