THE CURTAIN

Radio Record, 17 June 1938, Page 11

THE CURTAIN

Written fer the ‘Record’

by

WILL

GRAVE

"It was exactly right, that sound,’ he told me afterwards, except that it needed only the rattle of the chart-room windows te complete it." FYROM the chart-room, the captain telegraphs to the chief engineer. "How is it below?" The engineer is rightly Scots. | "The old lady’s got her tail up. screws are racing." Then the wireless alarm rings, the signal that runs through the ship when the radio picks up the message of SOS. "Chertsey Abbey calling all ships,’ says the wireless. "Chertsey Abbey calling all ships. My latitude 46.58 north, longitude 12.24 west. Helpless. Steering gear disabled. After hatches stove in. Making water. Require assistance." TUE piping Morse brings the message from the Chertsey Abbey to the Monmouth across ‘the miles of troubled water. It’s a message that stirs the listener who has heard those piping messuges time out of number on his set, when ships talk at sea. There’s a job to be done now on the Monmouth, and the radio takes you into the centre of it. You are somehow there in the Monmouth, a silent, invisible watcher, bodiless., and so not getting in anybody’s road, but secing it allwith your ears. N the silent chart-room you watch the captain and the chief officer plot the position of the Chertsey Abbey. Forty-three miles to the north-west. You hear the eaptain, Without any fuss, say he will alter course to north-west and bring the ship up to 14 knots. "The damage?" says the first officer. The damage can't be helped, nor the fuel bill. It costs a bit to plug the Monmouth at 14 knots through these seas. "We'll be there by six o'clock," says the captain, and rings the wireless officer. "Tell the Chertsey Abbey we'll be up by 6.30. Tell her to fire rockets." N the howling storm of the bridge, the voices shout before they are curried awuy by the wind. They’re altering course at the wheel, they're steering north 48 west.

And then again, in a church-like silence, come the piping voices of the ships at sea as they talls to the Chertsey Abbey. Monmouth to Chertsey Abbey: Coming to your assistance, Silverdale te Chertsey Abbey: Coming to your assistance. H.MLS. Stafford to Chertsey Abbey: Steaming to your assistance, Brandenburg te Chertsey Abbey: Coming to your assistance. LL the ships nearby are talking now, an American ship, a German passenger steamer, a French flier, a British ‘ruiser, in a manner that one finds strangely moving, as they swing in along different radii to the centre of the circle in which lies the Chertsey Abbey-*‘helpless, steering gear disabled, requiring assistance." And on the bridge of the Monmouth the invisible listener hears the storm rising--or seeming to rise-as the speed crams on to 14 knots, and you feel you really want to pull your sou’-wester round you and your hat over your eyes, ILENCE again, abrupt and immediate, as your ghost self goes into the ehart-room once more and stands at the elbow of the captain. who talks with the chief about laying oil on the water when they get to the wreck, about the boats, about getting lines ready to veer, and "Tell the chief to drive her all he can. Not risk a breakdown. but drive her all he ¢an. Tl sign for oil." That's all for the moment. It seems the end of the uet, which closes with the beating sea and the wind and some notes of music, as if the sea were going to triumph now.... UNTIL the Morse pipes again. Chertsey Abbey, 5.35, ealling all ships ... calling all ships: Situation desperate. Second mate and two mev swept overboard. Situation desperate. The wireless fades out, almost forlorn, fades in again With quiet reassurance, Monmouth to Chertsey Abbey: With you after six. Show lights, rockets.. ILM.S. Stafford to Chertsey Abbey: With you after Six. (Continued on page 54.)

Radio. Lifts Curtain

RESCUE SHIPS TALK (Continued from page 11). Brandenburg to Chertsey Abbey: Increasing speed, reach you soon. While the rescuing ships themselves talk to one another, H.M.S. Stafford to Monmouth: We two and Brandenburg ehief competitors, others nowhere. Monmouth to H.M.S. Stafford: Very grateful if you do boat work, Chertsey Abbey to all ships: Dynamo flooded. — --

"PHERE'S tension here, drawn out of the mechanically calm messages of une Morse, that ticks out words: that mean the life or death of men in its mechanical, emotionless way. On the "Monmouth" the work goes on, steadily and in the grooves of routine, but there is an underlying lash of excitement to the ordinary words that gives them a whip-like flick. T last, breaking the tension, comes the ery of the watch, "Rocket ahead!" as he sights the "Chertsey Abbey." And "Searchlight on the port bow !’ as he picks up H.M.S, Stafford. while on the bridge, out to the north, they see the passenger liner Brandenburg "all lit up like Southend pier." pa eee

The Chertsey Abbey is there. lying in a trough with a 30-degrees list to. starboard. Her hold is flooded. There’s another ship gone through faulty steering gear. . 7 . ‘ The run is over. OGETHER . the. Monmouth and H.M.S. Stafford talk as they draw near. "J will lower boats at daybreak," says the Stafford. "Please lay oil to windward." "J will start laying oil now,’ says the Monmouth to the Stafford, The Stafford waits, before lowering its boats, for the Menmouth’s oil slick to reach the wreck. Now the tension is over, and your ghost on board the Monmouth can find relief from excitement with the gruff second officer, who, human-wise, takes his excitement out in a homely out- . burst against the chief steward’s ap» prentice. "And tell him if my tea’s not here in two minutes, Pll have his hide for a necktie," ; TANDING on the bridge with the eaptain and the chief officer, your ghost can see the last act in this endlessly reiterated tale of the sea. "he Stafford’s starting to lower. She’s turning to make lee, They’re lowering the boat, She’s swinging like a pendulum." Then, shouting suddenly, "Lower away, lads, lower for all you're worth. Well done, boys!" Meanwhile the Stafford is reporting in Morse: H.M.S. Stafford to Admiralty. Am in touch with Chertsey Abbey in danger of sinking. Boats sent off." One more scene from the _ bridge rounds off the tale as the men jump from the Chertsey Abbey into the sea to he picked up by the Stafford’s boats, "Jump, you fools!" cries the Monmouth’s captain. With its cargo of saved lives the boat draws away back to the Stafford and the men scramble back up by the eruiser’s ladder. "The Chertsey Abbey’s going, sir," says the voice of the young officer alongside us. "Her funnel’s gone. She’s practically vertieal. Look at that." And, if you can’t see it through his voice, you had better buy yourself an ear trumpet. The Monmouth gives herself a shake and begins to get under weigh again. "Tt's all over bar the shouting.’ You hear her telegraph ring to the engineroom, and she stieks her nose into the sea again, There is silence for a moment, and then radio hax the last word: Fi.M.S. Stafford to Monmouth, captain to captain: "Thanks for valuable assistance. Eighteen men rescued. Good luck, better weather." Monmouth to H.M.S. Stafford, captain to captain: "Thank you. Glad to have been some help. Your wishes reciprocated." ' You come hack to land again, to your chair in front of the fire. Your ghost eomes back from the ship. But it has all been so vivid, this plain, straightforward, commonplace story of the sea, »that you begin to wonder whether it wasn’t your real seif that was on the ship, and only the ghost of you that waited sitting by the fire.