by M. J. Putney
While her mother was busy spinning lies, Polly took Tory up to her room. “You’re going to have to wear trousers to crew. You’re a bit smaller than I, so I’ll give you the boating outfit I’ve just about outgrown. The trousers were cut down from Nick’s castoffs.” She dug into her wardrobe. “Here’s a shirt, also Nick’s, and I’ll get one of the family guernseys.”
“What’s a guernsey?” Tory asked. “Something from Guernsey Island?”
Polly nodded. “A fisherman’s jumper. The design has been knitted by Guernsey islanders forever. Very comfortable and warm, and the wool is so tight it resists water.” She tossed a dark blue knitted garment to Tory. “Women knit variations in the patterns so they can identify drowned bodies.”
“Delightful.” Tory examined the garment. “I trust no one drowned in this one?”
“Not that I know of. Guernseys last so long they get handed down in families. We have half a dozen different sizes from small child to my father’s. I suppose Allarde will wear that one since it would be the best fit.” She handed the other garments to Tory. “I just outgrew the blue guernsey and have moved into an olive green one.”
“I’ve gone from wearing your clothes to wearing Nick’s. Is this progress?” Tory stripped off her skirt and blouse. “The guernsey smells like a sheep.”
“When it gets wet, you’ll smell like a sheep, too.” Polly knelt and groped under her bed. “I have a pair of old boat shoes that should fit if you wear thick socks. They’re badly scuffed, but the rubber soles have tread cut in so they don’t slip on wet decks.”
Tory donned the worn white shirt that must date to when Nick was a child. The cotton was wonderfully soft. Next came faded tan trousers, equally worn. As she belted up the loose waist, she said, “If my mother could see me now!”
“I suspect the countess would not approve.” Polly pulled on her own trousers. “My grandmother certainly doesn’t like seeing me dressed like a ‘scruffy little boy,’ which is how she describes my sailing clothes. But they’re so comfortable!”
Tory agreed. Comfort mattered if she was going to be wearing the same garments for a day or more. The dark blue guernsey hung halfway to her knees and should do a good job of protecting her from cold channel winds.
“You’ll need a hat to warm your head and hide your hair.” Polly briefly disappeared into the folds of the green guernsey as she pulled it over her head. Emerging, she said, “It’s probably best if we don’t look much like girls.”
“The gentlemen were horrified at the idea of us crewing on the boat,” Tory said as she sat on the floor to put on heavy socks and the boat shoes. “Not so much Nick, but Jack and Allarde.”
Polly pulled on her own shoes. “Nick would be just as protective if he didn’t need me to act as engineer and you to channel power back to the weather brigade. Have you ever crewed on a boat?”
Tory grinned. “Well—I’ve been a passenger on several sailing yachts.”
Polly’s mouth quirked up. “That’s what I suspected. But an extra pair of hands will be useful, and you’ll be busy with magic half the time.”
Tory braided her hair quickly and began securing the braids to her head with Polly’s clever modern hairpins. “Are you anxious about us going to Dunkirk?”
“Terrified,” Polly said bluntly. “But I’d never forgive myself if I did nothing and my father doesn’t … doesn’t make it home.”
“I know Nick is determined to find him, but … it may be harder to find a particular person than he thinks, even for a determined and talented finder,” Tory said hesitantly, torn between realism and not wanting to crush hope.
“I know it’s a very long shot,” Polly said soberly. “But I feel … I guess it’s superstition. I want to believe that if I help rescue other fathers and sons and brothers, there will be someone to rescue mine.”
“If everyone feels that way and pitches in to help, a lot more of those fathers and sons and brothers will be saved.” Tory stabbed in the last hairpin, hoping her braids would stay out of the way for as long as necessary. “Ready, honorary sister?”
“Ready.” Polly flashed a smile that made her look very like Nick. As they headed to the stairs, she asked, “Are you frightened?”
“I will be when this starts to feel real,” Tory said wryly. “Now it feels more like a really strange dream.”
Downstairs Tory paused in the door of the sitting room, where Cynthia and Elspeth were working the weather. “We’re off now. Wish us luck.”
