The Last Raider, page 27
* * * * *
Unlike the first time the raider had coaled at sea, the impact this time as the two ships came together was hardly more than a shudder, and the water lapped and gurgled playfully between them until the fenders took the strain. Ropes were thrown, and in minutes there was a line of men passing bags of wet and dripping coal across the slanting deck of the shattered freighter to the waiting hands aboard the Vulkan.
Caryl Brett stood quietly on the boatdeck, her cheeks warm in the sunlight, watching the activity below. There was no coal-dust this time, and she could see that each sack of coal was sodden with the water which had slowly penetrated every part of that sad hull.
There was a movement at her side, and she was aware that Simon Gelb had joined her. She saw his thick fingers interlaced and strong, as he leaned heavily on the teak rail.
‘They seem to be scraping the bottom of the barrel,’ he said softly. ‘How are things in the sick-bay?’
She shrugged, feeling guilty that she had hardly thought of him since before the battle with the warship. ‘They are pretty ill.’
‘Good. I hope they die!’ He moved his shoulders restlessly. ‘They locked us below when that battle was going on. We might have gone down with the ship.’
She could smell the dried sweat on his large body, and again felt guilty. He must surely be aware of her own fragrant smell. Heuss had given her a large bar of scented soap which he had found aboard the Nemesis. It was odd that she had been delighted with the gift. She should have thrown it down, denounced it, but against the backcloth of suffering which she had witnessed already it seemed a small thing but a strangely welcome one.
Gelb said, ‘Have you found out yet about the rendezvous?’
She shook her head. ‘I do not know if I can.’ She found that her heart was pounding uncomfortably. ‘It is very difficult.’
His fingers gripped her bare wrist. ‘Nevertheless, you must find out! People might get the wrong idea about you, otherwise!’
She turned on him, her eyes flashing. ‘How dare you!’
‘Not me, of course!’ He held up his hand placatingly. ‘But you are out of touch with England. Back there they might think you were too friendly with the Germans.’
Her eyes filled with angry tears. ‘That is cruel and unfair! I am mixed up, all this has got me completely confused!’ It sounded weak, but she still stared at him defiantly. ‘We are out of place here. We cannot try to understand what is happening!’
‘Maybe. But I am only saying how it might seem to others!’
He stared down at the listing hulk, choosing his words carefully. He must not spoil it now. But it was as he had suspected, she was only a woman after all. He had heard about her ordeal in the small boat and how near she had been to being raped by the seamen there. He had heard a guard saying to his companion that it was only to be expected when men were forced to keep apart from their women. He watched the girl from the corner of his eye. How long is it, I wonder, since she knew the real meaning of being loved? He cursed his own weakness and felt the pain in his groin. Nevertheless, she must be made to understand what would happen to her if she started that sort of thing with these filthy Germans. He added evenly: ‘Do your best. It is very hard for us down below to know what is to become of us.’
She relented, and felt ashamed at the hurt tone of his voice. ‘I believe von Steiger is to drop the wounded if he can somewhere in South America. That is what I have heard. Maybe we shall go, too.’
‘Do you want to leave this ship?’
‘What a stupid question! Really, you are quite impossible!’ But somehow the conviction was lacking in her answer. She could feel the heat mounting her neck, and wanted to hide her face from him and his careful questions.
Gelb nodded towards the other vessel. ‘It brings back sad memories, I expect. Of your poor husband?’
He smiled to himself as he saw his shot go home. She was staring at nothing, but he knew she was remembering how Arthur Brett had died. He watched her breasts moving painfully beneath the thin blouse. She was so lovely that it hurt him to watch her. He said, with sudden anger, ‘God, why doesn’t the Navy catch up with these arrogant animals!’
