The Long Way Home (13 page)

Our movements now had to coincide with where the patrolling guard was, so the one nearest to him stayed put and the other two had a bit of freedom. I decided that the best place would be under
the railway wagons nearest to the ship. As I was crawling along beneath one of these, there was a sudden bump and the wagon started to move. My immediate reaction was to drape myself across the
wheel axle which was quite near me, thinking that I would be safe there until the shunter stopped, when I could resume my crawling routine. The result of this was that I was whipped right over the
axle and landed on my head, which luckily isn’t the weakest part of my body, ending up flat on my back on the track. Before I had gathered my wits, the wagons were stationary again. This
little incident taught me that the wheels and axle on this wagon were fixed and did not work independently.

The lighting seemed better at the stern of the ship so I made my way there with an eye on the guard. Eventually, I made out some queer name that looked Russian or Polish, but it wasn’t the
one we wanted. Returning to the rendezvous point was much easier and quicker. I was becoming better with practice and had a sore head to prove it. The biggest surprise was that the boys were
already back and waiting for me. That seemed strange as they had both had further to go than me. I began to wonder if the axle business had knocked me out for a few minutes.

Jimmy had hit the jackpot in the ‘find the
Heros
competition’, so we moved further back from the quayside towards the ship at the end of the line which, presumably, would be
the first one out in the morning when the tide was right. We found a suitable spot in the darkness from which to watch the progress of the guard as he paced his beat on the dockside. Jimmy told us
what the plan of action would be. He would wait until the guard was about halfway down his beat with his back to us; then he would walk over to the ship and board it. If all went well, he would
signal to us that we were next, but we would follow only after the guard had returned and was again halfway down in the other direction.

There was a deadly stillness about the place, except for the odd bursts of activity from the shunting engine. It was two o’clock in the morning and people were in bed sleeping soundly.
Again, I fleetingly wondered if we would ever achieve the luxury of sleeping peacefully or in our own beds again. My reverie was rudely shattered when Jimmy said he was off. As he casually walked
out into the light and across to the ship’s gangway, I imagined rifle and machine-gun fire suddenly sweeping the dockside, but in fact nothing happened. Jimmy disappeared momentarily as he
crossed the deck but very quickly reappeared higher up the ship, where he turned round and gave us the thumbs-up sign. Now Joe and I had to wait until the guard had returned and was again halfway
down his beat. Time passed too quickly for me, as I felt safe and secure in the dark surroundings, but a touch on my arm put an end to that and we were off.

I felt sure that the guard would hear the thumping of my heart from where he was. Then we were climbing the gangway and all seemed to be going well, until Fate blew the whistle again. From
somewhere on our left a voice hailed us and we saw the German guard on deck about twenty yards away. I almost imagined it was the little guard who had played cat and mouse with us on the train.
Once again the years of working together paid off. Without even thinking about it, Joe and I both pulled our imaginary passes out of our pockets and waved them in the air, shouting
‘Crew’ in German, and carried on to where Jimmy was waiting to pull us into a doorway, which he smartly closed behind us. The three of us now stood with bated breath, waiting to see
what would happen next.

Nothing did, and Jimmy reckoned that when he came on board the guard must have gone for a pee and that was why he saw no-one. He commended us on how well we had handled a nasty situation. Our
next step was decided for us because the door that we had come in by was opened by what looked like a cabin-boy. He didn’t look unduly perturbed when he saw us, but this soon changed when he
found we were strangers. Jimmy quietly and firmly explained that he was to go and tell the steward that he had met ‘Joe Bloggs’ in the pub and that he was to come to us immediately. He
did this using voice and sign language successfully; when he was finished, the young man indicated that he understood and repeated the message in Swedish, I think.

He went off briskly, closing the door behind him, and now we had a big discussion as to what he would do. I reckoned he would turn us in to my little friend, the guard who was going to haunt me
for the rest of my life. Joe was willing to bet his first stop would be one of the ship’s officers, but Jimmy just smiled and said the boy would do exactly as he was instructed. Anyway, we
would know soon enough – the next time the door was opened. The young man must have moved very fast because about seven minutes later he returned and, thank God, Jimmy was right.