Cynthia scowled at her. “Make sure you bring Allarde back in one piece.”
Tory hoped Cynthia wasn’t sensing disaster. “We should all be back safely in a day or so with no damage done and stories to tell. I hope no more really dreadful weather systems come through to tire you and Jack out.”
Elspeth rose from the sofa and came to give her a hug. “Be careful, Tory. There will be danger all around you.”
“As long as it’s around and not on top of us!” Tory hugged her friend back, adding under her breath, “I’m sure I can channel energy over distance, but I’m not so sure I can do it in a war zone. I’ll do my best.”
“I know.” Elspeth stepped back, not quite controlling her expression. “I think you need to be on that boat, though I’m not sure why. We’ll all do what we have to.”
Waiting in the kitchen were all the other sailors plus Mrs. Rainford and Jack, who would go down to the boat and help prepare it. As Polly had predicted, Nick and Allarde wore the same kind of rough, practical clothing as the girls.
Nick’s guernsey was brown, while Allarde’s gray version brought out of the color of his storm gray eyes, not to mention setting off his fine broad shoulders. He looked more like a pirate than an eligible young lord. An appallingly handsome pirate.
Polly tossed a jaunty red knitted hat to Tory. “Here’s a beret for you.” She pulled on a similar one knitted in green. “Time to go?”
“It’s not too late for you to change your minds,” Allarde said, speaking to both girls but with his grave gaze on Tory. “Nick says he and I can handle the Dream without any more help.”
“Nice try, Allarde,” Polly said cheerfully, “but it’s not going to work. You may know something about sailboats, but I know how to run the Dream’s engine, and I can pilot her as well as Nick. I’m more useful than you are.”
When Allarde arched his brows, Nick said, “You’re stronger, Allarde, but Polly’s right about knowing how to operate the Dream. She’s a good pilot and the best engineer in the family after my father.”
“You don’t know any more about mechanized boats than I do, Tory,” Allarde pointed out. “If you stay here, there’s that much more room for rescuing soldiers.”
“I don’t take up much space,” she retorted. “Accept that I’m going, Allarde. I promise that I’ll be useful.”
“If you’ve finished arguing, it’s time to go,” Mrs. Rainford said. “I’ve packed cheese and crackers and biscuits in this bag. Enough to keep you going for a few days.”
“Thank you, Mrs. R.” Allarde took the bulging canvas bag from her. “You’ve taken very good care of us.”
“If that were really true, I’d sink Annie’s Dream so you couldn’t join Operation Dynamo,” she said tartly as she headed out the door.
The battered Morris was crowded with six passengers. Mrs. Rainford got behind the wheel while Polly slid across the front seat and was sandwiched cozily between her mother and Nick. Tory guessed that the Rainfords wanted to be as close to one another as they could, which in a motorcar seat was rather close.
Allarde climbed into the back. Tory said, “Short people sit in the middle, I think.” She slid across the seat until they were touching shoulder to thigh. Jack sat on her other side, just as close.
Nick said, “That bag of food could go in the back, Allarde.”
“It’s a short ride so I’ll carry it,” Allarde said. “In case I get hungry.”
Jack laughed, but Tory found why Allarde wanted to ride with the b
ag spilling over his lap. Underneath it, his hand locked on hers as if he would never let her go. His warm, strong grip made her want to turn into his arms and seek shelter. But that wasn’t possible now.
She raised her gaze and again had the sense they were speaking without words. His “I want you safe,” met her “I care for you, and I will not be left behind,” and merged into mutual acceptance and tenderness. She turned her gaze forward again, but he was still a living presence within her.
All too soon they reached the harbor. Mrs. Rainford parked the Morris and they all piled out. The mournful cries of the gulls made Tory think of doomed spirits.
A white-haired man with a cane sat on a bench outside a weathered shed. His eyes sharpened when he saw them arrive. “Good day now, Mrs. Rainford, Nick. Planning on taking that nice little boat on a cruise to France?”
Nick grinned. “Hello, Mr. Dodge. How did you guess?”
