Wednesday, September 18, 1940, 6:30 AM
Ken must have dozed. It was daylight and a light rain was falling. He looked out over the soft grey water. The ocean was eerily quiet. There was nothing of the night’s terrors—no other boats, no rafts—nothing to show that the Benares had ever been there.
The lascars were taking turns bailing the boat. They only had one pail, and there was always more water coming in, either from the sky or from waves splashing over the sides. The bailing didn’t seem to be making much of a difference.
Cadet Critchley and Ramjam Buxoo were stretching a tarpaulin over the bow to create a small covered area.
“You boys might like to have a place out of the rain,” said Cadet Critchley. Fred scrunched in and poked his head out to grin at them all.
“This is great! Our own hidey hole,” said Fred.
“You look like a duck,” said Ken.
“It’s a duck hole!” said Howard. “A perfect place to sit out a storm at sea.”
“Paul, why don’t you come and sit under the tarp with me,” said Auntie Mary to one of the other boys. “Give yourself a chance to dry out.”
Ken hadn’t met Paul on the ship. He was little, probably about seven, Ken figured. He hadn’t taken a turn on the Fleming gears last night and he was shaking pretty badly now. Ken watched him hobble into the duck hole with Auntie Mary. He had no shoes on, and it looked like he had a pretty bad cut on his foot.
Mr. Nagorski was sitting straight-backed on the forward thwart. The soft drizzle dripped off his hat. His gloved hands sat still in his lap.
Father O’Sullivan was lying at Mr. Nagorski’s feet, on the bottom of the boat. His flu must be getting worse, thought Ken. Derek and another small boy sat on either side of him.
“Where will Peter be?” asked the boy. “He’s only five. He’s supposed to be on the boat with us. He was in the infirmary last night.”
“I’m sure he’s fine, Billy,” said the priest with effort.
“And Alan?” said Derek. “Mum told me to look after him. And then he got the chicken pox yesterday.”
“I’m sure they are both fine. The nurse took them with her to one of the other boats. They’ll be rescued by now and are probably wondering where you are.”
Ken watched Steward Purvis investigate the cupboards behind the duck hole, at the bow. Purvis pulled out several barrels and boxes. Ken couldn’t see what was in them, but the steward was obviously counting supplies. He wondered how much was there and how long it would have to last. He wondered where their rescue ship was.
The rain started to ease off, and the day began to clear. When the sun was almost directly overhead, Steward Purvis passed around a small beaker of water to each person on the boat. Ken swallowed his greedily. The minute he’d emptied it, he wanted more. He watched as Mr. Nagorski slowly sipped his portion.
“I realize that many of you may still feel thirsty after your water.” Officer Cooper stood in the stern, addressing the whole boat. He spoke slowly so that Ramjam could translate his words. Ken heard the words ripple through the lascars in several different languages. When he looked more closely he noticed that the lascars were huddled together in small, but distinct groups.
“You will be tempted, very tempted, to drink the seawater,” Cooper continued. “No matter how thirsty you feel, do not, I repeat, do not under any circumstances drink seawater.” Ramjam translated the words with a rising voice. The lascars’ voices responded in a chatter of unfamiliar sounds.
“If you drink the seawater, you will become disoriented, then you will lose your mind, then you will die. It is as simple as that.”
Ken felt guilty for even wanting more water. He looked over at Billy and Derek. Their eyes were wide. He thought they looked a little excited at the idea of someone losing their mind.
After the dipper of water, they were each given a can of condensed milk, a ship’s biscuit, and a thin slice of corned beef. Ken realized it was the first food he had had since his last meal on the boat, since his last helping of ice cream. That seemed a very long time ago. He remembered the soft, fluffy breakfast scones. The ship’s biscuit was very dry, very hard to swallow. But the milk was a sweet treat.
“I love canned milk!” said Derek delightedly. “My mum gets it for special treats. I can’t believe they brought some for us to have on the lifeboat!”
“I never get it at home,” said Billy. “Not since the war started. This is great.”
