Acts of Mutiny (37 page)

Memory can do just that. Does it all the time. I have not wilfully deceived you. Memory hides whole coastlines, tampers with truth. It spares us pain. It takes away the hurts that cannot make sense, that go against everything we know to be right and regular. Memory is the doctor. But under its drug there is no real home-coming, no prospect of release, no hope that in spite of everything Carla …

I did not leave the ship at Singapore.

In fact we must sweat our way through the islands. The sky is an upturned drum with its sodden skin sagging upon us. It bellies over our foremast, touched with an unpleasant green as the sun tries to finger through. Perspiration runs from every pore, and we have hardly the energy to move. There is a hint of mould: it settles on rope ends, makes straw hats limp. Tobacco smoke leaves a stale, whiffy flavour in the main lounge and in the bars; and every carpet begins softly giving back its accumulated spills. Many people keep to their cabins.

It was in the Java Sea, the Sea of Whispers, that I detected the plan against Robert.

‘You don’t need to tell me. Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile.’ The two old men passed me, struggling on, identically dressed. ‘Damned poor show. Probably Communist inspired. Chinks.’ Their dark blue shirts were plastered to their backs.

‘Damned poor. Reds. Know what I’d do?’

‘I jolly well know what I’d do.’

A moment later, I nearly bumped into Mr Barnwell, no longer in uniform.

‘Sorry, sir.’

He scarcely gave me a second glance, but strode on down the port strip of the promenade deck, towards the aft stairs. I followed. Another man, whom I did not know, emerged to greet him from the region of the pool. They stopped and spoke together. I made out some of the words: ‘Once we’re in open sea … In the nature of the job … Thoroughly deserves everything he gets. It’s a thorough nuisance, but I was speaking to Jeremy, and he said the idea was perfectly feasible, and probably the best thing in the long run … Take care of the practicalities.’

‘All right. We’ll see what we can come up with.’

‘To encourage the others, principally. It’s a worry, otherwise.’

‘There’s a serious risk then?’

‘Hardly. I wouldn’t go quite that far. Just needs to be fixed.’ They passed out of sight.

Erica was listless in her bunk, and nagged at me.

‘They’re out to punish him,’ I said.

‘Shut up. I’m the one who’s being punished. And what’s more he knows it. He wants me to be like this. They’re all so … perverse.’

‘What?’

‘Perverse. It’s a word. You don’t know it. Why not go and find someone to play with.’

‘There isn’t anyone.’

‘Of course there is. Why must you be so difficult, Ralphie? Can’t you see I’m upset. Go and play ping-pong, for heaven’s sake. Find that girl, what’s-her-name. Only leave me in peace, can’t you. Moping around, in here. Fidgeting. And for Christ’s sake stop that tapping.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Of course you are.’

Finlay and a knot of other children were in the dance space. They had colonised the ping-pong table for some other game. But it was nothing much. ‘You go there and I’ll go here. No, not there. There! I’m not playing, then.’ ‘Can’t we play Dragnet?’ ‘That’s old hat. Anyway, it’s too hot.’ Apparently there was no consensus without the Torboys children.

I pressed on past the looks, taking the stairs up to the observation lounge. Finlay’s parents were there with their son Mitchell, who seemed suddenly grown-up in long trousers. Russell and Clodagh sat at coffee in the recliner chairs; their legs were up on the padded stools. I stood behind them for a moment, looking out. A coastline was in view to starboard. I fancied I could quite discern the great fat leaves of palms, see huts on stilts and the native boatmen putting out in their praus to attack us with spears and krises, spitting betel until we would buy their sweet-sour pigs, gutta-percha, cloves and bird’s nests. But of course I could not. The coast was little more than a dark green line of jags that sloped down in a wedge to the steamy pond we were caught in.

On the foredeck the Leviathan seemed to speak very distinctly. It was horrible. We were heating up. I must find Robert. Feeling sick, I searched the length of the ship.

A group of ladies and gentlemen stood on the pool concourse behind the Verandah bar, where the cane tables were set out. One woman said to another that she thought Saturday would be best. ‘Otherwise before we know it we’ll be docking in Remade. It would make an example of him.’

