While the sailors enjoyed a low-key celebration there was no holiday for the Japanese forces on Christmas Day as the British capitulated to them in Hong Kong. Australia carried on with the festive season into the 1942 New Year as its 8th Division, one quarter of its army, defended Malaya against the insurgent Japanese streaming through that country on bicycles. The mode of transport tended to make the invaders appear less potent. But this army of about 34,000 were all experienced fighters who had attacked China’s east with ruthless intent. They were being met by a poorly led force of 80,000 British combat troops, who nevertheless put up strong resistance here and there, yet not in a consistent, organised manner, nor with the fortitude required.
The Japanese knocked over town after Malayan town and took Kuala Lumpur on 11 January.
Waller did not need messages from the Federal Government to tell him what was brewing in the battles to the north. Ship-to-ship intelligence about boat and troop movements gave him a grim picture and he deduced by the third week of January that the British were thinking the unthinkable—the abandonment of Singapore, the so-called impregnable fortress. On 31 January, the Allies were forced from the Malayan Peninsula and withdrew in haste to Singapore. The Japanese landed on the island on 8 February.
Frustration built on board Perth in the naval version of Nero fiddling while Rome burnt. Waller was given the task of escorting ship convoys along Australia’s east coast. It began with taking troopships to New Guinea’s Port Moresby, followed by sails to Noumea and Fiji. Waller used the time to carry out manoeuvres as the troopships slugged on their way. He had his crew on alert as he directed zigzag movements as if they were under siege from unseen Japanese submarines. He had depth charges dropped but no enemy subs were forced to the surface, only the odd whale victim.
Perth shuddered with each charge, and caused the frisky Red Lead to retire to the captain’s cabin, showing signs of being unnerved for the first time. Reassuring words from Waller seemed to soothe her concerns. She amused crew by sitting on the propeller of the ship’s Walrus plane, which would be flung from the deck in a slingshot action if required for reconnaissance work. The crew made jokes about Red Lead being ready to make a quick getaway. She had to be coaxed down by Collins to allow the plane to practise.
Collins held the curious cat as they watched the small plane being slung out over the ocean. At first Red Lead wanted to push away from her human handler. Some soothing words and stroking saw her observe, with wide-eyed wonder, the aircraft as it made a delicate landing in the ship’s wake. The pilot climbed onto a wing and hooked the plane to a crane for winching back on deck. When the dripping flying machine swayed over the deck, spraying water everywhere, Red Lead had seen enough. She struggled free from Collins and scampered for the captain’s cabin, perhaps cured forever of the desire to sleep on the plane’s propeller.
The number of rodents caught fell in February as Red Lead had successfully prowled all parts of the ship. It would never be rid of rats and mice, yet she had at least frightened them into hiding. The gnawing of ropes dropped away. The infestation of food stores became manageable. The sighting of a rat became a novelty. Even the handful of cat-haters on board had a begrudging respect for the celebrated Red Lead.
Meanwhile the Japanese continued their relentless drive through the Pacific and Southeast Asia. They were now in the Dutch East Indies. They sent forces into Borneo and the Celebes, and followed up by grabbing the oil refineries at Palembang in southern Sumatra. Australia’s ‘Gull Force’ Battalion, backing up the Dutch, were defeated on the small island of Ambon. Further east the port of Rabaul had been wrestled from the Australian garrison there, leaving open the opportunity for the Japanese to push into Papua and New Guinea. They began bombing to soften up Allied naval bases at Port Moresby in the south, Batavia (now Jakarta) on Java’s west and Surabaya in its east.
Waller noted in his diary: ‘Every hour we receive more depressing and worrying intelligence, newspaper and official reports about the invaders. We must wait. We wonder if the authorities have any real plan to stop the carnage and territorial acquisitions. I and my entire crew await a directive to move to engage. I fear at this rate it may be too late …’
At last, action seemed imminent when no less than the British and American naval chiefs ordered Waller to sail to Melbourne. Crew members with family in the city were given daylight hours leave and there was excitement for relatives and friends at Port Melbourne when Perth sailed in.
As sailors filed down the gangway on a hot day, Collins had to mind Red Lead. He searched the boat for an hour and was assured by sailors they had not seen her. Waller had let her out of his cabin in the morning and Collins was nervous when he knocked on the captain’s cabin at 8 a.m.
‘She may have slipped off the ship when the Victorians went on leave, Captain.’
‘Well, you had better scour the docks,’ Waller said, ‘she can’t have gone far. Take three men with you. It’s not likely that she has run away. We are her family, Collins.’
Collins followed orders with three ordinary seamen, who were happy to assist, especially as they could spend time drinking at the Crown and Arms pub in walking distance from the ship. They waited at the gangway, asking all those coming back on board if they’d seen Red Lead. As night fell, Collins told the three helpers to go on board.
Only one very drunk sailor, Horace Murphy, claimed to have seen her.
‘Oh, yeah, yeah, I saw the little minx,’ he said, slurring his words and hanging onto the railing at the foot of the gangway.
‘When?’
‘When, when … when,’ Murphy said, blinking and scratching his head. ‘Now that’s a very good question.’
‘Morning, afternoon?’
‘Good morning to you too, sir!’
‘I meant, did you see the cat in the morning or afternoon.’
Murphy pointed at Collins’s chest.
‘Had to be morning, mate. Me, I was at the pub as soon as it opened at 9 a.m.’ He chortled and added, ‘But Red Lead wasn’t there. Doesn’t drink, I understand.’
‘Which direction did she go?’
Murphy waved his arms in several directions.
‘God, bugger me dead!’ he said with a laugh. ‘I dunno. She dashed past me.’
He turned and staggered up the gangway, adding: ‘Sorry, mate, I’d help you look for her but I’m elephants, totally elephants! You can always pray for the pussy.’ Murphy laughed hard, recovered and added, ‘We always do that on leave.’
Collins was not amused. He began to fret that the cat was gone. He felt he had let the captain and the entire ship down. He slumped to the ground at the foot of the gangway, barely acknowledging late-returning sailors.
At 10 p.m. a whistle was blown that signalled the gangway would be withdrawn. Just as he stepped onto it, he heard a meow and looked around. It was Red Lead. She was dirty and wet. He picked her up.
‘Thank the Lord!’ he said. ‘Where have you been, you naughty girl?’
The cat purred. She showed no signs of stress or even a fight. Collins couldn’t bring himself to scold her, knowing how independent she was. He took her to his own cabin to clean her up but Red Lead escaped and scampered for the bridge.