On the Edge of Darkness (Special Force Orca Book 1) (12 page)

*     *     *

Slowly he regained conscience; the back of his head was splitting from the blow from the butt of Wilson’s gun. The Gestapo man opened one eye. He could see the bottom half of the man who had posed as a German Officer. He grabbed at a foot and jerked it viciously to one side; with a crash Hogg hit the deck. The German scrambled to his feet kicking out at Hogg’s kidneys, the youngster jerked into a pain-filled ball. The boat suddenly leapt ahead turning rapidly. The deck sloped, the German, caught off balance staggered backwards, arms flailing the air, trying desperately to regain his balance. He fell through the gap where the gangway had been, turning a half somersault into the froth, he had time for one scream before he was sucked down into the three whirling thrashing screws. The white foam turned momentarily pink as the E-boat trailing lines of tracer, roared away into the night.

*     *     *

The shore batteries spaced along the fjord had been on a high state of alert since the massive explosion and were waiting to join the fight. Their barrels trained quickly round onto the renegade E-boat. As she came into range orange-tongued flames flickered from a score of the deadly eighty-eights.

All around, the fleeing boat, water spouted
high into the night sky. The E-boat bucked and jumped as she ploughed through, her bridge inundated with water.

Suddenly another E-boat appeared from out of the
dark, roaring in towards Grant’s boat, her heavy machine guns firing wildly her Reichskriegsflagge snapping from her mast. Flak rounds from her after gun screamed across the rapidly closing gap, passing within feet of the renegade’s bridge.

One
by one the crews of the shore based eighty-eights were forced to cease fire only able to watch impotently as the newcomer crossed between them and their target.

Grant
’s boat had, somehow escaped damage, but it could only be a matter of time. The two boats danced and pounced at each other, their giant bow waves and powerful engines churning the water into a maelstrom. The frustrated shore gunners could not believe their eyes, neither boat had scored a hit on the other and the renegade E-boat was now almost clear of the harbour mouth with the other boat in close pursuit. The flashes from the heavy machine guns disappeared behind the headland as the two charged out through the entrance to the fjord all their guns blazing.

*     *     *

The two E-boats lay hove to, side by side, gently bobbing their bows to the waves.

Grant
lifted a megaphone to his lips. “By God. You had me worried there for a second or two, Petty Officer Stone…but well done …quick thinking.”

“
That’s a pint you owe me, sir!”

“
I’ll buy you a bloody crate as soon as we get back, and that’s a promise. For now, get your chaps looking for anything we can use as ‘wreckage’; we’ll be doing the same. Clothes, lifebelts anything you can spare. Throw the lot overboard. We’ve a dead German to get rid of as well. I’ll drop a depth charge as we leave, with a bit of luck, the explosion may fool the Germans into thinking there’s been a collision and both boats have sunk here. The PO waved an acknowledgement as the ‘Eddy’ dropped astern of her prize.

Within ten minutes, and amid the dying echoes of the depth charge explosion, the two boats were
once more in line astern and picking up speed. Astern a balding leather- clad figure bobbed violently in the wash from the two boats, its eyes staring at the clouds rushing across the moon.

*     *     *

Wilson and Wyatt lifted the edge of the ‘Nishga’s’ camouflage netting high above their heads. The E-boat inched slowly ahead and the two men ‘walked’ the net aft, over the heads of the prisoners on the small fo’c’s’le, climbing on winches and wash-deck lockers to clear the bridge and gun positions. Reaching the stern they threw it into the water clear of the slowly turning screws. As the prize tied up to the grey bulk of the ‘Nishga’ the ‘Eddy’’ in its turn, crept under the netting and into the dappled shadow of the hideaway.

Quite an audience lined the decks of the destroyer. A great cheer erupted at the appearance of the second E-
boat; she emerged from behind the thick curtain like a Prima Dona taking a well-earned curtain call. A grinning Petty Officer Stone gave a Royal wave and bowed deeply from the waist to more cheers.

*     *     *

“Welcome back!” said Barr as he clasped his fellow captain’s hand. “I thought I was seeing double there for a moment. If you carry on like this you’ll soon have your own Navy and won’t need to work for His Majesty’s.”

Grant gave a tired smile,
“It’s good to be back, sir, A bit like coming home. He looked around the, now, familiar cabin.

Barr
’s ever attentive steward had anticipated their requirements and the coffee pot and cups were already arranged on the tidy desk.

“
It’s funny you should mention home,” began Barr. Grant stiffened as he recognised his senior officer’s standard preamble to important news, “It appears we all have a spot of unexpected leave coming up.”

