Change had always been stimulating to Nancy, but this time she found
she could not shake off her depression even after she was aboard ship.
Koshu Island was a safe haven she was reluctant to leave. In total
darkness they went aboard the transport and in total darkness they
moved out to sea again. This ship had detached itself from the convoy
to pick up the nurses and several hundred troops. Perhaps by daylight
they would again be part of a great flotilla.
The air on deck was cold after the tropical nights they had endured
ashore. Nancy’s weakened condition made her super-sensitive to chill.
She buttoned her overcoat tightly and turned up her collar, keeping her
Mae West slung over her shoulder. Immediately on going aboard, and even
before they were on the move, they had an abandon ship drill and became
acquainted with the position of their lifeboats. Nancy’s and Mabel’s
boat was number four, not more than fifty steps from the lounge where
they were to spend the night.
There was not a bunk left on the tightly packed ship to assign to these
last passengers. They were merely super-cargo, picked up enroute to the
ship’s destination. Since they expected to go ashore some time the
following morning, their discomforts would not be too prolonged.
“I surely hate to leave,” said Mabel as Koshu Island became a dark
smudge on the horizon. “Our life back there will be something to
remember forever.”
As usual leave-takings were hard for Nancy, too. But most of all she
had hated to say good-bye to Vernon Goodwin. He had brought Tommy so
close to her once more. How she had hated to disturb him with the news
of her departure! She had urged him to insist that they send out a
searching plane as soon as he was able to go.
“I’ve made Major Reed promise to see it through,” Nancy told Vernon.
“Now everything depends on your speedy recovery.”
“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “But I surely hate to see you go.”
“No more than I hate to go—with so much at stake here,” she replied.
“But when you’re in the service it’s Uncle Sam who gives the orders.”
Vernon’s bony hand took hers a moment. “If it hadn’t been for you, Miss
Nancy, I doubt if I would have come through.”
“The whole staff was pulling for you,” she reminded him.
He saw how frail and worried she looked, and tried to speak
consolingly. “You go on to your new duties with an easy mind, Miss
Nancy. I’ll give ’em no rest till a plane goes looking for Tom. We’ll
bring him back if he’s still on that island.”
There were others, too, whom Nancy had left behind with real
regret—Miss Hauser, Major Reed, Ida and Shorty were special favorites.
Having Mabel with her, however, meant more than any of the others could
have.
“They’ll be following pretty soon,” said Mabel, who seemed able to
drift more lightly through the changing currents of their life than
Nancy could.
“I know that’s the program now, but you never can tell what will happen
in this man’s war.”
They spoke almost in whispers for they had been warned against loud
speech on deck. The great ship moved silently over the dark waters. So
quiet was everything aboard that the wash of the waves along the hull
was the only audible sound above the low throb of the engines. Only
once did they hear the drone of a plane, low on the horizon. Their
journey promised to be as peaceful and uneventful as a summer excursion
up the Hudson.
Mabel, Janice and a couple of men officers made up a bridge game toward
midnight, but Nancy felt too exhausted to play. With her musette bag
and helmet beside her, her Mae West dangling from one shoulder she
tried to get some sleep on a two-seated couch. By drawing her knees up
under her chin she was fairly comfortable. The game near by was still
going on when she dozed.
At the sound of a terrific explosion, shaking the ship from prow to
stem, Nancy woke with a jolt to find herself on the floor. Total
darkness shut her in like a pall, while pandemonium broke loose. She
clutched at her life-preserver, buckling it into place as she called
through the wild confusion, “Mabel, where are you?”
Her friend must have been sleeping on the floor near by, for she
replied almost in Nancy’s ear, “Here! So this is it!”
Even while she spoke there came the thunderous voice of the captain
through the loud speakers, “Abandon ship! We have been struck! We are
going down!”
To Nancy’s surprise now that the crisis was upon them, she felt calm
and collected. All lights had gone out with that first impact, but she
had carefully memorized the route from her couch to the lifeboat.
