"Away, Marker," Reevel chided. "Use those against these men and it would be your blood running on these boards, not theirs."
The doctor shook his head. "It's a conundrum; if we say nothing they will believe we are hiding something. If we speak the truth they will not believe us. And if we choose to fight, we will surely die."
"There is one reality I fear," said Callum. "If these barbarians do not find what they are looking for they will vent their anger on us. I worry for my Ailie."
A look of sadness came into Doctor Kristen's eyes. He knew Ailie could not survive mentally from another assault. "Put your fear away Callum, if it comes then we shall fight. We will have to." He looked across to where Ailie was crouching beside Maura.
Ailie tugged at her shawl. Maura looked round and Ailie began talking to her in sign language. Maura had been one of the few people on the island who had taken the trouble to learn from Ailie. It had always brought them close. She watched as Ailie tapped at her palms and fingers, drawing patterns in the air that made wonderful sense.
"No Ailie my love, I'm not hurting. Why, do you want to go back to your father?" She looked over at Callum. Ailie shook her head and weaved more patterns with her hands. Maura smiled, reading the question in Ailie’s hands. "How's my Billy?" She leaned back against the wall. "You like him, don't you?" The girl's cheeks turned pink and she lowered her face. Maura touched her arm. "I'm glad you like him Ailie. You should write to him. I know he would like that."
Ailie looked up and her mouth tightened, turning down at the corners. She made a negative gesture with her hands. Maura could see the humiliation in her eyes. "Oh Ailie, please, Billy doesn't care about that." She took her hand. "He's very fond of you."
Ailie smiled and a different colour flowed in her cheeks. She liked being with Maura because it brought her closer to Billy. Although he had often pretended aloofness towards her, which Maura told her was just a young man’s way, she was sure he secretly liked her. But Ailie worshipped him and just being in Maura's company seemed to bring her closer to him.
They talked for a while until the light faded from the windows and gloom settled over the schoolroom. Soon Ailie fell asleep and Callum came over to put a blanket round her. He said a curt good night to Maura and made himself comfortable beside his daughter.
Maura looked at him dispassionately and moved away to find a blanket. He knew Callum despised her but despite that he never stopped Ailie from talking to her. She at least had that to thank him for. The room was settling down now and everybody had grown quiet. They were all hungry but their tiredness anaesthetized their pains. They slept, dozing uncomfortably on the floor or on the desk tops pushed together, shutting out the realities that had touched their lives that day.
Schafer slept fitfully too. The search had lasted well into the small hours until their fatigue had reached a point beyond which they decided not to go. He posted the minimum number of guards and ordered a de-briefing for Brenneke and Kretschmer.
The meeting had lasted longer than he had wanted but so much had to be talked over he knew it was essential they complete it. He had collapsed on to the bed in Billy's room and barely had the strength to pull his boots off.
When he woke he was still fully clothed. He opened his eyes from their dead sleep and fought the impulse to close them again. The photographs on the walls blurred as he tried to focus on them. He blinked several times and sat up, bringing the small snaps into perspective.
The boy must have loved whalers and whalemen, he thought. He figured prominently in just about every picture. He was always the central character whether it was standing beside a dead whale on the flensing plane or in the midst of a group of whalers. It was sad that one so young was now a real threat, he decided.
He got up and stripped to the waist. There was a bowl and jug on the dressing table against one wall. The jug had been filled with water which he splashed into the bowl. Brenneke walked in as he plunged his hands into bowl and doused ice cold water over his face.
"Good morning Herr Hauptsturmführer," Brenneke called cheerfully.
"You sound bloody good spirits, Jochen," Schafer answered back as water cascaded from his face. He reached for a towel. "What's brought that on, have we found Ziegel?"
"No sir, but the islanders have agreed to eat. I think their empty bellies have broken them," he laughed.
Schafer came through towelling himself vigorously. "And you think that means they are susceptible to a little pain, eh Jochen?" He threw the towel at him. "The pain will go when they have eaten. They will be as truculent as ever." He got dressed and went through to the kitchen where a loaf of bread had been placed on the table. There was a small wedge of cheese and a pot of tea there. Schafer despised the stuff, but as coffee was not available, he drank the weak looking liquid.
Twenty minutes after rising, Schafer had finished his breakfast and completed his ablutions. He slipped his jacket on and went out of the cottage with Brenneke to begin another battle with the obstinate islanders.
He noticed a distinct odour as he walked into the schoolroom. He closed his mind to it, speaking with selfish economy to escape the noxious atmosphere. He said nothing of Billy or Ziegel, merely addressing himself to the subject of eating and washing. He singled Ailie out for the task of assisting Maura and informed her that she would be required to carry food to some of his men.
Ailie's reaction was one of indignation and fear when Schafer spoke to her. Schafer was still surprised by the different reactions he saw in the young girl when she was spoken to. If he knew more of her past, he decided, it might explain. He wondered idly if there was a connection to Ziegel, not that there should have been. He put the thought to one side and carefully explained to Ailie that her father would always be in his charge, and his welfare depended upon her cooperation.