“
Really!…Bit sudden isn’t it, sir, why now?”

“
We’ve been having a spot of engine trouble on and off for the last week or so, the Chief seems to think it’s because the boilers weren’t cleaned on schedule. As you know that’s a dockyard job, so while we are having it done we should be able to fit in five days leave to each watch. We need fuel anyway and you’ve managed to give us half the Kriegsmarine as prisoners so we’ll be calling in at the ‘Flow’ en route. Now you’re back, we can leave tonight. From there we’ll go on to Liverpool where, apparently, there’s a vacant dock.”

“
Well, that’s splendid news, sir. I know the men will be over the moon. What about the remaining ammo barge, are we taking that.”

“
No, that stays where it is for the time being. It’s a sparsely populated area and I plan to leave the Norwegian what’s his name…?”

Grant smiled,
“Olaf, sir.”

“
Yes, yes Olaf. He’ll stay and continue to gather information, his home and village are near enough for him to keep an eye on both berths and he can warn off the locals if necessary.”

Grant handed Barr a wad of papers,
“Here’s my report, and the German boat’s papers.”

While Barr read
his way carefully through the report and the translations, Grant poured a second cup of coffee while his mind drifted around the prospects of shore leave. He hadn’t been home for some time, he tried to remember exactly when, but his tired mind could not get a grip on the dates. It seemed like a lifetime. God knows they had been lucky so far, there had been no one killed, but all of that could change, would change probably. All in all a rest would be a fine thing recharge all their batteries. The men had certainly earned it.

“
This reads like a Boy’s Own adventure story.” Barr said at last, as he threw the thick wad on to his desk, “You certainly deserve a rest after this lot. Truly, Robert, there’s some stirring stuff in there. I see you have mentioned Hogg and Stone. This will almost certainly mean an oak leaf cluster for both men. Grant’s eyes went to Barr’s medal ribbons and the cluster he had won when he had been ‘mentioned in dispatches’ last year.

“
I had thought of that, if it was up to me I’d recommend far more.”

“
Well, Stone, as a Commanding Officer of one of His Majesty’s ships, however temporary, could certainly be in line for more. We will have to see… I think it no bad thing that we’re going back, we’ve stirred up such a hornet’s nest it won’t hurt to give things a week or two to calm down.”

Grant rubbed his forehead with one hand
, “As I mentioned in the report, sir. We tried to make it appear as if both boats had come to grief outside the fjord. But, we have no way of knowing whether they took the bait.” He drained his cup, “Before we sail tonight, sir, I’d very much like to have a closer look at those caves.”

“
You mean the ones under the cliff overhang?”

“
Yes, sir, I was thinking that we might be able to put them to some use.”

“
It won’t hurt to take a look, Robert. We might be able to store extra fuel and ammo for your boat or boats I should say.”

Grant noted the use of his Christian name again with some pleasure,
“I’d like to explore the possibility of using them to berth the ‘Eddy’ and if we keep her, the ‘Ethel’.”

“
The ‘Ethel’! I can imagine what the Admiral will think of that name. I suppose it’s that crew of yours again, is it?”

“
Yes, sir, but I took into account his strong objections to ‘Eddy’, sir and took the liberty of dignifying ‘Ethel’ into ‘Ethelred’ sir.”

“
As in ‘The Unready’ you mean, “Barr, rubbed his chin, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Well, I suppose that could be acceptable for the time being, but I live in dread of what the Admiral will have to say on the subject.”

Chapter 7

Caves and Wooden Pillows

Olaf’s Inlet, 0845 hrs, Thursday, 25th April, 1940.

Guided by Wilson, with the aid of a powerful torch, the ‘Nishga’s’ sea boat inched slowly into the biggest of the caves. The shaft of light showed a cavern much bigger than the entrance suggested.

“
By the mark ten fathoms,” called Wyatt, his voice echoing off the rock had a strange metallic edge to it.

Ahead his
torch picked out a rock ledge stretching away into the unfathomable gloom.

Grant turned to O
’Neill, “Bring her a point to starboard, coxswain”.

They edged slowly up to the blue-grey rock forming the shelf.

“Rocks ahead!” yelled Wilson, grabbing his boat hook.

“
Hold water!” barked O’Neill.

T
he four oarsmen thrust their blades into the water.

“
Back-water!… Lively there!”

T
he oarsmen struggled against the forward motion of the heavy boat. Wyatt’s boat hook slipped on the submerged rocks and the stern swung sharply round to present the boat’s port side to the rocks.

“
Fend her off!” yelled O’Neill.

