iron pirate (29 page)

Hechler saluted as they climbed down the side, one with a plaster cast on his arm swinging round to stare up at his messmates who waved to him. Suddenly, as if at a sign, one of the sailors at the guardrails began to sing. He had a rich, mellow voice, and as Hechler watched he saw many of his men leaning over the rails, their voices joining and rising above the sea, and the splutter of the boat below the ladder.

'Auf Wiedersehen
-
until better days!'

Hechler watched the boat until it vanished around the high bows then walked slowly aft. He remembered his brother Lothar joining with his fellow cadets and singing that same, lilting song when he had gained his commission.

That must have been dreadful for you.'

He saw her standing by a screen door, one foot on the raised coaming. How long she had been watching he did not know, and yet in some strange way he had been aware of her.

'It was.' He stood beside her, shielded from the rest of the ship by the heavy, steel door.

She said quietly, 'If the war is won they will be free very soon. If not She did not continue.

He took her hands in his. I have been thinking about you.' He felt her return the squeeze. 'Maybe too much. But I have not forgotten our words up there, in my eyrie.' He saw her smile.

She said, 'People, your men, think you are made of iron. An iron pirate, did you know that?'

He looked down at her, studying her mouth, imagining how it would feel trapped in his.

She watched his face, his indecision. 'But I know the
real
man.'

He said, 'After we leave here -' He tried again. 'When we meet with the enemy - I want you safe. No matter what happens, I need to know you are spared the true danger. After the war -'

Her eyes left his face for the first time. 'I will not wait that long, Dieter.' She looked down and there was fresh colour in her cheeks. 'You think that is cheap, shameless?'

He touched her hair. 'No. I only feel shame for letting you say what I am thinking.'

The junior communications officer, Ziegler, appeared round the door and stared at them blankly.

Then he said, stumbling over the words, '1 have to report that the shore party has tested the signal, sir.' His eyes blinked quickly at t he girl as he continued, 'No further enemy broadcasts intercepted.'

'Thank you.' They watched him march off and she said, 'We frightened him, poor boy.'

He knew he must go. 'Later on -'

She stepped back over the coaming, one hand to her side.

I shall be there. Have no doubt of it.'

Hechler climbed to the bridge and walked to the fore-gratings. Voices hummed up and down the pipes, and messengers and boatswain's mates stood with handsets to their ears and watched the steam from forward as the cables clanked up and through the hawse-pipe.

'Stand by.'

Bells jangled and Gudegast said, 'Course to steer, one-three-five, sir.'

He heard someone murmur behind him, 'See the poor buggers on the beach, Max? I'd hate to be left -'

A petty officer snarled, 'I shall
personally
maroon you if I get the chance!
Stand to,
damn you!'

Hechler felt the sun warming his face through the toughened glass screen. The cable was coming in more quickly now.
Clank-clank-clank.
Would they ever drop anchor again? He smiled despite his anxieties. The Flying Dutchman. He smiled again and seemed to hear her voice.
Iron pirate.
The enemy probably had a less colourful name, he thought.

He craned forward and saw Theil with Leutnant Safer who was in charge of the forecastle, although in action he was quarters officer in Turret Anton. Theil had his arms folded, as if he was hugging himself. Perhaps when they got into open water again he would snap out of his mood.

How would 1 feel?
It was strange that he did not compare Theil's wife's plight with Inger. He pictured Erika's face. Her defiance. And her defeat.

'Anchors aweigh, sir!'

Hechler glanced at the lieutenant of the watch. It was as if the man had had to repeat it before he had understood.

'Slow ahead together.' He felt the deck vibrate gently, the ugly hump of land begin to move past. 'Starboard ten.'

Gudegast crouched over the gyro to check a last fix on the tall aerial.

'Steady. Steer one-three-five.' He picked up the telephone and noticed it has been newly cleaned. 'Chief? This is the Captain. Revolutions for twenty-five knots in half an hour.'

Stuck sounded surprisingly close. 'You told me.'

