The Hesitant Hero (26 page)

“Yes. If He sees the sparrows fall, He can surely put a motherless child into the arms of a childless woman.”

****

The children, and especially Rochelle, took it hard about leaving Marie. Jolie had taken her off to one side and explained the situation. Rochelle had begun to cry, but Jolie had explained patiently how good it was that Marie would have a mother and a father one day. She also explained how dangerous the crossing would be. “What would you think if we took her with us and she got sick and died because of what happened? Neither of us would ever forgive ourselves.”

She had spoken quietly and comfortingly to Rochelle, and the girl had finally sniffled and wiped her face. “Yes, you’re right. She’ll have a good mother.”

“That’s right. She’ll have a home and parents.”

The other children had been less emotional, and by the time Jean pulled up in the truck, they were saying good-bye to her. As each one came to give Marie a kiss, Annette promised, “She will have a good home.”

They said good-bye to the Fortiers, who had come to the cottage to spend the last couple of hours with the group. When they went outside, they found the rain had weakened to a drizzle.

“Get up between the barrels, and then I’ll put a tarp over you and the barrels. No matter what happens,” Jean said sternly, “don’t make a sound.”

“That will be easier now that Marie’s not here,” Jolie said.

The group huddled together as Jean drew the canvas over them. Rochelle was sitting next to Antoine, and she leaned over in the darkness and groped for his hand. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered.

He held on to her hand tightly. His eyes were closed despite the fact that he could not have seen even if they were open. All he could think of was his grandmother telling him to stay away from the sea.

Jolie was holding Yolande on her lap. Yolande pulled Jolie’s head down and whispered, “Are you afraid?”

“A little bit.”

“Don’t be afraid,” Yolande whispered. “Jesus can walk on water. He won’t let us drown!”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. You told us about it.”

“You’re right. I’m glad you’re not afraid.”

Yolande was quiet for a while, and then she drew Jolie’s head down again to whisper in her ear. “I am afraid, a little bit. Is that bad?”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not bad at all.” She hugged the child and wondered what would happen. In all truth she was very afraid, but there was no turning back now.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Despair

Staring down into his glass of brandy, Major Dietrich was aware that his senses were numbed. Ordinarily he was not a drinking man, but ever since his nephew had been killed—murdered, actually—he had been drinking steadily. He downed the burning liquid and set the glass on his desk, aware that the sound seemed dull and softened by the alcoholic haze that surrounded him. Dietrich despised drunks, and since he rarely drank, the brandy had gone to his head much more readily than he had anticipated.

Outside, the wind moaned, reminding Dietrich of something he could not quite place. The sound was eerie, at times rising to a high-pitched keening, like the scream of a banshee, although he did not actually know what a banshee would sound like. Other times it would drop down and moan, like a voice coming up out of the earth and roaming the land seeking a victim to devour.

Looking down, he saw the letter he had written to his sister. It was intended to comfort her on the loss of her son, but it had degenerated into a rage that had found its way onto the page. He wadded up the letter and threw it across the room. It struck the wall and fell to the floor. Dietrich stared at it and then poured more brandy into the glass.

Finally he rose and walked over to the window and stared out. The darkness was complete. The storm had brought with it shreds of fog, which seemed to drape over the buildings built close to the shore. A tiny flicker of lightning lit up the
sky far off to the north, and he remembered Captain Breit’s words:
“Not even our own ships will be going out. A small boat would have no chance at all.”

For a long time Dietrich stood there, and then his immobility became insufferable. He was a man of action and could not bear to be still while there was work to be done. He drank the rest of the brandy and walked over to the coatrack. He pulled his raincoat off, calling at the same time, “Scharmann—Scharmann!”

Lieutenant Scharmann burst through the door and stopped abruptly while Dietrich put a rain protector over his billed cap. He was wary, never knowing what the major had in mind. “Yes, sir?”

“Get the car ready, Lieutenant. We’re going down to check the docks.”

Scharmann let nothing show on his face, but he thought,
He’s gone crazy, but I can’t argue with him.
However, he did observe mildly, “Surely no one in his right mind would be stirring on a night like this, Major.”

