Chapter 7: HMS Minotaur

The ship that was transporting Helena and myself back to England was hardly the largest in Her Majesty's Navy. HMS Minotaur was a "pistol ship" one of a new class of vessels, designed for the rapidly changing nature of sea warfare. Faster than the dreadnoughts but much smaller, she carried a single 12 inch breech-loading gun in a fixed mounting on her bow. Fighting tactics for the pistol ships were simple: they drove straight at the opposing fleet at high speed, aiming to get as close as they can before firing their weapon and skidding away in a stomach-wrenching turn. Minotaur had distinguished herself at the Battle of Milos, sinking five cruisers in the Macedonian fleet. Her superstructure still bore the scars of the engagement, where Macedonian shells had torn holes in the bridge coaming and the gun control platform.

Amelia left us at Patras. Once Helena was on board the Minotaur her job was done, she said. Captain Penry would see us safely to London. Helena, still groggy and still strapped to an ambulance stretcher, was carried down to one of the two officer's cabins that had been kindly given over for our use.

Captain Penry took the time to explain our route as his Number One took the boat out from Patras Harbour just as night fell. Away to the north west the ruined pillars of the Gefyra Rio-Antirio Bridge, dynamited in the face of advancing troops, paid testament to the Peloponnese determination to deny the Macedonians a foothold on their land. "We'll clear to the south of Kefallonia in darkness," he said. "I'll be going full steam. Minesweepers have been out this afternoon to clear a channel. Once we're out of Peloponnesian waters, we'll be safe."

"I hadn't realised there was so much danger." While I take little trouble to follow the accounts of current affairs in the media I was certain that I had no cause to imagine that there would be. The reports of the incidents surrounding the Peloponnesian campaign in the London papers had never suggested that any of our units were at risk.

"Nor is there, if we're careful," Penry smiled. "But then, with our cargo, we do need to take care."

I wondered how much he knew about Helena and the reasons for taking the two of us to London. Penry's next remarks made it clear.

"You'll want to keep her confined to the cabin, I expect. No point in exciting gossip in the crew. As far as they're concerned we're simply returning an ailing ex-pat to the home country and they're getting some shore leave in Blighty[1] as a consequence. Between you and me the Gunnery Officer's picking up a gong[2] at the Palace for the Milos action, too, but he doesn't know that yet."

Confined to the cabin was not, I expected, how Helena had envisaged returning home. I suspected that her idea of a cruise involved sunbathing, sipping cocktails, the occasional game of shuffleboard and probably, given her clear view of her own status, a regular seat at the Captain's table for dinner. Nevertheless, I was happy to concur with Penry's view.

By the time that Penry and I made our way below decks, Helena had fully regained her senses. Unaware of her situation, her head still swathed in bandages, she was struggling violently but with no effect against the straps that held her to her stretcher. "I think she will be best left here until we are at least clear of the Gulf. I'm sure that she is not too uncomfortable."

"Well, I will take your advice on that."

A muffled grunt and a renewed flurry of struggles indicated that she had both heard our remarks and disagreed with our conclusions. We left her to her struggles.

The captain invited me to the bridge from where I could watch our progress. The crew performed their duties as a tightly knit, highly efficient team. It was not hard to imagine that they would be a formidable force under fire. We powered along the Gulf at a speed I would barely have imagined possible in a sea going vessel. It was, without doubt, an extraordinary experience and one that still impresses me. Although the ship's officers were busy with ensuring our passage was without incident from either the ocean or enemy forces they still found the time to regale me with accounts of atrocities of the Ottoman and Macedonian forces. It was clear that, in their view at least, the fight in the Mediterranean would save the world for civilization. I went back on deck.

The sparkling wake of the ship churned into the darkness behind us. I could just see the dark bulk of the islands of Zakinthos (to port) and Kefallonia (to starboard) as we slid between them. With the immediate danger from Axis forces avoided, the boat slowed. I returned to the cabin.

Helena showed no signs of having become reconciled to her fate. I felt I should at least remove her head covering and set to unwinding the bandages. I suppose that I should have been prepared for the voluble and obscene stream of invective that greeted me when I removed the wad of cloth from her mouth. It ended with " ... and if you don't take off these fucking straps I'm going to piss this bed."

That, at least, seemed a reasonable request.

An hour or so later, with Helena secured to her bunk, I took dinner in the Ward Room with Captain Penry and the rest of his officers. They took great pleasure in relating once again the excitements of the various actions in which they had been involved over the past few months but, to be honest, I found I soon lost track of what was being done, how and to whom, and found that a nod of pretended understanding kept the evening moving along satisfactorily.

The meal was better than I had imagined possible on such a small ship and the Captain had provided an excellent bottle of burgundy to accompany it. By the time I returned to my cabin, I was ready to take to my bed.

Outside Helena's cabin, one of Penry's crew stood on guard. "Good evening, Sir," the crewman greeted me, straightening up as he did so.

"Good evening, Seaman," I responded. "All is well with my travelling companion, I trust?"

