by Colin Forbes
He was turned on his left side, facing inwards to the cabin, and while he rested he contented himself with straining to see the time by the light of the phosphorescent numerals of his watch on the table. Almost 12.10 AM so far as he could make out. In that case the guard would be looking in on them shortly - he checked the cabin every quarter-hour. With typical Teutonic punctuality he had, so far, arrived at precisely the quarter-hour. He lay listening for the sound of footsteps and heard only the distant murmur of voices. Twisting his head round, he called out in a loud whisper. 'All right, Ford?'
The sergeant, similarly bound in the next bunk, was just recovering from the pounding headache which had assailed him when he regained consciousness after the blow from Hahnemann's machine-pistol. From the sound of Prentice's voice he guessed that the lieutenant had enjoyed a less painful return to the land of the living, something which didn't entirely surprise him when he recalled Prentice's speedy recovery from a hangover after a night of Turkish hospitality. He wet his lips before replying. 'Fine and dandy, sir. We'll have to sue the Hydra's owners for damages when we arrive back.'
Prentice grinned in the darkness. 'We might just do that, laddie. Now, the guard'll be looking in any minute, so pretend you're still out cold.'
'Got it, sir.' The faint hammering inside his brain was sending waves of dizziness through Ford, a sensation which wasn't improved by the Aegean waves outside which regularly lifted the ship and tilted the cabin with an unpleasant rolling motion. Combined with his dizziness, Ford had the feeling that he was turning over and over and over. It cost him a certain effort to make his enquiry. 'Making any progress, sir?'
'A bit,' Prentice lied cheerfully, 'but not enough yet. I think they used steel hawser cable to truss us up.' He checked his watch again. Nearly a quarter past twelve. Was the guard going to be late this time? The curtains were closed over the porthole so the cabin was in almost total darkness except for the light seeping in from the door which was not quite closed. He found that slightly ajar door tantalizing - for all the use that unlocked door was to Prentice at the moment it might have been locked and bolted on the outside. But it did give him warning of the guard's approach as he proceeded with his unvarying patrol. After he had entered the cabin to make his quick check on the prisoners he continued his slow tread along the companionway and Prentice, who had exceptional hearing, found previously that he was able to follow the tramp of the retreating boots and their progress up the distant staircase which ended with the thud of a door closing. So his sentry-go also took in the open deck aloft, God help him. But for Prentice this made sense - the German commander, knowing there was little risk of an emergency while they were on board, was conserving his manpower, letting his troops rest as best they could before morning. Prentice lifted his head, then called out quickly. 'Here he comes!'
The Alpenkorps guard reached the door and reacted with his normal caution, switching on the light and entering the cabin with his rifle levelled. He stood there for a moment, watching the two inert bodies, then peered round the cabin to make sure that it was empty. As he left he switched off the light and closed the door firmly. Lying on his bunk, Prentice used a little army language wordlessly - now he couldn't hear the basket marching away and, more to the point, he wouldn't be able to hear him coming back again. Gritting his teeth, he renewed the struggle to free himself, pushing down his left hand to hold the rope taut while he compressed his right hand and pulled upwards, wriggling a wrist which was now moist with sweat. The moisture might help, might eventually make it a little easier to slip his wrist upwards out of that biting rope. To give himself extra leverage he pressed his bound feet against the side of the bunk, breathing heavily as he strained desperately at the rope. Five minutes later he lay limp and exhausted by his exertions, taking in great breaths of muggy air as he summoned up his strength for a renewed onslaught. The cabin seemed to be tilting more steeply now and the woodwork was groaning as though the timbers might give under the enormous pressure of the sea. The effort to free himself had been so great that his head was beginning to ache badly and he felt that he had a steel band drawn round his temples. A light flashed briefly and he bit his lips. God, this was no time to black-out. A second later he lay still as a dead man, his heart pounding with excitement. That flash of light hadn't been his eyes playing him tricks. The light had flashed from the companionway as someone opened and closed the door soundlessly. Someone had come inside the cabin!
