Dive in the Sun (21 page)

He caught Curtis’s dull stare and winked. ‘Think I’ll join the army, eh, Skipper?’

Curtis smiled. It was the first time Duncan had avoided using his Christian name. So he had noticed, too.

He caught sight of the stocky little soldier whom the sergeant had called Ginger. He was staring at the Italian seamen with undisguised hatred, his mouth quivering.

‘Here, you!’ Curtis beckoned across a prostrate soldier. ‘Come here a minute!’

The man came quickly, his eyes feverish but alert.

‘Are you fairly fit?’ Curtis studied the man’s single bandage about his throat. ‘I mean, d’you feel you can give me a hand?’

The soldier grinned, his whole expression changing to one of eagerness. ‘Sir! Just give me the word! I’m so keyed up, I think I’ll go off my head if I can’t do something!’

‘Well listen, er, Ginger, go on deck will you? There’s an officer there by the wheel dressed as a German. He’s guarding, among other things, a pile of pistols we’ve taken off the guards. I want you to gather them up and pass them to any one of your chaps you think is fit enough to keep an eye on things. O.K.?’

‘Yessir!’ The man was already halfway up the ladder, his nailed boots clattering on the wooden rungs.

‘And no reprisals!’ Curtis called after him.

He halted, level with the deck. ‘They’re not worth a bullet, sir!’

Curtis took a deep breath and sought out the sergeant once more. ‘How are your men now?’

Dunwoody sighed worriedly. ‘Not too bad considerin’, sir. Four dead and ten pretty grim.’ He brightened slightly. ‘But the other twelve seem to ’ave taken new ’eart since you
arrived
, sir!’ He glared admiringly. ‘’Ow did you get ’ere, sir?’

Curtis eyed him glassily. ‘Too long a story for the moment. But I can tell you this, we’re not even half out of the wood yet!’ He forced a weak smile. ‘But if you can carry on here for a bit, I’ll be very grateful.’

‘Jus’ tell me what to do, sir.’ He, too, seemed to have taken on a fresh strength.

‘Any more N.C.O’s?’

‘Bert’s pretty good,’ he answered slowly. ‘’Ead wound, an’ gets a bit dizzy, but ’e’ll last out a bit longer, sir.’

‘Right, put him on deck behind the wheel. Let him sit on something, and see that he’s armed.’ The soldier, Ginger, reappeared with the guns, his face pale but determined. ‘He’s to watch the crew and see that there’s no funny business. You can carry on down here and serve out the food when it arrives. I’ll see if we can get a good hot drink too, if that’s possible!’

The sergeant loosened his belt. ‘Leave it to us, sir.’

Curtis climbed the ladder to the deck, pausing on the top rung to let the salt air sting his face. His weariness still closed in with relentless persistence, but stubbornly he forced himself on to the darkened deck.

The moon had vanished altogether, and the weather was freshening. Overhead, the cloud banks scudded across the black sky like solid things, and the loose rigging moaned and creaked in monotonous liaison. A dim light flickered against the captain’s fat face as he leaned over the compass bowl, and Jervis’s white shape hurried to meet him.

‘How are they, sir? Can I do anything?’

‘There’s a soldier coming to relieve you, Ian. I shall want——’ He broke off as a thin corporal clambered unsteadily from the hold and peered at them from beneath his white bandages. He was wearing a khaki balaclava rolled over his dressing, and looked almost piratical. ‘Ah, here he is! Know what to do, Corporal?’

‘Yessir!’ The man scrambled across the heaving deck and planted himself firmly on the after hatchway behind the wheel. He rested a small pistol on his knee, and began to rock to and fro, his arms folded in solemn concentration.

‘Now,’ continued Curtis, having seen that the captain had noted the new arrival, ‘I shall want you to get cracking on the chart, if there is such a thing aboard, and there’s a safe which might prove interesting, too.’

He crossed to the captain and glanced at the compass.

‘Clear of the sandbanks?’

‘
Si, signore
, we are almost abreast of the headland I think.’

‘Stay on course, due east until we’re well clear, and then I’ll give you a fresh one. Got that?’

The man shrugged. ‘We will not get far, I think that——’

Curtis bent closer, his eyes cold. ‘I don’t give a damn what you think. Just do as I tell you!’

‘
Si, Tenente
.’ His tone was subdued.

‘Do you ever get challenged when you pass the headland?’

‘Not unless a patrol boat comes. Then we sometimes speak.’ He squared his thick shoulders with something like pride. ‘But they know that I, Fausto Macchia, am always reliable. I know this coast like my own mouth!’

