‘What the hell is she playing at?’ cried Steadfast, rather worried that he was about to lose control of a situation that he thought he had mastered.
‘I think I know, sir,’ said Torpedo Rating Doug Robinson.
‘And what would that be?’ asked Steadfast.
‘Well, sir, it was like this… You remember when you went up to the camp?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, Jerry was just dozing around on the beach so we took the liberty – it was still dark – we took the liberty of paying him a visit. We sneaked up in a dinghy. Got quite near we did. Then it was over the side and into the water. It only took a few minutes to loosen every nut and bolt we could find around the screws and the rudders.’
‘Did you now? By God! What a resourceful crew you’ve got Elliston! So that’s why they’re making such slow headway.’
‘So what now, sir?’
‘They’ve turned. That means they’ve given up on Crete. Let’s follow for now. With luck they’ll be begging for a tow in half an hour or so.’
*
Before the half-hour was up a small island appeared on the horizon. As the German boat led the way, Steadfast could see the landmass gradually taking form. It was perhaps only a couple of hundred yards from east to west and was not much more than a rough lump of rock sticking out of the sea. But at its eastern end the land rose to form a mound. On its top was a stone lighthouse with a small outbuilding attached on its western side. The tower had three storeys, topped by an old-style lantern room with its storm proof ventilators to let out the fumes from the light. Steadfast concluded that the lighthouse was no longer in use, but the buildings looked solid enough. At the foot of the outcrop on which the lighthouse stood was a small wooden jetty. The German boat limped the last few hundred yards and tied up.
‘Time to cut engines, Elliston,’ said Steadfast, ‘and take a look at what Jerry’s up to.’
Steadfast peered through his glasses. He could see the men disembarking and making their way up to the lighthouse. They seemed to all disappear inside, leaving not one man to guard their boat. He wondered whether this meant that they had given up on the boat and were waiting to be rescued. Had they taken that field radio with them when they fled the fire? Too late to worry about that now, he concluded.
By now Montague’s boat had joined them and the three commanders were sitting in the wheelhouse of Elliston’s boat. It was Steadfast who opened the discussion.
‘I reckon we’re wrong about Jerry wanting to exchange Leach for the boxes – not of course that we would give up the boxes – but he hasn’t made the least attempt to parley.’
‘Why not, sir?’ asked Montague.
‘Before I answer that, let’s call Jenkinson over.’
Jenkinson came over from Montague’s boat: ‘Jenkinson,’ said Steadfast, ‘have we really got the right boxes this time?’
‘No doubt about it, sir. Lots of new stuff inside that we haven’t got back home and quite genuine.’
‘Thank you, Jenkinson,’ replied Steadfast. ‘That settles it.’
‘Settles what?’ asked Elliston.
‘Our next move.’
‘Which is?’ asked Montague.
‘Attack.’
‘Attack!’ cried Montague. ‘Jerry’s holed up in a stone fortress that even the winter seas can’t demolish.’
‘And we shan’t demolish it either. We only want Leach, don’t forget. But that’s by the by. The point is that Jerry’s not coming out and not talking even though we’re sitting here with the boxes. That means only one thing…’
‘Really, sir?’ asked Montague.
‘Yes. It means they are relying on someone else to come and take the boxes from us. Look at their boat,’ he said as he waved towards the jetty, ‘not even a sentry to guard it. Why? Because they don’t need it anymore. They’re waiting for a rescue boat. So if they won’t offer Leach to us, we have no choice but to go in and get him.’
‘Sir,’ said Montague, ‘the way you talk anyone would think the boxes weren’t that important. Oughtn’t we to send one launch back to Alex now – with the boxes. Just in case, I mean?’
‘Don’t lecture me, Montague. I know when a commander has to sacrifice men in the greater interests of the war. Well this isn’t one of those moments. We’re not going without Leach. For a start, he’s the chief on this boat. We need him for the long crossing. And I’m not letting your boat go off with the boxes but without the protection of Elliston’s. If you were attacked you would need Elliston to draw the fire off you so you can get the boxes back to Alex. When we go, we all go together.’