Clinging to Mabel with one hand, she felt around for her musette bag
and helmet. She couldn’t locate her helmet, but she did find her bag.
“Got your bag?” she asked Mabel.
“Went to sleep on it.” Even as she spoke Mabel fished out a flashlight,
dimmed with blue paper.
Lights twinkled here and there as people hurried by, some babbling
hysterically, others silently intent on reaching their boats. The deck
listed with a sickening lurch just as Nancy and Mabel got through the
door. They went sliding with alarming speed toward the rail. Some,
caught completely off their guard, were plunged into the water.
“God help us,” moaned Mabel. “She’s going under before we can get to
our boat.”
“No, here it is!” exclaimed Nancy, swinging her own light to a focus on
number four.
It was one of the smaller boats, but three people were already inside.
A man gave them a hand.
A woman spoke as they climbed in, “Where are the rest? There’re
supposed to be many more.”
“I don’t know,” Mabel replied.
The woman’s voice was not that of any of their own nurses.
“We can’t wait much longer,” said the man. “She’s listing badly.”
“Why don’t they hurry?” wailed the woman.
“Don’t be frightened. Here’s someone now,” said another man
reassuringly.
“Is this number eight?” A man’s voice asked as he stumbled toward the
boat.
“No, but you get in,” said the man who had spoken first. “No time to
hunt yours. She’s going down any minute.”
He gave the man’s arm a jerk and pulled him into the boat. Another man,
evidently a sailor, let the boat into the water. The ship lurched
dangerously and oily spray drenched the boat. They were not a dozen oar
strokes away when acrid smoke billowed from every opening as the ship
suddenly burst into flames. The oarsmen had a race to clear the area
where flames lapped at the oil-coated water.
It was awful to see that towering bulk become a flaming carnival for
some Jap, watching through the periscope of the sub that had struck
them. A few minutes later the mighty ship went down with such an
explosive churning of water that those in the lifeboats had to cling to
the gunwale to keep from being swept overboard. For some time after the
flames were extinguished they drifted in Stygian darkness. Nancy
couldn’t even see Mabel sitting next to her.
In those first stunned moments of escape Nancy had been aware of other
boats around them, and people in the water. But when they found
themselves in calmer seas some time after the sinking they seemed to be
utterly alone.
“Where are the others?” the strange woman across from them asked.
“God only knows,” replied her companion.
By the location of their voices Nancy surmised they also were sitting
side by side. There was some comfort in feeling the physical nearness
of another in that vast, empty darkness.
“We’ll drop anchor and ride it out here till morning,” the seaman
decided. “We were due to be in sight of the convoy by dawn. If they got
our SOS somebody should pick us up then.”
The last man they had taken aboard had not spoken since their arrival.
Nancy wondered if he had gone overboard while the boat pitched so
wildly after the ship went down. But a few minutes later she realized
she was ankle deep in water. When she lifted her feet she struck
something in the bottom of the boat.
“Somebody’s lying in the bottom!” she exclaimed. She found she had lost
her flashlight in the scramble, but Mabel had hers.
“Don’t use a flash!” warned the sailor. “Those yellow devils can see
one miles away.”
They could tell he was bending in the bottom of the boat as he spoke.
Then they could hear him tugging at something. “It’s that last chap who
came aboard,” he said. “He must have been knocked out.”
“Lucky he is—not knowing he has anything to worry about,” said the
other man.
The sailor eased the man’s head to a higher level and began bailing out
the water. But the small boat heaved and pulled on her anchor chain so
they took in almost as much as he cleared out. In another hour the girl
across from Nancy was violently sick. But it was not long before Nancy,
Mabel and the other man were all agonizing over the side of the boat.
Only the sailor and the sleeping man in the bottom of the boat kept
steady stomachs.