"Manner of speaking, Sir, yes." The guard saw my look of concern. "Nothing to worry about, Sir. Just that the young lady got a bit, well, boisterous. Captain Penry said I should look after it. She's quite all right, Sir, really."

"I'd better take a look hadn't I?" I was feeling that I would have to speak to Penry about this. It was quite intolerable that the crew should be interfering in Helena's treatment without reference to myself.

"Yes, of course, Sir." The seaman took a key from a pocket of his white-blancoed webbing belt and opened the cabin door.

Helena was kneeling on her bunk in a clearly distressed state. She had her back to us. She had been strapped into a heavy canvas strait jacket, her arms wrapped around her and secured behind her back. The jacket was strapped and buckled tight behind her as well and a length of heavy chain ran around her waist and off to a wide pipe in one corner of the cabin where it was padlocked in place.

"Sorry about the chain, Sir. I know it's a bit heavy for the job but it was the only thing QM could let me have at short notice."

"And the jacket? It looks like it was designed for restraining some higher grade of lunatic. Was it really necessary to use something that looks like it was run up out of the ship's mainsail?"

"Sorry, Sir, we only carry the one, this being a small ship and all. She was being quite, well, provocative at first. Suggested I might enjoy her company a little if I let her up from the bunk. Asked me if I'd like to bump on her fenders, if you see my meaning?"

I couldn't say that I did. The sailor saw my confusion and sought to explain.

"Fenders, Sir, they're those bulbous things we hand over the side when we dock. Young lady here has a nice pair of 'em, I reckon. Course, it's not really my thing, but she wasn't to know that."

Helena gave an annoyed grunt and turned to scowl at the sailor. As she did so I saw that not only was she restrained by the strait jacket but that she had been gagged as well with a heavy wooden peg of some description. I looked at the sailor questioningly.

"It's a belaying pin, Sir. Only thing I had to hand. She was making ever such a fuss, Sir, effing and blinding like one of the stokers. Most upset that I wasn't prepared to succumb to her blandishments. It was a bit of a shock some of the language, Sir, and I've heard it all."

With Helena strapped into the heavy canvas of the strait jacket there was little danger of her putting her 'fenders' to use with anyone. Indeed, so well were their charms obscured by the restrictive garment, she would have had little chance of persuading anyone that she had much to offer in that department.

I was coming to the conclusion that Penry's suggestion of confining her to the cabin for the duration of the voyage was indeed a sound one when my thoughts were interrupted by the bray of a loud klaxon.

"Action stations, Sir," the seaman said. "I have to be on deck. You should report to the captain on the bridge."

"What about Miss Voutrakis?" The klaxon continued to wail. I could hardly make myself heard.

"Best leave her here for the moment, Sir. 'Till we know what's going on." And with that he was off, dashing down the corridor towards the companion way that led up to the aft deck.

Helena's eyes were wide with terror as I shut the door on her groaning protests and struggles and went off in the opposite direction.

I reached the bridge. As I got there I saw that the boat had almost come to a standstill. Penry held out a steel helmet to me. "Better put this on," he said.

"What on earth is going on?" I said. I looked out across the water. It was a clear moonlit night. I could see no sign of any other vessel. No sign of anything in fact, all the way to the horizon.

A voice from behind and above me yelled, "Starboard quarter!" A shot rang out and an enormous explosion about fifty yards away churned the sea into green and white and spat a plume of water high into the air.

"Minefield," Penry said. He turned to his helmsman. "Starboard ten."

"Starboard ten, Sir," the sailor responded moving the ship's wheel.

"We should be all right. At least they're not using magnetic mines yet. You'd better bring your passenger up on deck, though. If we hit one, we'll be under the water in a minute."

Captain Penry seemed unworried but I was anything but calm as I went to find Helena. Below decks it was eerily deserted. Another shot followed by another explosion rang out as I reached the cabin. Unsurprisingly, Helena was as terrified as when I left. I wasn't keen to be in the bowels of the ship for any longer than I needed to be, so I simply released Helena from the chain and pushed her out of the cabin and up on deck.

Helena's arrival on the bridge, wearing only the strait jacket and her tiny white bikini bottoms, was greeted by wolf whistles from some of the crew. Penry was furious. "Get her out of here! The last thing we need right now is distractions. Strap her to a Carley float. Then, if the ship goes down at least I won't have to account for losing my passenger! The rest of you men get on with your work!"

The seaman that had been left on guard outside Helena's cabin stepped forward. "We'll take her to the stern," he said. "There are life rafts there." I took Helena's arm and pushed her out of the deck house. Another shot, and another explosion, had her staring around in fright wondering what on earth she was facing. The sailor led the way to an area behind the ship's twin, raked, funnels. Three bright-yellow life rafts were propped against the side of the cabin. The sailor unstrapped one and laid it down on the deck. Together we pushed the struggling Helena down into the life raft. "Better tie her down," the sailor said, grabbing a coil of rope and tying it to one of the raft's grab lines. Helena was soon safely secured to the raft. Another explosion announced that we still weren't clear of the minefield. "I should be back on the bridge, sir," the sailor announced. "If you think the young lady is all right there."