iron pirate (20 page)

The doctor waved the sailor away and said, 'You must try to eat something soon. You are young, it will pass.'

Younger could feel his strength draining away, and twisted his face to the pillow to hide the tears which spilled down his cheeks. They were all dead. He saw the needle glinting in the overhead light and tried to struggle, but the doctor's grip was like steel. You killed them!' He saw the needle hesitate.
'Bloody murderers!'

Stroheim felt the fight go out of the young officer and stood back to watch his face lose its anguish, its hate.

He moved to the other cot where the old man still cradled his lost cat in his arms.

They had no part in their ship's destruction, but the fact gave no comfort.

tie thought of the guns thundering and shaking the ship from deck to keel, the muffled shouts of the intercom as one by one the convoy had been decimated.

KarhHeinz Stroheim examined his hands. They were surprisingly steady.

He had been sent to the
Prinz Luitpold
as a punishment or a reprieve. All things considered it seemed likely they would come to rely on his skill.

The twist of fate which had brought these two strangers to his care was like an additional challenge. The oldest and the youngest in the lifeboat had survived.

He put on his jacket and gestured to the sentry. If hate was a reason for survival, the young officer named Ames would outlive (hem all.

Beyond Duty

Hechler wriggled his shoulders deeper into his watchcoat and felt the damp air exploring his bones. By leaning forward in his tall chair he could see much of the
Prinz Luitpold's
long forecastle, which glistened now as if from a rain squall. But there was no rain, and as the high bows sliced through the Atlantic swell he saw the spray drift over the anchor-cables and breakwater to make the angled gun turrets shine like glass.

It was afternoon, and the sky was almost hidden by dark-bellied clouds. He heard Gudegast's rumbling tones as he passed another helm order before checking his ready-use chart again. How many times had he done that, Hechler wondered?

He saw the rear-admiral appear around Turret Anton, head high despite the misty spray, his face flushed and youthful in the distance. He was walking in step with Oberleutnant Bauer, the signals and communications officer. They could be brothers, he thought. Bauer was also the political officer and had been having a lot of private conversations with Leitner. What did they discuss? The
Prinz
's captain probably.

Gudegast called, 'New course, sir. Two-one-five.'

It was a strange relationship, Hechler thought. Leitner had been as good as his word for the most part, and had let him handle the ship in his own way.

As they had steered south-west away from the broken convoy and the additional freighter which the radar had plotted with unnerving accuracy, Leitner had only once questioned his judgement.

Hechler had answered, 'The British will look for clues. By heading south-west in view of that ship which was under tow, they will assume it was a ruse, and expect us to alter course immediately to throw them off the scent. I think I would.'

Leitner had considered it, his eyes opaque, giving nothing away.

'But if
not,
Dieter? Suppose the British admiral thinks as you do?' Then he had nodded and had given his broad grin. 'Of course, that other convoy - they will think we are after it.'

OKM Operations Division had signalled more information about a vast troop convoy which was scheduled to head around the Cape of Good Hope en route for England. Commonwealth soldiers with all their equipment and vehicles, life-blood for the armies in France. A prize which would draw every U-boat pack in the Atlantic, and which would have a massive escort to match it.

Heavy units of the Home Fleet would be hurrying at full speed to meet it and swell the defences. Suicide for any attacking surface raider, but with such high stakes, the end might justify the means. Because of that risk no admiral would dare leave the convoy underguarded.

It was one of the biggest of its kind, too large to turn back, too vital to stop.

So the
Prinz Luitpold
had carried on as before. Nothing further had been sighted. If anything showed itself now they would have to forego their first rendezvous with a milch-cow. They had plenty of fuel, and Leitner intended it would remain like that. A little and often, as he had termed it.

It was too early to expect enemy submarines in their path. The simplicity of von Hanke's strategy had worked perfectly, and there had been no time to deploy submarines from their normal inshore patrols in the Baltic and the North Sea.

