Dive in the Sun (10 page)

They found a thick clump of bush and bracken on a small overhanging shelf of sandstone, and Duncan laid his burden thankfully under the shade of the leaves. ‘Sit down, George,’ he said patiently, as Taylor stood dazedly on the edge of their hideaway, ‘you’re a bit too old for shooting!’ He sighed as Taylor slumped heavily beside him like a puppet which had had the strings cut from it, and peered over the top of the coarse grass at the side of the ledge. The village was smaller than he had imagined. Tiny, whitewashed, single-storied cottages scattered carelessly in the deep cleft between the hills and lining the rough track which led down to the beach. He could just see the line of brightly painted fishing boats pulled up on the far end of the sand spit, and licked his lips. One of those might do, he thought.

A dog barked, and he saw the shadows cast by the cottages begin to harden and darken as the sun filtered through the cloud, which already seemed to be fading.

Several of the dwellings had smoke drifting upwards from
their
chimneys, and Duncan was aware that he was ravenously hungry. The smoke was going straight up, he realized bitterly. The wind had gone as suddenly as a bad dream. But for its visit, their suffering might have been saved, and Ian might have been with them. A figure stepped from one of the doors, small and indistinct. It stretched, and Duncan imagined him yawning to greet the morning. It was peaceful and unreal. Untouched and all the more terrifying because of it.

Duncan sighed and rolled on to his side, feeling the water drain from his boots. A little of the sun’s rays touched his cheek, and he felt very tired. He turned to speak to Taylor, but he was already asleep, sprawled on his back where he had fallen in the effort of pulling off his sodden jacket.

With a groan he turned on to his back and laced his fingers beneath his hair and felt the coarse mixture of sand and salt which it had collected.

His mind wandered aimlessly back to the midget submarine, and he imagined their control-room already being explored by the fish. It was to be hoped that too much oil had not seeped to the surface, he decided, it might make things more awkward. He heard a long intake of breath, and craned his head to watch as Curtis sat up slowly, rubbing his jaw. The blue eyes moved vaguely around the bushes and the clear ceiling of the sky before they eventually settled on Duncan.

‘Sorry about the poke, Ralph.’ Duncan spoke guardedly. ‘I guess it was ’bout all I could do.’

Curtis frowned as if trying to piece together what had happened, and then his eyes clouded and he drew up his knees to his chin, his arms wrapped round them.

‘I was going after him.’ It was more of a question than a statement. ‘I remember him calling.’ He shook his head. ‘Perhaps I only imagined that I heard him.’ He sat up with a jerk. ‘Hell! Where the devil are we?’

Duncan grinned, and allowed his bunched muscles to relax slightly. ‘On the goddamned hill! Right where you wanted us!’

Curtis raised himself on his knees, still rubbing his chin. ‘You can still land a punch,’ he commented, as he surveyed the village beneath them.

‘No hard feelings, Ralph?’

‘Not to you.’

‘D’you want to go over what happened?’ Duncan saw the crouched shoulders stiffen, and wished he could see his eyes.

‘He was drowned,’ he said flatly. ‘What else is there to realize?’

Duncan sighed, and tried to open his left eye. ‘What else, as you say. What a bit of damned bad luck.’ He decided it would be prudent to change the subject. ‘What now exactly?’

Curtis sat back on his haunches, the clean outline of his face turned towards the sun. ‘We must wait until it’s dark, and then have a scout round.’ He eyed the fishing boats narrowly. ‘Of course, if that lot shove off for the day, we might slip out during the day and get the lay of the land. We’ll have to get some grub. We don’t seem to have much left.’ He pulled out his wet pockets. ‘I’ve only got a grenade and this tin of meat.’

‘I know which I’ll have!’

Curtis smiled for the first time. ‘Thanks, Steve,’ he said simply.

He looked at Duncan’s eye. ‘Here, let me have a go.’ He cut the tail off his shirt with his diver’s knife, and after drying it in the warm air he began to dab the grit from the inflamed eyeball.

Every so often they watched the houses, waiting for some sign of what to expect.

A woman in a bright red dress left one of the nearer cottages and walked slowly towards the beach. The two officers stared at her curiously. She was short and fat, and her long black hair gleamed dully in the sunlight. She was a woman, nevertheless, and one of the potential enemy.

