Nevil Shute - On The Beach

He came back to the captain’s tiny cabin in the end. Commander Towers rang for the coloured steward, ordered coffee for two, and let down the folding seat for Peter. "Have a good look at the engines?" he asked.

The Australian nodded. "I’m not an engineer," he said. "Much of it is just a bit over my head, but it was very interesting. Do they give you much trouble?"

The captain shook his head. "They never have so far. There’s nothing much that you can do with them at sea if they do. Just keep your fingers crossed and hope they’ll keep on spinning around."

The coffee came and they sipped it in silence. "My orders are to report to you on Tuesday," Peter said. "What time would you like me here, sir?"

"We sail on Tuesday on sea trials," the captain said. "It might be Wednesday, but I don’t think we’ll be so late as that. We’re taking on stores Monday and the crew come aboard."

"I’d better report to you on Monday, then," said the Australian. "Some time in the forenoon?"

"That might be a good thing," said the captain. "I think we’ll get away by Tuesday noon. I told the admiral I’d like to take a little cruise in Bass Strait as a shakedown, and come back maybe on Friday and report operational readiness. I’d say if you’re on board any time Monday forenoon that would be okay."

"Is there anything that I can do for you in the meantime? I’d come aboard on Saturday if I could help at all."

"I appreciate that, Commander, but there’s not a thing. Half the crew are off on leave right now, and I’m letting the other half go off on week-end pass tomorrow noon. There’ll be nobody here Saturday and Sunday barring one officer and six men on watch. No, Monday forenoon will be time enough for you."

He glanced at Peter. "Anybody tell you what they want us to do?"

The Australian was surprised. "Haven’t they told you, sir?"

The American laughed. "Not a thing. I’d say the last person to bear the sailing orders is the captain."

"The Second Naval Member sent for me about this posting," Peter said. "He told me that you were making a cruise to Cairns, Port Moresby, and Darwin, and that it was going to take eleven days."

"Your Captain Nixon in the Operations Division, he asked me how long that would take," the captain remarked. "I haven’t had it as an order yet."

"The admiral said, this morning, that after that was over there’d be a much longer cruise, that would take about two months."

Commander Towers paused, motionless, his cup suspended in mid-air. "That’s news to me," he remarked. "Did he say where we were going?"

Peter shook his head. "He just said it would take about two months."

There was a short silence. Then the American roused himself and smiled. "I guess if you look in around midnight you’ll find me drawing radiuses on the chart," he said quietly. "And tomorrow night, and the night after that."

It seemed better to the Australian to turn the conversation to a lighter tone, "Aren’t you going away for the week-end?" he asked.

The captain shook his head. I’ll stick around. Maybe go up to the city one day and take in a movie."

It seemed a dreary sort of programme for his weekend, a stranger far from home in a strange land. On the impulse Peter said, "Would you care to come down to Falmouth for a couple of nights, sir? We’ve got a spare bedroom. We’ve been spending most of our time at the sailing club this weather, swimming and sailing. My wife would like it if you could come."

"That’s mighty nice of you," the captain said thoughtfully. He took another drink of coffee while he considered the proposal. Northern Hemisphere people seldom mixed well, now, with people of the Southern Hemisphere. Too much lay between them, too great a difference of experience. The intolerable sympathy made a barrier. He knew that very well, and more, he knew that this Australian officer must know it in spite of his invitation. In the line of duty, however, he felt that he would like to know more about the liaison officer. If he had to communicate through him with the Australian naval command he would like to know what sort of man he was; that was a point in favour of this visit to his home. The change would certainly be some relief from the vile inactivity that had tormented him in the last months; however great the awkwardness, it might be better than a week-end in the echoing, empty aircraft carrier with only his own thoughts and memories for company.

He smiled faintly as he put his cup down. It might be awkward if he went down there, but it could be even more awkward if he churlishly refused an invitation kindly meant from his new officer. "You sure it wouldn’t be too much for your wife ?" he asked. "With a young baby?"

Peter shook his head. "She’d like it," he said. "Make a bit of a change for her. She doesn’t see many new faces, with things as they are. Of course, the baby makes a tie* as well."

"I certainly would like to come down for one night," the American said. "I’ll have to stick around here tomorrow, but I could use a swim on Saturday. It’s a long time since I had a swim. How would it be if I came down to Falmouth on the train Saturday morning? I’ll have to be back here on Sunday."

"I’ll meet you at the station." They discussed trains for a little. Then Peter asked, "Can you ride a push bike?" The other nodded "I’ll bring another bike down with me to the station. We live about two miles out."

Commander Towers said, "That’ll be fine." The red Oldsmobile was fading to a dream. It was only fifteen months since he had driven it to the airport, but now he could hardly remember what the instrument panel looked like or on which side the scat adjustment lever lay. It must be still in the garage of his Connecticut home, untouched perhaps, with all the other things that he had schooled himself not to think about. One had to live in the new world and do one’s best, forgetting about the old; now it was push bikes at the railway station in Australia.

Peter left to catch the ferry truck back to the Navy Department; he picked up his letter of appointment and his wheels, and took the tram to the station. He got back to Falmouth at about six o’clock, hung the wheels awkwardly on the handlebars of his bicycle, took off his jacket, and trudged the pedals heavily up the hill to his home. He got there half an hour later sweating profusely in the heat of the evening, to find Mary cool in a summer frock in the refreshing murmur of a sprinkler on the lawn.

She came to meet him. "Oh Peter, you’re so hot!" she said. "I see you got the wheels."

He nodded. "Sorry I couldn’t get down to the beach."

"I guessed you’d been held up. We came home about half-past five. What happened about the appointment?"

"It’s a long story," he said. He parked the bicycle and the wheels on the verandah. "I’d like to have a shower first, and tell you then,"

"Good or bad?" she asked.

"Good," he replied.

"Seagoing until April. Nothing after that."

"Oh Peter," she cried, "that’s just perfect! Go on and have your shower and tell me about it when you’re cool. I’ll bring out the deck chain and there’s a bottle of beer in the frig."

A quarter of an hour later, cool in an open-necked shirt and light drill trousers, sitting in the shade with the cold beer, he told her all about it. In the end he asked, "Have you ever met Commander Towers?"

She shook her head. "Jane Freeman met them all at the party in Sydney. She said he was rather nice. What’s he going to be like to serve under?"

"All right, I think," he replied. "He’s very competent. It’s going to be a bit strange at first, in an American ship. But I liked them all, I must say." He laughed. "I put up a blue right away by ordering a pink gin." He told her.

She nodded. "That’s what Jane said. They drink on shore but not in a ship. I don’t believe they drink in rink-form at all. They had some kind of a fruit cocktail, rather dismal. Everybody else was drinking like a fish."