Andrew Williams - The Interrogator

‘Half an hour later I was visiting the quarterdeck watch when a torpedo hit us on the starboard side. I was thrown to the deck and something must have hit me because the doctors found a jagged cut on my back…’

‘The scar,’ said Mary. She was still holding his hand and she gave it an affectionate squeeze.

‘Then a terrible grinding noise and — well — it was terrifying. The whole bloody forepart of the ship was listing to starboard, toppling into the sea. Just seconds, that’s all, it happened in seconds, no time for anyone to escape. And there it was drifting away from us on its side — the wind shrieking around it and…’

‘Darling, please, you’re hurting me,’ said Mary.

‘I’m sorry.’

He let go of her hand, took a slow deep breath then reached for his cigarettes, but he did not light one, he just held the packet.

‘Most of the crew was in that part of the ship, almost two hundred men. There was nothing we could do, nothing. Cave, Parker, all of them lost. No survivors. I didn’t see the forepart sink, we were fighting to keep what was left afloat.

‘What were you thinking?’

‘I tried to be busy and to keep the others busy. I don’t think I thought, “I’m going to die”, not while the wreck was afloat. But it was obvious that the boiler-room bulkhead was beginning to buckle and that we wouldn’t last until the morning. I remember holding on to the edge of a Carley raft, and I remember the deep cold and others close by — we were between the hulk and the corvette, Rosemary .’

Lindsay paused, then said: ‘I’m not entirely sure what happened next…’

He took out a crushed-looking cigarette and tapped it on the back of the packet. Then he lit it and by the lighter flame Mary could see that his hand was trembling, although his face was composed and quite calm.

‘There are only impressions, snippets of memory. There may have been an explosion inside the wreck that detonated some of our depth charges. There was fire on the water and I tried to swim away but couldn’t and it caught my sleeve, it was sticky, and I held it under. And I remember panicking because I couldn’t see the corvette through the smoke. For a moment I couldn’t see anything, anyone, and then as the smoke drifted I saw a man close by, and I tried to reach him. I’m not a strong swimmer but I tried to hold his head up. And at that time I knew I was going to die in that smoke and fire. And then the next thing I remember is someone pulling at me. One of the R osemary’ s officers told me later that I was as black as a Negro when they fished me out. I was clinging to another member of the crew — Baker — but he died almost as soon as he reached the deck. In the end they pulled fifteen of us from the sea alive and of those, three died aboard the Rosemary .’

Lindsay leant over to the bedside table to put his cigarette out and then turned and shuffled down the bed until he was lying under the sheet again. Mary touched his chest. It was cold and she moved closer to share the warmth of her body. His eyes were closed. She bent forward to kiss him tenderly.

‘Darling,’ she whispered. And she stroked his cheek.

‘I’m sorry. You didn’t need to know all that.’

‘Don’t be sorry, I’m glad you told me.’

He smiled wearily: ‘Do you understand?’

‘Understand?’

‘You’ve seen the official report. For once there wasn’t a Board of Inquiry. I gave my version but the Admiralty wasn’t interested. One senior officer said to me, “Unlucky name Culloden , you know”, as if that explained everything. Ironic don’t you think? For a time we were the lucky ship. Fleming told me there was some private criticism of Cave but the Admiralty buried it, saved his posthumous reputation. So there are just those few meaningless lines in the report. In my judgement he was responsible, not just for the sinking of his own ship but for most of those we lost from the convoy — fifteen in all. Sheer bloody incompetence. And the other officer who was to blame, well he was decorated.’

‘Douglas, no.’

‘I share responsibility, of course I do,’ he said in a flat voice. ‘Remember the look Parker gave me on the bridge, pleading with me, “Say something, Number One, the ship’s in danger.” And I shook my head, too frightened to speak my mind. I know I am to blame.

‘The Admiralty wanted to hand out medals and it wanted photographs and newspaper copy, something to deflect public attention from the losses, and I was one of the chosen. Someone decided I’d shown the necessary presence of mind on the wreck — enough to justify a Distinguished Service Cross. And to my eternal shame I accepted it. Here…’

Lindsay opened the drawer of the bedside table. The decoration seemed to draw the thin light from the window, swinging silver at the bottom of its ribbon.

‘A silver cross.’

He put it back on the bedside table.

‘Some time after the sinking, I was asked to identify the body of a sailor washed up on a beach in Ireland, naked, torn, four weeks in the water. And I recognised the man, at least, I recognised his red hair. Short, good-humoured George Hyde, married with a daughter. And I cried for him.’

Lindsay’s voice cracked with emotion but when Mary tried to kiss him, he stopped her, taking her face in his hands.

‘No sympathy. I’ve told you all this so you know. I have a duty to Parker and the others to speak my mind. I don’t just follow orders any more.’

Mary leant forward again and this time he did not stop her. She kissed him long and tenderly and stroked his hair, pressing herself tightly against him. She felt so sorry for him, she wanted to say, ‘Don’t blame yourself, what could you do?’, but she knew it would sound trite. What could she say? His judgement was clouded by mad destructive guilt. It was the root of his troubles, Mohr, the codes, as if he needed to expiate what had happened to the Culloden . She knew she should end this nonsense. It was just that she had given her word to people she respected, people who trusted her and, yes, she would be breaking orders — breaking the law.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘You said you’d found out more about our codes?’

Lindsay looked at her closely: ‘Do you really want to know?’

He told her of his conversation with Samuels and the note he had been given on British codes: ‘Our codes have been broken before. It played a major part last summer when we lost so many ships…’

There was an almost indecent note of satisfaction in his voice.

‘Who is this friend of Samuel’s?’

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘He should know better.’

Lindsay pulled away from her a little: ‘We’re on the same side, remember? Perhaps Charlie’s friend felt we were on to something.’

‘Does Samuels think so?’ she snapped.

‘No. But if they’ve been broken once…’

‘Leave this, Douglas. You’re wrong. Believe me.’

‘…they may very well have broken them again.’

‘Didn’t you hear me? You’re wrong. I know you’re wrong.’

He was staring at her, trying to gauge her expression, collecting his own thoughts. She wondered if he was angry. But when he spoke his voice was quite calm.

‘What do you know?’

Mary took a long deep breath. This was a betrayal, no matter the reason, the person.

‘I know our codes are secure. Naval Cipher One was changed after Norway and the Germans haven’t broken Cipher Two,’ she said quietly.

‘You know?’

‘Yes. I know.’

Lindsay lay there in silence for a moment, then rolled away from Mary and off the bed. She watched him walk across the room and take his dressing gown from the hook on the door.