‘You know, I shan’t mind when it’s over and done with. This is all so oppressive. Don’t you think so? I never imagined I’d say that, but actually, yes, I shall be quite glad. He has it coming. Then we can get back to normal. Pick up the pieces, if you know what I mean. My husband hasn’t been himself at all. He positively hates it.’

‘Excuse me. Have you seen Mr Kettle?’

‘Mr who?’

‘Mr Kettle.’

‘You know, Olive, the one who …’

‘Oh, him. No. Sorry. I expect he’s …’ They laughed.

A man in a blazer was smoking a cigar. ‘Mind where you’re going, young shaver. You’ll have yourself over the side if you’re not careful.’

I did another circuit of the ship, combed it from stem to stern and from top to bottom. But Robert was not to be found. In fact it was strangely empty – compared with the normal hustle and bustle. The heat. I stole past Penny’s cabin. The quartermaster and the steward who acted as his assistant in the entertainments were facing each other at the end of the corridor. There was some disagreement. The one had hold of the other’s wrist.

‘I saw you.’

‘You bloody didn’t.’

‘Quiet.’

‘You never told me. That’s what sticks in my throat.’

‘Quiet. Not long now, anyway. Not long now and it’ll all be over.’

‘What about the blood?’

‘There’ll be no blood.’ Their heads both turned in my direction, then the pair of them seemed to melt away around the end of the panelling. I checked they had gone and then went back to Penny’s door. There was no sound; but this time I dared not go in. Besides, if Barnwell and the captain were holding him somewhere it was hardly likely to be here. From another direction altogether came the plaintive call. Perhaps that was Robert crying and not the Leviathan at all. I tried to locate the sound more precisely, and to follow it. It led down and down – only to leave me pressed against the mahogany partition at the aft end of D deck, where, yes, it was a fraction louder. But my sweat made me clammy.

I ran back up the succession of stairs to the concourse.

‘I thought it was quite disgraceful. I’ve an idea to ask for our money back.’

‘The crew are in on it, of course. Regard it as their perks. Get a kick out of it. Have you seen the way that tall chap looks at one? You simply can’t be too careful.’

‘Human nature. To want to watch, I mean.’

‘Did you manage to get up the others? A rubber or two would help get us through, at least for the time being. Till the fun starts.’

‘I don’t think so, Roger. Can’t get the sullen beggars rounded up. Skulking.’

‘Bad show. We’d have thrashed ’em.’

‘Nonsense, old boy. They’d have murdered us. Positively.’

‘You’re a fool to yourself, dear. I never leave anything about in my cabin. Items walk.’

‘Oh, I know. You can’t trust any of them an inch. Damn good hiding would do the trick.’

‘Monica! Monica! Over here.’

‘Strike now, would be my advice.’

‘Lance the boil, I suppose you mean?’

‘Why not?’

‘While the iron, so to speak …’

‘I’ll have another, if you don’t mind.’

‘Wretched tub. Any news?’

‘All be ruined for the sake of a measly two bob.’

‘Ha’p’orth o’tar, and all that.’

‘Not actually dangerous, is it?’

‘No, no. Keeps them on their toes.’

So draining was the atmosphere that the voices became mere listless gasps, rising above each conversation as a vapour which immediately dispersed. The effect was dull, mesmeric.

‘Wotcher, cock.’ It was one of Barnwell’s aircrew, at his own table. ‘Have a drink.’

‘No, thank you. I’m looking for someone.’

‘Aw, go on. Don’t you know it’s rude to refuse.’

‘All right then. Just water, please.’

He snapped his fingers at a passing steward and added a Scotch for himself. Then he turned back to me. ‘You’re Johnny, int’ya?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Archibald? Monty? Arbuthnot?’

‘No.’

‘Claude. That’d be it?’

‘Ralph.’

‘Oh, you mean Rafe. You don’t talk much like a nob, though.’

‘Have you seen Mr Kettle?’

‘Mr who? Don’t know no one of that name. I could’ve sworn you were a Johnny, though.’ He laughed. ‘That woman gettin’ off at Singapore because her hubby was goin’ into rubber. I nearly died. Got a girlfriend, have you?’