She saw Steuer go aboard the listing ship, his white jacket out of place among the debris. She could see him talking to Lieutenant Kohler, who was grinning broadly and waving his arms about. Steuer did not smile at the officer but followed him below. Another man hurt, she thought. Another dazed and frightened face for a cot in the sick-bay. The very thought made her remember the stench of gangrene and the pitiful cries of the two dying men. The smell seemed to pervade the whole ship. She could tell that the other sick men were willing their companions to die, and die quickly.
Sub-Lieutenant Damrosch crossed the boatdeck, his face clearing as he saw the girl. ‘Ah, Frau Brett. Could you come to the bridge? The Captain is ill and requires a change of bandage. Everyone else is occupied, and I thought your knowledge of these matters . . .’
His voice trailed away as Gelb said loudly: ‘How dare you! Are you aware that under International Law no prisoner can be compelled to do such things? Especially a woman! Go and tell your captain to attend to his own misfortunes! We have enough of our own!’ He waited, watching not the young officer but the girl at his side.
She shook a loose strand of hair from her eyes. It was almost as if she had been expecting this to happen, but she tried to tell herself that it was just the right opportunity to get the information Gelb required.
‘I will come at once.’
‘Thank you. Please follow me.’ Damrosch eyed Gelb with hostile dislike.
‘I hope you will not forget your loyalties,’ Gelb called after her.
* * * * *
Lieutenant Heuss lowered his megaphone and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The men who crossed and recrossed the deck beneath him seemed to move with the slowness and caution of beetles, and the supply of coal from the ship alongside had slowed to a mere trickle. As each group of men returned from the Vulkan’s bunkers they would pause, reluctant to board the listing hulk for fear that they might be the ones trapped below when she rolled over.
Heuss looked at his hands and saw that they were still shaking badly. He was the only officer on the wing of the bridge and was conscious of the mingled responsibilities of watching the slow process of coaling ship and the task of gauging the seaworthiness of the other vessel. As each lazy swell rolled beneath her counter she would rise wearily and grate against the Vulkan. He watched the mooring lines tauten, his hand gripping his whistle in readiness to sound the alarm. Then the lines would slacken slightly and the old freighter would appear to nestle closer to the raider, as if for protection.
He dashed the sweat from his eyes and stared at the stooping corpse in the freighter’s wheelhouse. It was horrible, and yet it fascinated him. The wide grin and the black, sightless eyes added the right macabre touch to this whole affair, he thought.
Dehler looked up at him from the maindeck, his face red and angry. He is wondering how the Captain is getting on. If von Steiger is put out of action he will have to assume command, and I think that no longer appeals to him.
He tensed again as another bank of green glass lifted against the two ships and broke with a noisy gurgle across the exposed propeller of the freighter.
Heuss glared at his opposite number on the fire-blackened bridge. ‘Yes, my friend, you can well afford to smile! Your watch is over for good!’
As the freighter nudged the ragged fenders a tremble seemed to move through every rivet in the Vulkan’s hull. The stokers paused as they waited by the coal shoots, and grimaced at one another and wondered if such a risk was worth while. The tiny trickle of wet coal which occasionally appeared in the shoots hardly seemed to justify the chance of being locked against a sinking ship.
Caryl Brett rolled up her sleeves and glanced quickly at the bandages which had been brought from the sick-quarters.
Damrosch cleared his throat and held open the door of the sea cabin. ‘Would you go in, please?’ He watched her pass him, his eyes creased with worry.
The sunlight beamed through the open scuttle in a long, solid ray. In the golden glare she saw the spartan fittings, the well-worn uniforms swaying on their rack and the mass of charts and logbooks which had been pushed to one end of the table to make room for her case of dressings. Von Steiger was lying on his bunk, his shoulders propped up on three pillows and a rolled jacket. His tanned face was paler than she had ever seen it, and his breathing was quick and sharp. He appeared to be listening, straining his ears as if willing every shipboard sound to come in through the open scuttle.
Reeder waited at his side, his eyes on the girl.
She stood looking down at him, seeing, too, the sodden red bandage across his heaving chest.
