Cruel Sea, The by Monsarrat Nicholas

Author:Monsarrat, Nicholas [Monsarrat, Nicholas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sea, Adventure, Novel, Fiction
Publisher: House of Stratus
Published: 1951-04-14T23:00:00+00:00

11

The two bodies lay side by side on the quarterdeck, neatly tucked in under the two ensigns. Ericson, clearing his throat to start reading the burial service, found his eye held almost hypnotically by the twin splashes of colour. There are two sailors under there, he thought: they lie there indistinguishable, except that ours was killed outright and theirs died of wounds and exhaustion: and there’s not much to choose between the two flags either, in the use they are now put to – though perhaps the boldly-marked swastika made a smarter shroud than the White Ensign . . . He cleared his throat again, irritated and surprised at his thoughts.

‘Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live,’ he began, hardly looking at the book: he knew the service by heart. But the gentle words affected him: as he read, he thought of the dead, and of the young seaman who was Compass Rose’s first casualty. He found that sad: and the German captain, standing free of escort a yard from him, found his own role sad also. His proud face was working, he was emotionally shocked out of the arrogant mould: he admitted bereavement . . . It was probably the swastika, Ericson reflected: the dead sailor from his crew would not bother him, but the ‘gesture of honour’ implied by the burial party and the enemy ensign would knock him out.

At Lockhart’s signal to the bridge, the engine stopped; Compass Rose fell silent, save for the water sucking and gurgling under her counter. ‘We do now commit their bodies to the deep,’ said Ericson, and paused. The pipes shrilled, the planks tipped, the neat canvas parcels slid from under the ensigns and went over the side, disappearing without trace. Close by him, he heard and felt the German captain tremble. Yes, thought Ericson, it is sad, after all.

He put on his cap, and saluted. The German captain, watching him, did the same. When they faced each other, Ericson saw tears glittering in the pale eyes. He nodded, and looked away.

‘Thank you, Captain,’ said the German. ‘I appreciate all you have done.’ He held out his hand awkwardly. ‘I would like—’

Ericson shook his hand without saying anything. He was shy of his emotion, and of the thirty-odd members of Compass Rose’s crew who must be watching them.

The German captain said suddenly: ‘Comrades of the sea . . .’ Did he mean the two men they had just buried, Ericson wondered, or themselves, the two captains who were sharing the same experience? Perhaps it did not matter . . . He nodded again, and began to walk forward, leaving Lockhart to see to the prisoner.

But as he walked, he lost the mood of emotion and sorrow: it suddenly became false. This was no special occasion: there had been so many burials from Compass Rose: eighteen in one day was the record so far – eighteen before breakfast. Two was nothing; two was hardly worth turning out for .

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