‘No.’ The drinks arrived.

‘Take it neat, do ya?’ He swigged off his own glass in one.

‘What?’

‘All right this side of the wall, mate. Wouldn’t touch it back there, though.’ He gestured aft to the tourist class beyond the divide.

‘Pardon?’

‘Water. Wouldn’t touch it, mate. Not down there with the riff-raff.’ He laid his finger along the side of his nose. ‘Never know what’s got in it. Poor buggers. I tell you one thing, I’m bloody glad I never went swimming in their little pool. All right for some, eh?
It’s the rich what gets the pleasure.
Meantime I’m sticking to booze. Can’t be too careful, can you. You sure you ain’t got a girlfriend?’

‘Excuse me.’ I drank up and left.

For I had seen Robert, up on the boat deck. Leaning over. I was certain it was him, silhouetted against the bright patch in the sky. I stood back to see.

He spoke: ‘Be careful, all of you. Because I’ve managed to get into the hold. All of you! Look what’s going on! Why don’t you all listen? There’s a fault. The ship’s going to get hotter and hotter until it melts with us all in it. The rails are going to start to glow red in the intense heat, the planks of the deck beneath your feet are going to smoke and start to char black, even as you’re standing on them. The ship’s plates and the ventilator tubes and the funnel and everything. They will all start to glow red and no one will be able to bear it. The ship itself will start to melt from the top down, right to the water-line. And the sea turn molten red, like burning oil, like the sunset poured out upon the waters.’

But the sounds of his words were turned into whispers, and no one could hear him. Leastways, nobody listened. Except me. ‘Look!’ I said. ‘Wait!’ Then his figure disappeared and I supposed they had caught up with him again and taken him back to the bridge.

Mitchell came past me. ‘How you going, Pom?’

‘All right.’

‘All right, yourself.’

And it was
then
I went down to Finlay’s cabin and saw her parents on the bed like a crab.

There were announcements on the tannoy but I could hardly catch the words. The ship itself seemed to whisper. It was warning us. Something was not quite right. They had got Robert Kettle. And something down there was heating up. Was it the engine-room? The bearing? Might it be one of the circuits – an electrical fault? He had tried to warn them. But they would not listen. They refused to listen.

No, surely, I was deluding myself. It was nothing. Only the movement through the waves, the steelwork. The captain would know, if there was anything. If there was anything, anything at all, he would make it all right. That was his job. I must go up to the bridge then.

Unless the captain himself … Suddenly I heard the ship’s radio. ‘Let me out! Help! Let me out! Please! No!’ It was coming from the bridge itself. There was some amplifier connected to the Leviathan. Why was nobody taking any notice?

‘Listen!’ I shouted. ‘Why don’t you listen?’ But there was no one left I could trust. It was a paralysis, an awful, bright, mask-like sinking feeling, among the grins and grimaces – as though I were in the wrong ship at the wrong time.

Erica was sent for. She put me to bed. The ship’s doctor gave me a drink and made me take some tablets. But later, in the night, I could not sleep at all because I was listening for the punishment they were giving Robert Kettle, close by our cabin. ‘Seize him up to that grating will you, Jeremy.’ So near the passengers.

They were far gone. They did not care. They were past caring. Whether it would be the whistle and dull crash of the cat, until he screamed out. ‘No. Better shackle his hands behind him. Make him fast to that stanchion.’ The choking cough of the gag. ‘I’ve just the thing for Johnnies like him, gentlemen.’ Then the hustle as they swung him outboard followed by the faint splash into the sea, a rope around his ankle, to drag behind us in the wake where the hammerhead sharks who had been following us all the way were closing in, jaws agape. ‘No. Pull him up, now, Jeremy. I’ve a better idea …’

There came a point when I could bear it no longer. I stole down as we children had done to the pets, and I remembered how the ones I thought were my friends had humiliated me, and left me alone, and how I had found myself in the presence of that mightiest of sea creatures; and I remembered how to do what was instructed. I followed the procedure, and, for want of the more technical phrase, unscrewed the stopper of his bottle.