The Silver Sword

by Ian Serraillier

  Working together, Edek and Jan assembled the second canoe according to the farmer’s directions. After a time, soiled and battered but recognizable, two canoes lay stretched out on the ground.

  ‘Of course we’ll have to try them out,’ said the farmer, ‘and it’s advisable to leave that till after dark.’

  ‘What about the paddles?’ said Edek.

  A second visit to the attic produced three double paddles, one of them snapped in two, another with a broken blade. The farmer saw to the carpentry, having packed the family off to a meal and bed. They must get a few hours’ rest, for the plan would not work unless they were away in the small hours of the morning while it was still dark. There were many other things that could go wrong. Parts of the river were highly dangerous. Was any watch kept upon it where it ran past the village? Much luck and not a little skill would be needed for the venture to succeed. But it was their only chance.

  It took him till dark to repair the paddles and the cracked floor-boards. Of the four buoyancy balloons (one for each end) three were punctured and the fourth had perished. There was no time to get hold of new ones, so the three had to be patched.

  The moon had not yet risen when, with tractor and trailer, he carried the canoes down to the river to try them out. The larger one was all right, but the single-seater leaked in several places. The top skin of waterproof linen seemed sound enough. It was the under skin of rubberized cloth which needed attention. All he had to help him was some talc, and, working by torchlight, he made the best job of it he could.

  Soon after three a.m. four sleepy-eyed youngsters were bundled into the trailer and driven over the bumpy track down to the river. Frau Wolff sat with them.

  ‘I found the waterproofs which go with the canoes and I’ve mended them for you,’ she told them. ‘Mind you fit them tightly round the splashboards, or you’ll get swamped. And I’ve packed you up some food as well.’

  ‘Go easy with the food, dear,’ shouted the farmer, above the noisy splutter of the tractor. ‘We don’t want to sink them.’

  Reaching the river, he shut off the engine. Under the dark trees they could see the river only dimly, but the gentle rushing sound of the water was music in their ears. On, on to the Danube. On to Switzerland, it sang.

  ‘Say goodbye to Ludwig for me,’ said Jan. ‘I shall miss him dreadfully.’

  ‘Ludwig’s in the wood somewhere. I heard him bark,’ said Bronia.

  ‘Ludwig’s asleep in his basket at home,’ said Frau Wolff.

  ‘Listen, all of you,’ said the farmer. ‘Your safety depends on your not making any stupid mistakes. Edek and Jan – you’d better have the two-seater. We’ll stow the luggage with you. Put on these waterproofs – the elastic grips round your faces and wrists and round the splashboard. They’ll keep the water out of the canoe. Ruth and Bronia – you’ll both have to fit into one waterproof as best you can. Keep the waistband tight round the splashboard.’

  When they were all aboard and the little luggage they had was safely stowed, he gave them final instructions. ‘It’s only fifty kilometres to the Danube, so you’ve not far to go. Keep to mid-stream where you can – the river’s fastest there. There’s no need to paddle much, except in the broken water where there are rocks. For the rest, just keep the canoes headed straight and the current will do all the work. If you get into difficulties, draw in to the side. The water’s sluggish there and quite shallow. Remember – not a sound as you pass the village. There’s no moon now and you shouldn’t be seen. But if there’s any firing, lie as flat as you can. Goodbye, and good luck to you.’

  ‘God bless you, my dears,’ said Frau Wolff.

  ‘We can never thank you enough for all you’ve done for us,’ said Ruth.

  ‘I’ll paint a picture of the farm, with both of you in it – and I’ll remember you for ever,’ said Bronia.

  The two boys waved their paddles.

  The farmer gave each bow a gentle push. Ruth, tightly squeezed with Bronia inside the ash-wood rim of the single-seater, drove hard in with her paddle and headed for mid-stream, with Edek and Jan close behind. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw the two pale figures under the trees waving silently – silently and, she thought, rather sadly. The darkness quickly swallowed them.

  ‘It’s lovely and warm in here – like being in a nest,’ said Bronia. ‘I’m so glad I’m in your boat, Ruth. I bet the others are envious.’

