Dive in the Sun (33 page)

Jervis ran to the rail and listened. Nothing. Not even a gull broke the silence.

They’re not coming, he thought wildly. They’re dead, or perhaps only wounded, and lying up there helpless. He stared round at the menacing shapes of the sleeping hills. He imagined the stealthy footsteps of the soldiers, as they slowly surrounded the cove and lined up their sights on the pale shape of the small schooner. A nerve jerked in his throat, and he ran his tongue across his dry lips.

‘Time? What’s the time?’ He snapped his fingers urgently, as the captain fumbled for his heavy pocket watch.

‘Nearly three.’ There was no help in the man’s voice.

God, it would be dawn soon. He stared up at the gently spiralling masts and imagined that he could already see them more clearly. If we left now, we could be well clear, perhaps
twenty
miles out by first light. He bit his knuckle, as he tried to assemble his ideas in order.

‘Well,
signore
? Can I get ready?’ The voice was prodding him again.

‘Very well. Carry on.’ He waited, numbed, as the captain and his two men climbed on to the jetty and began to cast off some of the lines. A figure moved by the bollard, and he almost cried out. He tore at his holster as he saw the dim, shapeless form shorten, to kneel beside the dead corporal.

The captain moved with surprising agility. ‘It is the priest! Father Bernucci! He will look after the body.’

‘What about the soul? Will he look after that?’ Jervis laughed crazily, and the man on the jetty looked up, his crucifix shining like a star against his dull robe. The captain shrugged and hurried away.

Jervis walked slowly to the high stern and looked past the bobbing shapes of the two moored fishing boats, to where he knew the open sea lay waiting.

The captain could handle the schooner, and he could navigate the vessel on to some sort of course which would eventually take them to a safe area. But only if they left at once. He stood upright, his arms rigid, as if he had just received an order.

‘Start the engine, Captain!’ he called sharply, all the pent-up fear released in that one, brief command.

The captain spoke to one of his men and strolled to the wheel.

‘We are leaving?’

‘Yes.’ He wrenched his eyes from the kneeling priest. ‘We cannot wait any longer.’ His voice rose to a shout. ‘Don’t just stand there, man! Get ready to leave!’

‘I will tell the doctor. He has finished anyway.’ The captain loitered, as if to say more, but with a deep sigh he shuffled towards the hold.

The doctor appeared on deck, buttoning his coat. He breathed deeply and walked uncertainly to the rail. He paused, and spoke over his shoulder. ‘I go,
Tenente
. They will do well for a day or two. I ’ave left bandages and a few drugs.’

Jervis nodded violently. ‘Thank you, Doctor. Thank you very much.’

The little man shook hands with the captain. ‘Who knows what the dawn will bring!’ He sounded tired and frightened.

The captain darted a glance towards Jervis. ‘Yes. The dawn.’

He watched as the doctor crossed the jetty to stand by the priest.

The engine roared into sudden life, racing and spitting under the seaman’s careless hand.

The captain grunted and swung the wheel experimentally in his hands.

‘We will wait a little longer?’ His voice was pleading.

And fall into a trap, thought Jervis, and smiled without humour.

‘Ten minutes,’ he heard himself say and wondered at his own behaviour.

A muffled thudding rose under the forward deck, and Jervis jerked his hand angrily at the captain.

‘What the hell’s that?’

‘The prisoners! They are fighting, I expect.’

‘Go and quieten them!’ Then as he imagined he saw the eager light in the man’s eyes, ‘No, I’ll go!’

He strode along the deck, his mind blank but for the ache of fear and anger. He almost collided with Carla Zecchi as she leaned limply against the foremast. He paused nervously. The thudding continued, but the girl seemed dazed and unaware of what was happening.

‘Are you all right, Carla?’

She nodded. ‘I was hoping they might be back.’

Jervis’s nerves jumped as the thudding grew louder, interspersed with shouts. ‘I must go!’

‘I will come with you.’

She followed him along the deck, her slim shape close behind the pale outline of his uniform.

Jervis climbed down to the storeroom and banged angrily on the stout door. ‘Quiet in there! Keep silent!’ There was a
pause
, and then he heard a shrill, frightened voice, and he guessed it was the police officer.

