Dive in the Sun (19 page)

Taylor spoke from the door. ‘Right! I’ve done that, Skipper. What next?’

‘Go and fetch Steve.’ He glanced at the ornate clock over the fireplace. Ten to eleven. ‘Keep your eyes peeled, George!’

‘I must admire the way you are dealing with a difficult situation.’ The mayor smiled thinly. ‘You are a man of many parts,
signore
.’

The girl murmured beneath her breath, her eyes on Curtis.

‘You must not think too badly of him, Carla. He will die if he is captured. He is desperate.’

‘He is a cheat, and a liar!’ She swung her shoulder round, her face hidden.

Her father smiled again and spread his hands defensively. ‘You will not get far,
signore
, I am afraid. The sea will be alive with our ships!’

‘Whose? Yours or the Germans?’

‘What matter? We are allies!’

I wonder for how long, Curtis thought. He jerked round, startled, his gun swinging towards the door.

Jervis grinned with embarrassment, and held out his hands awkwardly. The uniform fitted him well. ‘Steady on! I’m on your side!’

Curtis smiled. ‘Go with this young lady, and get all the first aid gear you can lay your hands on—bandages, lint, anything. Be back here in five minutes!’ He addressed the girl. ‘Help him, please, and bring a small bag for your own things.
One
bag,’ he added.

Duncan shouldered his way into the room, the light playing across his wild, unshaven face and crumpled uniform. ‘Dinkum, Ralph? Good!’ He nodded to the mayor and fastened his gaze on the other Italian. ‘I thought we’d meet again,’ he growled.

‘Later!’ snapped Curtis, his eye again on the clock. ‘Did you see anything?’

Duncan dropped his voice. ‘Don’t tell Ian this, but I found something out in the field by the guardhouse. There was a nice
new
post driven into the ground, complete with ropes! And nearby there was a neat little open grave!’

Curtis looked grim. ‘Near thing, eh?’

Duncan stared round the room. ‘Sure thing. Say, didn’t young Ian look a peach in his new outfit? What’s the idea? When I met him with our girl friend just now, I thought the game was up!’

The German on the floor groaned, but remained motionless, and Curtis pointed at him briskly. ‘Tie him up, Steve. You’ll probably have to carry him to the ship, so make a good job of it.’

Duncan shook his head in admiration. ‘You’re a marvel, Ralph. I just don’t know what’s keepin’ you on your feet, let alone holdin’ your brain together!’ He cut the silk cord from the curtains with his knife and knelt across the German.

The clock began to chime, and Curtis peered through a gap in the curtain. All was quiet, although the moon was much brighter and turned the hedges and buildings to patterns of blue and silver.

Jervis returned carrying a sack and a large case. ‘A few personal things,’ he explained defensively as Curtis’s eye fell on the case. ‘I’ve got a few bandages as well.’

‘Right. You, Ian, go down to the beach now, and wait at the end of the sand spit. If anyone from the village speaks to you, just wave the Schmeisser at them. They won’t stop to argue.’ He indicated the police officer. ‘Take him with you. When you leave by the front door, make sure that you hold it ajar for a minute or two. There’s a sentry on the main gate, I understand, and I want to be sure that he sees you both leave. Everything must look quite normal.’ He turned to Taylor. ‘You take the mayor and his daughter and go out the back way. Keep to the path we came by, but keep out of sight. Make certain there’s no trouble,’ he added harshly.

Taylor licked his lips. ‘Ready, mate?’

The mayor stood up and took the case from Jervis. He linked his arm through the girl’s and followed Taylor through the door.

Jervis clicked his heels and smiled shakily. ‘Gosh, it’s like a miracle, seeing you both again!’

Glass clinked from the oak sideboard as Duncan slipped two bottles inside his blouse. ‘Get crackin’, Ian, an’ keep an eye on this joker! I want to have a word or two with him later!’ He looked threateningly at the shaking Italian.

Jervis put on the German cap, tucking his rough bandage under the rim. ‘Lucky he’s got a big head!’ he grinned, as the German groaned again and twitched violently.

He slipped the machine pistol under his arm and beckoned to the police officer. ‘Come on then. We’re going home!’

Curtis and Duncan watched the two figures stand momentarily under the light from inside the porch and then stride across the drive and down towards the cliff path. In a few seconds they were out of sight. The house was suddenly quiet, and Curtis looked at Duncan wearily, his face grey with concentration and effort.

