Dive in the Sun (25 page)

‘It was a dangerous thing to do,
signorina
.’

‘For you, yes. I understand that well enough. And believe me, Ian, I would not wish anything to happen to you. But,’ her mouth quivered momentarily, ‘what about my father and I? What will happen when you reach your friends?’

‘You will be well looked after. I can promise you that! We shall say how you saved my life, and everything else you have done.’

She smiled sadly. ‘You are a good person to know, Ian, but I am afraid that you have forgotten that we are enemies. My father is a Fascist and loyal to the régime. When our country is overrun, as it will be, for the Germans will not try to hold such difficult territory, there will be a new government, with different ideas. When my father is released, it will be like returning to a foreign country. No one will want to remember him, or what he has helped to do!’

‘Could it have been any different?’

She walked to the bulkhead and watched the beetle scurry into a crack.

‘If we had gone to the hiding place I told you about, it might well have been different. My father has friends and certain property, which would help considerably.’ Her eyes lifted to his face, bright and warm. ‘You do see that, don’t you? Please tell me that you at least can understand!’

‘I think I do.’ Jervis felt suddenly humble. It was true what she had said. There would be little warmth left for a pro-Fascist when the old régime had fallen.

Her eyes were moist but she smiled across at him. ‘Thank
you
. I could not bear to think that I brought all this on my father without any reason at all. It has been driving me mad! But I know that the Germans would have killed him, just as they would you. When someone is useless to them, they destroy him, like cutting off an infected limb!’

She began to plait her hair, her hands moving with new life.

‘Come, you must take me to the wounded. I will change their dressings.’

Jervis looked at the chart, aware that Curtis was on deck waiting for him.

‘I’ll tell him what you’re going to do.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘He ordered you below, remember.’

She patted the plait into place and tossed it over her shoulder. Jervis thought that at the moment she looked like a child, although he guessed that she must be at least four or five years his senior.

‘Yes, you tell him. I will look after those men, no matter what he says! You go and tell him that, and I will tell my father that you have said all will be well!’

She ran past him, and instinctively Jervis caught her wrist. She halted, quivering like a doe in flight.

‘Thank you for your confidence,’ he said awkwardly.

Her look of surprise faded, and she regarded him gravely. ‘You are good, Ian.’ Rising on her toes, she kissed him briefly on the cheek, then with a smile, she had left him.

For some moments he stood staring at the door, his hand on his cheek. ‘Carla,’ he said softly, but only the beetle heard him.

He looked up anxiously as he heard Curtis call harshly from the deck, ‘Ian! What the hell’s taking you so long?’

Jervis blinked as he arrived on the poop, aware of the sudden change in the weather. Most of the cloud banks had broken, and the heat rose from the baked deck to greet him, like steam from a boiler. He turned his face from the sea, blinded by the millions of shimmering lights which stabbed from every dancing wave and from the white-hot stare of the sun.

Curtis studied the chart and compared the markings with those in the German’s notebook.

Jervis stood back, watching his engrossed face with fresh curiosity. Remembering what Duncan had said, he felt a pang of uneasiness as he studied the young-old face with the cold eyes. Eyes which were now scanning the chart with fanatical eagerness, as if amongst the scrawled lines and symbols were the answers to his secret fears.

‘It’s the best I can do, Skipper.’ Jervis spoke warily. ‘The gear is pretty crude for this sort of thing.’

Curtis grunted and watched a wheeling gull, which like a lone watcher, swooped and dived across the wake.

‘The girl is going to attend to the soldiers,’ added Jervis after a long pause. ‘Is that all right?’

Curtis nodded vaguely. ‘Girl? Oh yes, of course.’

He squinted up at the masts and studied the uneven shape squatting on the yard. A leg swung easily with the motion of the ship, as the old Italian seaman scanned the horizon.

Jervis followed his gaze and gasped. ‘Can he be trusted? I mean, do we have to rely on his lookout?’

Curtis eyed him slowly. ‘Who else d’you suggest? One of the wounded perhaps? Or yourself?’ His tone was deceptively mild, but Jervis had now learned to recognize the danger signal.

‘Sorry, Skipper. I expect he’ll be fine for the job.’

‘That’s a comfort to know.’

Curtis watched the girl’s shadow cross the deck as she hurried past, carrying a roll of freshly torn cloth. She kept her eyes averted, but there was the hint of a smile on her soft mouth.