‘I see, sir,’ said Montague, who was actually rather relieved to hear that Steadfast was going protect him on the hazardous run back to Alexandria.
‘Right, gentlemen. It’ll be a night attack this time. I suggest we scatter for now. Be 50 yards off the jetty at midnight.’
Steadfast left the men to themselves as he turned to fiddling with ropes and knots. Everything that Steadfast did had a purpose, but Duckworth was mystified by this latest activity.
*
As midnight neared, the two launches stole into the small cove with the abandoned German launch moored at the jetty. A dinghy was lowered silently into the water. Steadfast, Duckworth, Chapman and Jenkinson were rowed ashore with a plentiful supply of rope. Each man was armed with a Sten gun and a few grenades.
The party ignored the jetty and landed thirty metres away on the shingly beach. The white-painted lighthouse stood out clearly under a waning gibbous moon in a cloudless sky. From each of its windows came a low yellow glow from candles or weak oil lanterns. Conditions were perfect for Steadfast’s plan.
Chapman and Jenkinson crept over to the low building at the side of the lighthouse. There were no lights on and the door was half open. Cautiously they peeped inside. The smallish room was filled with old furniture, buckets, barrels and the detritus of the last occupation of the lighthouse. They reported back to Duckworth and Steadfast:
‘Leach’s not in there, sir.’
‘OK,’ said Steadfast, ‘the lighthouse it is.’
He walked around to the northern side of the lighthouse. He stood back a few yards, knelt down and reached into his backpack. He took out a line-throwing gun and gave a final tug on the knot that held the hook onto the rope. He took aim at the railing that ringed the gallery. He fired. The rope shot off way over the top of the gallery and rolled off the coving before rattling down the stonework as it fell to the ground. With his second rope he aimed lower. The hook caught. He gave a good tug. It seemed firm enough. He put on his backpack again and began to climb. He was about ten feet off the ground when he felt a sickening jolt as the rope detached itself. He fell and landed with a resounding thump as his back hit the stony ground. The force of the fall threw back his head, which struck something sharp. He could feel the warm blood trickling down his neck. The rope fell in a tangle on top of him. As he picked himself up and looked at the rope he saw that the hook had pulled off a piece of the flimsy lantern grill. Steadfast struggled up. His head was throbbing. His back felt as though he had been struck by a cricket bat yielded by a first-class player. He glanced at his Sten gun. Its barrel had buckled under his weight as he hit the ground.
Fighting off his bodily ordeal he took his third and last rocket from his backpack and fired once more. A healthy sounding clang suggested that this time he had hooked the gallery railing. Steadfast tugged. The rope held. He jumped in the air and grabbed the rope. It still held. He began his climb again. Suddenly the door of the lighthouse was flung open beneath him and a beam of light lit up the ground in front of the door. He froze. A soldier came out and looked around. He walked forward into the darker area, lit a torch and fanned it from side to side. Then he walked down to the jetty. All this time Steadfast was motionless above the soldier, his arms near to the limit of their endurance. The soldier returned, went back into the lighthouse and closed the door. Steadfast hauled himself up the last ten feet to
the gallery, grabbed the railing and pulled himself onto the walkway. He crumpled into an exhausted heap. His arms and chest muscles ached as if wild horses had tried to wrench them from his body. He was too far gone to think of hauling up the tell-tale rope.
*
It was some time before Steadfast had gathered his strength for his next move. He had thought about this carefully. The Germans had Leach and were not going to hand him over until they got what they wanted. So where would they put him? Clearly in the least-accessible place. That was the watch room, one floor down from the lantern room and gallery. Now came the moment to test his hypothesis. Just in case he was wrong, he unhooked a grenade from his bandolier and held it at the ready. Then he knocked on the trapdoor beneath his feet in a loud and insistent manner.
‘Ich komme! Ich komme!’ came an annoyed reply.
