Blackout. Part 31

"We thought you were a goner," Jonathan said. "It took ages ages to find you. And when we did, you were floating face-down with your arms out, just like that body we saw. We thought-" to find you. And when we did, you were floating face-down with your arms out, just like that body we saw. We thought-"

He looked up, and so did Mike. The sky overhead blossomed with flares, shedding greenish-white sparks as they fell.

"For what we are about to receive..." one of the soldiers muttered.

"We've got to get out of here!" Mike said, getting up to go help the Commander guide the boat out of the harbor and then sitting shakily back down. "Go navigate! We've got to get out of here before they come back."

"I think we're too late," Jonathan said, and Mike looked frightenedly up at the sky, but Jonathan was pointing out across the water. "They've seen us."

"Who?" Mike staggered over to the railing and looked at the mole, where soldiers were running toward them, wading, swimming out to the Lady Jane Lady Jane through the green-lit water. Hundreds of them, thousands of them. through the green-lit water. Hundreds of them, thousands of them. Because I blacked out and they had to waste time rescuing me Because I blacked out and they had to waste time rescuing me, Mike thought. "Go tell your grandfather to cast off," he shouted. "Now!"

"And just leave leave them?" Jonathan asked, his eyes wide. them?" Jonathan asked, his eyes wide.

"Yes. We don't have any other choice. They'll swamp the boat. Go!" Mike shouted and gave him a push, then staggered back to the stern, hanging on to the rail for support, to pull up the rope they'd let down to him.

But it was too late. The soldiers were already climbing up it hand over hand, grabbing for the sides, clambering over the rail. "You'll swamp her!" Mike shouted, trying to untie the rope, but they weren't listening to him, they were swarming aboard like pirates, scrambling over each other, jumping down onto the deck.

"Move to the other side!" Mike shouted, clinging to the rail. He was still too wobbly to stand. "You'll tip her over!" He shoved at them, trying to move them forward into the bow, but no one was listening.

The deck began to slant. "Listen! Move-"

"Duck!" somebody yelled, and the men flattened themselves against the deck. The first bomb hit close enough to spray water all over them, and the second just as close on the other side. The hordes of soldiers still on the mole ran back along it, and the ones in the water began to swim back toward sh.o.r.e.

A few were still swimming out to them, still climbing aboard, but the bombs provided intervals, and the threat of strafing made it possible to convince some of the soldiers to go below. "s.p.a.ce yourselves in the hold," Mike told them, working his way along the rail. "Not all on one side. And no moving around. Sit down and stay put."

"Stop sending them forward!" Jonathan shouted back to him over the crowd. "There's no room up here!"

"There's no room back here either!" Mike yelled. "Tell the Commander to get out of here before we take on any more." The launch was already riding perilously low in the water, and G.o.d knew how much water was in the hold by now. He could hear the bilge pump wheezing even over the sound of the engine. He should go below and make sure it didn't break down under the strain, but the soldiers were packed in too tightly to let him get through, or even away from the rail. Maybe that was why they weren't moving, because the Commander couldn't get to the wheel.

Someone grabbed at the neck of his shirt, yanking him back against the rail, and then clutched at his shoulder, using Mike to haul himself up over the side. It was a very young, very freckled soldier. "Just made it," he said. "I was afraid you were going to leave without me. I say, it's a bit crowded, isn't it? We won't sink, will we?"

We will if we don't get out of here now, Mike thought, looking toward the bow. now, Mike thought, looking toward the bow. Come Come on, and the on, and the Lady Jane Lady Jane finally, finally began to move, backing out from the now-burning mole. There was a whoosh and a scream, and a bomb crashed down where they'd been moments before, spraying water over the bow. finally, finally began to move, backing out from the now-burning mole. There was a whoosh and a scream, and a bomb crashed down where they'd been moments before, spraying water over the bow.

"We made it," the freckled soldier said jubilantly.

If we can make it out of the harbor, Mike thought, and the Commander can find his way back to England. And the engine doesn't break down and the Commander can find his way back to England. And the engine doesn't break down. Or they didn't run into something.