  They were in the grip of the current now, floating gently and steadily downstream. Edek and Jan were a length behind. She could hear the splash of their paddles in the water and Jan’s voice calling. Had something gone wrong?

  She backed water till they drew alongside.

  ‘Don’t shout, Jan,’ she said.

  ‘We’re down at the bows. There’s something very heavy inside, Ruth,’ said Jan.

  ‘Pass the stuff back to me. There’s room astern,’ said Edek.

  Jan lifted the waist of his waterproof clear of the rim and reached underneath.

  ‘Ow! It’s wriggling – it’s alive – and wet!’ said Jan. ‘Perhaps a fish has come up through the bottom,’ said Bronia, much alarmed.

  But Jan had guessed already what was hiding there. The wet thing was a nose. The stowaway was Ludwig. He thrust up eagerly for air, licking Jan’s fingers and wriggling with delight at the success of his plans. As for Jan, even if this unexpected passenger meant shipwreck, he could not have been better pleased.

  23

  Dangerous Waters

  THE CURRENT WAS swift. In the darkness the great wooded hills swept by. For a moment the moon peeped from a cloud and turned the rippling surface of the stream to silver.

  ‘Stay away, moon,’ Ruth muttered. ‘Don’t come out again till we’ve passed the village.’

  Side by side, the two canoes sped on.

  On the left bank the line of the hills curved downwards. Were those dim shapes houses? Had they reached the village?

  Again the moon appeared. It had chosen quite the wrong moment, for this was indeed the village, with houses crowded about both banks, and on the left bank suddenly an open space with lorries in it. They were so close together that they were almost touching, and there were several rows of them. These must be the lorries that were to take the Polish refugees back to Poland. With a tightening of fear in her throat, Ruth realized that if they were spotted now, they would be taken back too.

  ‘Look out for the bridge,’ said Edek.

  He and Jan shot ahead, aiming for the centre of the three arches. Edging away from the square, Ruth paddled towards the right-hand arch.

  Edek’s canoe shot under the arch and disappeared into the shadows. Too far to the right, Ruth got caught in sluggish water. She drifted broadside on to the base of the arch.

  The water was noisy and Ruth did not hear the footsteps on the bridge. But she saw a man’s shadow on the water and it was moving. She paddled frantically to get free.

  ‘The water’s coming in. I can feel it damp under me,’ said Bronia.

  A man shouted, and his shadow leaned far out over the water.

  The canoe was still across the base of the arch, with the water thrusting against each end, threatening to break its back. She jabbed hard with the paddle and managed to ease it a little.

  The man was right overhead, shouting and waving, but she could not understand what he was saying. In the distance a dog was barking.

  A pair of legs dangled over the parapet and scraped against the stone. An American soldier.

  With a last effort she thrust at the stonework, and the canoe broke free. But the soldier had clambered down and jumped into the water where it was shallow at the side. He caught at the paddle and clung on.

  Ruth tugged, twisted, then let go of it, and the canoe swung sideways into the shadows under the arch. The soldier, not expecting her to let go, toppled over backwards and fell with a splash into the river.

  As the canoe shot out beyond the bridge, Ruth realized that she was at the mercy of the current. B
ronia had no paddle and could not help.

  Two or three shots from the bridge whizzed past her cheek, and she pushed Bronia’s head down against the canvas. She peered ahead to see if she could see anything of the other canoe.

  Then the moon went behind a cloud, and the darkness hid her.

  There were no more shots now, but she felt helpless as the current drove them wherever it chose. On and on they sped, the water foaming against the bows, spitting and bubbling against the canvas.

  ‘I’m sitting in the river,’ said Bronia.

  But Ruth took no notice. ‘Edek! Jan!’ she shouted.

  As they rounded a bend, they were thrust towards the right bank. The river was quieter here, and soon they felt the bottom of the canoe scrape over pebbles and slow them to a halt.

  Ruth put her hand over the side and down into the water and tried to shove them off. But they were stuck. There was a pale light in the sky now, and the rim of the hills stood out dark against it. It was still too dark to see much, but she could make out rocks in the water, rounded like hippos’ backs.