Jimmy’s friend arrived alone and seemed dismayed about the three of us having made it this far. But he was as good as his word and in a strangled voice urged us to move very quickly
because the whole crew would be on the move soon, preparing the ship for sailing. With him leading the way, we carefully and quietly followed him. This nightmare journey took us deeper and deeper
into the ship’s bowels. Eventually, we were ushered through yet another bulkhead door, but this proved to be the last one, and it was the coal-bunker. Our final instruction from our Swedish
friend was to get into the bunker and as far away from the bulkhead door as possible, then to bury ourselves under the coal and to stay there quietly for as long as possible. We thanked him
profusely and genuinely from our hearts, because his help could cost him his life if we were caught. He smiled warmly at us, wished us ‘Bon Voyage’ and then he was gone. It made me
wonder why a total stranger would put his life on the line for people he didn’t know and would probably never see again. I hope that I am never put to the test, in case my moral courage is
not a match for his.

The small torch, which I had kept when we dumped everything else, now became very useful and allowed us to see our way to the farthest part of the bunker. On reaching the bulkhead, we began the
task of digging ourselves in. Before we started, Jimmy said that he had something to tell us. It was extremely likely that the Germans would search the ship before it sailed by one of two methods.
One was using dogs to sniff out any human scent in cargo holds and the second, a real charmer, was using gas instead of the dogs. This, of course, cheered us up no end.

It was the bad-following-the-good syndrome again. Here we were, having surmounted all sorts of obstacles to get this far, to be told we would either have our throats torn out by Alsatian dogs or
be asphyxiated instead. I suggested that possibly our only way out was by prayer, but Joe said that it was hardly fair to ask for help now, considering the situation we had put ourselves in. Jimmy
said we should leave it in the hands of Lady Luck, who had looked after us inordinately well up till now, and since we hadn’t offended her in any way, maybe she would see us through.

Short of crying and screaming that we didn’t want to die, there was nothing else for it but to dig ourselves into the coal. Jimmy explained we were doing this to cover our scent from the
dogs, and I was glad there was a reason because it wasn’t an easy task with bare hands. We had only been resting for about ten minutes after our exertions when there was a bump and the coal
moved under us. Jimmy told us we would have to move as we were obviously lying right above the hopper that fed the ship’s furnaces. When you’re in trouble there is no greater therapy
than keeping yourself occupied, so we moved and did our digging-in chore all over again.

Half an hour later, while I was daydreaming about walking to birdsong along one of our beautiful lochsides in the warm sunshine, Jimmy suddenly said that the ship was moving, which brought me
back to reality. I hadn’t even heard the engines starting but was told that they had been ticking over for some time and we were now definitely under way. Jimmy explained that it was quite
some distance before we would sail clear of the estuary and that the ship’s search would be carried out while we were on the move. The ship’s pilot, the guards and any stowaways that
were found would be taken off the ship when they dropped the pilot. His predictions were spot on: ten minutes later we heard a dog, first whining then barking, followed by the angry voice of the
guard shouting at the dog to be quiet. The sound must have come to us through a ventilator which we couldn’t see. I’m sure the dog had got a whiff of us and was telling its master about
us down below. For some reason the guard didn’t want to know.

Then I had another thought. Supposing the guard knew the holds were going to be gassed, then of course he wouldn’t be interested in the dog’s reaction to any smells coming from the
ventilators – be it German or Swedish rats, or even, as in this case, three Britons. This supposition would make a dramatic and final end to our relationship with the little guard from the
train. Having exchanged thoughts and fears in whispers, we decided to wait and see what would happen next. We once again settled down to contemplating our filthy navels.