There was a horrible grating noise and the boat
staggered to a halt.

“
She’s sprung a leak,” called someone.

O
’Neill clambered for’ard atop the thwarts reaching down between the oarsmen he felt the planking; it was wet to the touch.

“
Shine that lamp over here, Tug.” by its light he could see the water trickling down onto the bottom boards.

“
It’s not too bad, sir,” he called, “stressed a plank or two is all, nothing Chippy can’t fix…We not going to sink…”

“
No survivor’s leave then, Hooky?” asked Wilson, straight faced.

O
’Neill grinned in the dark, but chose to ignore the remark, “‘Blur’, keep your eye on the bottom boards, if the water comes over the top get to work with the bailer.” He scrambled back to Grant in the stern, “It’s nothing to write home about, sir.”

Grant stood up in the boat and squinted into the dark water out to port.

“I want to take a closer look at these rocks… Wilson! Pass that light down here.”

The beam of the lamp flashed about the walls of the cavern as it was passed from man to man.

“This looks promising; it could be what we’re looking for. It’s deep enough and then there’s this.”

O
’Neill looked over his shoulder at the rock ledge a foot or so under the surface. “And what might we be doing with that, sir? Apart from springing a few more planks on it, that is?”

“
We could build it up to the same level as the ledge behind it that would widen the shelf enough to give us the headroom we’ll need to bring the ‘Eddy’ in here.”

“
Arh! I’m with you now, sir; it’s a landing jetty you’ll be making. Well, there’s enough rocks over there to build ourselves two of the buggers.”

“
Where?” asked Grant.

“
If you pass me the light, sir; I’ll show yer.”

O
’Neill shone the light to the far end of the cave. “Now where the fuck are they?… begging your pardon, sir… Arh! There they are!” The torch had picked out what appeared to be a rock fall. “I saw them as we came in. We could ferry some of it over here easy enough.”

“
Some of them look a bit heavy for that.”

“
The big ones we could sling over the side, keep them underwater. They’re not so heavy that way. We could rig a jackstay from that wall to this one and pull the boat backwards and forwards on that, save time not having to manoeuvring her.”

“
Pull over there, coxswain, we’ll take a closer look.”

The pile of fallen rocks towered above them for twelve feet or
more. “Plenty there,” said Grant, “We’ll return after ‘stand easy’ and make a start.”

“
Aye, Aye, sir, it’ll be near high tide then, it’ll give us a better idea of the headroom we’ll be having. But it looks to me as if we’ll have to unstep the ‘Eddy’s’ mast to get her right in as far as the shelf.”

*     *     *

Ordinary Seaman Goddard stepped over the hatch coaming and clattered down the metal ladder holding on with one hand and carrying the steel teapot deftly in the other. The rest of the mess had already arrived and were seated around the table.

As he set the h
uge teapot down the talk was of leave. It had been the only topic of conversation since the Skipper’s broadcast at nine that morning. The men manning the sea boat hadn’t heard the news until they arrived back on board.

“
…I’m looking forward to a decent night’s sleep,” Wyatt was saying.

“
You had an all-night-in the night we left the tanker, bloody second part of starboard dipping in again! The one night we weren’t closed up at steaming stations in weeks and it was you lot that got the whole night in yer pits. That was two on the trot; remember that time in ‘Cripple Creek’.”

“
It’s in recognition of the hard work we put in compared to the rest of you loafing bastards!” said Wilson, straight faced.

“
Yeah, bloody right!” said Wyatt, above the groans from the rest of the mess, “I’m taking about night after night of uninterrupted kip.” He lay back luxuriously, “I’m talking ‘ere of every bloody night for five bloody lovely nights… Anyway all-night-in on board with you lot don’t count, who can get a full night’s sleep ‘ere, when the watches are changing at midnight and again at four. I swear blind, every bastard who gets up bumps into my bloody ‘ammock.”

Stubbs blew cigarette smoke down his nose
, “That’s because your ‘ammock’s slung right by the bloody ladder.”

“
Yeah, well that ain’t my fault is it?”

“‘
Cause it bloody well is! I can remember when we first come aboard; you said I’m slinging my ‘ammock nearest the hatch so I can be first out if this bugger goes down.”

“
It’s being so cheerful that keeps Earpy going, ain’t it Earpy.” said Wilson.

“
Ere, talking of sinking,” said Wyatt, watching Goddard pour out the last of the ‘wet’ of tea to make sure he got his fair share. “How about our ‘rum bosun’ very nearly sinking the sea boat.”