He should be up in the bow, serving as lookout. "Coming through," he shouted, and tried to push his way forward, but he wasn't going anywhere-the soldiers were packed in too tightly-and as soon as he let go of the railing, the shakiness came back. It's reaction It's reaction, he thought, grabbing for it again.

And relief. It was the force of the bomb that had knocked the body free, that had unfouled the propeller, not his attempts, and it was obvious the soldiers would have gotten on board with or without him. So I don't have to worry about having affected the outcome of Dunkirk So I don't have to worry about having affected the outcome of Dunkirk.

"I didn't think anyone was going to come for us," the freckled soldier said. "Except the Germans. We could hear their artillery, there on the beach. They'll be here by morning." He looked anxiously at Mike. "Seasick, mate?"

Mike shook his head.

"I always get seasick," the soldier said cheerfully. "I hate boats. My name's Hardy. Private First Cla.s.s, Royal Engineers. Bit crowded, isn't it?"

That was an understatement. They were crammed in as tightly as the pilchards in that can the Commander had made his stew with.

And I don't have to worry about having taken up anyone else's s.p.a.ce on board, Mike thought. He wasn't taking up any s.p.a.ce at all. They were so wedged in the other soldiers were holding him up. Which was a good thing. Without them and the rail, his legs would have buckled under him.

I should have eaten that stew when I had the chance, he thought. And hung on to that blanket And hung on to that blanket. He'd lost it somewhere, trying to work his way forward, and his wet clothes were icy against his skin. He couldn't even feel his feet, they were so cold.

But the soldiers were even worse off. Many were shirtless and one was dressed only in boxer shorts and, of all things, a gas mask. He had a gash on the side of his head. Blood was dripping down his cheek and into his mouth, but he seemed oblivious. He doesn't even know he's injured He doesn't even know he's injured, Mike thought.

"How far is it?" Private Hardy asked at his ear. "Across the Channel?"

"Twenty miles," Mike said.

"I was afraid I was going to have to swim for it."

They were out of the harbor and into open sea. Mike could tell by how much colder the wind had gotten. He began to shiver. He tried to hug his chest, but his arms were wedged tightly to his sides. He wished fervently he still had that blanket and that Hardy would shut up. Unlike the other soldiers, his relief at being rescued had taken the form of talking compulsively. "Our sergeant told us to head for the beaches," he said, "that there'd be ships to take us off, but when we got there, there wasn't a ship in sight. 'We're for it now, Sergeant,' I told him. 'They've left us behind.'"

The Lady Jane Lady Jane continued to plow through the darkness. continued to plow through the darkness. We've got to be at least halfway across We've got to be at least halfway across, Mike thought, and it's got to be daylight soon and it's got to be daylight soon. He tried to free his arm to look at his Bulova and then remembered he'd left it up in the bow along with his coat and shoes.

The sea grew rougher, and it began to rain. Mike hunched his shoulders against it, shivering. Hardy didn't even notice. "You've no idea how it feels to sit and wait for days, not knowing if anyone's coming for you or if they'll be in time, not even knowing if anyone knows you're there."

The night-and Hardy's voice-went on and on. The wind picked up, blowing the rain and the spray right into their faces, but Mike barely felt it. He was too exhausted to hold on to the railing, even held up as he was by the ma.s.s of soldiers.

"Our sergeant tried to send a Morse signal with his pocket torch, but Conyers said it was no use, that Hitler'd already invaded and there was no one to to come. That was the worst, sitting there thinking England might not be there any longer. Oh, I say, look, it's getting light out." come. That was the worst, sitting there thinking England might not be there any longer. Oh, I say, look, it's getting light out."

It was. The sky lightened to charcoal and then to gray. "Now we'll be able to see where we are," Hardy said.

So will the Germans, Mike thought, but there was no one else on the wide expanse of slate gray water. He scanned the waves, looking for a periscope, for the wake of a torpedo.

"It was odd," Hardy droned on. "I could bear the thought of being captured, or killed, so long as England was still there, but-I say, look!" He unwedged his hand to point at a smudge of lighter gray against the gray horizon. "Aren't those the White Cliffs of Dover?"

