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And the newspaper was not new . What had happened while t hey had been attacking the convoy? He considered himself to be a good petty officer, and he had destroyed the newspaper before the others could see it.

He looked round as he heard Bauer reading crisply from a small pray er book while the others stood leaning on their spades. Maleg wanted to spit. Kill a man, then send him off with full respects. He watched as Bauer threw up a stiff Nazi salute, then pocketed the prayer book with the same detachment he had shown when he had reholstered his Luger.

The spades moved again and Bauer marched towards the hut.

He said, 'Duty is duty, Maleg, no matter what.'

The petty officer sat down on a rock and waited for one of the men to bring him his coffee.

Suppose.
The word hung in his mind. Just suppose they lost the war. It was unthinkable of course, but if the
Prinz
was down here in the South Atlantic, what then?

He turned and peered out at the ship, which in the last minutes seemed to have doubled in size.

Hechler would get them home somehow.

The first Arado was being hoisted up from alongside, many hands reaching out to boom it away from the hull as the ship dipped heavily in the surrounding current.

Leitner had come down to the forebridge, and his cigar smoke drifted over the screen like perfume.

Leitner said, 'Like clockwork. What did I tell you, eh?' He was almost jocular. 'God, what a coup it will be.'

Hechler trained his binoculars on the lonely station. They would land a small party with two of the ship’s wireless telegraphists. They would have all the right codes, and even if they had been changed by the enemy, no one would question their one frantic call for help. Several things could go wrong, of course. A vessel might unexpectedly arrive on a visit to the islet. If that happened, a prearranged alarm signal would be made, and the
Prinz
would be on her own again. Or the fuel convoy might be delayed or rerouted. That was so unlikely it could almost be discounted.

What else then? They might meet with enemy warships, be held down to an engagement until heavier forces arrived to join the battle. He had gone over the rendezvous points with Gudegast; there were three possible choices, and the supply submarines would be on station whatever happened.

He glanced at Leitner. The admiral was nobody's fool, and would want to return to Germany as soon as the next convoy was destroyed. They might fall upon other ships on the return passage, small convoys, single fast-moving troopers too.

There was a blackout on Allied radio communications, or so it seemed. The enemy must be puzzled about their sources of fuel supply, and it was likely that all other convoys in the Atlantic hud been held up in their ports until the raider's position was verified.

Hechler was a practical sailor but had never ruled out the value o! luck. Theirs simply could not last, and he had often imagined some special task force fanning out from Biscay for a sweep south in pursuit. They would have carriers, or at least one. Just a single sighting report was all the enemy admiral needed.

I
;
eet clattered on the ladder and Theil entered the bridge, his eyes concealed by dark glasses.

He said, 'I've sent a double anchor party up forrard, sir, and given orders to break the cable if need be.'

Leitner's shoulders shook in a small chuckle. 'More caution,
cli?'

Theil ignored him. 'Have you selected the men to remain on the islet, sir?'

Hechler looked at him. 1 have spoken to the doctor, Viktor. Three are still in sick-bay after being thrown from their feet.'

Theil replied, 'I have their names, sir. I did think they were malingering.' His voice was quite flat and toneless.

Hechler turned so that Leitner should not hear. 'Are you all right?'

Theil straightened his shoulders. 'I am.'

Hechler nodded. 'Good. We can land the two survivors also.'

Leitner turned. 'When they are picked up eventually, nobody can say we were not humane!' It seemed to amuse him.

Theil stared past him. 'A man was killed over at the radio station.'

Hechler exclaimed angrily, 'When? Why was I not told immediately?'

Leitner said, '/ was informed. You were busy anchoring the ship, remember?'

Hechler recalled Bauer reporting aboard when a landing party had been sent to relieve him. An hour ago? It seemed like minutes.

Theil had a hand to his chest as if he was in pain but dropped it as he explained, 'Bauer shot one of the mechanics.' He waited and added harshly, A civilian.'