‘Where are your charts?’

‘There are two in my cabin. I do not need such things on my trips.’

‘Our journey will be somewhat different, I think,’ said Curtis with cold irony. ‘I’m going to have a look at them now, so call me if you are worried about anything.’

The captain laughed bitterly. ‘Worried? On such a fine night?’ He cursed silently as Curtis disappeared down the hatch.

The mayor was sitting on the edge of the bunk, his eyes half closed. Curtis hardly spared him a glance, but hunted about the cabin until he found the charts beneath a pile of old magazines. He swept the bottles from the table with the back of his hand, his impatience mounting when he saw the grease and various stains which almost covered the markings on the charts.

He tossed one to one side and studied the other, his legs braced and his elbows planted on the edge of the table. He swore beneath his breath and pulled the lantern closer.

‘Out of date, not corrected, and not been properly used for years, I should think! Here, Ian, get cracking.’ He found
an
ordinary ruler in the desk and an old pencil. ‘Try and lay off a course from here.’ He tapped the chart with his finger. ‘That’s where I think we’ll be in about an hour. I want you to lay off a course to take us approximately east south east from that position. By daylight we should be well clear of the coast, and then I’ll decide what to do.’

He looked at his watch and stared fascinated as the hands opened to one o’clock. Fantastic, he thought, only an hour, yet we’re at sea and away. He caught the mayor’s eyes flickering in the lamplight, and turned his back. A ship full of disabled men, and smouldering Italians. What were
they
thinking about? How long would it take them to realize and assess the position of their new masters?

‘Can you cope, Ian?’ he asked abruptly.

‘I’ll try, Skipper. It’s a bit of a mess.’ He rubbed his nose ruefully. ‘But I’ll have a go!’ He gestured towards the mayor. ‘He’ll be watching me!’ The boy grinned, and Curtis’s mouth tightened into a hard line.

He held up his watch so that both could see. ‘In four or five hours it’ll be daylight. He’d have been watching you then, no doubt, if we hadn’t got away!’

He slammed the door behind him, and stood breathing heavily in the passageway. He was wrong to use the boy like that. What the hell was the matter with him? He half turned to re-enter the cabin, but a shaft of light fell across his arm as the other door opened quietly. She stood looking at him in silence, the edge of the door pressed against her breast. His eyes wavered, but he forced himself to remember how she had ensnared the sentry at the house.

‘Well,
signorina
?’ he asked levelly. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I was just wondering what was happening.’ Her voice was soft, and seemed to act as a caress on his burning brain. ‘Is it getting rougher?’

‘A little.’

‘You look like death, Lieutenant. It is a great strain for you.’

He still stared at her, his eyes heavy with fatigue. She looked lovely … and yet. He shook his head as if to clear it. Yet … there was something hidden behind her wide eyes.

‘You capture the ship; you kill a man with your bare hands; and still you go on. You are a remarkable man!’ Her full lower lip glistened momentarily, as she smiled gently. ‘What makes you keep driving on?’

Suddenly he wanted to forget the ship, and everyone in it, and just be able to bury his aching head on her breast. Just to stand together, and feel the protection of her soft warmth.

He opened and shut his mouth, unable to find any more words.

‘My father admires you, you know.’ She tossed her head and sent the long black plait dancing across her shoulder. ‘I think you are fighting
two
wars, yes?’

Duncan skidded down the ladder, followed by two soldiers. Curtis eyed him dully, and braced himself for another onslaught of questions. Duncan merely nodded calmly and glanced quickly from him to the girl. Then he jerked his thumb at the other men, who stood staring at the girl in dull surprise.

‘I’ve come to fix that safe, Ralph. I thought you’d like these two blokes to watch this end of the ship.’

One soldier had both hands encased in huge dressings, but the other seemed complete but for grotesque strips of adhesive plaster across his cheeks and neck. They both grinned self-consciously and continued to look at the girl.

‘All right,’ said Curtis tonelessly. ‘Think you can manage it?’

Duncan laughed and with over-elaborate courtesy he took the girl’s forearm and slid past her into the cabin.

‘This ain’t a safe, it’s a sardine tin.’ Duncan rubbed his hands. ‘Soon have the back off that.’ He looked up. ‘Some of those lads need fresh bandages quick, Ralph. I don’t like the look of a couple of them.’ He lowered his eyes. ‘They’ll not last till mornin’.’