“
Sure! It was only a tap,” said O’Neill, There wasn’t even enough water to fill this cup.”

“
Arh! Ignore ‘im,” said Wilson dismissively. “He’s only trying to wind you up.”

O
’Neill stood up to reach for his cap and banged his head on the overhead fire main It was as well the news of the impending leave had put the Irishman in a good mood. “Be God!…I’ll be putting in for an aircraft carrier, once Jerry has sunk this bastard!”

“
Funny, ain’t it?” mused Goddard. Heads I mean; you think we would have had a bit more protection for our heads really wouldn’t yer. You know, what’s his name? That bloke who reckons we were all apes a long time ago.” He looked around the table for an answer, but could see by the expressions on his messmates faces that he wasn’t about to get one. So he continued in his ignorance. “Anyway he thought that we are what we are now was down to nature getting rid of the weak. You know the slowest runners in a tribe would have got eaten by a dinosaur, sort of thing. So you’d think, bearing in mind how many people get killed being hit on the head, that those of us what got this far would have more than a thin bit of skin and bone to protect our heads, after all it's where our brains are.”

“
Or, in your case, where they should be” said Wilson. “I see what you mean though. It’s a wonder we ain’t got a big flap of fat on top of our heads for protection.”

“
Suit you that would, Tug. You’d have a beer head to go with your beer belly.”

*     *     *

It was close on tot time when they found the tunnel. They had been steadily moving the rocks across the cavern and had just returned for another load.

Wilson and Wyatt lever
ing at one large rock, sent it toppling forward onto its face. A bright shaft of sunlight suddenly beamed through into the cavern.

Wilson got down on his knees to investigate,
“‘ere there’s a sort of tunnel under ‘ere.”

Slowly they cleared the rocks around the
opening, moving them across to enlarge the shelf. Impatient as they all were to explore the tunnel Grant, conscious that they would have to leave very soon, insisted they complete their main job first. The work was hard and it was a tiring, but it was still an enthusiastic boat’s crew that eventually began the climb up the tunnel. The sides were smooth and dry.

Part of the way up, they were surprised to find a sizeable cavern, it ran off to the south, they pushed on without exploring it fully. After ten minutes hard climbing they saw a pale blue circle above and with renewed energy pushed
rapidly on towards it. The strange colour of the light was explained when they found the exit blocked by a considerable quantity of compacted snow. Working in relays with the boat hook they broke through and found themselves on the plateau above the destroyer much to the surprise of the marine sentries stationed close by.

     
Grant saw that with a few alterations, a rope handrail and maybe some steps cut into the rock in places, the tunnel would make the job of guarding the inlet much easier. Now there would be no need to scale the cliff face to reach the top.

*     *     *

The dawn spilled pink across a grey sea, to port the west coast of Scotland stretched low and dark along an indistinct horizon.

The
‘Nishga’ dipped into the curling waves, submerging her wet nose with the enthusiasm of a terrier burying its snout in a rabbit burrow. Each time she emerged she lifted tons of green water up with her, spewing it back into the sea from her overflowing scuppers.

The men were
stood to at dawn action stations, those exposed to the elements, hunched deep into their duffel coats, deep into the womb-warmth of their own bodies.

Below the ship was battened down, hatches screwed tight, the metal deadlights clamped over thick glass scuttles produced a dismal half-lig
ht that made everything look tired and dirty. The pitching of the sea and the sealed airlessness made for miserable conditions in which to pass a long day.

If the sea conditions made life squalid below decks on the destroyer, on the two E-boats astern of her, it made life intolerable. The two tiny warships climbed the steep sided waves, clinging to them like camels ascending sand dunes. Dwarfed by the vast seas, they took onboard impossible amounts of water, tilted to impossible angles
, smashed with impossible force into towering walls of water.

The hulls of the patrol boats were shaped for speed, shaped to ride on top of the water, to skim
across the surface like water boatmen. They were essentially coastal craft and made bad foul-weather boats. In any sort of sea they bucked and bounced, launching themselves from the wave tops like unbroken stallions. Consequently the E-boats, capable of forty knots, could not operate above ten. With the real chance of an attack by friendly forces, as well as those of the enemy, it was vital that the ‘Nishga’ stayed with them; so she too hobbled her way south at the same snail’s pace. It was seven hundred and fifty miles to their destination it would take more than two days.

On the
‘Eddy’, Grant had been continuously on the bridge since leaving the Norwegian coast; his whole body ached from the unrelenting strain put upon aching muscles by the merciless pitching and the rolling.

In view of the clandestine nature of their operations
Barr had timed their