Hechler watched the two windswept figures until they vanished beneath the bridge. He thought of Leitner's broadcast that morning to the ship's company. Rousing, passionate, compelling. It was all those things, if you did not know the man.

Hechler had watched him as he had stood with the handset close to his lips in the armoured admiral's bridge. The flag-lieutenant and Bauer had also been present while Leitner's clipped tones had penetrated the ship above and below decks.

He had spoken of
Liibeck'
s loss at some length. Her sacrifice. 'We must not fail her, can never forget they fought for us, to give us the freedom to break out into the Atlanticl For
us
and our beloved Fatherland!'

Hechler had watched as one hand had darted to his cheek as if to brush away a tear. An act? He was still not sure.

Of one thing he was certain., however. There were two faces to the youthful admiral. After the attack on the convoy Leitner had walked around the upper deck, chatting to the jubilant gun crews, lounging against the mountings or slapping a seaman on the shoulder to emphasise his satisfaction.

Then, on the bridge, almost in the next breath, he had snapped complaints about this man or that, and had ordered Theil to deal with their slackness. So the reprimands would come from the bridge, not from their popular and untiring rear-admiral.

Then there had been the flash of anger over Leitner's mysterious boxes.

Hechler had requested permission to move them deeper in the hull, so that their space could be used to store additional short-range ammunition.

Leitner had snapped, 'They belong to me! I will not be questioned! I am entrusted to this mission, to carry it out in my way!' He had been almost shouting, his voice trapped inside the armoured bridge. 'It is a mark of my trust in this ship's ability, surely? If we are crippled or sunk in battle, my boxes will go to the bottom too!'

So they were that valuable, Hechler thought.

He heard Theil's footsteps on the gratings and shifted round to look at him.

'All well, Viktor?' Things were still strained between them, although Theil had shown his old pride and excitement when the enemy convoy had been destroyed.

Hechler had thought about that often enough. It had been so easy, he had found no satisfaction from it. It had been slaughter, the careering merchantmen and their escorts falling to their massive bombardment like targets in a fairground.

He had told himself that they would have done the same to
Prinz Luitpold,
would have cheered like his own men, if they had been left to burn and drown.

It was their war. What they had trained for. What they must do.

Theil shrugged and stared moodily at the grey ocean, the lift and dip of the raked bows.

'Yes, sir. I have just questioned the prisoner, the officer named Ames.' He shrugged again as if to sum up his irritation. 'The other one is raving. I can't imagine how he ever got to sea.'

Hechler eyed him thoughtfully. The old sailor should have been ashore with his grandchildren, not fighting for his life in an open boat. They had been adrift for five weeks. How could the human body stand it? But it w
^r
as pointless to say as much to Theil.

It would sound like one more disagreement. Perhaps he was more worried about his missing wife than he would admit.

Hechler tried not to let his mind stray to Inger, but even in ilistance her will seemed too strong to resist. In that low-cut gown, when he had held her, had seen her perfect breasts. In another moment - he sighed. She could never be kept out of his thoughts for long. Her betrayal and her contempt were like deep scars.

He had felt clumsy by comparison, and she had scorned his reserve as being stuffy, and dull.

Maybe she had been right?

Theil said abruptly, The Englishman knows nothing. Just that the torpedoes hit his ship in the forward hold. She sank in minutes, apparently.'

Hechler glanced at his watch. The rendezvous was in twenty minutes' time. If it happened at all. It seemed impossible that two such diverse vessels could meet on a pinpoint in this ocean.

There was a coughing roar from amidships and Hechler stirred uneasily in his chair. He wanted to walk aft and watch the brightly painted Araao as it was tested on the catapult. Leitner had told him that it would be launched without further delay. The camera team would be down there too, waiting to record I heir audacity as they flew off their new aircraft, indifferent to the enemy and what they could do.

Hechler had seen the girl when he had left the bridge to visit the various action stations while the ship had steamed away from the last fall of shot. She had been in the hangar, where her new Arado had been housed throughout the bombardment, its wings detached and stowed separately rather than folded, like a toy in a crate. They had faced one another awkwardly like strangers; perhaps each was out of his or her depth.