Curtis waited until she had vanished into the hold, his expression watchful.

‘Alter course. Steer due east.’

He followed the captain’s plump hands as they spun the worn spokes over to port. A ruby ring flashed incongruously on one finger, and Curtis stared at it, as if fascinated.

‘How long will it be before we make towards the land again?’ Jervis saw the shutter drop again in Curtis’s eyes, as he brought his mind to bear on the question.

‘Soon, I hope. I can’t delay too long.’ For a moment Jervis thought he would open up a little more, but he merely added, ‘The wounded need attention badly.’

Sergeant Dunwoody clattered noisily towards them. His red face was beaded with sweat, and he had discarded his jacket. Jervis noticed that his khaki shirt was spotted with blood.

Curtis stiffened. ‘What’s wrong, Sergeant?’

‘That other chap, sir. Lake. He’s dead I’m afraid. ’E ’adn’t a chance anyway. But it’s something else as well, sir. The dressin’s are pretty bad, an’ I’m a bit worried about it. The lads need seein’ to quick, sir.’ He watched Curtis, squinting his good eye and plucking nervously at his sling.

‘I see. I’ll do my best, Sergeant.’ Curtis bit his lip and nodded. ‘I’ll do my best.’

‘I’m sure you will, sir.’ Dunwoody forced a smile and stared round the empty sea. ‘Cor, like Ramsgate, ain’t it?’

‘Go with the sergeant, Ian. See what you can do to help. I’ll have the hatch taken right off so that they get a bit more fresh air.’

Jervis faltered. ‘It’s not your fault, Skipper. You’ve done more than anyone could expect.’ He stopped, aware that Curtis was not listening. The pale eyes were on the move again, searching the horizon, watching and calculating.

‘Are you comin’, sir?’ The sergeant fidgeted at his elbow.

Jervis still hesitated, feeling that he should try to explain his thoughts to Curtis. ‘Perhaps we shall find it easier to miss the patrols than we thought.’

Curtis seemed to jerk himself together with a great effort. He glanced briefly from Jervis to the sergeant, and gestured towards the hold. ‘Get to it, Ian. There’s a lot to do yet.’

Jervis sighed and followed Dunwoody’s broad back into the deep recess of the hold.

The sunlight swayed back and forth through the wide hatchway like the beam of a drunken lantern, as the ship rolled uneasily from side to side. The sea, driven by the short gusts of wind, was furrowed into long, lazy rollers, and the schooner’s course took her broadside along them, making the very masts groan in their sockets.

Jervis steeled himself for the job he had to do, as he met the sour stench which was trapped by the high sides of the hold, and carefully avoided the still body at the foot
of
the ladder, with its face covered by a piece of blanket.

The first wave of joy and enthusiasm which had greeted Curtis and Duncan when they had boarded the schooner had spent itself on the shock and misery which had now made itself felt in the hidden menace of the soiled bandages and discoloured skin.

A soldier rolled painfully on his side and tried to vomit into a basin. Each time he turned, his injured legs thudded helplessly on the deck, and he fell back, retching and exhausted. There was a flurry of movement, and the girl hurried to his side, her feet stepping and dodging the sprawled limbs and torn bandages. Even in his wretchedness, the soldier feebly tried to push her away, unwilling for her to see him in his pitiable state. She brushed his hands aside and knelt down on the deck, the man’s head firmly pillowed on her knees.

Her voice was low and husky, as she smoothed away the hair from his damp face. ‘Come on, Tommy. Gently now.’

Jervis turned away and went after the sergeant, who was stooping alongside another man and talking in low tones with the corporal, Bert.

He looked up as Jervis joined them, and shook his head worriedly. ‘Look at this lot, sir. I don’t quite know what to make of it.’

They had removed the bandage from the man’s thigh, and Jervis swallowed hard, the spittle thick in his throat. What had once been a mere flesh wound in the man’s leg, had blossomed angrily into a savage mass of discoloured and weeping tissue.

‘Er, what is it? Can we clean it up a bit?’

The corporal sucked his teeth and sat back on his haunches. ‘Gone rotten, that’s what! He’ll lose that leg, I’m thinking!’