‘Let’s follow George, eh? We can leave this place now.’

Duncan smiled cheerfully and hoisted the German across his shoulder. ‘I’m glad you decided to listen to the girl, Ralph. She’ll be good company!’

‘We’re not in the ship yet, or out at sea either!’ Curtis was instantly ashamed of the snap in his voice. ‘Sorry, Steve, I’m about done in.’ But he knew that the girl was the real cause of his irritation.

‘Not bloody well surprised! Wait till we get back to Alex. I’ll get you something to put you right!’

They crossed the lawn and started down the narrow track. Curtis stopped only once, and looked back at the deserted house. There’ll be quite a panic in there shortly, he thought grimly.

THE WIND WAS
veering rapidly to the east, and some of its force could be felt on the beach, as the short rollers plunged unevenly along its length, throwing tongues of spray and spume across the moist sand.

Curtis peered at his watch and then across the dark,
pitching
water to where he judged the schooner was riding.

Duncan dumped the German’s body on the ground and stretched his arms with relief. Curtis could hear the German biting and choking on his gag, but did not even spare the man a glance; he concentrated instead on the sea, and Jervis’s white figure which stood stark against the black backcloth like a ghost.

He was dimly aware of the other figures huddled behind him in the overhanging shadow of the hill, and of the girl’s lowered voice as she spoke to her father. Taylor was standing a little apart from the rest, his head turned towards the hidden village.

He saw Jervis raise his arm, and imagined that he could see the flash of his torch as he gave the awaited signal to the ship.

‘It’d be a real joke if the perishers have shoved off without waitin’ for the Jerry and his mate, eh?’ Duncan chuckled without humour. ‘We’d look a right lot of mugs then!’

‘Signor Zecchi has informed me that this is the correct time for the schooner’s departure, and he has also explained the signal that is normally given.’ Curtis spoke shortly. ‘I don’t think we need disbelieve him at this stage.’

‘Thank you.’ There was a trace of sarcasm in the mayor’s reply. ‘I am honoured that you trust me so!’

Curtis moved his shoulders in a quick nervous gesture. ‘I think you know better than to play games!’

They fell into an uneasy silence once more, and Curtis wondered what Jervis was thinking as he stood on the edge of the water with the tall Italian. Now that the first wave of violence and fury had passed from him, he felt a vague prickle of resentment and disappointment which he could not begin to understand. Coupled with the feeling of emptiness, he knew that in some way he was still blaming himself for everything which had happened.

He stiffened, and cocked his head on one side. Faintly at first, and then more persistently, came the squeak of oars and the slap of a boat in the trough of the waves.

‘Ready?’ He was awake again, and momentarily his fears moved into second place. ‘George, watch this lot. Steve, you and I’ll go down to the boat as soon as it beaches.’

‘I’m with you!’ Duncan blew into his cupped hands. ‘Quite a lively sea for movin’ about, I must say!’

They saw the boat slide sluggishly over a white-capped roller and slew carelessly across the shingle. Two humped figures bent over the oars, and their faces gleamed white in the moonlight, as Curtis and Duncan ran down into the water.

Curtis laid his hands on the gunwale and spoke slowly to the police officer, his words plucked from his mouth by the wind. ‘Tell them that there are extra passengers,’ he said. ‘You can tell them that we are members of the German Navy if you wish!’

The officer’s eyes rolled from Curtis to Duncan, who was standing with casual watchfulness behind him, one hand beneath his jacket, and then in quick, excited sentences, he spoke to the oarsmen. One of them shrugged obediently, while the other merely stared indifferently at the water which sloshed across the boat’s bottom-boards.

Duncan steadied the boat as Taylor shepherded the mayor and his daughter down the beach.

The girl turned as if to make one last protest to Curtis, but as she stared at his set, shadowed face, she sighed and stepped lightly into the boat. Taylor followed them, his lips pursed in a silent whistle and, at a nod from Curtis, Duncan ran up the beach for the German.

One of the oarsmen looked up, startled, as the body was dumped behind them in the bottom, but Duncan glared and growled unintelligibly under his breath, and the man bent uneasily across his oar.

Jervis sat upright in the stern, his shoulders squared and his face shaded by the cap.