“Put on your rain gear and come with me.”

The two men left the shelter of headquarters, plunging out into the darkness of the night. The keening wind raised its voice, and both men had to lean against the driving force of the powerful blasts that shook them. They got in the staff car, slamming the doors against the force of the wind, and without comment started toward the dock.

****

Jean peered out into the darkness, edging the truck along. He left the lights off and thus far had seen no patrols.

“They’re all asleep or drunk—or both,” he muttered, grinning into the darkness.

The truck was rocked constantly by blasts of wind, and the question that kept returning to his mind was,
If it can push a truck around, it can push a ship around too.
He was not a man, however, given to nursing his fears, so he concentrated
on moving along. Finally he pulled up at the dock and saw the bare outlines of
Leota
’s mass. Leaving the engine running, he leaped out and was joined at once by Arnaud.

“Everything all right?” his friend asked.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be? I’ve got them here. Are you ready to shove off?”

Arnaud shook his head. “Pascal and Garland are in the boat, but we’d better think twice, Jean. It’s awfully rough out there. I’ve never been out on a sea like this. And you haven’t either, have you?”

“No. But there’s a first time for everything. Help me get the canvas off.”

The two men struggled to untie the canvas and pull it back. They removed two of the barrels, and Jean leaned forward in the darkness. “We’re here. Get out.”

He helped the children down as they emerged from the dark. When they were all off, he said, “Arnaud, take these kids on board. And send Pascal out to hide the truck.”

“Right!”

Jean helped Jolie get out and then stepped aside as Tyler came to the ground.

“Have you ever been out in a ship in weather this bad?” Jolie had to raise her voice against the wind.

“No, but we can make it. I never start something I can’t finish.” He grinned.

Tyler braced himself. The rain had now stopped, but it seemed even windier than before. “Will it get better at sea?”

“It’ll probably be worse, but we don’t have much choice, do we? It’s now or never.”

“I hate to put you and your men at risk, Jean,” Jolie said. “It’s not even your problem.”

“We’re old enough to know what we want to do. Come on.”

Pascal jogged up to Jean.

“Take the truck back to my place and park it in the shed. Take the keys out of it and put them over the right front tire. And hurry up, will you?”

“Right.” The man got into the truck and drove off at once.

“Come on,” Jean said, turning his attention to Jolie and Tyler. “Let’s get on the boat.”

No sooner had he spoken than twin beams cut through the gloom of darkness, centering directly on the figures that stood there, suddenly helpless. All of them involuntarily glanced at the lights and then, unable to meet their brightness, dropped their heads and waited.

“Stay right where you are,” a voice came. “Shoot anyone who moves, Lieutenant.”

Jolie knew the blackest form of despair she had ever known in her life.
To come so close and then to lose it,
she couldn’t help thinking. She had been filled with a fierce sense of satisfaction, believing they were going to make it, but now she knew that all was lost.

The three of them stood there, and Jean said mildly, “I hate that we didn’t even get a chance at it.”

A figure came into the headlights, and Jolie recognized the officer as Major Dietrich. He came forward holding a Luger in his hand, and behind him another officer was similarly armed.

Tyler edged his hand toward the pistol in his belt, but instantly Dietrich pointed his weapon straight at Tyler.

“That man’s reaching for a gun,” he barked with a harsh tone that left no doubt about his intentions.

“Should I shoot him?”

“If he doesn’t drop it, yes.”

“Drop the gun, Tyler,” Jolie said. “They’ll kill you if you don’t.”

Tyler plucked the pistol out with his thumb and forefinger and dropped it on the ground.

“Back up now.” The three backed up, and Dietrich picked up the pistol. He now had one gun in each hand, his forefingers on the triggers. He stepped closer, and there was a thin smile on his face that Jolie could see by the faint light. “So,” he said, “we meet again.” He swung one of the weapons in Jolie’s direction. “Did you kill my nephew?”

At once Tyler said, “No. I did.”