Hechler grinned. 'Getting old, Chief.' He put down the telephone and saw Jaeger talking with Stoecker, the youngster who should have taken his final exam for petty officer but for this raiding cruise. He was obviously worried about it, for his eyes looked quite red. Lack of sleep probably.

Theil came into the bridge. 'Anchor secured, sir. Hands dismissed.'

He stared round the bridge. 'I'm not sorry. Not in the least.'

'Is there something you want to tell me, Viktor?' He glanced past him. 'Now, while we're alone.'

7
am worried about my wife.'
He seemed to be staring, although the dark glasses made it hard to gauge his expression.

1 can understand that.'

'Can you?' Theil watched two sea-birds rise above the screen, their raucous cries suddenly loud and intruding.

He added calmly, in an almost matter-of-fact tone, 'You didn't have to consult with the doctor about the landing party, sir. I had it in hand, you know.'

Hechler tugged out his unlit pipe and jammed it in his mouth. 'It was my responsibility.'

Theil nodded very slowly, his dark glasses like two sockets in a skull.

I see that, sir. A commanding officer must shoulder every burden when it concerns those who have to trust him.' He saluted. 'I must go to damage control and exercise the fire parties.' I Ie added vaguely, 'Might help.'

Hechler made to climb into his chair but walked instead to the opposite side.

Theil was right.
1 must tell him.
But Theil's words, his erratic behaviour, held him back, like a warning.

fie turned and saw Gudegast watching him from the compass platform. The navigator dropped his gaze immediately, but not before Hechler had seen the concern there. Did he believe that Theil was falling apart? Even his bitter comment about asking the doctor. He was still angry about the scene in the wardroom, and Leitner's offhand indifference.

He raised his binoculars and trained them over the quarter towards the radio tow'er, but it was already blurred and indistinct. He thought of the unknown seaman's words.
I'd hate to be left.

Korvettenkapitan Froebe, the executive officer, stamped on to the gratings and saluted.

'Well?' Hechler felt the warning again but could not recognise

it.

Froebe shifted his long, ungainly legs.

I hate to bother you, sir, but one of my divisional officers has made a complaint. He has threatened

Hechler stopped him. 'Nobody threatens you, Werner. You are part of my authority, a most important one.' He saw the words go home, some relief on the tall officer's features.

The communications officer -'

Hechler kept his face impassive. It would be Bauer. A man of great conceit. He had certainly displayed no remorse over killing the civilian.

Leitner had given him his blessing. Was that all it took, after all?
I did my duty, nothing more.

Froebe continued, He claims that the second-in-command entered his private office after forcing the watch-officer to give him the key.'

It hit Hechler like a steel bar.

So that was it. It was so obvious he could not understand how he had missed it. He had even ordered Theil to go there himself.

'You have told me, Werner. Leave it with me, eh?' He smiled, but his mouth felt like stiff leather.

Froebe bobbed his head, satisfied and relieved.

'And tell Bauer to mind his manners. Tell him from me.'

He heard Froebe clattering down a ladder and then bit hard on the pipe-stem.

Theil knew. Who would blame him? What might he do?

When the sun dipped towards the empty horizon he was still sitting in the chair, and his questions remained unanswered.

Middle Watch

Gudegast crouched over the chart-table and rubbed his eyes to clear away the weariness. It was two in the morning, but he could not sleep, and wanted to make sure he had forgotten nothing. He read slowly through his neatly written notes and paused again and again to check the calculations against his two charts. The ship was quivering violently beneath him, but he had grown used to that. She was steaming at twenty-eight knots, south-east, over an unbroken sea.

On deck it was easier to understand with a ceiling of bright stars from horizon to horizon. Here in the chart-room, it was all on paper. Noon sights, and careful estimations of tide, speed and weather. It was vaguely unnerving, with only the chart lights for company, but for a while longer he needed to be alone.

He tried not to think of a hot bath, scented with some of that Danish stuff he had picked up in Vejle. So long ago, he thought wistfully. He scratched himself beneath his arm as he pictured the voluptuous Gerda in her little house above the fjord. There would not be many baths from now on. Water was strictly rationed, and it would get worse unless they turned for home. Home? Where was that?