Fear. Uncertainty. Growing alarm. The emotions darted across his fatigued brain as he continued to lie quite still, straining his ears, trying to accustom his eyes to the darkness quickly. The trouble was that damned sentry lighting up the cabin had taken away his night sight for a few minutes and he wished he hadn't watched him through half-closed eyes. Had Ford also realized what had happened - that some unknown person had crept inside their cabin with uncanny silence? He had no idea. His ears had still provided no evidence that there was someone else present but instinctively Prentice knew that they were no longer alone. He found the stillness unnerving, the creaking of the ship ominous, and the thought that someone who moved like a ghost was approaching him terrifying. His mind was strained, his nerves strung up to fever pitch with their recent experiences, and now a nightmare idea flooded over him - someone had been sent in to kill them quietly. A knife in the chest, then a swift despatch overboard into the Aegean. Feverishly his imagination worked it out: the German commander might not want his unit to know about an episode like this, or perhaps there was an SS section aboard. Lying helpless in the darkness, bis nerves close to breaking-point, he foresaw the next step - the hand coming out of the darkness to feel over his chest, finding the right place, the upheld hand striking downwards with one savage thrust. Keep a grip on yourself, for Christ's sake, Prentice... His heart jumped, his throat went dry, he felt he was choking - now he could see something, a shadow which had interposed itself between the bunk and the phosphorescent hands of his watch on the table. The intruder was feet away, standing beside his bunk, looking down at him. He tried to call out, but croaked instead, a sound like a bullfrog. A hand touched his cheek and he jerked involuntarily.
'Keep quiet! Listen!'
Prentice was stunned, lay absolutely still with sheer shock. The voice had spoken in English with a distinct Scots burr. He swallowed quickly and kept his voice down to little more than a whisper.
'Who is it?'
The voice ignored the question, speaking in an urgent Morse-code fashion. 'Keep still! I have a knife ... I'll cut the ropes on your hands ... a British destroyer is close...' Prentice felt cold steel between his wrists, stiffening the rope as the knife began to saw the fibres apart.'... at the back of the ship is a raft... use the knife to cut it free ... when the raft is on the sea and you are away from the ship...' The knife sawed steadily, one of the ropes snapped.'... you send up a distress light ... they're on. the raft...' Another rope snapped as Prentice pulled his hands away from each other to increase the tension on the remaining rope. He spoke quickly.
'I ought to know who you are - I may be able to help you later.. .'
'Shut up!' The knife was sawing more slowly now and Prentice realized that the man who was freeing him was taking care the knife didn't jab into him as the last rope snapped. The voice went on speaking. 'The distress light will be seen ... by the destroyer ... but Burckhardt won't dare shoot at you since that will warn the destroyer something's wrong...' Prentice felt the last rope part, freeing his hands, then heard the measured tramp of an Alpenkorps guard approaching along the companionway, the boots clumping dully on the wood.
