Dennis Wheatley - Black August

'We'll be drowned if we do.'

'Why, can't you swim? There will be boats I expect if we can get to them.'

'Yes, but we might so easily be trapped down here.'

'No.' Ann pointed at the after munition hand up hatch which still remained open in the deck above. 'We could climb out through there.'

The Pom-​Pom ceased fire. The machine guns were silent, and only the sound of intermittent rifle fire came to them as they stood together peering anxiously up at the hatch.

Suddenly they heard a voice bellowing harsh orders, the thudding of many feet as the mutineers streamed forward, and then the noise of the conflict drifted away to the other end of the ship.

They sat down again, this time at the table, staring at each other in strained, nervous silence, and wondering miserably what could have happened to their men.

Ann sniffed. 'Can you smell turning?'

Veronica wrinkled up her arched nose. 'Yes, 1 suppose they’ve set this filthy ship on fire, and now we'll all be burnt to death.'

'Unless we blow up. It's run with oil, I expect.'

A loud hammering sounded on the lobby door.

'Who's that'?' cried Veronica.

'Open this door,' boomed a voice.

'Who are you?'

'Never you mind. Open this door d'you hear?'

'It's the sailors,' whispered Ann. 'Oh, if only Kenyon hadn't left us.'

'We can't. Its locked on the outside,' lied Veronica sharply.

'Stand aside then,' roared the voice, 'or you'll get hurt.'

They drew away to the far end of the wardroom. There was a loud report, the lock was shattered by a pistol bullet and the door swung open. Crowder, the gigantic stoker, naked to the waist, his great hairy chest glistening with sweat and blood, shouldered his way into the roam.

Behind him came Private Brisket, a sly grin on his red flushed face, a steel helmet dangling from one hand, a rifle in the other. A mixed crowd of soldiers and sailors stood peering from the doorway.

'Get up on deck, boys, an' keep the party busy for'ard; we'll be with you in a minute.' Crowder flung the order over his shoulder and the crowd dispersed. Then he advanced on the two girls, eyeing them with a cold speculative look.

'Well,' asked Veronica evenly, 'what do you want?'

'Ter take a look at you an' see if there's any officers here.' Brisket leered at Ann, 'Well, big eyes wot's your name?'

'Croome,' she replied in a low voice.

'Croome, eh! Well, let s 'ave the other arf.'

'I don't think that concerns you.'

'Don't it, my gal. I'll teach you to keep a civil tongue in yer head before I'm done. I've 'ad me eye on you ever since we pulled you aht of that restaurant place in Jamaica Road.'

The colour had drained from Ann's face, but she kept her gaze fixed boldly upon the man's small hot eyes and stood silent, her back against the table.

'Tasty bit of goods, ain't she?' Brisket's remark was addressed to the big stoker, but his eyes never left Ann's neat figure. His mouth was working queerly.

'Hadn’t you better get back on deck?' Veronica suggested, seeking to create a diversion; 'we don't want any fighting in here, and there will be if the officers come down.'

Brisket turned a contemptuous eye on her. 'Speak when yer spoken to, Skinny Lizzie unless you want ter get my fist in yer ugly mug.'

'I'm the Bloke on this ship now,' Crowder added as he moved towards the door. 'Most of the officers is dead and the rest soon will be. Come on, Brisket.'

' 'Arf a mo' what's the 'urry.' The soldier put down his steel helmet on the table, and with a sudden movement reached out, his fingers closing on Ann's breast.

'Oh!' She gave a little cry of pain and jerking herself away knocked up his arm.

He stood there leering. 'Might 'ave a bit more on yer. I likes 'em plump meself but you'll do. D'yer know where ter find the Chief's cabin?'

Her eyes blazed at him but she did not reply.

'If yer don't I'll show yer. Might as well start as we mean to go on, eh? You'd best get along there an' tidy up; make it all nice and comfy fer yer new lord an' master, then wait till I got time to come an' attend ter yer.'

Ann swallowed hard. She was nearly choking with revulsion and loathing for this shallow skulled, red faced burly brute whose quick eyes were stripping her clothing from her body as he spoke. The knuckles of her hands stood out white and hard as she gripped the edge of the table behind her for support.

'Don't you go gettin' sullen now.' A threatening note crept into Brisket's voice. 'You'll find me easy enough ter live wiv if yer take it pleasant without no fuss, but wiv wimin oo s uppish I sez treat 'em rough, an' if yer starts puttin' on any of the la di da stuff, you'll get a darn good 'iding see?'

'Come on,' said Crowder impatiently, 'you'll have plenty o' time to amuse yourself when we've scuppered the rest of the bunch.'

'If you are the Captain, I appeal to you,' cried Veronica. 'For God's sake use your authority stop this man insulting Miss Croome and take him out of here.'

Crowder lurched back from the door and faced her; hands on hips, his enormous biceps standing out like cannon balls beneath his grimy skin.

'See here,' he said thickly, 'we're running this ship now, an' my right 'and man's entitled to 'is pleasure if 'e wants it. The officers have had their innings I'll be bound, an' we mean to have our turn make up yer mind to that. You may be skinny, but I like yer spirit so I'll attend to you meself later on. In the meantime there's work to be done on deck. Come on, Brisket.'

'Righto, Capting. I'll be with yer, but we might as well sample the goods.'

As Crowder left the wardroom Brisket seized Ann round the waist and flung her across the table, forcing her down beneath him while he sought to press his lips on hers.

She screamed and struggled, twisting in his grip and beating wildly at his face with her clenched fists, but he only gave a guffaw of laughter and his hot mouth fastened greedily upon the soft flesh of her neck.

Veronica snatched up the decanter, with the idea of smashing Brisket over the head, but Ann was jerking her face from side to side with such rapidity as she strove to free herself from the soldier that Veronica feared to hit her by mistake; slamming it down again she dashed out of the room.

Ann gasping and shuddering still endeavoured to fight Brisket off. An awful nausea seized her as she felt the sharp bristles of his chin rasp against her flesh, and the smell of his pungent breath in her nostrils, but her eyes were staring wide with blazing anger, and with a sudden snap her sharp teeth met, as she bit viciously into his ear.

With an obscene curse he jerked his head away and struck her savagely in the ribs.

'You ruddy bitch I'll learn you.' Then as she cowered away he raised his fist to strike her in the face.

'Stop that you! d'you hear!' roared a new voice, and Fanshawe came bounding into the room. He had recovered consciousness more than an hour ago but remained, bound, gagged, and seething with rage, in the pantry until Veronica had the inspiration to release him.

'Gawd! it's the Capting Brisket leapt away from Ann and stooped to snatch his rifle from the floor.

'Drop that, you little swine.' The Lieutenant Commander gripped a wine bottle by the neck and his blue eyes were cold with fury as he made a terrific swipe at the crouching soldier s head.

'Blast yer-​yer murdering devil!' Brisket jerked his head aside but the bottle caught him on the upper arm just as he lunged at the officer with his rifle. The bayonet slipped past Fanshawe's ribs and buried its point with a thud in the panelling of the wardroom.

Next second the two men had crashed to the floor, the bottle shattered and they rolled over and over striving to grab each other by the throat, while Crowder, who had caught the sounds of the struggle in the passage, came pounding back through the lobby.