He talked with Brenneke about the arrangements for allowing the islanders to eat and clean themselves up. He then left, taking Kretschmer and Maura with him. He took Marker as well, having decided to look over the Nordcaper once more. Maura was despatched with a guard to the cottage where she would be expected to prepare food for Schafer and his men. And so another day began under the jackboot of the Nazis.
*
From his position high above the community, Billy searched with the binoculars for some sign of the islanders. His early hopes had died when he first spotted Brenneke. There was nobody else about when the solitary figure emerged from Reevel's big house. He was dressed completely in black and it was obvious to Billy that this man was a stranger and had to be one of the Germans who were on the island.
He felt a deep, fierce anger when he saw Brenneke go into his mother's cottage. He wanted to rush down the mountainside and confront the man, but he knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do, so he lay perfectly still and kept the binoculars clamped to his face until his eye sockets ached from the pressure. Eventually he saw two figures emerge. One was wearing the uniform of a German officer, but the other was a civilian. He couldn’t quite make out who he was. He lost sight of the two men as they walked across to the schoolhouse and disappeared inside.
Billy left the cave entrance and searched the side of the mountain with the binoculars, looking for signs of other watchers. He glanced up at the sky. It was overcast but the threatening rain was some distance away. He made another quick search of the mountain but was satisfied there was no-one else there. He moved away from the cave and out into the open, carefully negotiating the steep, downward course of the stream, remembering always to remain in cover.
He stopped halfway down, lay prone on the ground and brought the binoculars up to his eyes. Some movement below had caught his attention. Through the lens he saw the German officer again. This time he was with two men. He recognised one of them as Marker Mace. He studied them carefully. Marker seemed to be in no distress and the two Germans showed no aggression towards him. He followed their progress with gathering interest and missed the sight of his mother leaving the schoolhouse with anot
her figure and heading up towards the cottage. He followed Marker until the three figures disappeared behind the familiar lines of the Nordcaper.
He lowered the binoculars and tried to figure out his next move. One overriding need was the desire to wash and eat. But where could he go? If his freedom on the island was restricted he could not snare rabbits or shoot them. Nor could he fish off the beach. His only choice was to take something from one of the cottages, but from what he had witnessed he guessed that there would be little in the way of food left in them. That they were empty was patently obvious to him, but he reasoned that they could offer him what he needed. After that he would have to take a chance and return to the cove where he had beached the Dancer. It was desperately important now that he got back to the mainland as quickly as he could.
It shattered Billy to think he had to leave the island without knowing what fate had befallen his mother and the others, particularly his lovely Ailie. He dearly wanted to see his mother, and worried that she might be in terrible distress. He muttered an oath under his breath and proceeded on his uncharacteristically careful descent of the mountain.
*
Ailie took the food from Maura. They were in the small kitchen preparing vegetables for the German storm troopers. Outside the cottage the storm troopers stood guard. One man was inside watching the two women. Ailie looked at Maura. The older woman put her arm round her and pulled her close as she handed her the parcel. "Please be brave my love," she said encouragingly.
Ailie had been instructed to take the food to Reevel Anderson’s house where one of Schafer's men was on guard. She left the cottage with the parcel in the crook of her arm and hurried out of the front gate. The track from Maura's cottage was clearly defined and rose gradually over a small rise before dipping into a hollow. From there it climbed up over another slope of high ground and continued on to Reevel's place.
Ailie's mind was so fixed on the burden of her chore that she crossed the ground without conscious effort. There was little in the way of feature in the course scree, just some rocks and coarse bushes. It was an area she saw little of, having ventured this far only once or twice before.
Her mind was lost then in the memory of past days and she failed to see the figure move behind her. She heard a rustle that sounded like something scraping against the needles of the bush, and then a hand was suddenly clamped around her mouth.
She drew in a breath to scream as another hand pulled her off balance and she fell to the ground. The food she was carrying flew out of her hand. Her arms and legs flailed uselessly against the massive strength of the person who held her so tightly. His weight pressed down on top of her and begun to crush the life from her.
Then, suddenly, she heard a voice whispering desperately in her ear.
"Ailie, it's me, Billy Lucas. Lass, its Billy, don't struggle."
Her breathing stuttered and she twisted her head to clear her mouth from the bearlike hand. And all the while she could hear the quiet, incessant voice.
"It's Billy lass, its Billy."
She stopped struggling and laid still, her eyes open and staring. Above her she could see an unshaven, shadowy face and gentle blue eyes. She put her hand up to touch his cheeks and felt the coarse stubble of beard, so unfamiliar, so old, she thought. And then she was smiling and he was smiling back at her. He moved his weight so she could breathe. "It's me, lass: Billy."
Ailie felt her heart pump wildly and a warm feeling flowed through her body. She opened her mouth to say the words but they would not come. She could not tell him what was in her heart, and her disability was like a block on her emotions. She threw her arms round his neck, squeezing him so hard and holding him so tight she felt the words were flowing from her.
"Oh, Billy," she was saying. "Oh my love, my Billy."
