Roses of Winter (37 page)

T
he youth of a whole generation stolen away jist like in the last war
, Donald thought.
It’s nae different fer me either, is it? It could be taken away from me as well. An’ whit if ah dae make’ it through the war? Ah’ll no’ get these years back
. He hadn’t considered the future for quite a long time, not daring to think of anything resembling a plan for after the war in case he jinxed the good luck he had experienced until now. Pushing these uncomfortable thoughts aside, he said, “Ah’ll keep this for ye until you’re back on yer feet again.”

Andy nodded, and Donald, seeing that the simple act of writing had tired the lad out, helped him lie back down.

The ships kept on at high speed towards the strait. Llewelyn had studied his charts carefully and conferred with McLellan who had sailed in these waters as a young man.

“It’s no’ that easy tae find,” McLellan had stated. “The entrance to the strait itself is narrow and surrounded by high mountains.” Based on his past experience, it was agreed that McLellan would take the lead on the approach.

Llewelyn’s prediction of their arrival time proved remarkably accurate. He was pleased when land was sighted the following day within half an hour of the time he had predicted. At close range the mountains of Novaya Zemlya were impressive. They rose up to great heights with snowy caps and glaciers that shone in the eternal arctic daylight.

The approach to the strait was something of an anticlimax. McLellan, self-assured as always, deftly brought them in past Cape Stolbovoi.
 
Placing Pomorskaya Bay behind them, they headed for an anchorage near the desolate community of Lagerni on the far shore. The strait was empty of ships. Llewelyn surveyed the collection of wooden huts through his binoculars. He lowered the glasses and turned to Hugh.

“It’s not my idea of a holiday retreat,” he said dryly.

Hugh snorted in agreement.
 
He scanned the coastline. “Looks like the welcoming committee is on its way,” he said.
 
Llewelyn raised his glasses again and spotted a small boat pulling away from Lagerni.

They watched the boat head for the
Strathcairn
and swing around on a parallel course. “What the hell is that Russian doing?” Hugh asked.
 
“He’s got a bloody machine gun pointed at them.”

Llewelyn focused his binoculars on the
Strathcairn
.
 
McLellan was out on the end of the bridge, megaphone in hand, engaged in an exchange of words. “I hope Iain minds his manners,” Llewelyn observed. The
Strathcairn
had an obscene amount of weaponry aimed at the Russians.
 

A Union Jack appeared on the bridge, held up by the first officer. McLellan pointed at it then held it taut so it could be plainly seen. The Russian stopped yelling. The launch pulled ahead.
 
The Russian waved to the
Strathcairn
, indicating that he would lead them in.

Hugh let out a sigh of relief. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled. It’s all we need to start a shooting war with the Russians, especially here.”

They followed the
Strathcairn
and dropped anchor. Their anchorage was surrounded by a landscape that was as bleak as it was majestic. The settlement of Lagerni looked Spartan and forbidding, a collection of wooden huts and little else. On the shore a small group of men, women and children stared at the ships. One of the children waved.

Hugh lifted his arm in response. “I don’t expect they get many visitors,” he said. “God, they must have a grim time of it up here.”
 

At McLellan’s suggestion, the captains and first officers of the different ships gathered together on the
Strathcairn
. Llewelyn and Hugh were the first to arrive. They found McLellan attempting to have a conversation with two Russians. Catching sight of them, McLellan attempted to introduce the men, but faltered over their names. The taller of the two, a burly jovial looking fellow, laughed and came forward to greet Hugh and the captain.

“I am Piotr Vasilevich Fedorov, and this is Andrei Nikolaevich Mikhailov.” The man he indicated was short and thin, and greeted them with a scant enthusiasm that contrasted markedly with his companion’s friendly manner. “We welcome our brave British allies to our small community,” Piotr continued.

It appeared that only Piotr Vasilevich spoke any English and that only moderately well. While Piotr greeted them, Andrei Nikolaevich watched carefully, his manner plainly suspicious. He spoke urgently now to Piotr Vasilevich in Russian.

“Our good comrade is curious to know what brings you here. We do not receive many visitors, as you might have already realized.”

 
Llewelyn explained about the break up of the convoy and their intention to gather as many ships together as possible before resuming their voyage to Archangel. Piotr nodded and conveyed this to Andrei.

“We had thought it might be possible to pass through the Matochkin Strait into the Kara Sea and go down the eastern shore,” Llewelyn said. “What do you know of the conditions at the eastern opening of the Strait?”

Piotr shook his head. “You will not be able to go that way. It is completely blocked with ice. The only way to Archangel is back the way you came.”

After the Russians left, Llewelyn passed this information on to the assembled officers.

“So what do we do?” asked Richard Whittaker, captain of the
Grimsby
. “Do we wait to see if other ships show up, or do we press on with what we have?”

“But there’s no guarantee that any other ships will show up,” replied John Pettigrew commander of the
Hengist
.

“Well, if we had the idea, it wouldn’t surprise me if others did too,” Llewelyn said.

“Aye, if there are any others at this point,” McLellan dryly observed.

“What would it hurt to wait a couple of days to find out?” asked Whittaker.

Pettigrew looked thoughtful. “I suppose we could take the
Hengist
back out to look for stragglers.”

They looked at him. “Is that wise?" Whittaker asked.

“Wise? No,” Pettigrew replied with a tight smile. “But if any ships did make it up to the edge of the ice pack and then headed south down the west coast of Novaya Zemlya, they wouldn’t be very likely to spot us in here, would they?”

“Aye, ye have a point there,” McLellan agreed. “But it would be very risky, and to be quite blunt, we could use your fire power wi’ us on the run to Archangel.”

Pettigrew nodded. “That’s true. But if you were still out there wouldn’t you want some help?”