‘What a bird!’ Duncan blinked his eye and smiled happily. ‘I feel ready for anythin’ now. Even her!’

Some men and women had gathered at the top of the track, and Duncan’s heart gave a leap as he saw the fishing nets that some of the men were dragging down the path. ‘They’re goin’ out, I guess.’

‘Good. There don’t seem too many of ’em, do there?’

Duncan hissed sharply, ‘Hold it, there’s a car or somethin’ comin’!’

Taylor groaned and suddenly appeared beside them, scratching his stomach absently.

‘Get down, George!’ Duncan snapped. ‘The big picture’s just startin’!’

The villagers had nearly reached the sand spit, and they could hear their voices quite clearly as they chattered and laughed and stuffed their pockets with food which the women were carrying. They, too, were suddenly aware of the noise of the car engine. They all halted, and several more faces appeared at some of the doorways.

Curtis frowned. ‘They’re not used to cars here either, apparently!’

‘Not surprised.’ Taylor was watching the people as if he had never seen any before. ‘What wiv them bleedin’ roads I’m surprised they see anythink!’

‘Nuts! I’ve driven over worse’n this,’ began Duncan, but Curtis’s frozen expression halted him.

A small, sandy-coloured scout car came labouring around the side of the end houses, and with its fat tyres skidding over the dirt track, drove straight for the centre of the village.

They gazed at the man who stepped from the back seat and stood tapping his boot impatiently until the villagers started to hurry towards him.

Duncan dug his fingers into the sand. It was not quite as he had expected it would be, and the man, rather than he and his companions, seemed out of place.

I’ve been fighting them for four years, he thought slowly, and this is the first proper German I’ve seen.

He had seen plenty of prisoners, but they were quite different. Sullen, beaten, they bore no resemblance to the slim, impatient figure who leaned negligently against the side of the car. He could see the pistol at his belt, and the long-peaked Afrika Korps cap with its silver eagle.

Curtis wasn’t looking at the man any more. He stared fixedly at the bright orange life-jacket which the German officer
had
just pulled from the car and flung at the feet of the fishermen.

‘D’you see that, Ralph?’ Duncan whispered excitedly. ‘The bastard’s got Ian’s jacket! What d’you think it means?’

Curtis shook his head, his eyes puzzled. ‘Ian might have slipped out of it and the thing’s been washed up somewhere, or,’ he added harshly, ‘Ian might have been in it when they found it.’

Duncan seemed even more excited. ‘The wind, Ralph, don’t you remember? It was agin us! He wouldn’t have been washed up yet. He must have made it on his own!’

Curtis appeared to Duncan to grow in stature. ‘Steve, you may be right!’ They both turned their eyes to the German. ‘But where the hell is he? I wish to God I could hear what that Jerry’s saying.’

‘They don’t seem to like what he’s said, anyway.’

Duncan was right. The villagers bowed their heads, and some started to shout from the crowd in high, protesting voices. But the officer raised his hand so that his watch glittered in the sun, and at the same time tapped his holster.

Then he turned his back and climbed into the car, and within seconds only a cloud of yellow dust remained to mark his visit.

‘Well, what d’you make of that?’ Duncan peered at the fishermen who were dispersing towards the boats.

There was no shouting or laughter any more, and Curtis saw one elderly woman dabbing her eyes with her black skirt.

‘I imagine that Jerry has made some sort of threat.’ Curtis spoke musingly. ‘After the dock blowing up, and then finding a British life-jacket, they’ve come to the conclusion that there’s a saboteur of some sort hiding in the vicinity. He must have warned ’em to keep their eyes peeled—or else! That makes it even more important that we should find Ian before someone else does.’

‘I’ll go,’ said Duncan woodenly.

‘We’ll both go, separately,’ said Curtis. ‘George must stay here, just in case Ian shows up later on.’

Taylor screwed his face into a grimace. ‘Wot, leave me all on me jack? Can’t I come too?’

‘No. Don’t talk so wet.’ Duncan eyed him cheerfully. ‘You must keep the welcome mat down for us!’

They settled down to wait, watching the boats being warped down the white sand and into the calm water. There were a few waves and only a few shouts, and then the boats were moving slowly away, their tan-coloured sails hanging limp and the ancient diesel engines thumping noisily on the clean air.

