Angelique (45 page)

I am really enjoying this flying business. The expression,
freedom of the air comes to mind
.

I now know exactly how flyers feel.

I often wondered during the war what motivated men to join the flying corp.

An extremely dangerous profession with a horrendous casualty rate amongst the new pilots. I can’t believe a short while ago the very thought of flying terrified me. Denise’s plan for us both to pilot ourselves now appears to be feasible. I can’t wait to begin training and purchase our own aeroplane. We shall definitely have an airstrip at the house on the lake if there is a suitable field to utilise.

About forty minutes later we are flying over the channel when I detect something different, in the tone of the engine. My heart misses a beat until the engine settles down to the usual sound.

I wonder is Gunter playing a trick on me similar to my maiden flight. Yes that’s it. I laugh and relax until I look down. Panic grips me.

I am unable to see the water below due to a thick fog appearing.

We are in my estimation about mid channel about half an hour from my family home and safety. The fog gets thicker until it begins to envelope the entire aeroplane. I have a weird feeling of being wrapped in cotton wool. The engine misses a beat then suddenly backfires with an enormous bang. It stops then roars into life again only to completely stop after a few seconds.

A deathly silence ensues. The engine does not restart this time despite my pleas to my Guardian Angel. The only sounds I now detect are the wind whistling passed the struts and Gunter shouting from behind me. “Brace yourself Adam we are going down.”

I am surprised how calm I feel as we glide down to meet our fate. Strangely this setting is similar to events during my wartime service.

I experienced more fear when I heard the enemy bombers approaching then I found myself much calmer when the bombs began to fall. Unbuckling the useless parachute I whisper. “Guardian Angel if you are still around I really do need your help right now?”

We hit the water with a tremendous splash the aeroplane does not flip over thankfully it remains right side up. Miraculously it floats on a dead calm sea. I scramble to stand upon the seat. I look back to see with horror Gunter is slumped forward, blood covers his face.

He is obviously either unconscious or heaven forbid Gunter is dead. The aeroplane shudders and sinks lower. Without a second thought I take to the freezing water and drag myself along to Gunter’s position. With a pronounced gurgle the Aeroplane sinks even lower until the side of the pilot’s cockpit is almost level with me. I observe he is not wearing his harness. I reach in and grasp Gunter’s fur collar just as the Aeroplane sinks leaving us both in the channel. He is not wearing his parachute or life jacket, thankfully mine just about keeps us both afloat.

Something brushes my arm. I grasp it and immediately recognise it as the rocking horse.

With difficulty I manoeuvre Gunter until he lies across the horse, using the reigns I secure him. Gunter groans but does not recover consciousness. The fog clears for a moment then returns. The cold is getting to me. I begin to fantasise if I could just have a moments sleep this awful nightmare will end and I will be nice and cosy and warm in my own bed alongside my Denise.

My eyes are very heavy I feel I am drifting off my body has no feeling now. I am at peace. In my dream I feel myself being lifted then landing on a hard bed. Gradually I recover to find myself in total darkness shivering in my wet clothes, my chest and arms are very sore. I find myself anchored to something, when I explore my wrist I recognise handcuffs attached to a chain. I detect movement close by. Whispering in English I enquire. “Gunter is that you?”

I’m startled when a strange voice out of the darkness replies in French. “Your comrade is here my friend but he is unconscious. I hope you understand me. Unfortunately I do not speak English. Please do not tug on the chain it appears we are chained together in some manner”

“Who are you?” I enquire switching to French. He replies.

“Thank goodness you speak my language. My name is Henri Leroy. I am a Captain in the Foreign Legion.” I reply with a series of questions. “Where are we? Are we out at sea? What kind of a vessel is this? I presume we are prisoners, who are our captors and why have they taken us prisoner?”

Henri informs me. “I will answer your questions to the best of my ability. But I must warn you,

I do not have all the answers.”

I reply cynically. “We appear to have time on our hands Henri what’s your story then?”