Steadfast could hear the German’s heavy boots on the ladder. The trapdoor was beginning to open. He steadied himself. What would it be – the barrel of a gun, or just a face? With a sudden push the German flung the trapdoor open. It banged down on the gallery floor. The head of an unarmed German soldier began to move up through the opening. With a kick worthy of an enraged horse Steadfast booted the German in the face. The soldier screamed and fell, clattering down the ladder before falling heavily onto the stone floor of the watch room. A tiny oil lantern was glowing on the watch room window sill, filling the empty space with a ghostly light. Its dim glow caught the whites of Leach’s eyes on the far side of the room.
‘Leach! Hurry!’ cried Steadfast.
‘Commander!’ muttered a confused Leach as he stirred with difficulty.
Steadfast slid down the ladder, keeping one eye on the German. He grabbed Leach by the armpits and dragged him to the foot of the ladder. Drugged, thought Steadfast. Despite the agony of the pain in his arms from the climb up, and the bruising on his back from the fall, Steadfast heaved and tugged Leach up the ladder. He used his very last ounce of energy to pull Leach clear of the trapdoor opening. The seaman now lay in a limp and almost lifeless heap on the gallery floor.
While Steadfast had been pushing himself beyond his limits to save Leach, the German soldier had come to his senses and begun to climb the ladder again. As he neared the top he grabbed one edge of the opening with his left-hand. Steadfast seized the lid and slammed it down on the German’s fingers. A stabbing cry of pain was followed by the noise of the German once more falling back down the ladder. Steadfast opened the trapdoor one last time and flung in a grenade. He slammed it shut and lay flat on the gallery floor as he waited for the blast. When he next looked round there was no sign of the door. Nor was there any movement in the watch room below.
It was time to go. Steadfast leant over the railing to haul up the rope. It seemed lighter than before. It was. A German soldier had leaned out of one of the windows and cut off the rope. It was now only ten feet long. Steadfast and Leach were stranded.
*
For a moment all was quiet. The lighthouse was lifeless. Nothing moved on the surrounding mound. Only the crashing of the waves broke the silence. Then the lighthouse door burst opened. Shouts of ‘Schnell!’ and other orders that Steadfast could not understand echoed off the tower. Several Germans rushed out, their boots clattering on the cobbled surface. Steadfast looked down over the gallery railings but could see little. The flashes of the silvery moon that reflected off the German helmets were the only indication of the enemy movements. They appeared to be randomly searching the lighthouse forecourt as if they had no idea what they were looking for. Then he heard a voice cry ‘Engländer!’ It came from a soldier caught in the beam of light from the open door. He was pointing to the gallery. Two or three other soldiers ran to join him. Now there were three or four silvery flashes below him. Instinctively Steadfast rushed round to the other side of the gallery.
A second or two later the night silence was broken by a torrent of automatic fire. Steadfast heard bullets pinging off the railings and the lamp superstructure. Then the sky above him was filled with the fragments of the Fresnel lenses as they exploded into thousands of particles. The firing ceased. Steadfast cowered under the tinkling rain of glass falling on him, the gallery and the cobbles below.
By now Steadfast was lying on the gallery floor. He gradually eased first one arm free and shook it to dislodge its covering of glass shards. Then the next arm. He grabbed the railings and slowly heaved himself up. Glass fell from his clothing as he cast off his snowman-like costume. He failed to notice that the shards had cut through his bandolier, which was now buried under the heap of broken lens. He turned to walk back over the thick layer of scrunching glass to where he had left Leach. One glance at his bullet-riddled corpse with the red blood oozing between the glistening pieces of lens was enough to know his fate.
Leach had not been his man – he was Elliston’s – but this did not diminish his anger. A loyal, steady man. Soon a telegram would be handed over in the East End to a wife who would have to tell her two children that they no longer had a father. And the girl who was waiting for him in Alexandria would now wait in vain. Deaths on the destroyers had been easier to accept. Up on the bridge the men below were less individual. An officer could keep his distance. In the cramped conditions of a launch or a lighthouse gallery the men became more like family.
Steadfast shook himself. He was supposed to be above this sentimental stuff. It was Virginia who had started him off. Before meeting her he had found it easy to say “war’s war” and just slog on. How much harder it was becoming now that feelings were entering in.
