The Skipper with whom Anna was to sail was a thin, wiry man named Skansen. He had made any number of the perilous voyages.
“You’ll be safe enough on my boat, the Noreg,” he promised with total confidence.
She did not doubt him, able to see that here was a natural leader, a man to whom danger was simply run-of-the-mill.
When Anna was given access to the lists of escapees she ran her finger quickly down the names under O, but, although she checked again, the name of Nils Olsen was not on it.
The rain was gusting down on the day of the Noreg’s departure, the clouds bruised and low. Anna changed out of her WRNS uniform for the last time. Warmly clad in a thick Norwegian sweater and trousers under borrowed oilskins and wearing a sou’wester, she went on board the vessel. It was about fifty feet long and everything was very cramped with the fish-hold amidships. The engine room lay aft of it and at deck level was the wheel-house and the galley. The six members of the crew had bunks below in the forecastle and the only available one for her was in the Skipper’s cabin, which lay in the stern.
Anna went below with her suitcase. There were two bunks and also a table between opposite benches fitted into the narrow stern. It was here she would eat with the men. No concessions were being made for her as a woman and she was glad of it. These fishermen would be at the battle-front again as soon as the Noreg left harbour and she would be in the fight with them.
She had been told that another passenger was expected to join the vessel and heard him being greeted as she stowed away her suitcase. When she came up on deck again he was already in the wheelhouse with Skipper Skansen.
The Noreg was casting off. David Howarth, who had come to the quayside with her, was waiting to see the boat leave. It was his custom and that of any fishermen on shore to gather and shout their good wishes to a fishing boat setting out on a sortie. The crew on board were in high good humour as if they were doing no more than sailing off to gather in a bumper catch of fish. They waved and exchanged joking remarks with those left behind. Anna joined in the waving. The strip of water widened between the boat and the quayside. Beyond the harbour the whitecaps warned of a choppy voyage ahead.
Anna stayed on by the white-painted bulwark. All the crew were busy with various tasks and she was careful not to get in the way. She thought to herself there was no sound in all the world like the comfortable tonk-tonk of the diesel-engined Norwegian fishing boat. She had heard it so often on those summer holidays with Aunt Rosa and she associated it with all the little islands and skerries that studded the sea off Norway’s coast like green and gold gems. Always there was the screech of seagulls too. She looked up at those noisily wheeling and dipping overhead. It came to her how homesick she had been for the country she was soon to see again.
Shetland was slowly gliding away into the rain-mist. She was reminded of when she had left Bergen at the end of that last holiday before the war. Nils had stood on the quayside to watch her ship sail down the fjord until he was just a distant speck when a spar of land finally hid him from her sight. The old yearning for him had never left her. Maybe, if luck was with her, she might glimpse him one day from a distance. Even though she would have to keep out of his sight, at least she would know that he was alive and well.
The swell was increasing and great fans of spray opened up as the Noreg ploughed on through the waves. When there was nothing more to see, Anna went below to the cabin and hung up her oilskins. Sitting down on one of the benches she took a well-thumbed Norwegian paperback from her pocket. Somebody had handed it on to her before she left and she settled down to read.
After a few pages the youngest fisherman, Harald, who was acting as cook in the galley, brought a pot of coffee and two cups into the cabin. Anna was grateful for the hot drink. He sat on the bench opposite her to drink his own, a good-humoured youth with a mass of curls so fair as to be almost white, his eyes a bright cornflower blue.
“I’ve made lots of these Shetland Bus runs, Anna,” he said easily after they had talked a while, “but we’ve never carried a woman passenger back to Norway before. There have been women refugees as well as wives leaving from there with their children to join husbands already in England, but that’s all. There must be something special about you.”
“Indeed there isn’t,” Anna declared firmly.
He was unconvinced. “How long have you been away from home?”
She knew he meant Norway. “Since the summer before the invasion.”
“That’s quite a time. It wouldn’t have suited me. I’ve got the best of both worlds — I can be home sometimes to see my family and friends as well as being in Shetland where I’ve a girlfriend.”
Anna did not think that many would share his point of view, considering the perilous journeys in between. “Where’s your home port?”
“Alesund.”
She knew it well. A salty little town with cobbled streets where most of the shops seemed to sell oilskins and equipment for deep sea fishing. “I’ve taken the ferry from there over to Haroy and the other islands for summer picnics.”
She had gone with Nils and a whole crowd of their friends. He had been an enthusiastic photographer, taking pictures of everybody and everything. It was a profitable hobby, for his work was good and he sold a wide variety of his pictures to a foreign buyer with a travel business. She had her own favourite photograph of him, which normally she carried with her, but that had had to be left behind with her other personal possessions.
“Do you know if our landfall tomorrow will be anywhere near Alesund?” she asked.
Harald had taken a swig of coffee and he lowered his cup. “We’ll be farther south. You and the other passenger will be landed by night at the pre-arranged place along the coast. Then we’ll stay in the fishing zone and sail into port with the fishing fleet at dawn. But it’s different every time. There’s plenty of variety.” His tone was matter-of-fact and did not alter as he put his head on one side as he tried to see the title of the book she had put down. “What are you reading?”