The women and a few old men watched the boats depart, and then they moved back to the village and stood in small huddled groups, their hands and arms jerking expressively as they loitered together, apparently unwilling to be left alone.

Taylor produced a watertight packet of chocolate, and they ate it in quick, hungry gulps. They were all feeling the pains of thirst very badly, and when Duncan saw an old villager carrying a long-necked bottle into a cottage he ground his teeth angrily.

‘Jesus! Just look at that joker! I’ll go down an’ have some of that if he waves it about any more!’

Curtis looked down at the empty beach. Empty but for a torn fishing net and a few nodding gulls. The boats were well clear now, small coloured smudges on the green sea.

‘I’ll work down along the beach, Steve, and try to get beyond the cove, where you found me last night,’ he added with a thin smile. ‘I think your best bet is to skirt the houses and try to find where the road leads. No tricks, and no risks. Got it?’

Duncan saluted with a coarse gesture and grinned, his teeth white against the stubble of his chin. ‘Right! How long shall we all be?’

‘Not too long. ’Bout an hour at the most.’

‘Blimey! An hour?’ Taylor scrambled up protestingly. ‘What am I supposed to do then?’

Duncan forced him down again. ‘Steady, George. Just sit tight and keep yer eyes peeled!’

Taylor huddled miserably under a bush and watched the two figures disappear round the side of the hill. It was bloody to be left alone. His eye fell on the sand-covered grenade which
Curtis
had left behind. The mechanic’s brain took over from his fears, and with quick, deft movements he began to dismantle and clean the bomb, his face set in concentration.

Once down the hill and across the open sand spit, Curtis realized just how inadequate his plans were. He felt completely naked and unprotected as he pressed himself against the rocks and stones at the foot of the small cliff and stared wildly about him, as if he was already being hunted.

He had repeatedly put off thinking about the actual method and time of escape, and the admission of his failure to make some definite plan worried him. The thought of Jervis made him leave the cover of the rocks and hurry further along the side of the cove. It reminded him of Cornwall, with its deserted beach and impressive silence. But the suspense and the constant fear of discovery made him concentrate on each piece of cover in advance and stop to listen at every few steps.

Once he looked back for the hill, but it had vanished from his vision. That made him feel even more alone, and he had to force himself to move forward again until he reached the end of the cove where the hills and the beach met, and the only way forward was to climb. He studied the hills carefully and slowly. Sparse green grass, yellowed by the heat and the salt air, and some small clumps of trees. Here and there were a few haphazard plots or gardens cut into the hillside, as if the villagers had half-heartedly tried to cultivate the land and had given it up as a bad job.

Suppose I had come ashore at this point? he thought. Where would I go? The hill for the rendezvous Was invisible, and with the sea at my back there was only the open sand of the cove or this range of hills.

He thrust his hands into his pockets. They were dry and stiff, and his fingers felt the familiar shape of his pipe. He had neither his pouch nor any matches, but the feel of the pipe gave him confidence. It was like an old friend, and he stuck it between his teeth, the salt taste reminding him of his thirst.

Suppose I meet someone? What do I do? Shoot him, or her, and just walk on? He felt the pistol suddenly heavy at his hip.
This
is madness. I must think of something. He found that he had started to climb the smooth side of the hill.

He froze as a dog barked shrilly in the distance, and he wondered how Duncan was getting on. Duncan would be better at this sort of thing, he thought bitterly. He was good at everything. If he had been in command none of this would have happened.

He looked back at the open sea. It was no longer hostile. It was home and refuge all in one. He was, as Jervis had said, out of place ashore. The sea shimmered and seemed to mock him.

A dark shape moved in the corner of his eye, and even as he turned, he saw the forepart of a ship begin to move slowly round the headland. For a moment panic gripped him. It was as if the ship was looking for him and had already moved round to trap him from behind. He calmed slightly when he considered that he must be invisible as he stood on the grassy slope, and as the ship slowly took shape the very idea of pursuit seemed ridiculous.

She was an old coastal schooner, and had once been very beautiful. Her slim hull still bore traces of white paint, and her long raked bowsprit and two lofty masts added to her appearance of past craftsmanship. Her dirty sails were furled, the canvas hanging from the yards in uneven, careless bundles. A blue cloud of exhaust gas hovered around her high counter, and he could clearly hear the rasping cough of an old engine.