FIVE
Schafer climbed down the ladder into the engine-room of the Nordcaper followed by Maker Mace and Kretschmer. It was cramped in there and reminded him a little of the tight conditions he found in the submarine. He could see the chief engineer's control room, but that was no more than a small, rectangular box. He stepped inside and noticed how the instruments gleamed and how the fresh paint glistened wetly from the small bulkhead. The smell of paint and oil pervaded the atmosphere, and he found it a little cloying in the small room. He ran his hands over the telegraph, idly moving the repeater and mentally complementing Marker Mace for his diligence. He was thankful that there was such a man left behind by the war. The engine room was spotless. It was a tribute to the man’s skill and dedication.
The three of them moved out of the engine-room and worked their way forward until they came to the rope locker. It was here the massive ropes used in whaling were coiled. Above the tidily coiled ropes was an opening in the deck head which had been covered in a protective tarpaulin. It was through this opening that the ropes would pass from the capstan of a steam winch. They would run halfway up the mast, over a spring block and under the gun platform, emerging through a sheave, or opening in the bow to be attached to the harpoon.
They came out of the rope locker and stood motionless on the deck for a while. Schafer seemed absorbed by the harpoon gun, which had been left in place. He thought about the men who braved the raw conditions that often prevailed out on the open deck while they were hunting whales. Eventually he asked Marker about the ship's condition.
"She is ready for the Royal Navy, correct?" Mace just looked at him and said nothing. Schafer shook his head and smiled. "It is not important. She is ready for sea and that is what matters."
As he moved around the Nordcaper, Schafer looked not just for signs of the overall condition of the ship, but also for signs of Billy Lucas. He had just about given up all hope of finding Ziegel now, but there was always the chance that something would point to the boy having been there. What Schafer was banking on was the boy's affinity for whaling. That much had been shown by the photographs pinned to his bedroom wall. Where else could the boy hide, he wondered, on this windblown island if not here around the whaling sheds?
One of Schafer's men came up on deck and spoke to him. Marker watched without interest until it was clear that he was the subject of their conversation. Schafer dismissed the man and turned towards the engineer.
"Your worry over the poor condition of the Nordcaper’s radio was unnecessary, Herr Mace. The small components required for its repair should cause no problem. We can use parts from the island transmitter."
Marker smiled thinly and felt a compulsion to throttle him. Schafer was unmoved by Mace’s body language and decided that he had no further need of him, so he was sent back to the schoolhouse under escort as Schafer left the Nordcaper and resumed his search in and around the whaling station. He was keenly aware that desperation could begin to creep in now. It was becoming more likely that if he was ever to find the papers, he would have to tear down each building stone by stone. Containing the islanders that long would prove almost humanly impossible in the unusual circumstances. He reasoned that it would not be too long before someone on the mainland alerted the authorities to the prolonged silence and the Royal Navy would be bound to investigate.
He caught the enquiring look from Brenneke as they stood on the quayside above the fIensing plane. His lieutenant was waiting for the decision that would wring the neck of this prattling little island and drag from it the truth about Manfred Ziegel.
Schafer decided. "Get Kretschmer," he said. "I think it is time to start breaking some heads."
*
Billy watched as Ailie disappeared over the rise towards Reevel Anderson’s place. He could still feel the softness of her body beneath him. It tantalised him. He had never thought of Ailie as a woman, one who had grown into maturity. He had always regarded her as Callum's daughter. She was pretty, precocious perhaps, a willing admirer of his own youthful vanities and shows of bravado. Theirs was a symbiotic relationship, born out of mutual admiration; a kind of unwitting innocence that cemented their closeness to each other. She had always been
his audience and he was the only actor on her stage. Now it was different and he found himself in the position of onlooker and admirer. He could feel the gathering strength in his loins and the small seed of desire building within his chest. But this was not simply lust: it was a growing awareness of an emotion he had never encountered before. He remembered with pleasure how tightly she had held him. It was as though she was yielding herself to him spiritually, while wanting him physically. He shook his head in small, almost unseen movements as she disappeared over the rise. "Take care my love," he whispered softly, and went off in a low, loping run to the beach where he had seen the Germans' boat.
Ailie had managed to convey to him that the Germans were looking for Manny Ziegel. Billy's mouth had fallen open when he finally made sense of Ailie’s hand signals. He found it difficult to understand. It was odd than an old friend, one he had known almost like a brother, or perhaps an uncle was now considered an enemy.
He soon realised that Ailie was risking a great deal by staying out of sight for so long and he reluctantly persuaded her to go. He told her he would attempt to get back to the mainland by stealing the Germans' boat. And he had warned her to say nothing of this meeting to anyone, not even his mother.
He glanced cautiously down the cliff path. He could see the rubber dinghy beached high beneath the cliff. There was no sign of a guard so he ventured out on to the path and began a careful descent towards the beach.
The dinghy had been dragged high and secured with ropes to heavy rocks. His boots moved the stones noisily beneath his feet as he approached the boat. He looked out at the sea, assessing his chances of rowing across to the mainland. With the sea running a heavy swell he knew he wouldn’t make it, and decided his best chance lay in heading north-west towards the Orkneys, or possibly northwards to the Shetlands, allowing the current to carry him to sanctuary.
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