There was no time to wonder if the crew had leaped to safety, as almost as soon as we’d left the junk’s debris in our wake, the fort’s searchlights began dancing on the water.
‘Here we go…’ observed Lieutenant Strain, his profile grim as he raised his binoculars. ‘If they didn’t know then they must surely know now. If we’re for it, this is where we’re going to cop it.’
But then a curious thing happened. Though the searchlights repeatedly found us, not a single shore gun opened fire, not even when one of the lights caught us in its beam and rested on the ship for almost half a minute.
‘Well, I’ll be jiggered,’ said Hett, as the light slid away again.
‘What on earth’s going on?’ wondered Fearnley, who’d now joined us on the bridge.
‘Do you know what, men?’ Captain Kerans said, lowering his binoculars. ‘I think they’ve had enough. I think they’re actively letting us pass.’
‘Really, sir?’ asked Hett, voicing exactly my question. After the way they’d attacked before, it seemed hard to believe.
‘I do,’ he said, visibly beginning to relax now, as the lights of the fort began sliding back astern. ‘I wonder if perhaps they feel well rid of us, don’t you, Number One? Yes, I think that might be it. In fact, I’m sure I’m correct,’ he finished. ‘I suspect Mao Tse-tung is very glad to see the back of us.’
There was a sound from below. A familiar one, too. A distinct ‘woof!’. Peggy obviously agreed.
PART THREE
Chapter 19
We were united with the fleet – well, our friends on HMS Consort, who’d come steaming along to greet us – just as we cleared the river’s estuary. Now it really was time for congratulations and celebrations. We’d spent a full 101 days trapped up the Yangtse, and we were finally back on the open ocean.
As soon as we were free – and, oh, how glorious it was to be out on the open sea again! – Captain Kerans had Jack send a message. ‘Have rejoined the fleet south of Woosung. No damage or casualties. God save The King.’
And The King, to the delight of everyone on board, signalled back.
‘Please convey to the commanding officer and ship’s company of HMS Amethyst my hearty congratulations on their daring exploit to rejoin the fleet. The courage, skill and determination shown by all on board have my highest commendation. Splice the mainbrace.’
Needless to say, everyone did.
The next twenty-four hours passed in something of a blur. The Concord came alongside us and resupplied us with much-needed oil, and then, soon after dark, we were joined by another ship, the Jamaica, which was carrying all our mail – this had the men almost beside themselves with excitement. There was also a band, who were out on deck and playing for us, as she steamed all around us, a tune Frank said was called ‘Rolling down the River’.
‘Not that we had much chance to do any rolling!’ he pointed out to Petty Officer Griffiths as we watched them from the quarterdeck. ‘Rolling? No ruddy time for any of that!’
There was no time for anything much at all now, as in a little over two days we’d be in docked in Hong Kong, the ordeal finally over, where we’d been warned that there was ‘one hell of a reception’ waiting for us, as the captain put it.
I wasn’t sure what ‘one hell of a reception’ might feel like, but with the mood on board so buoyant, I was as swept up in the atmosphere as everyone else was. Had I a tail like Peggy’s, I would have wagged it. As it was, I hadn’t – my own tail ‘wagged’ for rather different reasons – but I don’t think I’d spent so much time purring in months.
‘You know, young fellow,’ Captain Kerans said, as we steamed towards home, ‘you’re still so very young, but I reckon you’ve lived more lives than many cats do in their entire lifetimes!’
I thought I probably had, too.
And then, before I knew it, we were home. Gazing out towards the hills that rose steeply in the distance, I felt almost as if we’d never been away.
It was good to see Hong Kong again. Good to see the sheer, happy bustle of it. Good to see the sampans bobbing in the bay, their brightly coloured sails like the wings of so many butterflies, all of which had chosen this perfect shimmering bay on which to settle.
Approaching the docks, I was also pleased – if a little overwhelmed – to see the thousands of people who had come out to welcome us back.
In truth, I found it difficult to believe what I was seeing. Despite there having been many signals back and forth to prepare us for the escort we’d be receiving – and for the throng that would likely be greeting us – the sight of all the sailors lining the decks of the escort convoy was quite astonishing. Even more astonishing was the sheer volume of the cheers and whoops and whistles that kept ringing out, again and again, across the bay.
Peggy, true to form, was like an animal possessed. Had it not been so firmly attached to the rest of her, her tail would have been in danger of becoming detached. As it was, she was kept from getting too over-excited by a makeshift leash tied around her neck, which seemed to be fashioned from a length of sailmaker’s twine. At least it kept her from leaping bodily into the water at the dockside, which had been suggested several times as a strong possibility. It also silenced her to an extent, because she couldn’t seem to understand that if she strained too hard against it, it prevented her from barking, so she kept trying to do both at once.
Watching her doing this, I was very glad no one considered me enough of a nuisance to put such a contraption round my neck. Though, once I thought about it, if they had got such an idea into their heads, I’d have probably ‘skedaddled’, just like George used to, before they even tried.
I felt very much like skedaddling, in any case, if I was honest, because the closer we got to our berth at the dockside the more the press of people began to alarm me. So much shouting, so much waving, such a huge number of people, adding an extra layer of anxiety to that which was already welling, at the fire crackers and hooters that kept going off and making me jump.
Not that I would be given much chance to escape, because while the ship was being oiled, resupplied and fixed up as much as was necessary, there was a certain naval function Peggy and I had been told we must attend.
‘You are the hero of the hour!’ Captain Kerans announced a few days after we’d docked. ‘You and Peggy both, but particularly you, it seems, Simon. And guess what. You are not only going to be awarded an Amethyst Campaign Medal, you are going to get another medal too!’
He was sitting in his cabin, with Lieutenant Hett and Lieutenant Berger. Berger had rejoined the ship after our escape, having recovered from the wounds he’d suffered back in April.
The captain was half hidden under mountains of paperwork. It had been the same since we’d docked. All sorts of paperwork had been delivered, to replace all the charts and documents Lieutenant Weston had had to burn, I supposed, as well as all sorts of official-looking files.
He flapped a piece of paper he held in one hand, and patted his knee with the other. I didn’t need to jump, though, because Lieutenant Hett scooped me up and plonked me on the captain’s lap.
‘Now then, see this?’ he told me. ‘This is a letter of confirmation that you are to be officially awarded the Dickin Medal, which is a decoration awarded to only the bravest and most courageous animals, who have helped their human friends in times of war. And there’s more – you are the very first cat ever to be awarded one. How about that? How about that?’ he repeated to the other men. ‘I had no idea about that, did you?’ Both shook their heads. ‘Pigeons, dogs, horses, but never a cat. Quite something, eh?’ He turned back to me, his eyes bright. He seemed amused by it all. ‘And now a cat has been awarded one. You, Simon.’ He looked pretty pleased with himself, I decided. ‘You are going to be decorated twice! At the Royal Navy Fleet Club, tomorrow night, as it happens.’