He explains “I was escorting three of the French Colonial troops to Calais for shipping to the penal establishment on Devils Island. They have all been sentenced to life imprisonment for a variety of serious crimes including rape and robbery. They are desperate men with nothing to lose. Now they have murdered two of my men and taken me prisoner, it will be the Guillotine for them if they are caught. At night they forced me aboard this small coastal vessel and chained me down here in the hold with my own handcuffs. They are well armed with my revolver and my men’s rifles. Would you believe it? This was to be my last assignment. After I delivered them to the ship I was to return to the Legion base in Marseilles for my demobilisation.”

“Where are the crew of the boat?”

“They were very likely murdered in their sleep by these swine. Oh yes except for the Captain. I saw they had had him at gun point before they imprisoned me down here. I presume they are making him navigate the vessel for them. I know they are not capable themselves, they are ignorant swine.”

“What do they intend doing with us, have you any idea?” Before he replies a hatch board slides back, light floods into the hold, a rat scampers across the floor to disappear behind a rack. I shudder with revulsion. God! How I hate these creatures since I witnessed them gorging on the bodies of the dead during the war. Another board is removed giving access to below enabling me to look around my prison. A rope ladder crashes into the hold. A figure climbs over the hatch coaming and descends down the ladder. When he reaches the bottom he sway’s about as if getting his bearings. He pulls a revolver out of his shirt and points it at each one of us in turn making bang noises with his mouth. His actions appear to amuse him as he is convulsed with laughter when he witnesses my alarm. He then staggers across the hold and peers closely at me whilst waving the revolver under my nose. I recognise the sweet smell surrounding him, he reeks of Rum. He says something to me in a language I don’t understand.

When I don’t reply he shakes his head mumbles something indistinguishable. He moves over to where Gunter is laying full length on the deck, with his toe he gives Gunter a push, the only response from my friend is heavy breathing. Satisfied Gunter is still alive he mutters something. He then turns to the Officer contemplates him for a moment then lands him a vicious kick to the stomach. Captain Leroy groans in pain, the man cackles with glee. Another face appears in the hatch, a shouted conversation takes place between them, again in a language I don’t understand. A loaf is tossed down presumably to share between us followed by a bucket of water placed within our reach. The drunken fellow unhooks the bucket then staggers to the side of the hold where he promptly spews up. His companion above roars with laughter and shouts something. The drunk shakes his fist in his direction and responds angrily. He then climbs the rope ladder with difficulty then both disappear from view leaving the hatch covers off.

To my amazement Gunter speaks. “Are you alright Adam?” I retort

“Bloody Hell Gunter, thank goodness, never mind me, how are you?”

“I am alright Adam apart from a headache. I have been listening to our captors I thought it advantageous to feign unconsciousness. Bonjour! Captain Leroy.”

“Bonjour! Gunter, did you understand what they were saying. I am familiar with Arabic spoken in their country but the language they used baffled me?” Gunter explains. “They are indeed natives of Morocco they spoke in a minor language used in Southern Morocco Hassaniyya Arabic or to use the common term to describe it is Moorish.”

I congratulate him. “Thank goodness for your linguistic ability Gunter. What were they on about anyway?” He explains. “The fellow that came down here is a drunk and has found his way into the vessels liquor store. The good news is they are all suffering from seasickness, him more so than the others.” I request. “What are they going to do with us, did they say?”

He informs us. “It appears they are making for Tangier they haven’t finally decided what to do with us yet. Those two are all for throwing us overboard, but their leader is considering selling us and the Captain of the ship to the slavers in Morocco.”

I reply incredulously. “They are joking! Surely there isn’t slavery any more is there?”

Captain Leroy informs us. “Tangier was my last posting before the war. I am afraid there is still slavery in a number of Arab states. I am not aware of adult men being sold into slavery except maybe bonded slaves, there are definitely children and female slaves. I believe they will have difficulties entering the port. There is a French garrison based in Tangier, the port is strictly controlled.”

I say hopefully “That is the best chance then if we are able to attract some ones attention when they try to get us ashore.” We are silent for a moment considering our positions until I break the silence. “What do you reckon caused the problem with the aeroplane engine Gunter?”