“It’s one of Sigrid Undset’s. Kristian Lavran’s Daughter.”
“That’s her best, I read it in my final year at school.”
Anna held up the thick book with a smile. “It’s going to last me ages.”
His eyes twinkled in wry amusement. “I bet it is! You won’t have much time to yourself once you get going with whatever you’ll be involved in when we land. You watch out for the Quislings — they’re the most dangerous.”
She nodded. This was the name dubbed on Norwegian traitors who sided with the enemy. It had been taken from Vidkun Quisling, the leader of Norway’s small Nazi party, who had betrayed his country by welcoming the Germans.
“I’ll be on my guard, I promise you. Do you know, I hadn’t heard of the Shetland Bus until I came north.”
“We try to keep it secret in every way. That’s one of the reasons we all admire the Shetlanders. They can be trusted never to let anyone else know about it either.” He gave a deep chuckle. “But even they couldn’t have kept it from my mother. She guessed when I came home from my first trip. Nobody in the family can hide anything from her! She knew both my sisters-in-law were pregnant before they knew themselves! But none of the rest know about me, except my dad.”
“Do you ever see your parents?”
“Sometimes. I take my tobacco ration home for Dad — the home-dried substitute in Norway is foul! Mother gets coffee and whatever else I can bring. She can’t understand why tea is rationed in England and not coffee, but I told her the English drink tea all the time.”
Anna laughed, for his mirth was infectious. “That’s right.”
“More coffee now?” He picked up the pot.
“No thanks. That was a big cup.”
“It’s just as well. I’ll be serving an early supper soon. There’s a strong squall blowing up and when it’s really rough, it’s impossible to cook anything in the galley.”
As Harald went out, another man had been on th
e point of coming in and they spoke in passing. Anna did not recognise the newcomer at first, for his dripping sou’wester was pulled down and his oilskin collar stood up. But when he uncovered his head and ran his fingers quickly through his damp hair, she saw that it was Karl Kringstad.
“Hello, Anna Larsen,” he said casually, taking off his long oilskin to hang it up. He was like everybody else on board in wearing a kofte, his black and white, over a high-necked sweater. “I knew you were going to be on board.”
“So you’re the other passenger.” She was irritated that his original attitude towards her did not appear to have mellowed. “I suppose Lieutenant Howarth mentioned me.”
“Yes, but I had known already that you would be sailing with the Noreg.” He came to sit facing her on the other bench and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I was lucky to get here in time. My plane was delayed by fog at Aberdeen. But I’d have caught up with you later in Norway.”
He did not sound as if that would have given him any more pleasure than their present meeting.
“I don’t see how you can be so certain about that,” she declared with raised eyebrows. “I’m to follow initial instructions already laid out for me.”
“But I’m to see you through your first assignment.”
“Are you?” She was taken aback, unsure that this was news she wanted to hear.
He must have noticed the coolness of her response, for he gave a slight shake of his head in self-reproach and smiled slowly. “I owe you an apology. I can see that for some reason we didn’t get off on the right foot from the start and I’m sure whatever the fault it was mine. Believe me, I admire you for volunteering to come and it’s important for all of us in the Resistance to work well together.” He held out his hand. “Let’s start all over again.”
She put out her hand with some relief. He had not let down his guard entirely, but he had made an effort and she had the feeling that privately it had cost him a great deal. “That’s a good idea. I want to do my best and get along with everybody.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Their hands parted again just as a shudder passed through the whole boat as it hit a large wave. Anna adjusted her balance by gripping the edge of the table. “Harald, the cook, told me there would be a squall.”
“It’s not going to be the best of weathers for you.”
“I’ve never been ill on a boat yet,” she countered firmly. “Before the war my father took me out in some very rough seas when we went sailing together.”
“So you can handle a sailboat. Can you row too?”
“Yes. And read navigation instruments.”
“I doubt if that ability will be needed, but you may need to make use of a rowboat at some time.”
“What is our first assignment to be?”
He outlined it for her. The target to be sabotaged was a factory on the outskirts of Bergen and he intended that she should act as lookout, which would release one of the trio taking part to give an extra hand in carrying out the operation. Anna knew what would be expected of her from the training she had received.
“You’ll hear all the latest details when we get to a certain venue in Bergen,” he concluded.
“I used to sail home to England from Bergen after the summer holidays sometimes. I’m sure this assignment will go well, because I’ve always liked the old city.”
He smiled. “So have I.”
It struck her that it was the first time they seemed to have something in common. Maybe he felt it too, because he began to talk about first going there with his parents when he was a boy. Then he went on to tell her that his father had died a week before the invasion and his mother and sister, Kristina, still lived in the family home in Grefsen.
“Do they know you’re in the Resistance?” Anna asked.