My nerves must have stopped jumping long enough to allow me to doze off. I was awakened by Jimmy and Joe talking quite freely together, and when they saw I was back in the land of the living
they told me that we were well clear of the estuary and heading safely for Sweden and the port of Malmö. The sense of elation that swept through me almost knocked me out. All the planning and
dreaming we had done together had finally ended in success. Then, as we hugged each other, waves of fear started to run up and down my spine. Jimmy felt the sudden tension in my body and asked me
what was wrong. I felt almost sick as I reminded him of the pattern of events: very soon Fate was going to throw that rotten sucker punch which had followed every time we thought we were winning.
Both boys laughed and told me to forget it; nothing could interfere with a safe landing in Malmö. I agreed to set aside my pessimism and behave myself, but deep down in the pit of my stomach
the fear remained. Maybe it was just hunger.

A couple of hours later, we thought it was about time to make our presence on board known to the captain, as Jimmy reckoned we had passed the point of no return. At the same
time, the bulk-head door swung open and the lights were switched on. There stood one of the ship’s officers, presumably checking all was well in the coal-hole. Being naturally polite, we
called out a hearty ‘Good morning’ to him. His look of shocked surprise was understandable: we must have looked dreadful in our filthy state. When we explained to him that we were
British stowaways, he smiled and said that he could understand English and that he would take us to the captain. He also explained that the ‘Old Man’ was a real seagoing terror and that
he would be furious with us for our audacity in stowing away on his ship.

He took us up on deck and told us to wait. His prediction was spot on. The captain appeared at the double, hoping that what he had been told wasn’t true, but when he saw us he realised
that the worst had happened and that he would now be in trouble with the Germans. He was no beauty to start with, and as his tough, wrinkled face got redder by the minute, he became more ugly.
First he tongue-lashed us in Swedish, then he switched to English, the main theme being that if ever there was anyone in the world he didn’t want to meet, it was definitely us. Our reaction
to all this was mutual. We said nothing because, after all, it was his ship and he was entitled to his say – not that any of us felt like interrupting him in the mood he was in.

When he finally ran out of breath, he had a good look around and then he asked the ship’s officer (who had been standing by during this tirade) if it was possible to chart him a course for
Denmark, which was German-occupied. If he dropped us there, he would be in the clear again and we would be recaptured. Leaving us standing there on deck, the two of them retired to the bridge,
whereupon Jimmy had a good look around at the direction we were heading. He told us that the land we could see straight ahead was Sweden and the dimmer bit to the left Denmark, so if the present
course altered to the left we were to jump overboard and take our chances on swimming for Sweden. We both nodded in agreement. I think Jimmy might have made it; Joe might not have, but for me it
would have been a watery grave for sure.

We were left standing on deck for about fifteen minutes before the friendly officer returned and, with a wink, told us to follow him. He showed us where to wash up and then we could have a meal.
Our course as we left the deck was still straight and true, so we smiled at each other and felt a lot better about life. We washed and scrubbed but five minutes later we were dirty again. I thought
I would probably spend the rest of my life trying to get rid of the coal dust, but in fact it took only about a week. A friendly cook in the seamen’s mess served us with a lovely
meaty-smelling soup, which was absolutely delicious. The nice man couldn’t understand when he tried to serve us with a heaped main course that we were full and couldn’t eat another
bite. He looked so disappointed that we went to a lot of trouble to explain to him that after four years on strict rations, our stomachs wouldn’t hold a lot, no matter how good and tasty the
food was. Finally he accepted that it wasn’t his cooking that was the problem and grudgingly cleared the table.

We were left in the mess-room to sit and chat and wonder what was going to happen next. What happened was that practically the whole crew appeared in ones and twos at various times to give us
encouraging smiles and the thumbs-up sign. They were probably surprised that the captain hadn’t had us put in irons and thrown in the brig. A regular check on our course showed that we were
still heading straight and true for Sweden and the coastline was becoming quite distinct now. It was a beautiful sunny day and we could make out features on land. The officer who had been dealing
with us visited us about an hour later and said he would have to have some details from us. There were forms to be filled in for the ship’s log. These proved to be just generalities, like
names and addresses and a statement that no one had helped us to stow away on this particular ship. He informed us that the Swedish police had been notified by radio of our presence on board and
would be waiting at the dockside to pick us up when we landed at Malmö.