They were. I'll finally be where I've been trying to get for days I'll finally be where I've been trying to get for days, Mike thought. Talk about taking the long way around. But at least now I know where the small craft docked Talk about taking the long way around. But at least now I know where the small craft docked. And he wouldn't have any trouble getting access to them. Or to the men coming back from Dunkirk. It had just never occurred to him he'd be one of them.

They were pulling into the harbor, maneuvering their way through the maze of boats arriving, loading, setting out. "Dear old England," Hardy said. "I never thought I'd see her again. And I wouldn't have if it weren't for you."

"For me?" Mike said.

"And your boat. I'd completely given up hope when I saw your signal light."

Mike jerked his head around sharply. "Signal light?"

Hardy nodded. "I saw it weaving about out there on the water, and I thought, that's a boat."

The flashlight I made Jonathan shine on the propeller, Mike thought. He saw the light from it when Jonathan was searching for me in the water He saw the light from it when Jonathan was searching for me in the water.

"If I hadn't seen it, I'd still be back on that beach with those Stukas. It saved my life."

I saved his life, Mike thought sickly as the Commander guided the Lady Jane Lady Jane in toward the wharf. in toward the wharf. He wasn't supposed to have been rescued He wasn't supposed to have been rescued.

"We have injured aboard," the Commander shouted to the sailor tying them up to the dock.

"Yes, sir," the sailor said and took off down the wharf. Jonathan rigged a gangway. The soldiers began stumbling off the boat.

"Do you happen to know how one goes about finding one's unit?" Hardy asked. "I wonder where I'll be sent next."

North Africa, Mike thought, but you aren't supposed to be there. You were supposed to have been killed on that beach. Or captured by the Germans but you aren't supposed to be there. You were supposed to have been killed on that beach. Or captured by the Germans.

The sailor was back, leading orderlies with stretchers and an officer who knelt as soon as he was on deck and began bandaging a soldier's leg.

"Fetch us some petrol," the Commander said to the sailor. "We're heading back to Dunkirk as soon as we get this lot unloaded."

"No," Mike said, starting toward him. He swayed and nearly fell. Hardy grabbed him to steady him and helped him over to the locker to sit down. "I'll fetch the captain," he said, but the Commander was already heading toward him.

"I can't go back to Dunkirk," Mike said to him. "You've got to take me to Saltram-on-Sea."

"You're not going anywhere, lad," the Commander said. He turned and called, "Lieutenant! Over here."

"You don't understand," Mike said. "I've got to get back to Oxford and tell them what's happened. He wasn't supposed to make it back. He saw the light."

"There, now, Kansas," the Commander said, putting his hand around Mike's shoulder. "Don't go upsetting yourself. Lieutenant!" Lieutenant!" he bellowed, and the officer who'd been tending the wounded stood up and started toward them. he bellowed, and the officer who'd been tending the wounded stood up and started toward them.

"You don't understand," understand," Mike pleaded. "I may have altered events. I've got to warn them. Dunkirk's a divergence point. I may have done something that'll make you lose the war," but they weren't listening. They were all looking down at the deck, at the b.l.o.o.d.y mess that had been his right foot. Mike pleaded. "I may have altered events. I've got to warn them. Dunkirk's a divergence point. I may have done something that'll make you lose the war," but they weren't listening. They were all looking down at the deck, at the b.l.o.o.d.y mess that had been his right foot.

He hath fenced up my way that I cannot pa.s.s, and He hath set darkness in my paths.-JOB 19:8

London-20 September 1940

IT CAN'T HAVE BEEN HIT, POLLY THOUGHT, LOOKING STUPIDLY across the expanse of rubble at the exposed drop. Mr. Dunworthy would never have approved the drop if it had been. And Badri had said he'd insisted they find a site that had been untouched during the entire Blitz, not only during her six weeks. across the expanse of rubble at the exposed drop. Mr. Dunworthy would never have approved the drop if it had been. And Badri had said he'd insisted they find a site that had been untouched during the entire Blitz, not only during her six weeks.