Before pushing the boat into deep water, Curtis examined the placing of everyone in it with silent care. He nodded to Jervis, satisfied that he was sitting in the most conspicuous position, and where any lookout was bound to see the German uniform, before realizing that anything unusual was happening.

He had done all he could, and with a grunt he pushed the boat clear.

The oars rose and fell, and the boat rose and plunged
across
the waves. With its extra load it was sluggish and unsteady, and the bottom was soon filled with water, which moved across their feet and splashed persistently along the worn gunwale. The land seemed to fade almost at once, and but for the glint of the moon along the sand spit and the dim hump of the hill, it had already lost its identity.

They saw the schooner’s hull first, her smooth white side pitching angrily, as she tugged at the anchor cable, and then, as the boat moved slowly under her high stern, the tall, circling masts and the flapping, carelessly-furled sails loomed over their heads.

Across the stern Curtis could just see the vessel’s name,
Ametisa
, scrawled in wide gilt lettering, which had once, no doubt, been the pride of her owner or captain.

The bow oarsman opened his mouth as if to hail the deck, but Duncan punched him in the arm and shook his head.

The boat scraped alongside and Curtis stood up, his limbs suddenly light, and reached for the schooner’s rail. He heaved himself up and over in one quick movement, his boots skidding on the wet deck.

He glared round, his eyes searching desperately amongst the unfamiliar shapes and shadows of the darkened ship.

Duncan stood beside him, and then Jervis. Taylor’s small figure rose and fell in the boat alongside, his shoulders stooped like a small idol, as he sat quietly watching the others in the boat, his pistol in his hand.

What the oarsmen thought, Curtis neither knew nor cared, and he rested momentarily against the scored gunwale of the ship, unsure of what to do next.

At that very moment, a figure seemed to rise out of the deck between the masts, his uniform buttons glinting in the circle of light which followed him through the opened hatch.

Duncan stepped easily forward and waited for the man to climb on to the deck. As he bent to refasten the hatch, Duncan drove his boot into the lowered head, and then caught his body before he could fall on to the wet planking.

‘One less,’ he said calmly, and pulled a pistol from the
man
’s belt. Still holding the limp figure, he tossed the gun over the ship’s side.

Curtis spoke quietly over the gunwale: ‘Signor Zecchi! Up here quickly!’ Turning to Duncan, who was busy tying up the policeman with his belt, he whispered: ‘We’ll grab the skipper now!’

The mayor arrived on deck, his eyes blinking around him.

‘Come on,’ snapped Curtis. ‘Steve, stay on deck!’

He propelled the mayor to the after hatch, aware that Jervis was following behind, the Schmeisser pointing dangerously at his legs. He slid back the hatch and almost fell down the steep ladder beyond, and ducked beneath a swinging oil lamp, which cast an uncertain glow along the short passage with its three closed doors. Curtis paused uncertainly, the mayor pressed against him, and Jervis’s white legs still on the ladder.

As if in reponse to his unspoken question, a door opened, and the fat stomach of the captain appeared in the passage. He was still wearing the greasy cap which Curtis had seen earlier, and his round, unshaven jowls dropped even lower as he stared at Curtis’s gun and then at his face.

He opened his mouth to speak, his breath fanning across Curtis in a curtain of sour wine and tobacco, but the mayor shook his head authoritatively and held up his hand.

‘Stay still,
Capitano
,’ he commanded quietly. ‘This is a British officer!’ He waited patiently, but the Italian sailor merely goggled at Curtis, his throat moving and bobbing above his red shirt. ‘He is taking your ship!’

‘Do you speak English?’ Curtis spoke sharply, aware of the time all this explanation was taking.

‘
Si!
Ver’ good English!’ He glanced round desperately. ‘Where you come from? I not understand what is happening!’

‘Get on deck and call your men! And be quick about it!’ Curtis stared at the fat, sweating face in exasperation. ‘You are sailing at once!’

‘But,
signore——
’ he spread his palms appealingly.

The gun moved lower. ‘Call them!’

Jervis squeezed back to allow him to pass, then ran up the ladder after him.

The captain peered worriedly at Jervis and shook his head, before reaching up to the bell, which hung on a bracket on the mast.

Duncan uncoiled himself from the rail, his eyes on the captain. ‘He O.K., Ralph?’

‘We’ll see! Any sign of the others?’