‘Please,
signore
! Take this man out of here! He is going mad!’

There was immediately a string of curses in German and more terrified shouts.

‘It is Lieutenant Beck,’ the girl said distantly. ‘He has been quarrelling with the others.’ Her voice was almost matter-of-fact.

‘I’ll fix him!’ Jervis was almost glad to be able to release some of his pent-up despair, and he jerked impatiently at the heavy staple, his gun in his hand.

As the door swung back he saw the five policemen cowering at one end under a pile of boxes and crates. The German officer stood straddle-legged before them, a rough piece of timber in his fist. He glared at Jervis, but lowered the club, his chest heaving.

The police officer stepped forward, his dark eyes watchful. ‘Please,
signore
! You take us to another place, yes? He will kill us!’

Jervis waved his pistol. ‘Tie him up! Use that rope over there!’ He gestured with his pistol, and the Italian’s teeth gleamed with triumph.

At that moment the girl stiffened and raised her hand. ‘What was that? I thought I heard a shout!’

Jervis’s heart bounded, and he cocked his head to listen.

The German acted with sudden frenzy. He leapt across the storeroom and kicked the Italian viciously in the groin. With a scream the man fell against Jervis, knocking him into a heap on the deck. As he fell, his head struck against the door-post, and he was only dimly aware of the gun being wrenched from his hand, and the terrified scream of the girl, as the German dragged her up the ladder, the gun covering his retreat.

Jervis staggered weakly to his feet, aware of the stamping feet across the deck, and the captain’s excited voice. The police officer moaned softly on the deck, and Jervis slammed the door shut before he dragged himself up the ladder.

The captain shook his arm and peered into his face. ‘What
’appen?
That German has gone up the jetty! You let him escape?’

Jervis hung weakly to the rail. ‘I know! I know! I’m going after them!’

Without waiting for a reply, he broke into a run. He had seen the German’s uniform gleam momentarily at the end of the jetty, before disappearing round to the right, towards the village.

His fear was forgotten and he was so overwhelmed by what had happened, that he could only think of it being the final proof of his weakness. He was not even aware that he was unarmed, and as his footsteps thudded along the cobbled jetty, he was filled with the desire to revenge himself on the German, as if by so doing he could drive away some of the shame which was his.

He paused briefly at the foot of the old stone stairway at the end of the jetty and looked up towards the village. The overhanging hills masked any outline he might have been able to recognize, but as he watched he heard the girl cry out, her voice shrill with terror, and all the more chilling because of its apparent nearness.

‘Go back! He is going to shoot!’ Then there was a sharper cry, and silence.

Jervis sucked in his breath and started to climb the steps. For once, he thought, there was no clear way out, and no one to turn to. It would only be a gesture, he knew, and any second would bring the bullet from the darkness which would end everything. He prayed that it would be quick.

From the cliff road above the cove, Curtis watched the figures below him, his brain cold and clear in spite of the unexpectedness of the scene, which was made more unreal by the pale patches of moonlight and the dark, passive background of the water.

The German and Jervis, in their identical drill uniforms, were quite clear, but as he watched the third figure pinned down behind the low stone wall at the top of the steps, his inside twisted with unexpected anguish.

Duncan licked his lips. ‘What the hell are we goin’ to do?
Ian
’s comin’ straight up those steps. He’ll never stand a flamin’ chance!’

They heard the girl cry out, and Curtis moved quickly to the edge of the road. ‘Come on!’ Then cupping his hands, he yelled, ‘Stay where you are, Ian! We’re coming down!’

Jervis heard the sudden voice booming and echoing amongst the rocks, stood still on the steps, his fists clenched to his sides, and a cold relief flooding through his quivering body. He closed his eyes but felt the tears wet against his cheek. He was no longer alone.

Slithering and stumbling down the rock-strewn slope, Curtis kept his eyes on the German. When he had called out, the man had swung round involuntarily, shocked by the threat behind him. He recovered himself in an instant, and without another glance at Jervis, he pulled the girl to her feet, and before Curtis had even time to guess his intention, thrust her backwards over the wall. She gave a short scream and vanished. Curtis remembered clearly the long steep flight of rough stone steps and choked back a sob of pain and fury. The German had gained the lower road and was running strongly and easily towards the village.