He heard feet scrape against steel and guessed that the watch was changing its lookouts yet again. An empty ocean outside, and yet in here you could see the inevitability of the embrace, the savagery of the approaching battle.

It would have to be a salt-water shower. He grinned into his beard. He must be getting soft as well as old. In the merchant service, where the owners counted and begrudged every mark spent, you got used to faulty fans, bad food, and machinery which went wrong at the worst moment. It had taken him a long while to get used to the navy, its extravagance at the tax-payers' expense.

The door slid open and he turned with an angry challenge on his lips. Instead he said, 'I've been over it all again, sir.' He watched Hechler by the table, his body shining in an oilskin. So he could not sleep either.
If I were captain
- he stopped it there. Gudegast would not have taken command of a warship if she were ballasted with gold bricks.

Hechler compared the charts. 'At this rate, fifty-seven hours.' He pictured the desert of ocean, their solitary ship heading swiftly on a converging course. There had been no signals from Operations Division, and silence in this case meant that the convoy was on course, and should now be around the Cape and steering north-west. Fifty-seven hours was too long. He peered closer at the pencilled lines and crosses. To increase speed would dig deeply into their fuel supply. To risk a late confrontation might invite disaster. He said, 'Thirty knots.'

Gudegast regarded him gravely. The cruiser could go faster, but she was not on sea trials, nor was she within reach of help if something failed.

Hechler smiled. 'I have just spoken with the Chief.' Fie saw him in his mind, cautious as ever, but quite confident. 'He agrees.'

Gudegast watched him, feeling his disquiet. 'After this, we can refuel at one of the rendezvous.'

Hechler glanced at him and smiled. It had sounded like a question, a challenge.

'My admiral favours the second rendezvous, 2,500 miles to the west.'

Gudegast dragged the second chart closer. The bright cross marked the exact grid position only; dates and times were safely locked in Hechler's safe.

Gudegast pursed his lips. 'The last thing the enemy would expect.'

'What you really mean is, we could be heading further north to the other rendezvous, and cutting off some 900 miles, right?'

Gudegast showed his teeth. 'Something like that, sir.'

'Fuel economy is not always the answer.'

Gudegast picked up his parallel rulers. 'I'll work on it for a while. An alternative might come in handy.'

Hechler nodded. 'I shall be increasing speed in two hours when the watch changes. Let me know what you find in your search.' He paused, one hand on the door clip. 'But get some sleep. I depend on you. You know that.'

The door slid shut and Gudegast stared at it with quiet astonishment. He both liked and respected the captain, but he had never thought that his feelings had been returned.

He grinned and turned back to his charts. He would do a sketch of the captain at the first opportunity. Just him with the ocean behind his back. It was something to look forward to.

Hechler did not remember much about leaving the chart-room, nor did he feel the usual guilt at not being on the bridge or in his little sea-cabin.

The charts, Gudegast's finality over the converging ships, had cast a cloak over all else. There was nothing, could be nothing beyond this ship, he told himself. Even if his suspicions about Theil were correct, he could not reveal it now or Leitner would have him arrested, humiliated and disgraced before everyone. God, it was bad enough as it was. Theil loved the
Prinz
as much if not more than all of them. He would not do anything to destroy that loyalty. But if the shock of his wife's arrest had acted as a twist of guilt, he might not even be the man he had once known.

He almost smiled. He was the one who had told Theil about a captain's responsibility.

An armed sentry stiffened at attention as he clipped a watertight door behind him. He stared at the passageway with its shaded emergency lights, the blank-faced doors, the racks of fire-fighting gear laid out like an omen.

Hechler walked past the sentry and knew the man was staring after him. It was strange but he did not care. Not about that anyway. The whole ship had probably made up its mind long ago. Then he paused and listened to the movements about him, the gentle rattle of equipment, the shiver of metal as the great ship sliced through the water. Nearly a thousand souls were contained within her graceful hull. Men as varied as Theil and Gudegast, young Jaeger and the acid-tongued Kroll. On and on forever, she had said. With a start he realised he was standing outside the door of his own quarters. Perhaps he had known what he was doing, or had he allowed his heart to steer him?