Page 3 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
Soon you’ll be sailing far across the sea
While you’re away, oh then remember me
When you return, you’ll find me waiting here’
Another bomb goes off on the wharf.
Matron Olive Paschke catches Nesta’s eye. ‘Matron Drummond made one final plea to the authorities to let us stay here and care for our men, but the lieutenant told her that our request is denied.’
‘It was worth one more try, wasn’t it? It just doesn’t seem right to be abandoning them when they will most likely need us. How did Matron take it?’
‘The only way she could, by simply raising her eyebrows at him,’ replies Matron Paschke. ‘If she’d said what she was thinking, she’d have been in trouble.’
‘Which means she doesn’t accept it but will begrudgingly go along with it. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from her.’ Nesta shakes her head.
‘Come on, let’s get the others. I think we’re the last to leave.’
Once on board the HMSVyner Brooke, Sister Vivian Bullwinkel entertains them with her knowledge of the ship.
‘She is named after the third rajah of Sarawak and now has HMS in front of her name because the Royal Navy requisitioned her. She’s only meant to carry twelve passengers but has a crew of forty-seven.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Betty asks.
‘I had dinner with the rajah, didn’t I? Yeah, I know, me – little old Sister Vivian Bullwinkel from Broken Hill – had dinner with a rajah. Not alone, mind you, there were others there.’
‘Oh, Bully, only you would add the last bit, the rest of us would leave it atI had dinner with the rajah,’ Betty says, laughing at her friend.
When the last nurse is on board, the captain gives the order to slip anchor and proceed with caution. He knows British minefields lie ahead and will be as big a threat as the enemy dominating the skies above.
As the sun sets, the passengers watch as Singapore burns, the bombing, shelling and gunfire relentless. Above the noise of the death of a city, Norah, John and Ena turn away from the cacophony to the sweet singing of the Australian nurses on deck. And, just for a moment, that’s all they can hear.
Chapter 2
HMSVyner Brooke, Banka Strait
February 1942
‘You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me …’
‘What a cheery bunch those nurses are. We’re lucky to have them on board, given everything.’ Norah is struggling to keep her voice light and airy.
The final words of ‘Waltzing Matilda’ are accompanied by the piercing shriek of air-raid sirens echoing across the harbour towards the slowly departing ship. An oil storage tank explodes, throwing debris into the air. Around them, burning vessels are sucked into seething waves. Only the skills of an accomplished captain will get them through the harbour, past the mines laid by the British Navy to thwart the Japanese Navy, and out to sea.
Norah turns away from the apocalyptic scenes.
‘Do you want to see if there’s a place downstairs to rest?’ John asks as he stares out to sea, but it’s obvious to Norah he’s trying to conceal his discomfort at needing her help.
‘I’m happy to stay on deck; there are mothers with children here and lots of old people. I think they should take the cabins,’ Ena suggests.
John looks at Norah. Her response will decide if they venture below deck or not.
‘Quite right, Ena, let’s find some space up here where we can lie down. We all need a minute.’
Norah can see the relief wash over his face. She knows her husband so well; now they won’t have to help him stagger up and down the stairs.
As they shuffle along the deck looking for a space to settle down, they stop for a moment to watch the nurses, gathered around an older nurse as she issues instructions.
‘Must be their matron,’ Norah offers.