Once Curtis’s feet landed on the road he summoned up all his strength and, aided by the overwhelming madness within him, he ran purposefully down the middle of the track, the pistol tight in his hand. The white uniform vanished as if the German had disappeared into thin air, but as Duncan and Taylor panted up behind him, he waved them to a halt and stared narrowly at the pale hump of concrete that he had seen earlier.

‘He’s in that pillbox,’ he said. His voice was flat and devoid of emotion.

Duncan tried to see his face. He guessed what was passing through Curtis’s mind. He had known him long enough to appreciate what he was suffering.

‘What’ll we do?’ Taylor dragged his feet uneasily and glanced down at the dark sheen of the cove.

Duncan spoke with soft pleading. ‘Come on, Ralph. Let’s leave him! We can’t force our way in there. He’d pick us all
off
. Let’s get back to the ship an’ get the hell outa here!’

‘He’s in there all right.’ Curtis spoke half to himself. ‘He knows we can’t get in after him, and yet we can’t afford to leave him behind. He’d have every damned German he could find after us!’

‘But we must go!’ Duncan persisted. ‘We shall have to chance it!’

Curtis faced him squarely, his eyes gleaming. ‘Yes, you
would
chance it, wouldn’t you? Bash on, and hope for the best!’ He dropped his voice suddenly. ‘Well, I’m not like that. I’ve got so far, and if you think I’m going to let that murdering bastard stand in my way, you’d better get back to the ship and wait for me there!’

Duncan was silent, appalled by the change which had come over Curtis.

‘The grenade, George! Give it to me!’ Curtis held out his hand and felt the serrated sides of the bomb warm on his palm.

He ran across the road and pressed himself against the tall side of the pillbox. He could faintly hear the German moving about inside, and lifting his head he called out sharply.

‘Come out with your hands up!’ He did not know if the man understood or not, but he heard him laugh, the sound amplified by the tomb-like interior of the emplacement, and seconds later a shot crashed from one of the narrow weapon-slits and whined angrily across the road.

Curtis pressed his back against the wall, his eyes on the moon. He knows he’s safe, he thought. We can either stay here and wait for him to come out, or go away and leave him to fetch help. Either way we’re finished.

He didn’t look down at the grenade as he gripped it in his right hand. He removed the pin and threw it from him.

Across the road Duncan heard the metallic rattle of the pin on the roadway and felt suddenly chilled by the finality of the sound. ‘He’s goin’ to do it!’ To himself he said, it’s because of the girl.

Curtis released the lever on the grenade and seemed to feel it come alive in his hand. With two seconds to spare he spun round and lobbed it through the nearest weapon-slit.

He heard a grunt of surprise change to a spine-chilling scream, before the weapon-slits blossomed into fiery red eyes and the muffled crash of the grenade reverberated around the hills, flinging stone splinters and a choking cloud of dust across to where Taylor and Duncan watched in shocked silence.

Curtis stepped into the road and walked briskly towards the cove. Over his shoulder he said, ‘Start the engine, George, we can’t hang about here if there are patrols about!’ To Duncan he merely remarked. ‘Pity about the noise!’

Curtis hardly remembered speaking to either of them, and had to force his legs to remain steady as he approached the edge of the steps.

At once he saw a small group around her body at the bottom of the steps, Jervis’s white uniform, the ghoulish shape of the priest, and the short figure of the doctor.

Carla Zecchi’s body looked small and child-like, and for once Curtis did not care what the others thought as he dropped on to one knee and felt her cold hand in his.

The doctor smiled unexpectedly. ‘Ver’ good girl. She safe!’

‘I broke some of her fall.’ Jervis’s voice died away as Curtis slid his arm under her shoulders.

She opened her eyes, as if she had been expecting him. She said one word. ‘Father?’

Curtis shook his head, and she sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

Duncan jerked his head at Taylor and Jervis.

‘Stand by to shove off! Skipper says we must sail at once!’

They looked down at Curtis’s bowed head and the girl’s black braid across his arm and moved slowly away.

The doctor smiled. ‘She will be O.K. But a bit painful, eh?’

Father Bernucci stood up, and to Curtis appeared gigantic and all-powerful. ‘She can stay with me, my son. I will hide her. No one will know about her, or who she is.’