He froze, his feet still tied. It wasn't tune, not nearly time, for the guard to check on them. The intruder had entered the cabin soon after the guard had left - deliberately so. Prentice had already grasped that. So had the guard changed his routine? He was going to enter the cabin and catch him with his hands free - and catch this unknown helper in the act. The guard's tread was closer now, was slowing down prior to switching on the light an
d coming inside. Another thought struck Prentice and he felt a shiver run through his body -since he could hear the guard coming the door must be slightly open. Yes, it was! A thin line of light showed round the door frame. The intruder hadn't closed the door properly and the swaying of the ship had opened it wider. Lying quite still in the darkness, Prentice realized that they were finished. The guard had closed the door last time, so when he noticed that it was open, and even if he hadn't intended coming in this time... He wondered what the feelings of the unknown Scot were who was waiting with them in the unlit cabin without making a sound. He still had the knife - would he use it on one of his own men? Would he even get the chance? That partly opened door would alert the guard and he'd come inside prepared for anything. Lying back on the bunk, he turned himself sideways and hid his hands, hoping they would still look to be roped up. Another huge wave caught the vessel, thudding against the hull with such force that he felt it was coming through. A second later he heard a further thud outside in the companionway and a muttered oath in German. The wave had caught the guard off-balance. Bathed in sweat, his heart pounding solidly, he waited and listened. For a moment there was a drawn-out silence, followed by a metallic click. The guard cocking his weapon? Prentice had a fierce impulse to call out a warning, but he kept his mouth closed, then heard the tread of the guard's footsteps again just beyond the cabin door. He had turned his head sideways now, his eyes almost closed as he watched the entrance for the first shaft of light which would tell him the door was being opened. Then he heard more footsteps corning along the companionway, brisk footsteps which hurried. He could imagine the scene clearly -the guard noticing the door which should have been closed, his beckoning to a comrade who was hurrying along the passage to join him. Then the two of them would burst inside the cabin and it would be all over. The hurrying footsteps stopped outside the door and voices were raised in German. Prentice knew a little German, but not enough to speak it, and they were talking too rapidly for him to grasp what they were saying. Perhaps the new arrival was the sentry who normally checked their cabin? His mind was still grappling with possibilities when he heard feet hurrying away along the passage, followed by the deliberate tread of the sentry's footsteps as he also proceeded into the distance and up the staircase. A door thudded shut. Both men had gone.
'You must cut the ropes on your feet yourself...' The voice of the unknown man spoke quickly again. There's a coat and cap on the floor ... you turn left when you leave the cabin ... hurry!'
The knife had already been placed on Prentice's leg and he was working on the ropes round his ankles when light flooded briefly into the cabin and then the door closed again. Prentice looked up quickly but he was too late - he saw no more than the departure of a shadow as the intruder disappeared. While he was sawing at the ropes the ship began to roll more violently, the angle of the cabin's tilt increasing steadily. They were moving into dirty weather. Behind him he heard a creak inside Ford's bunk and the sergeant's voice was a careful whisper. 'Who the devil was that?'
'God knows, but the Scots accent was unmistakable. He must be a stowaway.' Prentice was free now and he nearly stumbled full length as the vessel rose abruptly while he was feeling his way across the darkened cabin. He'd have to risk a light - there had been a fierce urgency in the intruder's final words and in less than fifteen minutes the sentry would be back. And this time he would come inside their cabin. Switching on the light, he noted that the door was firmly closed, then ran across to Ford's bunk. He used his knife to cut the ropes as he talked. 'We've got to get on that raft and away from this ship pdq. Then we can loose off a signal to that destroyer...' Ford was rubbing the circulation back into his wrists when Prentice tried on the coat which, had been dropped on the floor. An Alpenkorps greatcoat, it was a little too long and fitted loosely across the shoulders, but he thought it might serve. The soft, large-peaked cap was also ill-fitting but he settled it on his head as the sergeant looked at him.
'You're the spitting image of a Jerry,' Ford informed him. 'And your face fits, too.'
"Thanks very much...' Prentice was moving towards the door, the knife concealed inside his pocket. 'I'll walk on the left - you keep to my right. That way I'll try and cover you if any cabin doors are open.' Switching off the light, he paused while he listened with his ear pressed to the inner side of the door. He thought he understood now the restless wakefulness of those murmuring voices he had heard earlier - if the Alpenkorps men below decks knew of the destroyer's presence that would be more than enough to spoil their beauty sleep. It also meant that they were likely to be alert, which would make their walk along that companionway a hundred times more dangerous. He whispered to Ford quickly. 'Here we go. If anyone calls out to us we just keep moving as though we haven't heard. Now!' Opening the door quietly, he peered out.
The passage was deserted in both directions. He walked straight out, closed the door behind them, and began walking down the companionway with Ford at his side.
