To Risks Unknown (28 page)

‘Enough for us?'

Ross seemed to realize what Crespin meant. ‘It'd be a tight squeeze, sir. Aye, there'll not be a lot under her keel.'

Crespin bit his lip. It had to be done. ‘In a minute I'll want full speed. Everything that mechanic of yours can give you! We'll head straight between that gap and go hard astarboard.' He saw Ross nodding imperturbably. ‘Then, and only then, we'll cut the engine completely and go for the beach. If we don't hit anything she should have enough way on to reach it without using any more power at all.'

He heard Ross shouting through the engine hatch and found time to wonder at the mechanic's lonely existence. Unlike Magot, he had no one to talk to, nobody to explain the happenings of the world above his head.

Ross grunted. ‘Ready when you are, sir.'

‘Right. Full ahead, Skipper!' Crespin gripped the coaming and felt the deck begin to shiver and vibrate as if it would collapse beneath him. They were so close inshore now that the cliff seemed to be tearing past at an impossible speed, although he guessed it was probably less than ten knots. Faster and faster, with more enraged gulls sweeping around them in a noisy escort.

Coutts stood beside him, his pistol in his hand. He watched the great rock pinnacle creeping out to port and murmured, ‘Too late to change your mind now. So here we go!'

All at once they were churning between the two walls of rock, the water seething and leaping over each bulwark like a millrace as the schooner ploughed through the narrow gap. One partisan was pointing over the rail, his voice lost in the sounds of engine and backwash, but Crespin did not have to look to know that he had seen the sea's bottom gliding up to meet their onrush, the littered fragments gleaming through the churned water like black teeth.

Coutts said, ‘Christ, we're through!'

Crespin did not even hear him. ‘Hard astarboard! Cut engine!' He almost fell as Ross put the wheel down and sent the little schooner pivoting around the last outflung arm of headland. And there was the cove, a wide crescent of beach at the far end, already grey in the dawn light, and beyond it, in a jumbled mass of stone and shadow, was the village.

Somewhere on the hillside beyond the cove Soskic and his men must have seen the schooner's erratic appearance, for in the seconds which followed the remaining shadows were split apart by murderous bursts of automatic fire, while from somewhere to the left came the heavier explosions of grenades.

As the schooner's keel cut a fine line across the sheltered water and the cove opened out to meet her more firing started from beyond the low huts and cottages, sporadic and vague at first, and then as the alarm was raised, heavier and with more controlled purpose.

Crespin ran forward as Preston squeezed his trigger and sent a stream of tracers flicking across the water towards an open space between the houses. Like Crespin he had seen the crouching shape of the German half-track, and as he emptied his first magazine he saw sparks fly from the steel while more bullets ploughed into the sand around it, making it spurt into the air like jets of steam.

Crespin seized his shoulder and shook it. ‘Not the halftrack!' He had to shake him violently before he understood. Beside the parked vehicle Crespin had seen a small camouflaged tent where the German crew had no doubt been enjoying a sleep, safe in the knowledge they were in an occupied village. But now they were stumbling out of the tent, their bodies pale in their underclothes as they staggered towards the safety of the half-track. ‘Get them! If they reach that thing …'

His words were lost in the renewed burst of tracer from the Bren as Preston shifted his sights. Three of the Germans fell kicking on the sand and another turned and ran back into the tent. The muzzle moved very slightly, and even in the poor light Crespin saw the bullets ripping it apart until it hung from its frame in tattered fragments.

He yelled, ‘Stand by to beach!'

Beyond the houses the hillside was criss-crossed with gunflashes and the sharp orange detonations of the grenades. There was smoke, too, and occasionally Crespin could see figures running from cover to cover, shooting, as they ran, some tailing, others crawling blindly until the next shots cut them down.

With a groan of protest the stem drove into the beach, and as the schooner sidled awkwardly on the hard sand the men were already leaping over the bows, wading through the water with their weapons above their heads.

