Lynne Barrett-Lee - Able Seacat Simon

But it was that same store of dry goods – flour and cereals and rice, and so on – that the rats were most intent on stealing from under us, and what they didn’t steal, they spoiled, rendering it useless. Because there was also the health risk, which was not something I knew much about, admittedly, but the new doctor was clear on the dire threat they posed.

Rats spread disease and the rat population was growing. I had never been more needed and my injuries seemed as nothing in the face of it.

Peggy was in the sick bay, on a bunk, sitting squarely on someone’s chest. Which was an arresting enough sight in itself. She barked when she saw me (being entirely without any sort of hunting instinct, she could scatter prey in an instant) and the sailor turned around and grinned at me.

I didn’t know him well – he was one of the young lads that had only joined the Amethyst recently – but the smoothness of his skin under the sweat and grime was telling.

There was a bucket beside the bunk and as he had no visible injuries, I suspected he must have gone down with an infection of some kind – one of those ‘health risks’ our new doctor kept muttering about to the captain, while exhorting the men to wash and clean and scrub.

‘It’s the hero of the hour!’ he said. His face was greyish. Gaunt and angular. ‘Come here, little man,’ he coaxed, ‘come and have a cuddle with me and Peg, eh?’ He hung an arm down at the side of the bunk to coax me, while Peggy licked his face.

I duly trotted across, noticing as I did so how strange the sick bay smelled now. It was a new smell; sharply acid, and oddly sweet, too, and as I inhaled it I remembered something I’d previously forgotten – the frantic panic, the screaming, the desperate cries of ‘Get him in! Get him in!’. It was only a wisp of memory, a snatch of something I’d prefer to bury, but the scene, even though I couldn’t quite see it, became clearer. This same sick bay, not so long ago, would have been full of horribly wounded sailors, with our doctor – I’d now learned he’d been slain, along with his assistant, Thomas – dashing around desperately, trying to do what he could for his men, slipping and sliding on the pools of spilled blood…

Wash, clean and scrub , I thought. Wash, clean and scrub . Once the surviving wounded were taken away and driven to hospital, the sick bay – scene of so much carnage – must have been one of the first priorities. No such care and attention for my mother, whose body had no choice but to stay where it had been flung. I’d had to find a new route across the island from that day.

Today, the sick bay was clean, neat and bright, and almost empty. Bar this one young sailor, and a rating in bed in the far corner, who was snoring, the only other patients were ghosts.

I nudged my head into the sailor’s hand, feeling sadness pressing down on me, and though I braced for the pain as he brushed my still scabby ear, none came. His touch was as light as a cloud.

I managed to jump up onto the bunk, which was happily low, feeling extremely thankful for the growing strength in my back legs. And as I padded up the blanket, Peggy woofed, just a low, gentle snicker. And then stuck her great black wet nose into my face.

‘Look at you two,’ the young sailor said, in his high but rasping voice. ‘Who’d have thought a cat and dog would ever get on like you do?’ Who indeed? I thought, as Peggy hopped down and trotted off to make room for me. ‘Here you go, then,’ said the sailor. ‘Have the warm spot, why don’t you?’

I settled down in the space Peggy had just vacated, and kneaded my claws into the rough grey of the blanket. ‘Aren’t I the lucky one?’ the sailor said, a smile stretching his tired features. ‘I could get used to this, I could. I well could…’ And within what seemed like mere moments, his eyes had fluttered closed, and his breathing had become slow and regular. Every once in a while, the corners of his mouth would twitch a little. Happy dreams? I hoped so. To chase away the nightmares.

It was several days before I was to gain any real understanding of why we were still trapped halfway up the Yangtse. After the usual Sunday morning church service, the crew were told to gather on the lower mess deck, and once Captain Kerans had all the men assembled together, he explained that we were in the middle of what he called a ‘diplomatic deadlock’. The local garrison commander, who had authority over the shore batteries that had fired on us, was not prepared to let us go.

Peggy and I sat together on one of the gun decks, the watery sun like a blanket on our backs, watching the antics of a small group of plump brown and white birds, who were bobbing on the water a few yards from the Amethyst , poking through the surface with their pencil-like beaks.

I couldn’t help but contrast the scene with the starkness of the captain’s words. ‘If we attempt to move, we will be fired upon,’ he explained grimly. ‘Until such time as we are prepared to admit that the Amethyst fired first.’

There was a swell of angry protest at this outrage. He raised a hand to silence it. ‘Which I have, of course, emphatically denied. And shall continue to do so, as we are not in the business of colluding with such lies. Quite apart from anything else, it would be a gross betrayal of the men who have died here. But I’m afraid that leaves us in something of a bind, and I’m going to need you all to be strong. As of now, we are in reasonably good shape. Talks continue – agonisingly slowly, but they continue – and at the highest level, so I am at least hopeful that it won’t be too long before the communist leaders take heed of the truth – that there is a somewhat trigger-happy garrison commander at the root of this mess – and that we’ll be allowed to continue our journey to Nanking.

‘But, in truth, I cannot say how long things will take. So though we must hope for the best, we must also prepare for the worst. Keep occupied, do everything we can to make the Amethyst seaworthy, and be understanding about the difficulties and privations that may lie ahead. We are at least lucky that we have assistance from the nationalists and can get our hands on some fresh food, though with the communists taking control of both banks of the river now, in places, I don’t know how long that might continue. We must also preserve our oil, for obvious reasons, so frugality is going to be key. To that end, I’m going to review our use of it on a day-by-day basis. It may well be that at some point soon we’ll have to shut down the boilers at night. Which won’t be comfortable, especially with the temperatures rising as they are, but I know I can rely on you all to be stoical.’

The captain knew he could also rely on me doing my part. Since the first rat I’d given him, I’d caught another two, and though our paths hadn’t crossed much he’d spotted me the previous morning and to my delight had said, ‘Well, now – so this is our master rat-catcher! Very glad to make your acquaintance at last, young Simon. Keep up the good work!’ Then he’d smiled and strode off, hands clasped loosely behind his back, leaving me puffed up with pride.

He looked around at the crew now and, following his gaze, so did I. So many of the remaining crew were so young themselves, and it shook me. Not to mention Lieutenant Strain, the fleet’s electrical officer, who now looked every inch the weather-beaten sea dog, despite having only joined the Amethyst at Shanghai the night we’d sailed – a taxi ride to Nanking was all he’d been after. As it stood, he’d been lucky to survive.

‘As I say, men,’ Captain Kerans finished, ‘this is a difficult situation – and one not of any of our making. And all we can do is accept our place in it with fortitude, and trust that everything that can be done is being done to expedite our safe passage. In the meantime, I know Lieutenant Commander Skinner would have been extremely proud of you. As am I. You are a credit to His Majesty’s Navy.’