He did not flinch as she tore away the old bandages and mopped carefully at the raw, star-shaped wound. His gold-flecked eyes were quiet as he watched the tilt of her head and the loose strand of chestnut hair, which defied her repeatedly as she bent over him.
She could sense him watching her, and at first tried to appear unconcerned, even indifferent. But she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, and immediately felt angry with herself.
There was a tremendous crash from outside the bridge, and von Steiger was halfway from his bunk before she could stop him.
Emboldened by the English girl’s indifference to his captain’s rank and status. Reeder ran to her aid, and together they forced him back on the bunk. She stared down at his agonised face and, for a second, thought his wound was worse than she realised. But he struggled weakly in their grip, his eyes desperate.
‘What are those fools doing? For God’s sake find out for me!’
He barked an order at Reeder, who scurried from the cabin like a frightened dog.
‘I never thought I should ever give in to anyone like this!’ He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes almost dazed. ‘The ship might be breaking in two, and here I am, as useless as a broken boat-hook!’
She carefully laid the new dressing on the wound, and held it firm with the palm of her hand. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, and was suddenly conscious of the closeness of his body. Coldly she said: ‘And I never thought a grown man could behave so badly! Now lean forward while I put on a new bandage.’
Without a murmur, von Steiger leaned towards her, and she passed the bandage round his body like a bandolier.
She looked over his shoulder, seeing the freckles and the smooth, clean line of his back. A strong, youthful back, seemingly wrong for the captain of a ship of war.
‘Right,’ she said at length, ‘I have finished for the present.’ But von Steiger still stayed upright, his bent head resting against her shoulder. She could feel his warmth and his vitality, and was suddenly afraid to move lest the moment was broken.
Quietly she said, ‘Are you feeling more comfortable, Captain?’
He lay back with a great sigh. When he looked at her again she could no longer meet his eyes, for fear of what he might see in her face. Her voice sounded shaky as she added, ‘I must go now.’
Reeder entered the cabin and spoke to von Steiger, who said calmly, ‘He says that the ship alongside is about to capsize.’ He groaned. ‘For your sake I shall refuse to lose my temper. In fact, I doubt if I shall ever be the same in your presence again!’
Reeder helped him from the bunk, and he slowly straightened his body, his hand resting on the white bandage. He joked with the anxious Reeder, but all the time he remained looking at the girl, his eyes trying to convey another message.
She stood back to let him pass towards the bridge, his arm resting on Reeder’s shoulder. He paused at the door into the bridge, where his men waited for their orders. He seemed to be trying to say to her: ‘Do not take any notice of this pretence! Remember me as I really am!’
She leaned back against the warm bulkhead, her body pinioned by the sun’s shaft. She ignored the harsh orders and the jangle of telegraphs, and no longer wanted to see what was happening outside. Her eye fell on the chart which lay across von Steiger’s bridge-coat. It held all the secrets which Gelb wished to know, and she was horrified to find that she no longer cared. She could not trust herself to move or speak, and her body trembled uncontrollably. I should feel ashamed, her brain said, but for the moment I feel only a terrible longing.
* * * * *
Von Steiger brushed past the watching men on the bridge and stepped out on to the sun-warmed wing, his jacket hanging like a cape across his shoulders. He was immediately aware of the closeness of the battered freighter’s funnel, as it hung drunkenly across the slanting deck and cast a dark shadow against the Vulkan’s fresh paint.
Heuss watched him searchingly, his eyes troubled. ‘I think we should cast off, Captain! She is going over, and one good swell under her stern might throw her right into our hull!’
Von Steiger frowned. ‘Keep them at it. I want every bit of coal they can find!’
Some of the men on deck were peering up at the bridge as if listening to their distant conversation, and Heuss gestured briefly to Niklas, who stood watching the slow intake of coal by the bunkers. The men still stood uncertainly, their faces now turned towards the listing ship alongside.
‘The men will not like it, sir!’ Heuss sounded angry.
