Into Battle by Michael Gilbert

Author:Michael Gilbert
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: House of Stratus

Chapter Thirteen

It was three o’clock on a grey morning when the U-boat, going north, crossed the wide opening of Tralee Bay and nosed its way into the estuary of the Shannon River. The equinoctial gales of late March had spared the western coast of Ireland and expended most of their force on the North Sea. There was a light trough on the surface, which made the U-boat roll a little as it came closer to land, but that was all.

“Nach Steuerbord Kerry, Ed,” said the U-boat skipper.

The man who was standing beside him on the foredeck was wearing a British officer’s overcoat and – oddly enough, if there had been light enough for close inspection – what seemed to be a pair of fisherman’s waders. He turned his head slightly and said, “Ja. Und nach Backbord Loophead.” Then in perfect upper-class English, “I must congratulate you on such an excellent and accurate landfall.”

The captain evidently understood enough of this to know that it was a compliment. He smiled briefly and turned to the business at hand.

The hatch in the afterdeck was open, and an inflatable rubber dinghy was being coaxed out of it, lowered over the side and held steady, while a motorcycle was slid down into it and held in position by straps on the gunwale. This did not leave much room for the passenger who squeezed in behind it, further encumbered by a large knapsack he laid on top of the machine.

When he had settled himself into position he said, “As long as the tide holds, I shall not have to use my outboard motor. If I have to use it eventually, you will have had plenty of time to back out and submerge.”

The captain nodded. They shook hands. No more words were spoken.

For the first few minutes the passenger was using his night glasses to pick up the strip of sand he had seen once before, from above, when out shooting. When he had located it, he replaced the glasses in their case and bent to the oars. He needed them only to steer the dinghy, which was being carried forward steadily on the making tide.

There was an awkward moment when they grounded and the motorcycle, pulling against its straps, threatened to capsize the dinghy. But the passenger had thought out the necessary moves, and five minutes later the machine was unstrapped and beached. Then he turned his attention to the dinghy.

First, he detached the outboard motor. It was no great weight, and swinging it in a half circle, he hurled it out into deep water. Next, he selected half a dozen of the largest rocks he could handle and packed them carefully into the bottom of the dinghy. Then he opened the valve in its stern and allowed it to deflate slowly, controlling the speed by opening and shutting the valve. As it went down, he folded the collapsed sides inward, over the stones, finally fastening them down with the gunwale straps.

The dinghy was now no more than a large, weighted, rubber bag.

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