CHAPTER FOUR
Day nineteen. No water for three days, no food for four.
The seagull sat on the end of the boat. It looked around and then let out a loud squawk. Connelly crept forward another inch, in his hands a rough lasso spliced together from the boat’s line. He took a breath and knew that the others watching him had taken the same breath and held it tight in their lungs just as he did. He tossed the rope noose for the bird’s neck and missed. He watched as the gull hopped a few inches further along the edge of the boat. The bird turned and regarded him with a cold glance, its wings twitched as though it were about to take flight.
The gunshot shattered the silence and took off the gull’s head. The body continued to walk for a moment and then keeled over into the boat.
Connelly threw a look back to see Snell aiming his Webley along the boat.
‘We couldn’t lose another one. We just couldn’t.’
Busby dragged himself up and retrieved the bird. He lifted it high and let the blood from its ruined neck drip onto his tongue. He passed the carcass across to Snell.
‘I’m not going drink that thing’s blood.’
‘Yes, you are, sir. Because if you don’t you will die. Get a few drops down your neck and then let the ladies have some. We all drink the blood and then we roast what’s left – we have to.’
Snell tucked the pistol back into the pocket of his trousers and took the proffered bird, squeezing its body slightly so that the blood flowed again from the ruined neck and into his mouth. He swallowed it down and then the bird was passed around.
Everyone’s faces and exposed flesh had been beaten by the sun, their lips were split and cut, hair as dry as grass in an area of drought. They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of boat nor land. It was as though the great expanse of ocean around them was their entire galaxy and the jolly boat their Earth, their terra firma, within it.
Collins had stopped moaning. He lay and shivered on the deck. Connelly looked him over and then took Amelia to one side.
‘How is he still alive?’
‘He’s strong. We’ve given him water when we have it, tried to make him eat. But, you’re right. By everything I know he should have died a week back, I’m not sure what he’s holding on for.’
Connelly shrugged.
‘What do any of us hold on for?’
‘Nothing waiting for you back in port, sailor?’
‘My problem is I always want to see the next port.’
‘Nowhere to call home?’
‘Maybe once but now my home is whatever ship I’m on for however long I’m on it. Doss houses when I don’t have a ship.’
‘And how long have you lived like that?’
‘Ten years now, give or take.’
‘I can’t imagine living like that.’
‘You like your farm?’
Amelia nodded.
‘It’s a good place.’
‘I’ve seen good places, bad too. Mostly I just like to keep moving.’
‘A woman?’
‘Don’t all good stories start with one?’
‘And he doesn’t just call you Professor because you read?’
‘No. I managed a year of University.’
‘What made you leave?’
‘A woman, and then just because I didn’t want to go back. I like the places I see – good and bad. Maybe one day I’ll stop moving but for now…’
‘And the woman?’
Connelly gave her a rueful smile.
‘Who knows. Married most likely with a score of kids and a little house. It doesn’t matter anymore, maybe it never did.’
Amelia smiled and looked away.
‘Not something that would interest you then?’
‘The house and kids? Perhaps, in a purely academic way of course.’
‘Well, of course, Professor.’
‘It doesn’t sound so bad when you say it.’
‘Fog bank rolling in!’ shouted Putner breaking into their conversation.
They turned to look and they could see it off across the water; thick, grey, impenetrable. The bank of fog moved closer and then the boat cut into it. Once inside they couldn’t see more than half a yard from the boat.
‘Keep the hooks ready,’ said Connelly, and Hamilton along with Putner grabbed up the boat hooks while Busby kept the tiller pointed dead ahead. Snell moved to the front of the boat and leant forward trying to gain a few extra yards of vision.
Collins’ foot suddenly began to trip hammer against the deck. Connelly spun to check the source of the noise and Amelia moved to the side of the burnt mariner. He sat up and his eyes opened, his mouth gasping at the air like a fish out of water.
‘Death, we sail with death now. Oh, the blood – blood is the engine, blood is the power, blood is the way!’
‘Shut up!’ shouted Putner.
‘Dead, all dead, we’re all dead already. You haven’t seen. My God, the things I can see. Better off dead – you’re all better off dead!’
Putner turned with the boat hook grasped tightly in his hands.
‘Someone shut him up, or I will.’
Connelly grabbed the younger man’s shoulder.
‘Your job is to keep an eye for anything that might damage the boat. Let Miss Starling deal with Collins. He’s just hurting, that’s all.’
‘There’s something out there,’ shouted Snell.
Hamilton peered out into the fog where Snell pointed.
‘He’s right – looks like a ship.’
‘Ours?’ asked Warner and Lily pushed herself to the front of the boat next to Snell.
‘Can’t see much of it.’
‘Shit, it’s better than any more time in this tub,’ said Busby. ‘Take to the bloody oars and get us closer.’
They broke out the six oars and put them at the ready. Hamilton, Connelly, Putner, and Warner took to the oars while Snell remained aft calling out which way to go. Amelia tried to calm Collins who had laid back down on the decking while Lily stayed at Snell’s side.
‘Heave to, heave to!’ shouted Snell as the brow of the boat almost brushed the side of the ship.
Connelly looked up at the vessel, it looked like an old cargo vessel – a refrigerator ship perhaps or one used for running rubber. It also looked as though the ship had seen better days besmirched as it was by dirt and peeling paint. As the jolly boat slid along the side they could make out the name, obscured as it was by grime and filth, the Shinjuku Maru.
‘It’s a bloody Nip tub!’ shouted Busby. ‘Snell, you get that bloody pistol out and keep it ready.’
The young officer fumbled the Webley out from his pocket and pointed it up at the ship – the sight of one man with a revolver pointing it at a large ship would have been comical if it were not for the fear on the faces of the rest of the boat’s company.
The ship had once been white but now it was stained here and there with rust, apart from that it was filthy as though it had ridden through a dozen storms and had no seamen to give her a good scrub after. Dirt and silt streaked the sides. The decks were quiet and not a soul stirred.
‘Do we push off or remain alongside, sir?’ asked Hamilton.
Snell looked back at Busby and then swallowed.
‘Keep us alongside. We go aboard. If there are Japanese, then we surrender.’
‘Not me,’ said Busby.
‘Nor me,’ muttered Connelly. ‘And taking the women on board, think about it, sir…’
Snell turned and stared at the men, pistol in his hand pointing at the deck.
‘Or what? Take them back out into the ocean and hope we catch another gull? Get us alongside and throw the lines – that’s an order.’
The deck above remained quiet.
‘Should have seen someone by now.’
Connelly nodded to Hamilton.
‘You’re right. What do you think Busby?’