The day dragged slowly on with no sight of the rescue boat. Ken wished he had his notebook and pencil, but in all of the confusion, he’d left them behind in the cabin. I’ll have to work extra hard to try and remember everything, he thought. I want to be able to draw it all up later. I want to be able to write the story down.
Ken was beginning to doze off when he overheard Captain Paine from the Marina talking in whispers to Officer Cooper. He was curled up under the wooden side bench in a perfect position to eavesdrop. “Clearly, if there were going to be a rescue it would have come already,” he heard Captain Paine say.
“I believe we’ve drifted out of the area and been missed,” the captain continued. “I estimate that we have enough supplies on our boat to last us for eight days. With good winds we can get to Ireland in seven.”
“I’m sure that they’re still searching for us,” said Cooper. “Setting out for Ireland is a terrible risk. I have a woman and six children on board.” He breathed in deeply. “I need to wait for rescue.”
“Of course you must do what you think best,” Paine said. “But I am going to start away, now, while it is still light.”
Officer Cooper moved to the middle of the boat, gently displacing the lascars. Ken quietly came out from under the bench and sat up on the bottom of the boat. He saw the Marina’s sailors hoisting their sail.
“The Marina lifeboat has decided to set sail for Ireland,” announced Officer Cooper. “For the time being, we will remain here in the hope of rescue.”
“A sound plan, Officer Cooper,” said Mr. Nagorski.
“Ireland?” said Auntie Mary. “How long would that take?”
“The Marina lifeboat should be able to make it in six or seven days,” answered Officer Cooper. “Our boat is heavier, and would take longer. In my judgment, we are better to wait here for rescue.”
The smaller lifeboat’s sails filled with the wind. Her sailors waved goodbye. “Best of luck, little sailors!” they called out. Ken and Fred stood up carefully and saluted. Imagine, sailing all the way to Ireland. Imagine being at sea for seven days! He wished he could go with them, instead of sitting here doing nothing, waiting to be rescued.
The winds were strong. It wasn’t long before the Marina’s lifeboat was out of sight. They were alone. A deep quiet settled into lifeboat 12.
Officer Cooper called to Ken. “What’s your name, son?”
“Kenneth James Sparks, sir,” said Ken in what he hoped was his best naval voice.
“Have you got good eyesight, Master Sparks?”
“Excellent, sir.”
“Right then, you’ll take the first lookout. You’re to sit in the bow and keep your eyes open. The rescue ship may be a long way off and they may not see us. Your job is to see them. Then our job will be to get their attention.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Ken.
Officer Cooper turned to Signalman Mayhew.
“What we need is some kind of a flag, something that can be seen from a distance.”
“I can’t find anything of the sort on board, sir,” replied Mayhew. “I’ve searched the stores and there are no flags or fabrics of any kind.”
“I have something you can use.” Auntie Mary called out loudly from the duck hole. She disappeared under the tarp. A moment later, Ken saw her arm emerge, flourishing a pink petticoat.
Mayhew and Cooper looked at each other, embarrassed. “Come on,” called Auntie Mary from her spot, “take it. It won’t bite and you need something to put on the mast.”
Ramjam carefully worked his way to the duck hole, stepping around and between the other lascars. He bowed respectfully to Auntie Mary and took the petticoat. He carried it reverently to Officer Cooper. In no time, Mayhew had shinnied up the mast and tied it onto the top. They had their flag. A pink flag.
The swell was strong, and the boat pitched in the gale. Ken sat perched in the bow, scouring the horizon for any sign of movement.
The afternoon wore on. The sun peeked through the clouds. There was still no sign of a rescue ship. Ken was relieved of his lookout duties, replaced by Cadet Critchley.
The excitement of being shipwrecked was wearing off a bit, and Ken couldn’t help feeling just a bit bored.
Suddenly, Gunner Peard stood up on the starboard side of the boat. He stripped off his clothes down to his underwear, stepped on the side bench, and dove into the water with a splash.
“What’s he doing?!” Billy screamed, in a panic.
Peard’s grizzled head popped above the surface on the port side of the boat. He laughed and shook water from his hair. He started singing as he swam a backstroke, keeping alongside the boat.
