The Expert
By VERNON BARTLETT
SOMEWHERE near the Canary Islands our liner passed another ship, outward-bound. The ' Llanstephan Castle.' they told me, and my mind went back to the summer of 1941, when the ' Llanstephan Castle' unexpectedly carried me part of the way to Moscow by steaming westwards from Liver- pool to mid-Atlantic, northwards between Iceland and Green- land, and eastwards between Bear Island and the North Pole.
The passengers were as unexpected as the route. Most of them were young officers of the R.A.F. who had volunteered for service in Russia. There was Feliks Topolski. on his way to portray the Soviet war-effort to the Western world. Two or three British officers were being sent out in the mistaken belief that their experience as bomb-disposal experts and so on would be welcomed by the Russians. There was the attractive French wife of the arch-Quisling of Czechoslovakia, Fierlinger, then Ambassador in Moscow. There was Charlotte Haldane, ex- wife of Britain's most famous Communist professor, and herself an ardent member of the Party until her conversion during this visit to the Soviet Union.
But the most unexpected passenger was Flight-Lieutenant Cumberbatch. There seemed to be so little reason why be should have volunteered for service in Russia, this cguntry of mystery that had only a few weeks earlier unwillingly Become a belligerent. Most of his fellow-officers were very young, and he took no part in the schoolboy nonsense in which most of us on board were so noisily and happily engaged. While we played silly practical jokes on each other he would sit alone in the one quiet corner of the lounge. He was as out of place in our ship as our ship was out of place in the Arctic Ocean. Why was he here?
One day I determined to find out. I had just left the Commodore, whose anxiety had taken the form of an angry temper. This, he explained, was the area where the danger of air and torpedo attack was at its greatest. It had never been more important that the convoy should keep in formation and be inconspicuous. And there was that blankcty-blank little ship away to starboard not only lagging behind but making smoke like an oil-well on fire. No, it wasn't entirely the captain's fault. It was the fault of those so-and-sos at home who had put a seven-knot ship in a nine-knot convoy. But how was ha expected to carry a Wing of the R.A.F. and their crated " Hurricanes " to Russia while ships in his convoy poured oui smoke signals to any Hun within a hundred miles? It was while I was still under the impression of dire danger left upon me by the Commodore that I came across Cumber- batch in the lounge. As much to take my mind off submarines and aircraft as to find out more about him, I decided to miss a round of drinks and a game of dice in the bar. Conversation wasn't easy. It was not that Cumberbatch resented inter- ruption; his eyes lit up with obvious pleasure because someone had turned to him for company. But be had no small talk. I tried him on the R.A.F., but his job, by reason of his age, was a sedentary one, and did not seem greatly to interest him. No he was not one of those whose political curiosity attracted hiai to Russia. No, he was not a great traveller. I gathered that be lived very quietly and had had little chance to travel.
It took me quite a long time to convince so diffident a man that he might arouse anybody's interest. I had, indeed, to ask him point-blank why he, so quiet and studious, had volunteered for an expedition that must be so uncomfortable and dangerous. He answered by asking me a question to which I had to reply in the negative—Did I know much about rhododendrons?
I was completely bewildered. Rhododendrons, and here we were somewhere inside the Arctic Circle! "I happen to be rather an expert where rhododendrons are concerned." Cumber. batch said, almost boastfully and as though that explained his presence in our ship. But he saw I had no notion of what he was talking about, and patiently he added to his explanation. He had not, of course, known by what route he would be sent to Russia, and it had been a grave disappointment to him to be sent by this northern route. But sooner or later the Wing would be repatriated. It might come home by way of the Caucasus, and on the slopes of the Caucasus grew as fine a variety of rhododendrons as could be found anywhere in the world. Cumberbatch's eyes shone with enthusiasm, and suddenly he seemed to be the youngest man in our ship.
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