Hechler had heard himself enquiring how she had accepted or endured the din of salvoes, the hull's shaking to each ear-shattering crash of gunfire.

She had watched him as if to see her own answers without asking the questions. How small she had seemed against the wet, camouflaged steel, and the smoke-blackened gun-muzzles.

Now she was down there with the aircraft-handling party.

Ready to fly off, so that some lunatic's desire for patriotic realism could be filmed.

Theil said dourly, '1 think it is madness to put that plane in the air. Suppose

The word hung between them. There were no enemy carriers anywhere in this part of the ocean if the OKM's reports were to be believed. Submarines, then? Even the hint of a plane would be enough to make them increase speed and head away. The Arado might fly after them, like a fledgling abandoned by its parents, until it ran out of fuel.

Theil whispered, 'He's coming up, sir.'

Leitner strode on to the bridge, the familiar silk scarf flapping in the keen air, but otherwise unprotected by a heavier coat. He smiled at the bridge-party and then returned Hechler's salute.

'According to my watch -' He frowned as Gudegast called, 'Permission to alter course for take-off, sir?'

Hechler nodded. 'Warn the engine-room.'

Leitner's good humour returned. 'See, the sky is brightening. It will do our people at home a lot of good to see these films.' He glared at his willowy aide as he clambered on to the bridge. 'Well?'

The flagTeiutenant eyed him worriedly, hurt by his master's tone. The camera team would like you to join them, sir.' He glanced shyly at Hechler. I have a list of the questions you will be asked.'

Leitner clapped one hand across his breast and gave an elaborate sigh. 'What we must do in the name of duty!'

Gudegast lifted his face from the voice-pipe as the helmsman acknowledged the change of course. He watched Leitner march to the after-ladder and then looked over at Jaeger, who shared the watch with Korvettenkapitan Froebe.

He said softly, 'Does he fill you with pride, young Konrad? Make you want to spill your guts for your country?' He grimaced. 'Sometimes I despair.'

He thought of the painting he had begun of Gerda. Just imagining the softness of her body, the heat of their passion, had helped him in some strange fashion to endure the massacre of those helpless merchantmen. Bomber pilots who nightly released their deadly cargoes over Germany did not care about the suffering they created; the U-boat commander did not see ships and sailors in his crosswires, merely targets. Any more than an escort captain spared a thought for that same hull being crushed by the force of his depth-charges as the sea thundered in to silence the submariners' screams.

Hechler heard him, but let it pass. Gudegast was releasing the tension in his usual way.

'Ready to fly off aircraft, sir!'

'Slow ahead all engines.'

Hechler walked from his chair and leaned over the screen, the damp wind pressing into his face.

He saw the camera team down aft, some sailors freshly changed into their best uniforms, outwardly chatting to their admiral. Hechler looked at the vibrating Arado on the catapult, trained outboard ready to be fired off.

He saw the girl's helmeted head lowered to speak with one of the deck crew before she closed the cockpit cover and waved a gloved hand.

He felt his stomach contract and was stunned by the sudden concern. There was nothing that they could do or share. What was t he
matter
with him? Was it Inger's fury or his own loneliness?

He tensed as the shining Arado roared from the catapult and without hesitation climbed up and away from the slow-moving cruiser.

Leitner returned to the bridge, his eyes squinting as he watched the little plane weaving and circling over the water.

He said,'I hope she flies nearer than that. It's a camera down aft, not a bloody-gunsight!'

Hechler lifted his binoculars and watched the weak sunlight lance through the clouds to pick out the plane's thin silhouette.

'Five minutes, sir!'

Gudegast's voice made him pull his thoughts together.

Leitner remarked, 'Now we shall see, eh?'

It was more like a shoal of fish than a surfacing submarine. Long flurries of spray and frothing bubbles, so that when the hull eventually appeared some half-mile distant it rose with a kind of tired majesty.

Jaeger exclaimed, 'God, she's
big\'