  ‘We’ll have to get out and push,’ she said.

  They stepped into the water, which was little more than ankle-deep, and at once the canoe floated. With the painter in her hand and Bronia beside her, she drew it gently along till they came to a large V-shaped rock that seemed to project from the bank. She pulled the canoe high and dry on to a shoal of pebbles, then lifted Bronia on to the rock.

  ‘We must wait here till daylight,’ she said.

  And they sat there shivering and clinging to each other till the shadows brightened and they could see the whole sweep of the river, white and broken in the middle, rock-strewn and shallow at either side, with the wood-muffled hills hemming it in, and not a soul in sight. No sign of Edek and Jan. They could not have felt lonelier.

  Then Bronia saw something which gave them hope. Down in the water, near the point of the V-shaped rock, was a stick that looked as if it might serve as a paddle. She climbed down to get it and found it was the very paddle they had lost. This was luck indeed.

  They turned the canoe over and poured the water out. Then, with new confidence, they launched it again. Stepping aboard, they headed for mid-stream. And the current caught them and carried them on towards the rapids.

  The river grew faster, and the bank flashed past. Soon they were in a kind of gorge, where the river squeezed past great boulders, some of them as high as houses. Some of the swells were over a foot high, and the spray dashed over the bow and stung their faces. The water roared here so that even the loudest shout could not be heard. Out to the left there were huge oily surges that looked as if they would pound you down into the depths if you got caught in them.

  Bronia closed her eyes and clung to her sister’s waist. Ruth was not as scared as she had expected to be. With a triumphant sense of exhilaration she flashed in with her paddle, heading always for the open stream, away from the white broken water where the rocks lay hidden. Now and then a boulder loomed up, and she knew that if they struck it they would be dashed to pieces. But a quick dip of the paddle at the right moment was enough to shoot them safely past.

  In no time the river broadened, the boulders eased, and the banks were wooded again. The terrors of the rapids were over. Ruth hoped that Edek and Jan, whose two-seater was much less easy to manoeuvre, had been as successful as they had.

  There seemed no need for the paddle now, for the water was clear of rocks and the current smooth and swift. They could lie back and let the canoe take care of itself.

  Bronia closed her eyes and fell asleep. Ruth lay back and watched the blue sky overhead and the climbing sun. It was to be another scorching day, and she too became sleepy and dozed.

  A grating, tearing sound brought her to her senses, and she woke to find herself thigh-deep in water. The canoe had grounded on a shoal and a sharp stone had ripped the canvas underneath. She looked about her. The river was very broad here, and they were near the right bank, where it was shallow and easy to wade ashore. So they stepped out and scraped the waterlogged craft over the pebbles to the bank and hauled it ashore.

  ‘The tear’s too long to mend,’ said Ruth. ‘We shall have to leave the canoe and walk. It can’t be far to the Danube now.’

  They found a path which threaded its way through the trees on the bank, and they followed it to the last big bend before the river joined the Danube at Falkenburg. There were no woods here, only green fields, a dusty country road, and a gently sloping bank that reached far out into the river.

  Ruth made for the bank, for she thought it would give her a good view of the river in both directions and some chance of seeing Edek and Jan. Except for a couple of unfinished haystacks, the bank was deserted. She did not know that two sentries had posted themselves here for most of the morning, on the look-out for their canoe. Weary with waiting, they had climbed to the top of one of the haystacks and taken it in turns to go to sleep.

  The first she knew of their presence was when a half-eaten apple struck her on the shoulder. Then there was a bark, and Ludwig was licking her ankles.

  ‘Where have you been all this time? We thought you must have come to grief in the rapids,’ said Jan, who was standing on top of the stack. He gave the sleeping Edek a shove, and the boy landed – with hay sticking out of his hair and his shirt, right at Bronia’s feet.

  It was a merry meeting.

  ‘We came to grief too,’ said Edek, ‘same way as you did, but we travelled farther before we went aground.’