‘They will do as they are told!’ Von Steiger watched the petty officers pushing their men over the rail and saw their unwilling and dragging footsteps. I would not like to go down there either, he thought. But there will be worse to come and there is no longer room for sentiment.
The metal of the two hulls ground together with heavy, uneven thuds, and to his probing ears each concussion seemed heavier than the last, and every strain on the mooring lines appeared to be final.
He could hear Heuss breathing hard behind him, and could feel his eyes on his back. What is the matter with him? Has he so little reserve of nerve that waiting for disaster has become more than real disaster itself?
He thought suddenly of the girl and her cool hands on his shoulders. A warm flush seemed to creep over him, so that he felt uncertain and off guard. I must be mad to behave as I did. And yet why did she not laugh, or challenge me as she did when she first came from the sea?
Heuss said suddenly: ‘Shall I send more men across? There is another delay!’
The men in the freighter’s bunkers were working with the speed of fear, and had produced more coal than the working party of seamen could cope with, so that it lay in a shining black heap on the ship’s torn deck. Some was in bags, and the rest just lay in a great disordered pile into which the men drove their shovels with frantic haste.
‘No. It is nearly time.’ Another long shudder moved along the bridge, and he saw that the weight of the other ship had torn away some of the fenders so that the rusty bulwark was beginning to gouge the raider’s hull.
A man slipped and fell on the deck’s extreme angle and the others stopped work to watch him. A petty officer shouted an order but the man stood his ground, his face frightened but stubborn.
Von Steiger cupped his hands and called down to Dehler: ‘Get those men working! There is still some coal to bring across!’
Dehler turned away from Niklas and squinted up into the sun. ‘She’ll go at any second, sir! The men are afraid!’ He sounded defiant, even pleased.
‘Heuss, stay here. I am going across!’
Cutting short the protests which came from several directions at once, von Steiger began to descend the long ladder from the bridge. Every step was agony, and he could feel the new bandage plucking at the edges of his wound. His jacket fell from his shoulders and floated down to the deck below, but he ignored it and continued to lower himself to the maindeck. He knew that his anger was getting a hold of him and that reason had been replaced by the driving force of despair. His boots thudded on the warm planking, and he stood swaying in the sunlight and blinking up at the great towering mass of burned metal which had once been the freighter’s bridge.
Reeder ran after him and again placed the jacket across his shoulders. Von Steiger moved briskly between the grimed figures of his men, his eyes fixed on that pile of coal. Grimly he picked up a shovel and clambered across the guardrail to the other ship’s tilting deck.
It was even steeper than it had appeared from his bridge, but gritting his teeth he climbed up to where some transfixed seamen stood with their bags, and without a glance in their direction thrust the shovel into the black, moulded mass of coal. His jacket fell once more, but he waved Reeder aside and grinned up at him, his teeth white against his beard. ‘Drop it, man, and get a shovel yourself!’
He worked savagely, the sweat coursing down his hard body, his eyes filled only with the coal and the gaping sack held by his terrified steward. Lieutenant Kohler appeared at his side, his pale eyes incredulous. He swallowed hard, and then, with all the dignity he could muster, called to one of the seamen, ‘Fetch me a shovel!’
All at once there was a great bellowing laugh, and Schiller’s black face showed itself over the rim of the bunker. He was drunk, but fighting drunk, and wielded his shovel like a battleaxe. ‘By God, dig, you bastards!’
And then, around the slight, doubled shape of the Captain’s half-naked body, everyone was working like a maniac. Shovels clanged and rang, and the air was filled with flying grit and the wild curses of the labouring men.
There was a loud crack like a pistol shot from the bows, and instantly the deck seemed to fall from under them as a five-inch rope parted like a thread. Von Steiger felt his men freeze and knew that any panic could kill more than half of them. From the corner of his eye he could see the axes already slashing at the remaining ropes as Dehler freed the Vulkan from her terrible burden.
