Corporal Cotton's Little War by John Harris

Author:John Harris [Harris, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, General, War & Military
ISBN: 9780091362508
Publisher: Random House
Published: 1979-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

9

As they climbed the ridge, struggling with the box of heavy diving equipment, they all carried rifles except Bisset and Kitcat, who carried the two tommy-guns they now possessed. The day had become sultry and heavy with a watery, lemon-coloured sun pushing through a thin layer of cloud. The mud had dried and in the gulleys it was stifling enough to make them sweat.

It was no surprise, as they crossed the ridge and began to descend into Xiloparissia Bay, to see figures on the deck of Loukia. The girl recognized the red shirt of the man by the wheelhouse at once.

‘That’s Chrysostomos,’ she said.

They crossed the beach in the shallows as Annoula had shown them and stopped in front of the boat. Petrakis appeared from the wheelhouse.

‘What do you want?’ he demanded.

‘We’ve come to take over.’

Petrakis scowled. ‘It is our boat,’ he pointed out.

‘It belongs to the Royal Navy,’ Cotton said. ‘We’re going to salvage it.’

The Greek gestured. ‘The laws of salvage are well known; especially in Greece which is one of the great maritime nations of the world. It is our boat. We moored it to the trees.’

Cotton looked up at the Greek, unafraid and calm. ‘Salvage doesn’t apply to naval vessels in wartime. This is a naval vessel.’ He wasn’t sure he was right but it seemed like a good guess and he thought his bluff might work,

Xilouris and Cesarides appeared on deck. They were carrying rifles once more and Cotton noticed that, as before, they were Lee Enfields.

‘We are keeping this boat,’ Xilouris said. ‘The first man who tries to climb aboard will be shot.’

The three Greeks were standing on Loukia’s bows, staring down at the group on the beach, their backs to the trees. There was no question but that they held the whip-hand. They could hold off Cotton’s party as long as they chose.

Petrakis appeared to be well aware of his advantage and was grinning. ‘I think this time, Englishman, that you will have to concede defeat,’ he said.

‘I don’t think so.’ Cotton’s voice was infuriatingly cheerful. ‘Don’t look round now, but just behind you there are two tommy-guns and they’re both aimed at your backs.’

‘Sure are!’ The voice was Kitcat’s and it came from the trees.

Petrakis’ head turned slowly and Kitcat waved at him from the rocks among the foliage. The Greek’s face reddened with anger but he climbed sullenly over the side of the boat, followed by the other two, and dropped to the beach. As they straightened up, Petrakis stared at Annoula and spat. The spittle landed on her shoulder and, her face tragic, she brushed it off without a word. Then, as he passed, he swung his arm and she went reeling away, her black hair lifting like a dark wave, to fall to her knees in a scattering of sand. Cotton’s fist came up at once and Petrakis sprawled on his back alongside her. As Xilouris lifted his rifle, Docherty jammed the muzzle of his weapon under his nose.

‘Leave it, you bastard!’ he roared.

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