Crespin shouted, ‘Covering fire with the Bren!' Then he, too, was over the side, the sea dragging at his efforts to wade ashore, like a man in a nightmare. The water was surprisingly warm, and this fact seemed to steady him. Salt splashed across his face, and he realized that bullets were now coming towards the schooner. Behind him he heard the Bren rattle into life once more and felt the bullets fanning overhead in a hot wind.

A partisan reached the beach first and lifted his Schmeisser to fire. Then he fell forward on to his face, and another man dropped almost by his side.

But they were well up the beach now, with figures and objects looming out of the smoke, faces distorted and unreal as the Sten guns and pistols threw them back on to the sand, their blood making strange patterns which looked black in the dull light.

Crespin saw Leading Seaman Allan fall on one knee, blood gushing from his mouth, and a partisan snatch his Sten as he ran past the dying seaman with hardly a pause before he reopened fire. One of the Germans in the tent had survived after all. He dashed out between the running figures, his hands above his head, his cries unheeded until a stray bullet brought him, too, kicking to the ground.

Coutts saw him fall and fired two shots into his body as he ran past.

Inside the tent the remaining German soldier leaned against a small field radio set, the microphone still gripped in one bloodied hand. The lower part of his face had been shot away, but his eyes stared up at Crespin with an expression of incredible hatred. The radio was buzzing beneath the corpse until Crespin fired his pistol directly into it, the crash of the shot dragging his mind back from the edge of nausea and insanity.

As he walked out of the tent he saw more people than ever surging around him, but this time they were strangers. Men and women, even children, clutching the grim-faced partisans, weeping and cheering, oblivious to the danger and the bullets which still whimpered towards the sea.

Through the fog of his reeling mind Crespin realized that the firing was less and the bang of grenades seemed muffled and much further away.

Coutts strode towards him, the Lüger replaced in its holster. He paused as he saw Crespin and threw up a salute which would have done credit to any Palace guard.

‘The village is ours,
sir
.' He teeth showed white in his grimy face. ‘Any orders?'

Crespin lifted his arm. ‘Don't let the partisans blow up the half-track. There's a four-barrelled Vierling gun on it. They could use it on Gradz.' He wiped his forehead with his wrist. He felt dizzy and sick, yet something was still making him go on. He did not even recognize his own voice. ‘Tell Ross to send his mechanic here. He should be able to strip it.'

Hands were pounding his shoulders, and a dark-haired woman with a deep cut above one eye was holding up a baby towards him like a talisman.

Then Soskic came out of the smoke. ‘You did well, comrade!' He was watching Crespin gravely. ‘Those carrion have run for the hillside.'

Crespin gestured towards the tent. ‘That German may have had time to send a signal. We must get the schooner floated off immediately.'

He swayed and Soskic steadied his arm, shouting above the voices which surged around them in a tide of excitement and relief. ‘My men will do it. She is only a little ship, but worth caring for, eh?'

Crespin nodded and then walked back towards the sea's edge. He could hear occasional shots and what sounded like screams. Perhaps those Germans had been the lucky ones after all.

Coutts joined him and stopped to splash some water against his face and hands. He said, ‘I saw what the Chetniks did here. They butchered about thirty of the villagers. They raped the women first before killing them, of course.'

Crespin said harshly, ‘Do you have to keep on about it?'

‘Yes, I think I do.' Coutts half turned as another terrible scream echoed down the beach. ‘You're sickened because of what the partisans are doing. Just remember how you'd feel if it was your girl up there by the road in a pool of blood.'

Ross waded up the beach and looked at both of them impassively. Then he said, ‘We'll be afloat again any minute, sir. If we fill the boats with people we should be able to manage all right.' He sniffed the air. ‘Maybe we'll get a wind to blow us home this time.'

Crespin made himself turn and look at the village. ‘We'll take all who want to come with us,' he said slowly. ‘Reprisal leads to reprisal, and I don't want to cause any more suffering in this place.'

Ross looked at Coutts who gave a brief shrug. Then he said, ‘If I may say so, sir, you did well. Very well.'

Crespin realized that he was still carrying the pistol and with a sigh thrust it into his holster.

‘We all did, Skipper.' He walked slowly along the beach, his eyes on the rock pinnacle. ‘I suppose that has to be enough.'

