The trawler’s lights shone brightly above them, its engines idling as the crew worked busily on deck. A knotted rope hung down the side, dangling into the sea. Henry checked the front of the vessel; large white letters spelt out the name Margarite.
He grabbed the rope, pulling them alongside, and then began to climb. As he lifted off, the craft sat considerably higher, alleviating Tommy’s fears of sinking. When Henry was halfway up, a fisherman looked down and glared at him. He froze. Did the crewmen not know he and Tommy were coming?
Voices shouted in German up on the deck. Now, it made sense. The boat was being searched by the Wehrmacht before it put out to sea. Henry tried to bring his finger to his lips, but when he took a hand off the rope, he started to sway uncontrollably.
Presently, the fisherman appeared with a much friendlier expression and waved them aboard. Once his sergeant had made it to the deck, Tommy, grabbed hold of the rope and pushed down on the raft with his foot. The small vessel disappeared beneath the surface and quickly sank to the bottom. The blond soldier nimbly clambered up the side where the fisherman helped him over the rail before promptly ushering him below.
In the cramped cabin, Henry was sitting on a bunk wrapped in a horse-hair blanket, looking relieved. The crewman returned to his duties, leaving the two British soldiers on the edge of the springy bed.
As it left the sheltered haven of the harbour, the trawler started rolling in the rougher open sea. The two men congratulated each other, before slumping on their bunks. After a quarter of an hour, a burly man knocked and entered the room.
‘Good evening,’ he said in perfect English with a slight Scandinavian accent. ‘My name is Einar Andersen. Welcome aboard my ship, Margarite.’
Henry and Tommy introduced themselves, shaking the captain’s hand.
‘Sorry to keep you hanging around,’ he said with a smile. ‘But now, the Germans are searching all ships leaving Danzig. You two have caused something of a stir. Anyhow, we’re already two miles out. So, you’re safe now. It’ll take several days for us to reach the Scottish coast. I suggest you catch up on your sleep. One of my crew will call you when it’s time for breakfast.’
‘Thanks, Captain,’ Henry said.
‘Have a good night, gentlemen.’ The captain turned to leave. ‘Oh, one last thing, I would appreciate it if you did not venture out on deck until morning. We can’t risk either of you being seen.’
Tommy relaxed on the top bunk, smiling with a mixture of euphoria and relief.
‘We made it, Sarge,’ he celebrated. ‘We’ve made it.’
Henry, yet to find his sea legs, was beginning to feel unwell. His nausea was amplified by the inescapable smell of fish which penetrated everything.
‘For a while, I thought we would be stuck in Danzig forever,’ said Tommy.
‘I hope Viktor makes it out of the city without too much difficulty.’
‘It won’t be easy, but he’s a wily old chap.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be okay.’
Henry’s seasickness subsided after forty-eight hours. By the evening of the third day, he had regained his appetite. Mealtimes were an experience; everything on the table rolled and clattered. He struggled to keep hold of his plate while he ate, causing the crewmen much amusement.
They spent the final few days either sleeping or talking on the deck while watching the crew members work. The two British soldiers had offered to help, but their strength did not match that of the fishermen, and they proved to be more of a hindrance.
‘Afternoon, gentlemen,’ said the bearded captain as he entered their room. ‘We’re about thirty minutes from Shetland. You’re almost home. In a few hours, you’ll be on the mainland.’
‘Did you hear that, Sarge? We’re nearly home,’ Tommy shouted excitedly.
He embraced Henry, then went to hug the Norwegian fisherman but thought better of it.
The land was initially a blur on the horizon, and the two men stood against the rail, savouring the Scottish coastline as they approached. Eventually, the ship slowed its engines and pulled into a quaint, granite harbour. The surrounding countryside was rugged heathland except for a couple of isolated farmhouses and cottages. A single black car was parked on the quayside, looking incongruous in the rural setting.
A fisherman stepped onto the quay and secured a rope to a capstan. Henry and Tommy climbed over the side, relieved to be back in Britain. Wearing full uniform, Major Fosdyke stood by the car.
‘Welcome home, gentlemen!’ he said in his gruff voice.
‘Thank you, Sir,’ Henry said, the two soldiers standing to attention.
‘At ease, men,’ the officer said. ‘You two have had one hell of a journey. I’m pleased to see you back in Blighty.’
Opening the rear door, Henry slid across the back seat.
‘It’s good to see you again, ’Enry,’ the driver said, looking over his shoulder.
Henry looked up, greeted by the round face of Alf Morrison.
‘Alf! How are you?’ he asked. ‘How’s the ankle?’
‘It was only a sprain, Sarge. Thanks for getting me to the plane. I thought I was a goner.’
Before Henry could reply, Tommy got in beside him.
‘Hello, Alf,’ the blond soldier said exuberantly.
‘I wondered if you’d ever turn up again,’ Morrison said, reaching over and shaking his hand. ‘Where did you get to?’
‘There will be plenty of time for story-telling during our trip, but now, it’s time to head back,’ said the major slipping into the front seat. ‘We have a very long drive ahead of us.’
***
It took Viktor seven days to complete the journey to Olsztyn on foot. He had slept rough in hedgerows and ditches, hitching lifts from farmers and salesmen. It was a glorious feeling, walking down the driveway and entering the kitchen. The family were seated at the table, eating dinner as he stepped through the door.
Zofia, now in the final stages of pregnancy, had presumed her husband was dead. She leapt to her feet, rushing across the room. With tears streaming, he wrapped his arms around her, their two children cuddling around his legs while his parents watched from a distance.
‘Where have you been?’ Zofia kept asking, nuzzling into his chest.
‘You would never believe me,’ Viktor replied.
The Danzig Corridor Page 24
