Black August

With the idea of warming up his Greyshirts, Silas set a quicker stroke, but soon found it necessary to ease down and teach his squad to regularise their swing from Kenyon's example. Time wore on, and as the sun rose higher in the heavens the greyness lightened, but no rift on any side in the all pervading murk.

Kenyon was recalled from his half dreaming state by Silas placing a large hand, on his shoulder, and saying amiably: 'What about it? Your turn now, I reckon.' Another hour or more passed.

He shivered, the damp chill of the mist seemed to have penetrated to the very marrow of his bones, then he pulled himself together and gently resettling Ann, who was now sleeping soundly, took the oar. The crews were already changing places and soon his party had settled down again into a long monotonous stroke. Almost unconsciously he noticed that his men were rowing better for their short training, then the thought of food came to him, but it was too late to think of that for the moment now. He could not leave his oar, and Silas was already curled up in the stern sheets next to Petty Officer Sims, his broad chest rising and falling in the long respirations of deep and healthy sleep.

Rudd sat huddled at the tiller again, his blue eyes alert and watchful. He grinned at Kenyon, showing his uneven teeth. 'Tike yer 'oliday on the Broads this summer, eh, sir. Travel by Moonshine Line kids under six travels free an' if yer got a dozen yer get a cokernut.'

Kenyon's lips parted in a quick smile. 'I only wish we were on the Broads. Ever been there?'

'No, sir, but me uncle's brother in law were drowned there, so I knows a bit abart it.'

'How was that?'

'Well, 'e were a red 'eaded man, sir an' beggin' yer pardon, with no reference to yerself 'e were apt to fly off the 'andle a bit quick if yer know what I mean.'

'Yes,' Kenyon agreed, slightly mystified.

'An' 'e 'ad an upsydisy wiv a lock keeper wot wouldn't let 'im through 'is lock.'

'Why did he refuse to pay?'

'No it weren't that, but George were a bit of a Socialist, more fool 'im tho' we shouldn't speak ill of the dead, an' 'e couldn't see why 'e should wait fer a private yacht ter come through from the other side that's wot started the argument. Then the lock keeper starts gettin' personal abart 'is missus my uncle's sister as was an', they bein' on their 'oneymoon thet properly riled poor old George, so 'e ups in the boat to give the lock keeper a piece of 'is mind when unfortunate like 'e steps on the end of 'is oar.'

Kenyon quickly suppressed a rising chuckle and looked appropriately grave.

'An' the oar come up like a jack in the box an' 'it poor old George on the 'ead.'

'Dear me!'

'Yuss knocked 'im arse over tip, if you'll pardon the words, an' 'e never come to the surface no more.'

'That was appalling luck, especially on his honeymoon.'

'Yuss,' agreed Rudd philosophically, 'but me uncle's sister 'ad twins all the same.'

'Did she get the King's bounty?'

'No fear, sir that's triplets.'

Kenyon swayed backwards and forwards at his oar while Mr. Rudd, having discovered in him a willing and intelligent listener, entertained him with a variety of those views which a close acquaintance with men and things had impressed upon him.

At none o'clock Kenyon woke Silas, who opened his enormous mouth in a gigantic series of yawns and then demanded a cigarette before he took over, his own supply being exhausted.

'Cigarette, sir,' exclaimed Rudd, 'why, 'ere you are, I got enough to larst us even if we goes ter China,' and he produced a tin of a hundred from one of his bulging pockets.

'Thanks, boy were did you get these?' Silas puffed at the Balkan Sobranie contentedly.

'I made 'em out of the Officers Mess in the ship, sir; 'tisn't right them Bolsheviks should be left wiv decent cigarettes although I prefers gaspers meself. Still, I thought they might come in handy. Mr. Gregory's a rare one for 'is Turks.'

'What about some food?' suggested Kenyon when he had been relieved of his Oar.

'Righto, sir. If Mr. Sims'll take charge of the Mayflower, I'll 'ave a look at the eats.'

Sims took over the tiller again but he leant forward towards Kenyon. 'I'm afraid we're a long way off course, sir.'

'Are we? Well, that's not surprising in this wretched fog.'

'You see it's this way, sir,' the Petty Officer lowered his voice. 'The Sunk isn't more'n twelve miles from the shore and so we ought to have sighted land a couple of hours ago if we was makin' dead for it, and even if we was swept out of our course a bit by the current, we ought to have made landfall by now.'.

'Well, what s the best thing to do?' inquired Kenyon.

'Give the men a spell, sir, they can do with it, and we may be rowing further out to sea for all we know. We can keep a sharp look out for shipping an' the sun may break through later in the day.'

'That's sense,' agreed Silas. 'Come on, boys, ship your oars.'

Rudd had pulled an oblong box from under the seat and was examining its contents critically, 'My! this ain't the larder of the Aquitania,' he said softly. "Where's that ruddy Bob-Bob where are yer?'

'Here I am, sergeant.'

'What d'yer do wiv them stores I give yer ter take care of?'

I left them on the ship, Mr. Rudd. I put them down when the lady was bandaging my arm, and I forgot to pick them up again.'

'Streuth,' muttered Rudd to Kenyon. 'These kids don't arf make yer sick. Anyone ud think 'ed lorst 'is blooming 'ow d'yer does instead of 'aving a blighty in the arm. Any'ow we'll 'ave to make do wiv what they give us.'

'What is there then?'

'Biscuits, a lump of meat, some tea wiv nothin' ter cook it on, an' a bit of cheese.'

'All right, the biscuits and cheese will do for the moment.'

They were hard, unsweetened ship's biscuits and the cheese was mouse trap cheddar. Not a particularly appetising breakfast for people whose nerves had been stretched to the utmost limit of endurance all through the night, and who had then spent some five hours crouching in an open boat chilled to the marrow by sea mist; but the men put a good face on it and gnawed away at the broken bits of flour and water.

' 'Ow abart a nice cup of corfie, sarg?' one of them called cheerfully to Rudd.

' 'Ow abart it, son! Like me ter bring it up to yer bedroom, eh?'

A little ripple of laughter went round the boat.

Kenyon looked across at Veronica, who was cheerfully attacking the iron biscuits with her sharp white teeth. 'How are you feeling this morning, long legs?'

'Grim, my sweet, grim! But I suppose this early rising is good for one, it's the first time I have eaten any breakfast for years.'

He nodded and turned his attention to Ann. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and her face looked pale and drawn, but she caught his glance and smiled.

'Well, I've always hated getting up in the morning but I'd rather be here than on that beastly ship. Hello, Gregory's awake!' she added as she caught his quick eye examining their faces from the bottom of the boat.

'Have been for some time,' he murmured.

'How is the leg?' she asked, bending over him.

'Aching like hell, but my head's better and that's what matters. Where's Rudd?'

' 'Ere we are, sir.'

'Right. Give me a hand up on to the seat.'

With Kenyon's help he was lifted up and made comfortable by the tiller.

While they were finishing their meagre breakfast they discussed the situation, and then for a time sank into silence, each one privately considering the unpleasant possibilities which might arise. They were adrift in the North Sea, perhaps many miles from shore. If the mist failed to lift all day and night came on before they could sight land, winds and tides which they had no means of assessing might carry them a hundred miles from their assumed position off the Suffolk coast, and then it might be days before they were picked up. Their supplies were extremely limited and another night at sea without proper food or warmth was a thing to dread. The fog showed no signs of dispersing. It clung and pressed about them, muffling even the sounds of their voices as it hemmed them in.