*
Steadfast was not usually lost for what to do, but now he was. There were only two ways down from the gallery: a suicidal leap over the side or down through the three floors of the tower. He would probably have to fight off half-a-dozen Germans. Even his confidence did not stretch that far. His only hope was for Duckworth, Chapman and Jenkinson to draw off the enemy. He decided to wait on the gallery.
*
His wait did not last long. No sooner had he heard boots shattering the glass on the watch room floor below him than a burst of fire shot up through the empty trapdoor hole.
‘Engländer, Hände hoch!’
The command to put his hands up was emphasised by another burst of fire from the ground. Steadfast reached for a grenade. They were gone. He glanced at the floor but the glass was so thick that there was no chance of spotting one in the feeble moonlight. Then came another burst of fire from the watch room below.
‘I’m coming!’ yelled Steadfast.
He walked to the trapdoor hole with his hands in the air.
Once down in the watch room two soldiers frisked him, taking away his pistol and a knife, while a third covered him. They took him below to the second level of the tower, padlocking the trapdoor to the watch room.
After a while Friedländer came in.
‘So, Commander, you are ours once again. What a lot of trouble you have given us! And for what?’
‘We’ve got the boxes. They’ll soon be in England.’
‘Yes, I have to admit that you made a good job of scaring off my men at the camp. If only I’d had some crack troops. Twenty five of them and so few of you! But this lot… well, you know how it is. Our best men are all on the Russian front now. These,’ he said as he waved his right arm in the direction of the guards, ‘are the ones who should have stayed at home. Still, I expect you’ve got the same problems.’
‘Expect away! No, we’ve got first class men. And the more trouble you Nazis cause, the more determined my men are to put an end to it all. Killing Leach won’t help you. What did he ever do to harm anyone? He left a wife and two children so that he could help liberate the countries that Hitler’s enslaved. That’s the kind of good, noble men I’ve got out in those boats, Friedländer.’
‘You never give in, do you, Commander? But we’ve got you now. It’s Crete tomorrow for you. Our launch will be here at daybreak.’
‘You’ll never get me off this lump of rock,
Friedländer. My men will see to that.’
‘Have it your own way, Commander,’ said Friedländer as he disappeared down the ladder to the ground floor.
*
Duckworth, Chapman and Jenkinson had been sheltering in the rocks down near the dinghy. When Duckworth saw the rope being cut he rightly concluded that Steadfast was not going to come down the way that he had gone up. After the shattering of the lenses it was also clear that the Germans had the upper hand. He turned to Jenkinson.
‘Do you reckon they’ve got Steadfast?’
‘Unless he’s a corpse up top there,’ replied his sergeant.
‘He’s a right one. Can’t keep out of trouble, that man.’
‘I reckon we ought to go, sir. If we sit here, Jerry will arrive in force and take back the boxes. And us!’
‘Leave? Without Steadfast?’ cried Duckworth. ‘Oh, no! Never! That man… never you mind. I’ve got my reasons. I don’t leave without him.’
‘Well I don’t see how we can leave with him. Are we meant to rush the tower? We haven’t a chance with Jerry protected by four feet thick stone.’
‘Too right. No chance at all. So we need some cunning. And who’s the man for that round here?’
‘Kouvakis, sir?’
‘Dead right. Get him off the boat.’
*
Duckworth’s plan relied on all the Germans retreating to the tower, which they now did. Their siege mentality was most convenient.
As Duckworth had rightly predicted, Kouvakis proved both nimble and brave. Jenkinson worked the second line-throwing pistol and Kouvakis was soon up on the gallery. As he climbed over the railings he stumbled on some obstruction. He looked down and saw the blue serge of Leach’s jumper. He felt a shudder of dismay. They were too late! Perhaps he would find Steadfast in the same state.
He had strict instructions from Duckworth to wait for the explosion before going into the tower. He crouched in the carpet of glass, keeping well away from the gaping hole where the trapdoor had been.
Enemy In Sight (A Commander Steadfast Naval Thriller) Page 12