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The Fall of Singapore by Donna Faber
It was a time of crying and a time of dying…
The ship's siren was blowing urgently - it couldn't stay long in Singapore harbour. From the circle of Daddy's arms I looked up at the ss Narkunda. It had three funnels. Which one was that terrible noise coming from, I asked him.
He was just about to say, because I was sure he knew, when Mother pulled at me. "Will you come along now?"
"No, no," I shrugged her away and buried my face in Daddy's neck.
But he gently turned me around to face my mother and stood up. "It's time Lief Kintje, time to say goodbye."
I watched the two of them embrace while all around people were screaming and shouting, running to and fro as if they'd come from the lunatic asylum. The ss Narkunda gave two more blasts and now there was a far off hum in the sky which you could just about hear above the din. I could, anyway. Daddy often said I was so sharp that I'd cut myself one day. He always looked pleased with me when he said it.
My mother and father were still clinging together, but they didn't kiss, they stood as if carved from the same piece of granite. As if it was the last day of the world. I could tell, in spite of all they'd said to me, that I wouldn't see my Daddy again. Grown-ups always did that - told you fibs when something was going to hurt.
They broke apart and as Mother reached to grab my hand, a distraught Chinese woman rushed past, nearly knocking her over. It was my chance to leap up into Daddy's arms.
"Will you come, Jennifer," Mother's voice was getting sharp now. "We'll be left behind, if not. There's going to be another air-raid and the ship's going."
My legs pressed harder around my father's waist, my arms nearly choked him. His horn-rimmed glasses were steamed up from my breath - or was it from his tears?
The humming in the sky was loud enough for everyone to hear now, and panic spread like ink on a blotter. Some people fell from the quayside into the filthy water, as the crowds surged towards the companionway.
A Malay porter, watching our own little tragedy, helped my mother to disentangle me from my father. Daddy was incapable of it. Together they dragged me towards the companionway, the tops of my shoes scuffing along the ground.
Japanese planes screeched by - showering bombs. They missed the ship and hit the sea with dull thumps. People shrieked in terror and Mother crossed herself.
"Will you behave, Jennifer? I'm not going to be able to cope, if you don't." Mother's voice was surprisingly soft. It must have been that, and the sight of those ugly iron steps leading me away from my father that brought me to my senses.
As I climbed up, I could see the water below through the metal grid. Broken wood and rotting vegetables swirled in its darkness. Somebody's hat was sucked under the hull but there was no sign of the people who'd fallen in.
Every time I looked back for him the crowd had become more dense. I'd lost him.
"Hurry now," said Mother. "We'll go up on that high deck and wave to Daddy. Here," she thrust the big doll at me, "you'd better carry this now. And don't ever lose it - Daddy gave up two precious hours to go home and fetch it for you."
We reached the top deck and at first I didn't think I'd be tall enough to see through the rails. But I was. Down below people swarmed like termites. Flash bulbs were popping and men were shouting. The planes had turned and were coming back. "Where is he? Where's Daddy?" I stood on the first rung of the rails. "I can't see him."
Mother gathered me to her and pointed down. ""Stand close, and follow the line of my finger. There he is. Do you see him now?" She let me go and waved with both arms. "Wave then, go on, wave!"
I couldn't bring myself to do it. It would mean goodbye and for the moment I wouldn't allow myself to believe it. He'd understand, he'd know why I wasn't waving…
The ship shuddered as its anti-aircraft guns fired. More guns blazed from all around the harbour. This time the planes screamed over us without bombing.
The Narkunda gave three short blasts, which made everyone near us jump. I could see the hooter scaling up the nearest funnel. The Military Police were beating off those that tried to push past and come aboard. One man clambered onto the gangway as they tried to wheel it away. He was frog-marched down again. Ropes were thrown into the sea and the ship gave an almighty jerk.
"We're moving!" People were shouted and hugged each other, desperate to get out of Singapore harbour. A bunch of them began to sing and dance with their children. Apart from the Indian crew I didn't see any other men.
Gradually the crowds thinned out and my Daddy became a spot - still waving. My insides turned cold and heavy, and I thought about the little statue of Peter Pan in the garden we'd left behind. He must always feel like this - even in the hottest tropical sun.

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