Leitner swung round again. 'In God's name, man, what do you expect? I will not have our people put at risk for any reason! Bauer acted as he thought fit. I will uphold his decision. Millions have died in this war, and millions more will follow, I have no doubt!' He was shouting, ignoring the men on watch nearby. 'One bloody shooting is not my paramount concern, thank you, sir!'

Theil eyed him blankly from behind the dark glasses.

'Evidently, sir.' He turned and hurried from the bridge.

'Now what the
hell
was that all about?' Leitner grinned, but his eyes remained like cold glass.

Hechler thought he knew Theil. Now he was not sure of anything. He said, 'Nobody wants to see non-combatants killed, sir. I'll grant that it may have been necessary in this case. However

Leitner sniffed.
‘However
sums it up, I think!'

Hechler was suddenly sick of him, even of Theil. When the latter discovered - he raised his binoculars to watch the party on the beach to hide his sudden apprehension. Suppose Theil already knew? How could he? As captain he had been told nothing until Leitner's anger had let the news spill out about Theil's poor wife.

Strain, combat fatigue, the yearning for a command of his own, of this ship most of all - moulded together they could have this effect on him.

Leitner said, 'You can speak to the men you have detailed. It will come better from you.' He was calm again, but as their eyes met Hechler could sense the spite in his casual remark.

Tell them you are leaving them behind. Why? For Germany?
Would it be enough this time? He gritted his teeth. It was all they had.

He said, 'Tell the sick-bay I am coming down.'

Jaeger picked up a handset and watched him walk past.

Command - was this what it meant? Was this what it might do to the man who held it?

Leiter snapped, 'Don't gape! Do as you're told! By God, I intend to produce a full report on all this when we get back to Germany!'

A messenger called nervously, 'Camera team request permission to come to the bridge, sir.'

Leitner moved away from the side and loosened the collar of his white tunic.

'Of course.' He glanced at the others, Gudegast brooding by the chart-table, the petty officer of the watch, young Jaeger, and the rest of those subservient faces.

All honour will be shown to this ship, gentlemen. A film which our children will remember!'

Gudegast watched him march to the rear of the bridge. Children? The admiral would have no problems there, he thought.

The ship was still in a state of immediate readiness, if not at action stations. On the petty officers' mess-deck, the air was hissing out of the shafts, compressed and smelling faintly of oil. The deadlights were screwed shut, and most of the watertight doors clipped home. The ship was stopped but only resting, and even the fans and muffled generators sounded wary and ready to switch to full power.

The small cluster of men at the end of one of the tables appeared to be engrossed in the one who was seated, his fingers busily arranging a pattern of coloured glass under an overhead light. Acting Petty Officer Hans Stoecker watched the man's hands working nimbly with the newly cut pieces of glass. Rudi hammer was putting the finishing touches to yet another small box, a present perhaps for a wife or girlfriend. It was nerve-racking, unbearable, and yet Stoecker knew he must not break the silence. Opposite him, his grey head bowed with no outward show of impatience, Oskar Tripz also watched the box taking shape.

The fingers eased a fragment over and snipped a rough edge away. The man nicknamed Mad Rudi was pale in every respect, hair and lashes, even his skin; he was not far removed from an albino.

Stoecker tried not to think of that day when an unknown hand had given him the letter. The rest was a nightmare.

He glanced at the other petty officer named Elmke, a dour, humourless man whose only friend in the ship, it seemed, was Tripz.

Stoecker wanted to wipe his face. It felt wet with sweat. The sealed air perhaps? He knew otherwise. It was uncontrollable tear and disgust at what he had begun.

It had all seemed like a daring exploit when he had shared the letter with Tripz. He was friend and mentor all in one. But it had got out of hand. Even the boatswain Brezinka was implicated, and now Mad Rudi and Elmke,

He concentrated on the pattern of glass. What would his mother say, and his father when he found out? It had all been so simple, so right. As if it was a kind of destiny. Even meeting with

Sophie. He turned the thought aside. She had been with Jaeger. An officer.

Tripz said, 'Well, come along, old fellow, spit it out!' He was grinning, but the tension was clear in his voice. 'We have to know, God damn it!'