He shook his head. “For their own safety I have to stay away from them. Once in Oslo I saw Kristina coming along Karl Johan gate and I turned away to buy a newspaper just in time.” He regarded her steadily. “I hope you realise the vital importance of keeping your distance from those whom you know.”
“It has been drummed into me.”
“That’s good.”
She sensed that he did not want to talk any more about himself and that perhaps he had opened up to her more than he had intended. “I heard a lot about Reichskommissar Terboven during my briefing in England. Have you ever seen him in Oslo?”
“Oh, yes.” There was an edge to his voice. “Do you know what he said of us as a nation when we failed to collaborate as expected? ‘If they won’t love us then they shall learn to fear us!’”
“What Nazi arrogance!”
“I agree with you.”
She gave him a quizzical look. “Good. We agree. That shows we’re getting on better already.”
He laughed. “I believe we are, although it would have been impossible to hold different opinions on that point.”
“May I ask you a question?” she asked, encouraged by his show of good humour. “In London Major Andersen introduced you as Captain Kringstad. How did you obtain your rank?”
“I had served five years in the army when the invasion came. After we’d fought on for eight weeks against it we were finally overrun and disbanded. I had thoughts of getting to England and becoming a fighter pilot. I already had a licence gained when the army gave me leave to take a flying course.”
His words caused her to remember Nils coming home to celebrate after he had gained his pilot’s licence and giving her a glance or two in the first stage of noticing that she was changing in looks and figure.
There was no more chance to talk then as Harald came in with a large dish of lapskaus, a thick meat and vegetable stew that Anna had not tasted since she was last in Norway. The men not needed on board followed in Harald’s wake, one bringing bowls and spoons, for it was the easiest way to eat with the increasingly sharp rise and fall of the boat. All ate heartily, including Anna. Afterwards the men left again to take over from Skipper Skansen and those who had yet to eat.
Before going to bed Anna went up on deck. The wind tore at her and she had to hold on tightly. The height of the waves astounded her. They bore down on the Noreg like black mountains, foam flicking angrily at the tips. But every time, just when it seemed that swamping was inevitable, the Noreg swept on through a valley of water in drenching spray. The squall had turned into a Force 10 gale.
“Get below! The Skipper’s orders!” someone in oilskins shouted at her, making himself heard above the noise of the wind and waves. “It’s not safe for you up here!”
Reluctantly Anna returned to the cabin. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearly midnight, but she was certain she would not sleep. Instead her eyes closed as soon as she lay down.
*
It was an enormous crash that awoke her two hours later, almost shooting her out of the bunk to the floor. She guessed immediately what had happened. A giant wave must have hit the Noreg beam on! In the same instant she realised that the throbbing of the engine had ceased.
She had not undressed except for her woollen jumper and shoes. Swiftly she made herself ready again. Sailing under her father’s guidance had long since taught her to remain calm in any emergency. Some life jackets were stored under the benches and she took one of them. She was seated on her bunk, tying it on, when the door burst open and there was a blast of cold, spray-damp air as Karl entered. He was quick to slam it shut after him, his wet oilskin glistening. She had sprung to her feet.
“What’s happening?”
“We’re having to ride out the storm,” he explained breathlessly. “In fact, the Skipper has no choice. The engine-room is flooded. That great wave broke through its door.” They both lurched as the vessel twisted course helplessly at an angry whim of the sea and he caught her by the shoulders to save her from falling. “I’m going back to give a hand on the pump now.”
“Is there anything I can do? I feel so helpless shut down here!”
He con
tinued to keep a tight hold on her and they staggered together. “Your time will come when we’ve landed. You’ll have plenty to do then.” Releasing her, he paused as he was about to go out again, glancing back fiercely at her. “Keep that life-jacket on.”
Left alone again Anna felt like a die in a box. She wanted to remain sitting, but slid about with every deep roll of the boat. Thunderous waves broke overhead and poured off again with such noise that it was as if everything on deck was going with it. Once she was hurled to the floor and skidded about on her back until she managed to get up again. This time she lay down on her bunk, which was only slightly more comfortable in that she was rolled about without falling out. She could guess how very much worse it was for the cold, soaked men pumping out the engine-room.
Her watch told her it was four in the morning when, to her immense relief, she heard the engine start up again. Karl came down into the cabin some time afterwards. He looked chilled and tired, fronds of wet hair showing under his sou’wester and trickles of water running down his face. Out of his pocket he brought some bread and cheese wrapped in spray-dampened paper. “This is all there is until later.”
“Thank you.” She took the food from him. “Is everybody all right?”
“Yes, they are.” He was reeling with the violent movement of the boat, but kept on his feet. “The fishermen say it’s not the worse storm they have experienced and they’re taking it all in their stride.”
She nodded in admiration of them. “What will happen about our arrival being delayed?”
“A watch will be kept for us on shore.”
“Is there any improvement in the weather?”
“Not that I can see. But, although the Skipper is continuing to hove-to, at least the engine is in order and operating the bilge pump again.”
The Fragile Hour Page 3