V. Make up a dialogue on the following situation, get ready to reproduce it.
Your family took part in a Program for the Exchange of students. It is a first day of a boy from London, England in your family. Ask him about his native city and don’t forget to mention about yours.
VI. Compose a story about your last trip abroad. Use the following words and expressions:
Marvelous, to go sightseeing, sightseeing bus, to walk, to have a snack, to be excited.
VII. Home-reading. Read and translate orally and do all tasks in written form.
Adventures of the Jarak
By Henry Major Tomlison
The invasion of Malaya began at a distance, by the Siamese border. The Jarak with a crew of about forty, commanded by Lieutenant E. A. Hooper, had been a week away from the base. The ship had no protection, except a line of deep mines laid across the eastern approach to Singapore. But the low, dense clouds of monsoon weather were their chief trouble. Besides they had no fresh provision.
The Jarak too in oil and water in the Rhio Strait, and resumed her voyage. Those dark monsoon clouds were over her, and out of them a formation of planes dived to bomb the wharves she had just left. Most of the explosions were in the sea, sending up a variety of fish. The enemy was then forgotten by her crew. Buckets, nets, and hats scooped fish aboard.
The Jarak never knew, when back at Singapore, what she was to do next. On her way home early one morning, the telescope hinted human bodies. A signal was made to Tapah, an accompanying ship, and together they were in time to rescue sixty-nine of the company of the s/s2 Tai Sang, which had struck a mine. This was towards the end of January 1942 when Japanese army was near Singapore.
She delivered her load of the rescued, and was told that parties of British troops were stranded on the west side of the peninsula behind the enemy. With the gunboats Dragonfly and Scorpion, and other small ships, the Jarak must get the troops away. She left after dark. The return could be made only before daylight; the enemy was attacking all movements in the Malacca Straits. Next, when Selatar, the naval base with its floating dock, was abandoned, and the enemy was on the Johore side, the Jarak had to go there by night to retrieve some special equipment, if she could.
The Jarak was anchored in position of dusk, and when night fell it was the darkest night the ship’s company had ever known. It was also a busy night. Towards morning a signal was flashed from a petrol vessel for the Jarak, with the Rear Admiral’s order to proceed to Batavia, steaming by night and taking cover by day.
When morning came there was no sun. The Jarak entered the very narrow channel between Great and Little Durian. While hidden between the islands successive formation of enemy bombers passed over, going south, hunting such as the Jarak. At sundown the Jarak herself steamed away in the direction of the Dempo Strait. About midday she arrived at the last point of the group, and the commander decided to continue towards the Banks Straits.
For two hours they sailed in silence. There were alone on the silky waters, as a ship there nearly always is. Then a plane appeared ahead, circled them in a safe distance, and returned south.
The Jarak’s company waited for the next thing. A reconnaissance plane had found them. Smoke rose on the horizon ahead, and the telescope made out three cruisers and a destroyer in the abreast. Course was made directly away, but the ships of war also changed course at a right angle.
The guns all sparkled together. It seems a long time to stand on an unsheltered deck, after the opposing guns have flashed, while counting the seconds before shells burst. The little ship was enveloped with columns of water. There was nothing she could do but wait for the next salvo. Her slight armament could not reach the enemy. The whistling of shells coming down for their heads was the hardest thing to bear.
A plane and a destroyer stood out from the enemy fleet and made for the Jarak. The big ships ceased fire. It was a visit to see whether the Jarak was dead. She was not. The plane arrived first, caught it and departed, crippled. The destroyer was more serious. The Jarak was soon damaged. One shell blew away the port wing of the bridge, wounding her Commander and two other men. But she was still in going order. While the shells were still crashing about them two boats were lowered. One of the wounded men – for the Jarak was undermanned - helped to get the boats afloat, and then went below for medicine, dressings, and supplies. They pulled away. Another plane was coming at them; the plane roared over, and turned again for the disappearing cruisers. Then the destroyer also altered the course.
Isolated Saya Island, about thirty miles south of Lingga, was in sight. The men pulled for it, and sang as they rowed; even with the sail to help them progress was slow, for the current was adverse. It was dark when the island was reached. The two boats separated in their search for a good landing. One went to the southern end, but returned to report it was sheer cliff. Together they pulled along the east side, and at last they found a rocky shelf under cliffs, and landed for the night.
At dawn a boat put out to explore for a better lodgment, but it soon returned for the rest of the company. The right place was found. The boats entered a lagoon deep enough to float a ship. A coral beach was around it. The party found the coconut palms and bananas. It was easy to climb up the hilltop, and look –out men went up. They reported nothing in sight but their Jarak.
A party went out to her to raise steam without making smoke. While they were away, an army lieutenant spent most of the day cleaning and dressing wounds. Before daylight the Jarak was brought in and anchored in the bay. But they had lost their boat. The other boat thereupon left the enclosure with a signaling officer to listen for news. News was picked up from a Japanese station to tell them that Palembang was probably not the port to make for; many British ships, the Japanese boasted, had been sunk between the Linggas and Banka Straits.
Round the cliff at the entrance to the bay they watched a native boat enter loaded with fruit. Two sturdy Malays manned it. They had come, they said, from Singkep, a large island thirty-five miles to the north-west. They explained that they visited Saya every year to collect fruit. They were simple and honest men. From what they told it was clear that a Japanese fleet was between them and Batavia and Palembang.
