Lovers in Enemy Territory (25 page)

Each inclined her head in greeting. Sister Angelina was no older than Catherine. Catherine bowed to each of them.

"We’re going to sail to Lisbon by aircraft carrier. The captain has given us a room which is normally occupied by one of his officers. It will be our sanctuary for the next few days. I hope you won't suffer from the mal de mer. I have only experienced it once. Even during the war, it is the only discomfort I have had. I trust our Heavenly Father to guide us safely to our destination."

"Yes, Mother.”

Catherine had had no appetite since she’d spoken to Jeffrey. At the Mother General's words, she felt seasick already. They drove to the dock in an old car. There were hundreds of men in uniform and everyone was busy.

There were lorries with supplies, jeeps, tanks, ammunition in great piles ready to load. Catherine cringed at the sight of the instruments of war. The carrier was enormous. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. The smell of the sea and dead fish wafted past her nostrils. She knew she was going to be sick.

"This way, Sisters.” The Mother General hustled them into a crudely constructed building at the entrance gate. There were signs indicating only authorized personnel were able to pass beyond this point. They went inside the building and waited while the little woman produced many papers and documents. After some time they were cleared to board.

"Sisters?" an officer opened the door. "We'll take you alongside in the jeep.” They followed him out. Catherine climbed into the back and sat on the edge, wedged between two sisters. The jeep took off and wound around the docks till it stopped in front of one of the gangplanks of the great carrier.

There was no canopy for the gang plank, and just the idea of having to traverse it put fear into each Sister. However, the men with duffle bags seemed to manage it with ease.

"Come along, Sisters." The Mother General started up the long wooden ramp which rose almost another story into the hold of the ship. Catherine placed her feet carefully and held on to the thin rope which served as a handrail. If she looked down, she felt dizzy. The water was a long way below. She kept her eyes straight ahead and managed to walk up and into the heart of the ship.

Her heart was pounding so hard, she thought she would faint, but soon it was over and they were shown to their quarters which were already hot and cramped. To think humans had to put up with such conditions for months on end! She felt increased compassion for all fighting men, whoever they were.

When Catherine's father died, she and her mother had crossed the Channel to England on a ferry. It took the whole night, but then they could eat a meal and sit on deck chairs, and the crossing was gentle. The circumstances now were anything but pleasant or reassuring.

They were confined to their room for the remainder of the afternoon, and after several hours, they felt the movement of the ship as it began to inch its way out into the channel. The huge engines vibrated and the smell of disinfectant continued to nauseate Catherine.

There was no port hole, only a small pipe which conducted air. Catherine felt claustrophobic and wished she could leave the room. They would all sleep in here together. There were six bunks and a cot. The bathroom facilities were in the adjoining room. The Holy Mother suggested a period of meditation, after which she would tell them more about this new and challenging assignment.

Catherine closed her eyes as she sat on the bunk. Several hours passed and her stomach churned more the farther out into the ocean they went. Finally, she could sit still no longer and ran into the bathroom, shutting the door. After retching, she emerged and two more sisters dashed inside.

The movement was unpredictable. Just when she thought the ship should go up, it would swing sideways and her insides would lurch all over again. She hung on to the bunk with her hands and prayed that she would survive the next two days.

There was a galley for the officers, but none of the sisters was up to eating that first dinner. Catherine lay down on her bunk and continued to feel ill and queazy for the next twelve hours.

The next day she wasn't feeling much better, but there was nothing left in her stomach to lose. The Mother General, chipper as ever, began to tell them about conditions at Saint Theresa's and what they would be expected to do there. Catherine sat up and tried to pay attention. Besides refugees, Spanish Republicans were also being sheltered, and dysentery was a major problem. There was little milk and food was scarce. They would have to be frugal with money used to purchase supplies. All in all, the outlook was bleak. But Rome would be sending help in six to eight weeks.

Catherine caught bits and pieces of the explanations, but she was too sick to concentrate. Poor Sister Angelina hadn't moved her head from the pillow yet. Her face was absolutely green.

After a day and a half out at sea, the ocean began to grow calm. The swells were less mountainous and Catherine began to feel better. The Mother General suggested they take a walk on deck and take the air, but only Catherine and two others, were up to it.

They walked down a narrow corridor on unsteady legs, hugging the walls, and climbed the stairs to the next deck. When Catherine felt fresh air coming through the door which led to the flight deck, she drank it in and filled her lungs with the life-giving breeze.

The sea was dark green, almost black, and clouds hovered close to the water. It was impossible to distinguish the horizon. One officer, short and blond, was on hand to greet them and show them about. There were many men doing their chores and the sight of the nuns on board caused quite a stir for there were furtive glances from all the crew as the sisters moved about.

"I'm Officer Reginald, Sisters. The captain has asked me to be your guide for the journey." The young man seemed to enjoy the added duty. It probably helped to take his mind off the danger lurking beneath the waters or behind the clouds. The sisters bowed to him.

"What would you like to see? The planes, perhaps? We're delivering some to the Mediterranean." Catherine's face brightened. She turned to the sisters, but the other two did not feel up to it and declined the invitation. They went back to the room in a hurry, but Catherine couldn't resist this opportunity to get closer to Jeffrey. Being here brought him back to her.

"I'd be very obliged if you would show me about," she replied to the officer.

“It would be a pleasure, Sister. Follow me."

They walked to one end of the carrier. As they passed various crewmen, smiles appeared spontaneously on the men's faces. Catherine flushed from all the attention. The officer turned to her.

"Don't mind the men, Sister. They're not used to seeing such a pretty face on board this monster. We have to be content to look at each other most of the time, and the scenery isn't quite up to specifications, if you know what I mean.” He winked.