WITHIN HALF AN
hour of refloating the schooner every foot of space was filled in readiness for the return voyage to Gradz. The frantic preparations went on at full speed unhampered by the enemy except for an occasional stray bullet from the hillside beyond the village where Soskic's rearguard stayed to cover the final withdrawal.

Crespin watched the last of the Yugoslavs being hauled aboard from the dinghies which had been used for ferrying them from the beach, and wondered how they were managing to find any more space. They must be jammed like sardines, and he could feel the hull yawing uncomfortably as the last group struggled over the bulwark and were guided or pushed towards the hatch.

He saw a partisan jump clear of the abandoned half-track as a great tongue of flame licked greedily along its side before engulfing the whole vehicle in a mass of fire and smoke. The motor mechanic had managed to dismantle the Vierling gun which was now stowed in the schooner's bilges. Its extra weight above the keel might help to give the hull some stability and make up for the packed humanity between decks, Crespin thought.

Some of the rearguard ran down the beach and launched one of the dinghies. They were yelling and cheering with excitement, and one of them was able to stand up and shoot towards the hills in spite of the crowded figures around him.

Crespin said, ‘We shall have to tow that lot behind us. Make the line fast and signal for the others to fall back now.'

He saw Ross staring at the sky, and when he turned he saw to his astonishment that it had clouded over in the space of minutes. When he had last found time to look it had been clear and pale blue, with a hint of morning sunlight already warming his face. Now there was just a low blanket of cloud, and the sea which had looked so placid and inviting had changed to a hard, threatening grey.

Ross called, ‘I'm not happy about this! I think we're in for a blow!'

Crespin did not answer. He had heard of these Adriatic gales. The ‘Bora', as it was known, could come with the force and the suddenness of a tropical storm. He thought of the wretched people crouching below deck and the miles of open water beyond the cove.

‘Make another recall to those people ashore. We must get under way immediately!' He crossed to the other rail and lifted his glasses. Beyond the headland and its protective pinnacle he could see the nearest island on the far side of the channel. But that, too, had changed, and the top half of it seemed to have been cut off by low cloud or a belt of fast moving rain. And the channel itself was already breaking into ranks of short-ridged rollers, their crests crumbling in the face of the growing wind.

A bullet, almost spent, thudded dully into the hull and brought a chorus of muffled cries from below. Some children were weeping pitifully, but whether from fear or hunger, Crespin did not know. Maybe their parents were amongst those corpses beside the road which Coutts had described so brutally.

He breathed out slowly as some running figures came down the beach and jumped into the last boat. They were pulling strongly for the schooner when more shots came from the village, the gun flashes almost completely hidden by smoke from the blazing half-track.

In the bows Preston returned fire with his Bren, sweeping slowly back and forth, the empty magazines mounting beside him in a steady pile.

Crespin watched narrowly as the other boat picked up the tow and then shouted, ‘Up anchor! Get under way, Skipper!'

Soskic managed to jump to the schooner's bulwark before the last dinghy yawed away on the end of its line, and Crespin saw that his eyes were shining with grim satisfaction.

Crespin asked, ‘How many did you lose?'

‘Seven.' Soskic pulled up his coat collar and watched as the seamen struggled amongst the crouching refugees to loose the two big sails. ‘But we made
them
pay ten times over!'

Ross shouted above the din of banging canvas and engine noise, ‘I'll make for the middle of the channel. We must get a bit o' sea room, sir!'

Crespin nodded. The old schooner was fore and aft rigged, and would not be easy to handle with so much dead weight aboard.

Soskic clung to the hatch coaming and said suddenly, ‘You have seen the weather signs, eh? It is not good for us.'

Crespin looked at him. ‘We have to get away from here. There's no damned choice in the matter.'

Soskic shrugged. Then he said simply, ‘We are in your hands.'

As soon as the schooner was clear of the headland the wind came down across her quarter with a smashing impact which heeled her over until the lee bulwark was almost awash. Astern the two towed boats were veering away diagonally, and Crespin could see the partisans baling frantically, even using their hats as they struggled to stay afloat. It was bad, and the wind still rising.