‘I see.’ Curtis opened the cabin door behind him and looked at the soldiers. ‘Make yourselves comfortable in there. The food’ll be down soon.’

‘I will go and help with the wounded soldiers.’ The girl stepped into the passage, so that the rolling of the vessel brought her shoulder against his chest. ‘I will be happy to
serve
them.’ Her eyes were dark and masked her thoughts from him.

‘Very well.’ He pressed his palms against his legs. ‘Thank you.’

‘Good girl, Carla! They’ll sure get a kick out of that!’ Duncan dropped to one knee, his hand on the safe, and Curtis felt a stab of resentment at the casual use of her name.

She smiled across at Duncan and then started up the ladder, her legs practically touching him.

He stared after her, until he realized that he was still looking at the empty swaying hatchway.

‘We’ll split into two watches, Steve,’ he said vaguely. ‘You and George first, and then I’ll come on with Ian at dawn.’

‘Lie down, Ralph,’ commanded Duncan softly, ‘before you bloody well fall down!’ The safe dropped off its fastening, and Duncan examined the back intently. ‘Huh, just tin. I’ll soon fix that!’ In the same tone he added, ‘I can deal with things here, you’re worn to a splinter!’

Curtis shook his head stubbornly. ‘Lot to do. Must hang on a bit longer.’

‘We’ll need you more when it’s daylight,’ answered Duncan soberly, ‘a whole lot more. Christ, man, we can manage now for a bit. What in hell’s name are you tryin’ to prove?’

Jervis looked round the door, his eyes watching Curtis unsurely. ‘I’ve worked out the course, Skipper. What now?’

‘Leave it with me, Ian,’ Duncan said coolly. ‘You an’ the skipper are watch below for a bit.’

The boy looked at Curtis for confirmation, and he shrugged heavily. ‘All right, Ian, hand over the watch. Get some sleep.’

Duncan’s mouth twisted into a smile. ‘That’s it, Ian, get your head down while you’ve got the chance.’

Curtis looked at them as if he was going to add something more, but instead he pushed open the door of the captain’s cabin, and blinked wearily at the small cluttered space, and at the two soldiers who squatted on the deck in one corner, one leafing through a tattered magazine, and the other leaning against the bulkhead, his eyes closed in sleep.

The soldier with the magazine grinned cheerfully. ‘Everything O.K., sir, Jim here’s havin’ forty winks.’

Curtis steadied himself against the table. ‘Let him sleep. Call me if you need anything.’

Signor Zecchi was curled up in the one decent chair, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his grey suit, and his tie loosened across his chest. His heavy lids fluttered uneasily, and he watched Curtis stare at the empty bunk.

Curtis could feel the man’s eyes upon him, but he was conscious of the desire to sleep more than anything else. I mustn’t give in, he protested inwardly, but the bunk swept to meet him, as he sprawled with sudden and complete surrender on the crumpled blankets.

The soldier dropped his magazine and moved slowly around the cabin, the heavy boots sliding with each roll of the ship. Deftly he lifted Curtis’s sprawled legs over the side of the bunk, and unfastened his belt.

Without a glance at the mayor, he slithered down again on to the deck and reached for his book.

The mayor cleared his throat. ‘I do not think private soldiers in the Italian army watch over their officers so carefully.’

The man glanced at him sharply, but seeing the sadness in the mayor’s eyes he grinned openly. ‘Well, somebody’s got to look after ’em, mate, and I reckon this one’s worth it!’

Curtis groaned and dug his fingers into the pillow. The voices in the cabin were part of another world, and he did not even attempt to fathom out their meaning.

As the darkness closed over him, he could recall the girl’s face and her voice saying: “You are fighting
two
wars.” He rolled over on to his face and lay still.

Above the stuffy warmth of the cabin the wind sighed and moaned along the deserted deck, and as the ship lay momentarily to one side, a white sheet of spray hissed over the gunwale and broke angrily against the loose rigging.

Duncan prowled restlessly back and forth across the poop, his chin deep in his jacket collar, and his stomach burning contentedly with the whisky he had taken from the house.

The captain still lolled across the wheel, his thick legs braced and fluid as each wave lifted the poop behind him.
Duncan
smiled grimly and glanced quickly at the compass as he passed.

They were on their new course which, all being well, would carry them clear of the coast before dawn. Then, he halted as if to relish the thought, they could turn for the south. Two hundred and fifty miles at eight knots, that would be just over a day’s steaming, and they should be within reach of some friendly forces.