For the first time in her life Nancy prayed for death to relieve her
suffering. Sick, cold and miserable as she was, the struggle didn’t
seem worth the effort.
From troubled dozing against Mabel’s shoulder Nancy woke to find dawn
breaking on a sea as empty and placid as a mountain lake. No rescue
ship, nor even any lifeboat was visible on all that gray expanse. How
could she endure this awful plight that daylight had revealed?
Nancy’s gaze came back from her futile search to look around at her
companions. The bluejacket sat on the floor in the prow, his arms bent
over the seat, cradling his head. She discovered it was a young
corporal who had come aboard last. He still slept in the bottom of the
boat. The girl across from them was a nurse of another unit. She lay on
the seat. The first class private who sat beside her couldn’t have been
more than nineteen Nancy thought, as she studied the sleeping face.
Everyone was covered with an oily scum that had swept over them from
the sinking boat, and Nancy knew she must look as repulsive as the
rest. Even before her inspection was finished the sailor roused and
dragged himself to the seat. He took one look across the empty water.
“Well if that ain’t a way to do us!” he growled, when the drowsy
corporal sat up and wanted to know what the row was about. “They all
beat it off to safety without ever waiting to see who else was here.”
“They may have gone under for all you know,” said Mabel.
“Where’s the water?” asked the corporal. “I’m dry as a desert.”
“You’ll get your share along with the rest,” stated the bluejacket. He
had the look of a seasoned seaman. Nancy judged him to be well over
thirty, the oldest person aboard. Suddenly he seemed to accept the
situation with what grace he could. He glanced around at his boat-mates
and said, “Well, ladies and gentlemen, looks like we’re in for it.”
Even while he spoke a brilliant red sun slowly became a burning disk
where sea and sky met. It seemed a warning of what they had to endure.
“First thing in order,” said the sailor, “is to take stock of all
supplies—food and water.”
Nancy and Mabel reached into their musette bags to bring out their bars
of chocolate and the small tins of concentrated food to add to the
common stock.
Nancy noticed that the girl across from them had her canteen, but no
bag.
“I see the young ladies are good seamen and have brought their
canteens,” continued the sailor.
“I have mine, too,” said the private, putting his hand to his hip.
“Looks like I forgot mine,” said the dazed corporal, making a futile
search for his canteen.
The bluejacket got out the boat’s supplies and stored with them what
Nancy and Mabel had contributed. There was food and water enough surely
to last until they were picked up, and navigation instruments, too, in
case no help came.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _The Corporal Reached for the Water Keg_]
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“I want some water now,” demanded the complaining corporal, reaching
for the water keg between the bluejacket’s feet.
“You’ll get your water when portions are dealt to all alike,” stated
the sailor.
“That’s what you think,” growled the corporal and made a lunge for the
water.
The young private sitting behind him swung out a strong hand and drew
the man back before he could reach the sailor. It took some handling to
get him quiet in the stem of the boat, well away from the frightened
women.
“You’ll face court martial for this!” growled the corporal. “I’m your
superior officer. I’m in command of this boat!”
“If anyone is put in command it must be one of the nurses,” said the
private promptly. “They are all lieutenants.”
“That suits me fine,” said the bluejacket.
“We know nothing about what should be done here,” Nancy told them
miserably. “Or at least I don’t. I’ll leave it up to Mabel or—” she
paused to glance at the other girl.
“Hilda Newton,” said the strange nurse. “But heavens, I have no idea
what we should do.”
“Neither have I,” stated Mabel. “If you’re all agreed I move we put the
bluejacket in command. He probably knows more about this business than
all of us put together.”
This met with the hearty approval of all except the surly, still
befuddled corporal. The sailor introduced himself as Olan Meyer, and
the rest in turn told their names.
A few minutes later Olan dealt out the morning’s portion of food and
water. And so began the monotonous round of nights and days that were
to stretch on as endlessly as the sea on which they drifted.
------------------------------------------------------------------------