The first cabin door was half-open and before he had reached it he heard voices speaking in German. He walked at a steady pace, not too quickly, not too slowly, staring ahead as they drew level with the doorway. Out of the corner of his eye he had a glimpse of a smoke-filled cabin, a blur of uniformed bodies, and then they had passed it. Maintaining the same pace, Prentice kept his eyes fixed on the distant staircase where a pile of army packs lay huddled near the lowest tread. The next cabin door was also open, wide open. Smoke drifted into the companionway as the vessel heeled violently and Ford had to grab at the rail to save his balance. Prentice briefly slowed his pace while the sergeant caught up. That had been lucky - if it had happened opposite the open cabin door, Ford, dressed in British civilian clothes, would have been completely exposed to view. Prentice's mind was coldly alert as they came close to the doorway. From inside he could hear more animation, the sound of raucous laughter as a voice ended in a shout. Someone telling a story, he guessed. One Alpenkorps soldier, his fair hair cut to a stubble, lounged inside with his shoulder resting on the door frame and his back turned towards the companionway. Prentice kept walking forward and as he began to walk past the doorway another burst of laughter echoed inside the cabin. An NCO stood in the middle of the room, half-turned away from the doorway, waving his hands as he pantomimed something. An energetic attempt to keep up morale, Prentice was thinking, something to take the minds of the men off that destroyer outside in the night. But he thought the laughter was a little forced and short-lived. The main thing was it concentrated attention inside the cabin as they walked past it. Only one more cabin to pass, and the door was closed.
Then they were walking past the door and within a few paces of the staircase. At the foot of the steps Ford glanced down, saw inside a German army pack which had its flap drawn back. With his interest in explosives he paused involuntarily as he saw the demolition charge and the timing mechanisms. By his side Prentice sensed the pause and grasped his arm, urging him upwards without a word. The lieutenant was mounting the steps when the bows of the Hydra plunged downwards, elevating the staircase in his face so suddenly that he nearly fell over backwards, tightening his grip on the rail just in time. Half-way up, he locked quickly back along the companionway as he continued climbing. It was still deserted.
When he pushed open the door at the top it was almost torn from his grasp by the force of the wind. He waited until Ford was safely on deck, then used both hands to close it without a slamming noise. With the howl of the wind and the heavy slap of heaving water it seemed a needless precaution, but the thud of a door dosing is a special sound and that guard might be somewhere on deck. The water-washed deck gleamed in the moonlight and beyond the funnel to port a burst of spray exploded near the rail. With Ford motionless at his side Prentice scanned the deck which seemed to be deserted. A moment later a gust of wind whipped the ill-fitting Alpenkorps cap from his head and blew it into the sea. He had lost the most distinctive part of his disguise. He looked to starboard and was staggered to see how
close the destroyer was steaming, frowning when he saw the signal lamp flashing. Was she calling on the Hydra to heave-to? With a very slight turn of his head he looked towards the stern and saw the raft waiting for them, its canvas cover drawn back, and by the light of the moon he could see the rescue loops hanging from its sides and bobbing with the Hydra's motion.
The raft had been covered with the canvas when he had last seen it and he hadn't recognized what the cover concealed. If it really carried distress lights they might just make it, might attract the destroyer's attention and be picked up. Not that he was too enthusiastic about the prospect of being aboard that tiny craft in seas like these. The whole surface of the Aegean was heaving up in a series of mountainous crests which raced towards the ferry with an insidious gliding movement as though intent on overwhelming it. He was about to make his way towards the raft, waiting for a moment when the ferry was pulling itself out of one of the great rolling dips, when he caught a brief twitch of a shadow to starboard beyond the funnel. The shadow of a huge man wearing a soft hat and standing close to a swaying lifeboat. Putting a warning hand on Ford's sleeve, Prentice kept perfectly still. It was the big German who had come aboard as a passenger at Istanbul. From the way he was standing he appeared to be talking to someone who was out of sight under the wall of the bridge. Go away, Prentice prayed. Get lost! The German began to move, to turn in his direction.