‘’Is leg? ’Is bleedin’ life, you mean!’ hissed Dunwoody fiercely. ‘’E needs penicillin an’ transfusions,’ he added vaguely.

The man in question opened his eyes and stared glassily at Jervis’s uniform. His thin body began to shake with silent laughter, and the corporal gingerly covered up the wound.

‘Can’t you stop this bloody ship rolling about, sir?’ The
man
’s voice was a mere whisper. ‘It’s making me feel numb all over. Can’t feel my legs at all.’

Jervis forced a smile. ‘Won’t be long now. We’ll have you home soon.’

The sergeant followed him as he moved along to the next man, and tugged gently at his sleeve.

‘It’s miles an’ miles yet, ain’t it, sir? What chance do we really ’ave? We can’t go on kiddin’ these chaps if they ain’t got a chance!’

Jervis looked woodenly at the man at his feet. Naked, and flat on his stomach, he was quite still, but for his fingers which were curled into a blanket in a desperate grip. Two of his companions were engaged in removing a soiled dressing from the small of his back by gentle strokes of a rag soaked in warm water. The bowl they were using was already slopping over with bloodstained water and pieces of skin. The man groaned, his neck muscles bunching with effort, and one of his hands began to pound at the deck.

‘Steady, mate. Keep yer ’air on!’ The sweating soldier with the rag glanced up at Jervis and shook his head. Aloud he said, ‘Old Jim ’ere is a real card! Swingin’ the lead proper ’e is!’ But there were tears in his eyes as he spoke, and he seemed to Jervis to be trying to tell him something more. That no matter how bad they all felt, they would back Curtis to the end.

He beckoned the sergeant away from the others. ‘How long, Sergeant? Just how much time d’you think we have?’

Dunwoody stared round helplessly, and then seemed to come to a decision. ‘We can hold on, sir. None of ’em wants to give in, but they’re livin’ on borrowed time, as from now, I reckon!’

Jervis ran his fingers through his hair and felt the sweat running over his scalp. If the ship turned for the coast now, and right now, there was a chance that these men might be saved. A military hospital could never refuse to help men in this state, be it Italian
or
German. Then they would be able to lie in safety until the Allied armies reached them. And us? He shuddered. There would be no mercy for himself and the others, he decided.

A shrill cry from the far end of the hold made his teeth grate, and helped to decide him on his next action.

‘I think we should consider the state of the worst case, Sergeant, and act in his interest first.’

The sergeant didn’t answer. He was unused to sharing confidences with an officer.

He walked to a patch of sunlight, where the girl was busy rolling another bandage. She looked up at him, her lips pale.

‘You’re doing wonders, Carla. I don’t know how you’re sticking it out.’

‘They are so helpless. It is all so … so terrible for them.’

‘I am going to tell the skipper just that.’ Jervis watched her small hands manipulating the crude bandages. ‘We must make for the shore now.’

Her eyes widened. ‘But that is dangerous for you? You will surely be captured again?’

‘We shall see.’ He reached up for the ladder. ‘Perhaps you will get your way in the end,
signorina
.’

She passed a hand across her brow, and picked up a basin. ‘I must go to them, Ian. Be careful what you do. I am sure that your captain already has a plan. He may not be willing to give in to you.’

Jervis felt vaguely piqued by her remark. It was as if she did not consider him capable of making such a decision. He stuck out his chin and started up the ladder.

‘I know what I’m doing, Carla!’

He found Curtis still by the wheel, as if he had never moved. His face turned towards him as he approached, and one eyebrow lifted questioningly.

‘Well, how are they?’

Two seamen staggered from the fo’c’sle carrying a huge can of fresh water towards the hold, and Jervis waited until they had gone before answering.

He met Curtis’s stare. ‘I think they’re in a damned bad way, sir. Some of the wounds are going septic.’

Curtis glanced towards the bowsprit and tapped his pipe into his palm. ‘If we had not taken the ship, they would still be en route for Venice. By tonight they might have reached
their
destination, and from that time this ship will be missed and an alarm will go out. We will have to be very careful and make full use of the darkness. Tomorrow we might well be within close contact with our own forces, or the following night at least.’

Jervis quivered with exasperation. ‘But, Skipper, half of them’ll be dead by then!’

‘If we hadn’t arrived aboard, I expect most of them’d be dead by now.’ There was no harshness in his voice. It was merely a plain statement of fact.