  Not a hundred yards away a convoy of American lorries swept up the road in a pother of dust. They were crammed with refugees, most of them Poles and all grimly silent. But the children were so busy talking and laughing over their experiences that they did not even notice.

  24

  Missing

  THEY WALKED INTO Falkenburg, crossed the Danube then got a lorry lift for some miles along the road to Switzerland. After this, more walking.

  Three days later, tired and joyful, they camped by the roadside.

  ‘Only eighty more miles to Lake Constance,’ said Ruth gaily, as she looked for a patch of rough dry grass for Bronia to lie on.

  ‘Is Lake Constance in Switzerland?’ said Bronia sleepily.

  ‘Switzerland is on the far shore of the lake,’ said Ruth. ‘Lie down here, Bronia. The grass is nice and thick.’

  ‘Will Mother be waiting for us on the shore?’ said Bronia.

  ‘Perhaps she will,’ said Ruth. And in the dim light nobody noticed that her eyes were wet with tears.

  Jan’s treasure box was one of the few things which they had salvaged from the wrecked canoes. He had been too busy to think about it, but tonight he decided to open it to make sure that all his treasures were safe. With Ludwig’s nose in his lap, he took the lid off and counted them one by one. Suddenly he leapt to his feet.

  ‘The sword’s missing,’ he said. ‘Someone’s stolen it.’

  ‘Nobody would do that,’ said Ruth. ‘Let me have a look.’

  She checked through the box, but the sword wasn’t there. Thinking carefully back to the last time she had seen it, she said, ‘You showed it to Mr and Mrs Wolff, Jan, and put it on the mantelpiece beside Rudolf’s photo. Did you leave it there?’

  For a moment Jan stopped his raging, then grunted, ‘Yes,’ and ran off to the roadside.

  Ruth said no more. Bronia lay curled in the grass with a blanket over her, already half asleep. Ruth gave her attention to Edek. Since the river adventure he had been coughing more than ever, and had complained more than once that the pain in his chest was getting worse. She was shocked to see how ill and haggard he looked. In her knapsack she had a jersey that Mrs Wolff had given her. She made him put it on and lie down in his blanket.

  Soon he stopped coughing and lay still. ‘Where’s Jan gone?’ he asked.

  Ruth looked up. It was almost dark now, and Jan was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Ludwig. She stood up and called him. From way up the road a voice called back,
‘I’m going back for the sword.’

  ‘The silly little idiot,’ Ruth exploded, and she ran off after him.

  A few minutes later she brought him back. She ticked him off roundly, pointing out that the Wolffs were honest folk and would look after the sword until it was sent for.

  Sullen, resentful, plunged in gloom, he said nothing at first. But when Ruth lay down to sleep, he muttered, ‘I’m going back all the same.’

  ‘Light a fire for us, Jan,’ said Ruth. ‘Edek’s not well and it will help him to sleep.’ It was a warm night and they did not need a fire. But she felt sure that Jan would not leave them once he put his mind to something practical. Nevertheless, when the fire was burning and the other three were sleeping, she forced herself to keep awake just in case.

  At midnight the fire had died down to a red glow.

  She was still awake. Out of the darkness and the stillness a voice spoke, or rather gasped, her name.

  ‘Edek! I thought you were asleep,’ she said.

  ‘I can’t sleep. The pain’s too bad,’ said Edek. ‘I can’t – go on – any farther.’

  ‘You’ll feel better in the morning,’ said Ruth.

  ‘Can’t walk any more,’ said Edek.

  ‘We’ll get a lift. It’s only eighty miles.’

  ‘There’s no traffic going that way,’ said Edek.

  She talked to him quietly for a while, and, after a further bout of coughing, he dropped off to sleep. But anxiety for him kept her awake. A change had come over him during the last twenty-four hours. If they did not reach Switzerland soon, he might not live.

  The hours crept on, and still she did not sleep.

  Once more out of the stillness a voice called her name. This time it was Jan.

  ‘Ruth, may I have Edek’s shoes when he dies?’ he said.

  ‘He’s not going to die,’ said Ruth, forcing herself to speak calmly.