“Who wouldn’t want to go? Look how empty the harbor is.” He waved his cane at the other piers, where only a handful of rowboats were moored. His face worked for a moment. “I have a grandson in your father’s company. I’d be off myself if I was able.”
“We’ll bring back some BEF troops just for you, and maybe Danny will be one of them.” Nick nodded to his companions. “Some friends are going to crew for me, but first we have to take off everything that isn’t necessary and get more fuel.”
Mr. Dodge fished a key from his pocket. “You can stash your bits and pieces in my shed here. There are cans of fuel you can take, too.”
“Thank you! That will save us some time.”
“Least I can do,” the old man said gruffly. His gnarled hands folded on the head of his cane. “There’s a rope ladder in there you might want to take. Could help men climb onto the boat.”
The Irregulars all piled on board. Though small, it was designed as a working boat with an engine room and small cabin belowdecks and a tiny wheelhouse to protect the pilot from the weather. Tory estimated that if they packed every available space above and below and in the skiff that could be pulled behind, they might be able to carry twenty-five to thirty men.
As the boys started removing everything that wasn’t needed, Polly and Tory cleaned out the galley, which was barely large enough for two small females. They kept tea, mugs, honey, and a kettle to heat water, which Tory could do without lighting a fire. Nick and Mrs. Rainford checked over everything on the boat that could be checked.
As they worked, onlookers gathered. One couple arrived bearing large, full water bottles. “Our boy came home to Folkestone two days ago,” the man said. “He told us the troops got powerful thirsty as they waited. They’ll want this when you pick ’em up.”
Another woman brought two bulging bags of hard candy, a third contributed a large canister of tea, a fourth offered a first aid kit and a large box of bandages, “just in case.” Two men pitched in to help load the heavy cans of fuel.
As the group enlarged, Mrs. Rainford muttered an oath under her breath. “The assistant headmistress of my school has just arrived. There goes my pretense of being ill.”
“You’re looking remarkably healthy for a woman with a streaming cold,” the salt-and-pepper-haired headmistress said with dry humor as she approached Mrs. Rainford. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to work at all, Anne. Do what you must, but we expect you back Monday after Tom comes home!”
Mrs. Rainford caught her friend’s hand gratefully. “I’ll be there, I promise.”
There was little left to say, so the final good-byes were more hugs than words. As Mrs. Rainford held Polly, she said fiercely, “Allarde, you had better be right!”
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “The Dream will be home soon, and you’ll all be telling stories about this day as long as you live.” He glanced at Tory, his eyes narrowed.
She scowled at him as she hugged Jack. “Do not even think of asking again if I’ll stay here. Someone needs to chaperone Polly.”
As Allarde smiled, Mr. Dodge said incredulously, “You’re taking these two little girls to Dunkirk?”
“We’re smaller targets,” Polly said jauntily as she prepared to cast off.
“Damnation!” Jack kicked at the weathered planking of the dock. “I wish I was coming with you!”
“What you’re doing is even more important,” Tory said softly.
Jack sighed. “I know you’re right. But I don’t have to like it.”
The old man quoted, “And gentlemen in England now abed / Shall think themselves accursed they were not here.”
“Shakespeare,” Mrs. Rainford said. “Henry the Fifth inspiring his troops before the battle of Agincourt.”
“England won then, and we will again,” Allarde said in a voice as compelling as Henry V’s must have been.
Polly had gone below and now the engine caught, the roar drowning out the gulls. They pulled away from the dock and Nick turned the little ship toward the channel. As the onlookers broke into applause, Mr. Dodge rose painfully to his feet and saluted.
Engine roaring and Union Jack flying, Annie’s Dream set off to war.
CHAPTER 34
Tory and Allarde joined Nick at the wheel as they cleared the breakwater and entered the choppier waters of the channel. “This is a little late to ask, Nick,” Allarde said with humor glinting in his eyes, “but are you sure you know how to run this thing?”
Nick laughed. “Mum would have burned the boat before we boarded if she didn’t know how well we can handle her. All three of us spent our summer holidays working on or around the Lackland fishing boats. I know these waters well and this boat even better. She may be small, but she’s stouthearted.”