The Jarak had not long been secured when a messenger came down the hill in haste to report that a cruiser was approaching the island. All ran to the trees behind ricks. They remained hidden some time before another messenger told them that the warship had stopped, and a plane had left; at once it was over them. It circled and dived to machine-gun the Jarak. It did this four times. Then it flew its ship. The warship steamed away.
The engineers boarded the Jarak to give a lift to the steam. Evidently the Japanese pilot had been taken in; he thought the ship was a wreck. She looked like an abandoned ship.
Her men hurried the stores aboard her secured the boat, and after sunset made an attempt to get her out of it; but the anchor had fouled a rock, and, what was worse, she was aground. At last she was wriggled free. She slid off into deeper water before the tide receded still more. The cable was slipped, and out she went into night.
Course was set for Tanjong Buku. The compass was lighted only by a hand-torch, and that dim glim kept the navigator’s tired eyes just on the binnacle. The navigator could hear that the engines were singing quite the wrong tune. The engineer was breathless with exertion and the perspiration dripped from him. He said she wouldn’t go much longer. All that was possible was to take her as near the coast as she would go and afterwards send her to the bottom. All hands were put ashore, and only a party of six remained aboard; and the order was given for the burial of the Jarak. She settled till her deck was level with the sea, and her men left her. They pulled away, and stood off in silence watching while her shape lessened in the dark.
At dawn the company shifted into the cover of the jungle. It was clear one boat could not make all of them on the voyage to the Indragiri. And no one of them knew anything about people of this big island. After some time Malay was seen distantly walking on the beach. The man told them there was a town on the island. It was Dabo, twelve miles ways. Boats were there to take them all. The boat put out at once for Dabo.
When it returned, bringing with it two native craft and their crews, it brought also more news. Dabo indeed was more than full of people.
Two sailing boats with the Jarak’s party left Dabo on 21st February for Samatra, and with a fresh breeze made fair headway. After dark the Commander’s craft lost sight of the other, and never saw it again. The coast of Sumatra was hit at a branch of the delta of the Indeagiri called Kuala Euok, in the morning of 23rd February; and a day later was at a centre, where an organization was arranging to get survivors across the great island of Padang, the port of Sumatra’s Island Ocean coast. There were already 500 people in the place.
When Padang was reached no ship was there. The last ship had gone. Too late! A party of ten decided to go on to Sasak, a coast village 100 miles north. They arrived at Sasak to see two good native sailing boats at anchor. One was purchases next morning. She was ballasted with four tons of sand, and provisioned and watered.
Colombo, 1400 miles away, was the port to be made for. They had sail needles, but could get no fresh canvas, and the sails were in a bad condition for a long voyage. On the morning of 16th March, with a fresh off- shore wind, the anchor was weighted and that native boat, the Setia Berganti, departed from Sasak bound towards Ceylon. For navigation they had a small –scale chart of the Indian Ocean, a school map of the islands lying off Sumatra, and an ancient volume of Dutch Sailing Directions, a book of Nautical Tables, and the Jarak’s boat compass.
They were well clear of the land at dawn on the second day. As day grew, the force of the wind fell away till it was dead calm. For seven hours she wallowed, the sails flapping, in a smooth but heavy swell, wrenching her poor gear. The type of weather to be expected then in that latitude was equatorial squalls with torrents of rains, and calms. It was thought best to run with the squalls when they came, though the sails were fit only for light winds. Once a Japanese plane was in sight, making what was probably a routine sweep of the coast; they were certainly seen, but the watch on deck was disguised in Malay dress.
On the third night, out, on a north – westerly course to pass Pina Island, a squall struck them, and the mainsail was ripped from head to foot. She was anchored off the island, and on its beach the damage was repaired, from Pina they went to another island, Tello, and thence began the long trip to Ceylon.
They reached the half-way mark without another incident; they had only 500 miles to go. The next day they were watching the blue-black curtain ahead of a rain squall advancing, always an anxiety, and through it they saw a Japanese fleet. All hands went below while their ship passed the enemy on a parallel course; Japanese watch-keepers would have seen only what appeared to be a Malay at the tiller of a ship of the islands. The fleet was of three fast fleet oilers in line ahead, and armed. Would they investigate, or fire without a question? Would they bother at all about a native craft? They steamed past, and made no sign.
It was when the fleet was three miles astern, that one of its ships altered her course. She approached, and fired a shell across the bows of the Setia Berganti. She ordered the vessel to come alongside. The refugees had to board the Sinkoko Maru; and its captain, in good English, told them how sorry he was they had failed. It was his duty to make them prisoners of war. In another minute they were on their way back to Singapore.
Hinted human bodies- нащупал людей
s/s=steamship – пароход
In line abreast- на лини траверза
There was nothing she could do but wait for the next salvo – Ничего не оставалось, как ждать следующего залпа
Caught it- получил свою порцию
Still in going order - все еще не утерял плавучести
Reported nothing in sight but - сообщили, что в поле зрения нет ничего, кроме
Lost sight of – потерял из вида
As the day grew, the force of the wind fell away till it was dead calm – по мере того как занимался день, ветер постепенно утихал, и наконец наступил штиль.
Cleaning and dressing wounds - промывая раны и делая перевязки
To listen for news - чтобы услышать новости
Get her out of it – вытащить ее оттуда
The anchor had fouled a rock – якорь зацепился за камень
The engines were singing the wrong tune - машины не в порядке (букв. пели не тот мотив)
Wouldn’t go much longer- долго не протянет