We’ll rant and we’ll roar like true British sailors,
We’ll rant and we’ll roar all on the salt seas.
Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
Peard sang out lustily.
Ken laughed and clapped. This was a great show.
“Hurray for Harry the Gunner!” cried Howard.
“Has he no sense of decency?” Auntie Mary hissed to Father O’Sullivan.
“Come on in, lads! Nothing to be frightened of,” Peard called out.
Ken watched Peard doing a lazy backstroke around the lifeboat. It looked so easy.
Now let ev’ry man drink off his full bumper,
And let ev’ry man drink off his full glass;
We’ll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,
And here’s to the health of each true-hearted lass.
“Don’t listen to that man,” said Auntie Mary. She had come out of the duck hole and was glaring at Peard.
“She’s right, boys,” said Father O’Sullivan weakly. “You stay here in the boat.”
“Suit yourself, lads,” said the gunner, as he squirted water between his teeth. He grabbed the gunwales to hoist himself back into the boat.
“Come join me over here in the duck hole, boys,” said Auntie Mary. “Come tell me what you remember about being on the Benares.”
Reluctantly, Ken worked his way into the duck hole to sit with the others. I’m not a great swimmer anyway, he thought.
“Come on,” said Auntie Mary cheerfully. “Squish in. There’s room for everyone. Now tell me, what do you remember?”
“I remember the waiters’ uniforms,” said little Paul. “White and blue.”
“I remember Miss Grierson and the moving picture she was making,” said Fred. “I can’t wait to see how it turns out!”
“I remember the food,” said Howard.
“The ice cream!” said Derek.
“Miss?” Fred said. “Which would you rather be? Bombed in London or torpedoed in the Atlantic?”
“Yes, miss, which would you rather be? Bombed in London or torpedoed in the Atlantic?” repeated Billy.
“Well,” said Auntie Mary as she began to massage Paul’s feet distractedly, “I’m not sure I really like either. But I would have to say that this is a pretty big adventure.”
Ken thought about the bomb shelters. He remembered the noise of the bombs, the shaking of the bricks in the archway above him in Wembley. He thought of dirt filling his mouth, bricks smashing his skull.
He looked out over the expanse of the ocean. He knew which he thought was better.
A long day passed. As the sun began to set, Officer Cooper called for everyone’s attention.
“We have now been on this lifeboat for eighteen hours. I have to assume that all of the other boats have now been found and rescued.”
Ken saw Auntie Mary look over at Father O’Sullivan, who was propped up in the bottom of the boat. This is not good news, he thought.
“I have re-assessed our situation and it is my belief that the rescue ship has unfortunately missed us,” continued Officer Cooper. “Therefore, our only option is to head for Ireland.”
Ken heard Auntie Mary gasp.
“Ireland?” said Father O’Sullivan, coughing.
“This is madness,” said Mr. Nagorski. He’d been silent most of the day, but his voice was now strong, and angry. “Officer Cooper. Surely it is better to stay here, where we have a hope of being found by a rescue vessel. I can’t believe that the Winchelsea has just gone off and left us. Surely, the destroyer will be back looking for us. If we leave the area they will have no idea of where to look.”
“I repeat, Mr. Nagorski, every indication shows that a rescue vessel has missed us. It is accepted naval practice in such a situation for a shipwrecked crew to make for the nearest land. What is more, by heading for land we have a much better chance of coming across another boat—a shipping vessel, warship, even a fishing boat. As captain of this lifeboat, this is my decision. We will set sail in the morning.”
Ramjam translated Officer Cooper’s decision for the lascars. They looked confused and called out to Ramjam. He raised his hands and spoke again. At his words, all were quiet.
There was a deep silence on the boat. Eventually, Auntie Mary asked Ramjam what he had said to calm the crew.
“Allah the compassionate will save us, if He so wishes. Or he will send storms if He thinks it best. God is wise.”
Ken hoped there would be no more storms. He wondered if Allah had given them enough food and water to get them to Ireland.