Hammer put down the flat-jawed pliers he used for snapping off excess glass. 'I nearly broke that piece!' He shook his head. After the war they will need all the glaziers in the world to put the cities together again, you'll see!'

Tripz patted his shoulder. 'God, man, if it's true what we think, you can buy your own glass factory!'

Hammer smiled. He was always such a gentle, reserved man. In his petty officer's uniform he looked like an imposter.

He said severely, 'Well, it wasn't easy, I can tell you.'

Elmke said roughly, 'Come
on,
man!'

Tripz shot him a warning glance. 'Easy, Ludwig! Give him time!'

Hammer smiled. It is true. I opened just two of the boxes.' He spread his hands. 'Jewels by the thousand, gems of every kind. Gold too. A factory, Oskar? I could buy a whole town with my share.'

The others stared at each other but Stoecker felt as if his guts were being crushed.

They were speaking of a
share.
It was all accepted, decided even.

He heard himself say in little more than a whisper, But if we're found out?'

Surprisingly it was Hammer who spoke up. 'In this ship we can die in a hundred different ways, Hans. I do not believe in miracles. We have fought a just war, but we are losing.' He seemed surprised at their expressions. 'Face it, comrades, it is not so bad when we have discovered an alternative to oblivion, yes?'

Tripz produced a bottle of schnapps. Drinking on duty would cost him his rank, all of them for that matter.

Very solemnly he filled four mugs and they clinked with equal gravity together.

'To us.'

Only Stoecker felt that he wanted to vomit. But the nightmare had already grown in size and power. It had been too late when he had taken that letter.

* * *

Hechler walked along the port side beneath the elevated barrels ol the anti-aircraft weapons, nodding occasionally to familiar I .ices, pausing to speak briefly with the petty officer in charge of a working party.

There was no difference from being here at this rock and out on the high seas. The great ocean was the enemy, and yet being anchored made him feel vulnerable, unprepared.

A rising plume of smoke from the funnel showed that Stuck ,md his engineers were equally impatient to move. Men off duty' hung about in groups, nervous and not far from their action stations.

A lieutenant crossed the deck and saluted. The boat is ready,

sir.'

Hechler stared past him at the small landing party, three of whom were still showing signs of their injuries.

It had been a difficult thing to tell them what was required. Hechler knew better than to make a speech. About Germany, the great sacrifice that others had made already.

He had explained simply, 'It is for us, comrades. The ship.'

A senior wireless telegraphist was in charge, with one other assistant, while the remainder were from the sick-bay.

'I shall come back for you if I can.'

He had sensed their efforts to be brave, not to let him down. It was, he thought, one of the hardest things he had ever asked anyone to do.

He walked with the lieutenant to the side, where a motorboat was waiting to transfer the small party' to the radio station and bring back the others. After that - he sighed. It was best not to think of how they would feel when they watched their ship speeding away to disappear eventually below the horizon.

They were assembled by the accommodation ladder. Hechler shook hands with each one. He had entrusted a letter to the senior telegraphist to hand to the British or whoever arrived. Under normal circumstances he knew they would be well treated. But with a civilian lying buried on the islet, the letter might ease the situation.

He saw the two prisoners already in the tossing motorboat. The old boatswain had stared at him blankly when he had told him he would soon be released. The other one named Ames had met his gaze, not exactly hostile, but strangely defiant. He had warned the senior telegraphist about him. He was probably safer off the ship, he thought. As a mate, he knew about navigation and would have the
feel
of the sea like Gudegast. You could not watch a man all the time unless he was in irons. He might have been able to escape and sabotage the steering gear or something else vital, even at the cost of his life.

He said, 'I shall send aircraft for you if I can. If not -' He had almost shrugged but had seen the pain on their faces. 'It is the war. Our success rests in your hands.'

He looked round and saw the sunlight flash on binoculars from the upper bridge, and guessed that Leitner was watching each magnified face and reaction.

He thought of Theil. He should be here too. Something would have to be done before they met the enemy again. When their luck ran out.

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