He replies thoughtfully. “I really don’t know Adam. The aeroplane has always been reliable until this disaster. I can’t help wondering if it was Major Doomsday and his gangs work.” I reply thoughtfully. “The same thing occurred to me in the light of what Suzanne told us about the intruder. God our poor families will be out of their mind with worry.” Gunter reassures me.

“Yes but I don’t think Estelle will give up on me until she has proof of my death. I’ve been in tight spots before and she never gave up on me. Well my friends enough of this idle chatter I believe we should save the Post- Mortem for later and direct our attention to escaping from this situation.” I remark. “That’s quite a nasty cut on your forehead Gunter.” Gunter explains.

“I have Adam, thanks to that damned rocking horse. I thought we had got away with the crash unscathed. I was releasing my harness ready to abandon the aeroplane.

As I looked up I saw the rocking horse had broken free. It was hanging by a thread.

Then a wave flopped us about I recall seeing the rocking horse sliding off the wing. That’s the last I remember until I awoke down here.” Henri exclaims. “Ah! I did not know you had been in an aeroplane crash I assumed you had been rescued from a sunken ship.

But a rocking horse and an aeroplane how do they fit together?” Gunter replies with a sardonic laugh. “It’s a long story Henri, but at this moment I believe we should concentrate on the matters in hand.” I apologise in advance for what I am about to do.

“I am sorry my friends but I have the urge to pee. I am attempting to stand and do it the natural way.” I struggle myself into the upright position but I am restrained by the chain. Gunter and the Captain shuffle towards me allowing me to pull more chain through the ring bolt fastened to the bulkhead. By doing this I am able to achieve the standing position. Oh! The relief as I drain my bladder into a half wooden barrel. From my standing position I am able to gain a better view of the hold we are confined in.

Rather than a cargo hold it appears to be a workshop and machinery store. There are empty steel racks screwed firmly to the deck. I remark. “Henri when you came aboard did you notice any details of the boat that may help us to escape?”

He replies. “It was dark when I was dragged aboard, but I did wonder why the boat wasn’t moored with the other cargo ships. She is much smaller than the usual ships I have seen in this port. The boat was moored in a corner of the docks in amongst other work boats.

I believe she is some kind of maintenance craft. Fortunate for them, not so good for us she is powered by an internal combustion engine. They chose the boat well they could not have managed a steamer.” Henri stops talking as if puzzling something over. He then states. “Strangely I had a feeling one of the crew was in league with them when I heard a strange voice on shore in the warehouse speaking in French, although I did not see him. Oh yes! Something else comes to mind, they appeared to have all the details of the boat before we boarded.”

After considering this information I ask him. “So you think one of the crew is in cahoots with them Eh?” Gunter adds. “We have to assume we are dealing with four men, assuming he sailed with them?” Left to our own devices we talk for hour after hour. Despite the scampering of the rats I fall asleep on the hard wooden floor of the hold. I have no idea how long I slept but wake up stiff cold and very hungry I stand to stretch my aching limbs. My companions are already awake. We attempt to calculate how long we have been aboard the vessel. Gunter is stating in his reckoning we have been prisoners for at least thirty odd hours when an unfamiliar head appears over the hatch coaming. When he sees me standing erect he puts his fingers to his lips indicating the need for silence. He shows something in his hand hard to distinguish then tosses the article towards me before disappearing. The object lands with a jingle just out of my reach. I am able to identify it as a bunch of keys as they separate from a wrap of paper. To reach them I have to lower myself to the deck and reach out with my foot. After many efforts I manage to drag the keys to within hands reach. Excitedly I try the first key, no joy. I try another, my spirits slump as it also fails to unlock the handcuffs. I think is this some kind of a sick joke they are playing on us? Then with fumbling hands I try another key. Yippee! The handcuff springs apart. I am free. Without hesitation I make my way over to my companions and release them from their manacles. Through the open hatch we are able to see that the daylight is rapidly fading. Gunter whilst gratefully stretching his cramped limbs notices the crumpled paper the keys were wrapped in. He straightens it out and whispers. “Hey! There is writing on here.” He begins scanning the message when the last of the daylight disappears completely, plunging the hold into total darkness.