She smiled in spite of herself and lowered her head. She liked him and wondered how the men could seem so cheerful beneath the pall of war. Finally they came to the area where the planes were lined up, wing to wing. She recognized them immediately. "These are Hudsons," she exclaimed. Jeffrey's drawings were exactly like them. With a flash of pain, she remembered those wonderful days they spent together with Michael. When he was asleep, she would watch him sketch and they would talk for hours ...

"You're right, Sister," he replied in astonishment. "How did you know that?"

"I've seen drawings, Officer Reginald." They proceeded down the row.

"These aren't as big as the Sunderlands," she murmured. "I remember now."

“No. These seat a crew of four. The Sunderland--"

"Seats a crew of seven," she finished for him.

"Right, Sister," he said, eyeing her almost suspiciously. "I have the feeling you know as much about airplanes as I do."

"No. I've had an expert explaining various things to me. It fascinates me, that's all." She went over to inspect the low-wing monoplane. " What would be the reason for needing this type of craft as opposed to the Sunderland?"

"Well the Hudson isn’t as maneuverable in the air as a Sunderland, but it can take an extraordinary amount of punishment from anti-aircraft and enemy fighters. It's a real tough plane. I'd rather be in this if I had a Jerry on my tail."

Catherine straightened up and her face sobered. She mustn't allow herself to think of Jeffrey out in one of these. She couldn't stand it.

"If you're ready, we can go out on the flight deck, Sister." She nodded, but he noticed that a shadow had crossed over her lovely face.

The wind was fierce, whipping Catherine's habit about her as they walked out on to the broad expanse of deck. It exhilarated her. The mighty ocean had a calming effect on her, and slowly the fear began to leave her. Portugal was closer now. They should be there in the morning.

She had to admit she was excited to be traveling to another country, to be doing something new. She’d always had an adventuresome spirit when she was young. After knowing Jeffrey, she wanted to see and feel and experience everything. Her nausea was abating and she began to see this mission through new eyes. Time would fly now. It would make their separation easier to bear.

She was glad the Holy Mother had selected her for this assignment. She was anxious to pitch in and be of some use until she was free to take on her responsibilities as mother and wife to the little boy and man she adored.

The tour was over and she went below deck, thanking the officer for his kindness. He stared after the beautiful nun and shook his head thinking what an appaling waste.

Catherine was actually hungry when she sat down to the evening meal. The walk on deck had rejuvenated her appetite as well as her spirit. She retired early and let the ship lull her to sleep with its regular rhythm. Her prayers were long and fervent. First and foremost was the hope that Jeffrey was safe and that Michael was well.

Morning came and the Mother General was once again giving instructions. "Sisters, we’re outside the port of Lisbon, but we will go in on a tender. Don't be frightened. I've done it dozens of times. It may be a little rocky, but I assure you it’s safe."

The sisters had learned through sad experience that the Mother General was somewhat inclined to underemphasize discomfort and danger. So far, all of them had experienced difficulties. It was with trepidation they followed her to the hold of the ship.

A metal door was opened from the top and a bridge suspended from the doorway over the water into a wooden boat which bobbed up and down like a cork. The wind was still strong enough to form whitecaps. When it was Catherine's turn, she gingerly placed a foot on the bridge and held on for dear life. Officer Reginald offered his hand in assistance, but she was thrown forward, out of his grasp, and fell into the tender.

She laughed softly at her clumsiness, and the ability to laugh at herself brought smiles to the faces of the other sisters as well as the crewmen. It seemed to dispel the tension and fear which always lay beneath the surface. She righted herself, and when everyone was seated, the motor revved up and the tender pulled away from the giant carrier toward the land in the distance. .

The sky was the color of pitch and the gulls which called from the distance stood out like white chalk marks on a new blackboard. It took forty minutes for the tender to maneuver itself to the buoys and finally into the harbor. There were fishing boats and large trawlers off shore.

Some of the men on the little boats were hauling in their nets and stopped to wave and smile at this strange company of nuns who seemed to come out of nowhere. The carrier was already receding into the distance. Catherine's heart lurched again. It was on its way to the Gibraltar Straits and Jeffrey.

The tender rode up and down on the waves with an occasional sudden dip which took everyone's breath. Once they were inside the safety of the bay, the water became as glass and the tender shot ahead quickly toward the dock. There were sailors waiting to tie up the craft as it pulled into a slip.

Hands reached out to help the sisters up the wooden ladder to the cement walkway. Catherine put her feet on land and sighed with relief. The first leg of the journey was over and so far, they were safe. But the motion of moving up and down was still upon her. She started to take a step and found herself falling forward. One of the sailors caught her arm.

"Be careful. The sea is still with you," he laughed aloud, several teeth missing in his grin. Catherine smiled back and tried to keep herself upright. Several of the other sisters were having the same problem.

"Sisters, soon that sensation will leave you. Walk slowly and take a deep breath."

"Yes, Mother," they sighed and began walking, trying to keep up with the spry Mother General. Their loss of equilibrium began to dissipate. Catherine turned for one last look at the carrier, but it was a mere speck, almost out of sight, and she heaved a deep sigh.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Come. We must find a taxi and get to the station. There isn't a moment to lose. It will take two days to reach the priory, and knowing the Spanish, it could take much longer. They only run the trains three days a week because of the lack of coal," said the Mother General cheerfully.

The sisters rolled their eyes heavenward and prepared to follow. Two hours later they were on a train, headed north. The supplies brought along by the Holy Mother were piled high in the entrance of their car. Catherine was worn out and rested her head against the uncomfortable seat of the train, which was packed to overflowing with men, women and children. The smell of unwashed bodies was thick in the air, and it was warm. Her habit was sticking to her arms and legs. Everything was damp from being at sea. She longed to bathe in cool water.