An Act of War (A Donald Cameron Naval Thriller) by Philip McCutchan

Author:Philip McCutchan [McCutchan, Philip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2014-11-24T23:00:00+00:00

9

Dr Field was re-admitted.

‘He’s quite comfortable,’ he reported. ‘Better off than he was in the boat, of course. Decent bunk, clean sheets. The trouble is, the Germans are being awkward about giving permission for Dart to go along. It seems there’s a Gestapo man aboard and he won’t have it.’

Dart overheard this, being all ears when it came to Lees-Rimington. He wanted desperately to help repair the damage he’d caused. He asked, ‘Why ever not, sir?’

The Surgeon Lieutenant shrugged. ‘Probably just being typical Nazis — bloody awkward! Anyway, they’ve put a man of their own on. A steward. I think he’ll behave properly. If he doesn’t, he’ll have Captain Schmidt after him. I got the impression Schmidt’s remorseful about the gunfire business, but he’s upset about his brother, whom he insists we killed. I suppose we did — I’m not excusing him, of course, but as an explanation it holds water. Anyway, I got him talking...he’s been ordered to rendezvous with another raider, the Talca, and transfer ammunition to her at sea before running for Brest. After the rendezvous he’ll be picking up an escort somewhere south-west of Finisterre.’

‘Anything else?’ Cameron asked.

‘No. That’s the lot that’s relevant. The rest was about his brother and what bastards we all are. That, and Heil Hitler. Watch out for Wolf, the Chief Officer. He’s a right dyed-in-the-wool Nazi, Party member and all that. I don’t think Schmidt is quite so dedicated, other than to Germany itself.’

‘You didn’t gather what his ETA is — when he expects to pick up his escort?’

Dr Field shook his head. ‘No. Do you know something? If this stink keeps up, I’m going to be bloody well seasick.’ He was looking green already. Cameron hoped he would manage to hold on to it; there wasn’t any room to move away in an emergency.

Many of the officers and men had watches on them, watches that still worked. But for these, they wouldn’t have known whether it was night or day — their prison opened on to an alleyway lit by electric light, and no clues were given when food was brought under an armed escort and the door was unclamped. They were fed virtually like dogs, in a number of dishes that had to be passed from hand to hand, and the food itself was of the vilest: sour black bread, largely mouldy, and soup that tasted like beans, with the odd potato floating in it. Water was provided sparingly in an enamel can from which each had to drink in turn, and the can was filthy. Some of the soup contained rat droppings. The first issue was supervised by a gaunt, dark man wearing a white shirt and trousers and with a Nazi armband on his left arm. This man, who turned out to be the Gestapo representative, called for the officer in charge when the meal was finished.

Cameron pushed his way through.

‘You are Lieutenant Cameron?’

‘Yes.’

‘There will be questions.’

‘I’ll not answer questions,’ Cameron said. ‘I’ve already said all I’m going to say, all I’m supposed to say.

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