Dietrich swung the Luger in Tyler’s direction, and Jolie cried out, “No, please don’t shoot!”

“I will not shoot as long as you obey, but you will pay for murdering my nephew.”

“Lieutenant, take the car back to the squad room and get some backup over here at once.”

“But, Major—”

“I will take care of this.” Dietrich’s voice was triumphant. “Go now. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But first bring me the flashlight from the front seat.”

“Yes, Major.”

Scharmann brought the flashlight back. Dietrich turned it on and slipped the extra weapon into his pocket. “Now, go get the squad. Don’t worry. I’ll be all right here. I’ll be very well indeed.” He seemed pleased, and there was cruelty in his smile as he stared at the prisoners.

Scharmann ran to the car, leaving the group in the single beam of light that came from the flashlight.

“Stay very close together,” Dietrich commanded. “I would not mind killing any of you. But I must warn you. You are all going to hang. If you’d rather be shot, I’d be glad to accommodate you.”

Jolie said quietly, “I’m sorry, Jean—and you, Tyler, for getting you into this.”

“We knew what we were doing,” Tyler said.

“You knew what you were doing when you killed my nephew.”

“He was attempting to assault this young woman,” Tyler said evenly. Death was very close, and for some reason he felt no fear. He had always wondered what he would feel if he knew he was going to die, and now he knew. All he felt was a great disappointment. The children were on the boat, but Jean’s friends couldn’t leave with the major standing so near. It was all over—all finished and all for nothing.

A sharper blast of wind and a rising volume of sound rocked all of them. Dietrich kept his balance, and the light in his hand was steady. “You fools would have drowned even if I had not caught you. You American. What’s your name?”

“Tyler Winslow.”

“I suppose you thought because you were an American we would not dare to execute you. Rest assured, we have no fear on that score.”

“I’m sure you can handle it,” Tyler said.

Jolie listened as Major Dietrich spoke, venom dripping from his words. He was cursing and pointing out in exact terms what waited for them, but even as he spoke, Jolie caught a fleeting glimpse of a movement over to her left. She saw a form of a man, dressed in dark clothing, come slowly out of the water and up onto the dock. As she watched, Major Dietrich moved over and cut off her view. She knew she must keep Dietrich’s attention on her so that whoever was on the dock would not be seen or heard.

“Major, I beg you to let these children go. Let the crew take them to England.”

“And what about you, Doctor?”

“It doesn’t matter about me, but they’re only children.”

“Don’t worry. I will see that they find a place.”

“Please let them go.”

Jolie could not see anything but the bright ring of the major’s light as he held it steadily. She continued to shout against the wind, begging him to have mercy.

“You’re an educated woman. You should have better sense. I suppose the American gave you the idea for this mad scheme. Americans all think they are heroes like Buffalo Bill.”

“No. I’m the one who talked him into this plan.”

“Then he is a fool!” Dietrich laughed sharply. “You love him, I suppose.”

Without a pause, Jolie said, “Yes, I do love him. Let him go, at least.”

“Let him go? He murdered my nephew!”

“To keep him from attacking me.” She was desperate now. “If anything happens to him, the Americans will find out about it.”

“The Americans will not come into this war. They’re smart enough to take care of their own problems.” Dietrich glanced over his shoulder, evidently looking for the car, and for a moment fear grasped Jolie. Then suddenly the light disappeared. It spun crazily, casting its single beam upward and then downward before falling to the ground.

At once Jean leaped forward and shouted, “Is that you, Arnaud?”

The flashlight suddenly rose from the ground and Arnaud Heuse held it to his own chin. He was laughing wildly, and then he pointed it down at the crumpled body of the major. “I have captured the German army, Jean. You must see to it I get a medal.”

“Quick, everybody get on board,” Jean said. “They’ll be back soon.”

“What about the major?”

“He’s a prisoner of war.” Jean picked up the major’s pistol and stuck it in his own belt. Then he grabbed the major under the arms and started to drag him. “Give me a hand here, guys. Jolie, get aboard. We’ve got to get away from here.”

“What about the soldiers—the other men that are coming?” Tyler demanded.