He saw a few of them nod in silent agreement.
 
For men steeped in the traditions of the sea, the fellowship of seamen was not something to be taken lightly. And these were men who had made the sea their life’s career and did not easily dismiss the thought of helping their fellows.
 

Pettigrew proposed to sail as far as he could for a day, taking a course that would give him the best chance of sighting ships heading from the north or from the original position of the convoy. At the end of the prearranged time he would return to their anchorage at Lagerni and they would set out together for Archangel. The group agreed to add on a buffer of time in case he was delayed for some reason. They wished Pettigrew well.
 
Privately they thought little of his chances.
 

When the meeting broke up, Hugh and Llewelyn remained to talk with McLellan. He brought out a bottle of whisky and three glasses.

“Ah know it wis rude o’ me no’ tae share this with the company,” he said. “But ah don’t know when ah’ll be able tae get mair o’ this stuff.”
 
He poured three generous portions against their protests and held up his glass. “Here’s tae Pettigrew. A brave man and ah wish him all success.” The others raised their glasses in agreement. “And here’s tae a safe arrival in Archangel for all of us.”
 

They sat back to enjoy their drinks. “Whit did ye make o’ thae Russkies?” McLellan asked.

“The tall one seemed OK,” Hugh observed. “But I don’t think the other one was happy to see us.”

“Ye’re right there,” McLellan agreed. “See, he’s the politico, the man in charge. Ah widnae trust those buggers as far as ah could throw them. Wan minute their fighting against us wi’ the Germans and noo they’re our allies. And here we are, like mugs, risking oor lives tae bring them tanks and planes. You notice they didnae invite us tae go ashore. Don’t expect any bloody thanks from them either.”

Llewelyn didn’t disagree. He knew McLellan of old and was well aware it wasn’t fear that prompted his remarks.
Iain would go through hell and out the other side
, Llewelyn thought.
But he didn’t like to be taken for a fool. And this was likely to be an expensive convoy in terms of lives lost and ships sunk
. He was afraid to think what the final count might be, but he was certain it would not be good. Despite Piotr’s blustery bonhomie there had been a reserve there too - a shadow cast by his companion, Llewelyn suspected.
 

But the Russian surprised them on the following day. A small boat came alongside the
Izmir
. Hugh looked over the side to see Piotr steadying himself with the ladder and holding a sack. There was no sign of Alexei Nikolaevich. When he spotted Hugh, Piotr held up the sack and called out for him to lower a rope. He grabbed the end of the line thrown down by a deck hand, and tied the sack securely to it.
 
He waited for it to arrive safely on board before climbing up the ladder. For a big man he was surprisingly nimble. It was not long before he was on deck. Piotr grabbed Hugh in a bear hug and kissed him solidly on the cheek. Hugh flushed red but was unable to break free before Piotr planned a kiss on the other cheek.
 

Piotr picked up the sack. “I have something for you,” he said.

Hugh led him to the small mess where the captain and the other officers ate their meals. Piotr placed the sack carefully on the table and drew out four bottles of vodka, some loaves of dark bread and what appeared to be a type of sausage.

“I did not want you to feel unwelcome,” Piotr said in his halting English. He came closer to Hugh and said more quietly, “That Alexei, he has no sense of humor. He has, how do you British say it, a stick up his arse.” He rolled his eyes, making Hugh smile. “But he can make trouble for me so I have to be careful.”

He pulled off the stopper on the vodka. “Let’s drink to all of you brave British sailors who have come to help us.” He gulped down a healthy swig of the vodka before handing the bottle to Hugh. “Zah vsyo kharohshoyeh. May everything be good in your life!”

Hugh hesitated a moment, weighing his British reserve against his wish to be hospitable, before downing a discreet mouthful of the vodka. Despite his caution, the unfamiliar spirit made him cough. Piotr laughed heartily and slapped him on the back.
 

They had watched the
Hengist
leave the anchorage with a great deal of trepidation. Now, over two days later, there was still no sign of the ship. They had agreed to wait for seventy-two hours. If the
Hengist
had not arrived by then, the reduced group of ships would attempt to reach Archangel. The
Hengist
, if it survived, would be on its own.
 

On the morning of their planned departure, Hugh scanned the strait yet again. Llewelyn came on to the bridge. “Still no sign of them, sir.”

The captain nodded.

“Signal from
Strathcairn
, Sir. They’re asking us if we are ready to leave.”

“Tell them we are ready when they are.”

Soon the sound of anchors being raised came across the water. They got under way and fell in behind the
Strathcairn
. With Pomorskaya Bay to port, they made their turn towards the open sea and picked up speed. McLellan wanted plenty of sea room before turning south.
 

On each of the ships, eager eyes were scanning the horizon in the direction from which they expected the
Hengist
to appear. It was not until they were preparing to execute the maneuver to change course that a lookout called out to the bridge of the
Izmir
.

“Ship to starboard. Fifteen degrees off the bow.” He slashed his arm up and down to give them the direction.

“By God, he’s right, sir,” Hugh exclaimed. The superstructure of a ship could be seen glinting in the Arctic sun. He scanned the sea around it. “There’s something else there, I can’t quite make it out.”

The lookout called out again. “Two more ships, just coming up over the horizon.”

Following a hurried exchange of signals, they changed course to meet the oncoming ships. After twenty minutes the distance had closed enough so that they could identify the lead ship as the
Hengist
. She was signaling now by Aldiss lamp, telling them she had found two freighters, the
San Leandro
and the
Bamburgh Castle
. The two groups joined up, then set a course that would bring them south-southwest into the Barents Sea. By Llewelyn’s reckoning, over nine hundred hard sea miles lay between them and Archangel.
 
Every one they traveled brought them closer to danger, to the certainty of German attacks.