Giving thanks she was a good sailor, Tory clutched the edge of the wheelhouse as the boat rolled. “Do we have a particular plan?”
Nick nodded, his eye on the horizon. “We’re going to head north to join the little ship convoy out of Ramsgate. There are Royal Navy officers on some of the boats, and they’ll know how to avoid sandbanks and minefields.”
“Minefields?” she asked, sure the answer wouldn’t be good.
“Bombs floating in the water to sink ships unlucky enough to run into them,” Nick explained.
“Wonderful,” she muttered. “I hope your finder talent is good at locating such things before we become too well acquainted.”
“I think it is.” Nick stepped aside. “Take the wheel, Tory. I’m going to teach you and Allarde the basics of holding the boat on course.”
Tory’s first reaction was panic. Her, steer this boat, which suddenly seemed much larger?
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, Tory,” Nick said. “The main thing to remember is that the wheel controls the rudder, so you have to turn the opposite direction from where you want to go. Once you get the feel of it, I’ll explain the compass.”
Reminding herself she couldn’t get into much trouble in open water, Tory started to relax. “It takes a lot of strength to keep the wheel straight! You make it look easy.”
“That’s because you’re just a wee bit of a thing,” he said teasingly. “I wouldn’t give you the wheel in a storm, but you should be able to steer in average conditions.”
When Nick was satisfied that Tory understood the basics, he said, “Your turn, Allarde. You said you’ve done some sailing?”
Allarde changed places with Tory and took the wheel. “I’d do much better driving a coach and four, but I’ve had some sailing experience.”
Tory decided it was time to go below to the engine room. Polly greeted her with a grin and a smudge of oil on her cheek. It was the happiest she’d looked since burning out her magic. “It feels good to be on the water again.” Polly patted the noisy, smelly engine. “I want to study engineering when I go to university.”
“Do many girls do that?” Tory asked with interest.
“Practically none.” Polly laughed mischievously. “That means I’ll be the only girl in most of my classes, and won’t that be fun!”
Tory jo
ined in. It was good to have something to laugh about.
* * *
The river of little ships sailing out of Ramsgate was impossible to miss. “I’ve never seen so many different kinds of boats,” Nick exclaimed as he turned the wheel, arcing the Dream toward the convoy.
Equally awed, Tory asked, “Could you name them all?”
“Most. Not all.” Nick shaded his eyes with one hand. “There are corvettes and minesweepers, and I think that’s a fireboat. From London, maybe. That might be a Dutch barge. Some of the ships are smaller than Annie’s Dream, too.”
He fell silent at they saw a naval destroyer heading back to England. Tory raised the binoculars and saw decks jammed so tightly with men that she wasn’t sure they could even turn around. Soon they’d be home, and the destroyer would return for another load. She sent a silent prayer for the ship’s safety.
Allarde said, “It must be about time for me to go on weather watch with Jack. Are you ready, Tory?”
“It will be interesting to see how well this works.” She took the steps down into the tiny cabin and sat on one of the padded benches that were also berths. The cabin was so narrow she could rest her feet on the opposite bench.
Allarde sat beside her and took her hand between both of his. “This part I like.”
“As do I.” She fluttered her lashes extravagantly. “I might need Polly to chaperone me.”
She was about to connect with his energy when she heard a distant rumble. The harsh, irregular sound caused her to freeze. “Do you hear that?”
His hands were still around hers. “Guns. From Dunkirk.”
They had to be loud to be heard over the boat’s engine. Telling herself to focus on the task at hand, she closed her eyes and tuned herself to Allarde. His energy was warm. Deep. Strong. Worried.
With Allarde connected, she reached out to Jack. Their minds touched and she felt his relief, though she wasn’t sure if it was because he’d doubted if they could work this way, or that he was just glad they were well.
She linked the flow of energy from Allarde to Jack, and felt the stress on Jack diminish. She had to stay as part of the link to keep it flowing, but she contributed little power of her own. Better to conserve it for … whatever might come.