But it wasn't hit, she realized. Only the buildings on the other side of the alley were, and they would have had Lampden Road addresses. Badri and his techs must only have checked the buildings on the pa.s.sage's side of the alley, and it hadn't occurred to them that one side of an alley could be damaged and the other side untouched. They didn't know how erratic blast patterns could be. The pa.s.sage-at least as far down it as she could see in the fog-looked undisturbed, and the rickety staircase on the back of the next building was still intact.

She needed to get a closer look. She walked across the road and up to the rubble, stepping carefully over a rope barrier with a small square sign suspended from it that read Danger-Keep Out.

Danger was right. On closer inspection the rubble was studded with jagged-ended timbers and broken roof slates, and was nearly head-high. Polly walked rapidly along the roped perimeter, looking for a way up onto the mound. But there wasn't any, though the rubble wasn't quite as deep on the north side, and a few feet in, there was a sort of path made of a door-which must have been flung on top of the mound by the force of the blast-and a torn piece of linoleum.

Polly took hold of a half-buried timber and climbed up onto the rubble. It was less solid than it looked. Her feet sank into the plaster and pulverized brick up to her ankles, and one of her stockings snagged on a large wooden splinter. She took another cautious step, and the whole mound seemed to shift.

She grabbed for a broken-off bedpost. Plaster and pebbles rattled down for several seconds, then stopped. She stepped forward cautiously, not letting go till she had to, and testing each hand and foot before she put her weight on the unsteady wreckage till she reached the piece of linoleum.

She'd been wrong. The linoleum hadn't been flung there by the bomb, and neither had the door. A rescue squad had laid them there, and they didn't lead to the drop. They led to a square-sided hole. Polly knew instantly what it was-a shaft dug to reach a victim, or a body, buried there. Which, presumably, they had got out.

She looked across at the pa.s.sage. Gla.s.s was scattered in it, but no debris, and none of the barrels had been knocked over. They-and the drop's position in the recessed well-would both have helped protect the drop from blast.

If I can only get to it, she thought, testing the plaster-and-brick ma.s.s beyond the linoleum. It gave ominously under her foot. She needed something to walk on. Perhaps if she could shift the door in the direction of the drop...

But it was too heavy. So was the linoleum. She stood up and surveyed the mound, looking for a section of wall or a cupboard door she could use.

"You, there!" a man's voice shouted. "What are you doing?" It was the ARP warden who'd dragged her to the shelter that first night. He was standing by the rope barrier, holding a pocket torch. "This incident's off-limits."

Polly wondered fleetingly if she should make a run for it. He'd have a hard time catching her in this rubble, and it was nearly dark. Which meant she was liable to fall through and break a leg. "Come down at once," the warden said. He ducked under the rope, and started up onto the mound.

"I'm coming," Polly said and started back toward the edge, picking her way carefully.

"What were you doing up there?" he demanded. "Didn't you see the notice?"

"Yes," Polly said, debating what to tell him. He didn't seem to have recognized her. "I thought I heard a cat meowing." She climbed down to where he was standing. "I was-" Her foot slid, and the warden put out a hand to catch her. "I was afraid it was trapped in the rubble."

He looked worriedly past her. "You're certain it was a cat and not someone calling for help?"

That was all she needed, for the warden to call a rescue crew and them to begin digging again. "Yes, I'm certain," she said hastily, "and it wasn't trapped after all. Just as I got to where the sound was coming from, it ran away."

"This incident's dangerous, miss. There's a good many holes and weak patches out there. If you was to fall through, n.o.body'd know you was out there. They wouldn't know to come looking for you. You could be out there for days, weeks even-"

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"You shouldn't be out this time of night," he said. "The sirens will be going any minute."

She nodded. He held up the rope barrier for her, and she ducked under it.

"You need to get to shelter, miss." That was the same thing he'd said to her last Sat.u.r.day, and the same thought must have occurred to him because he frowned at her.

"Yes, straightaway," she said, ducked quickly under the rope barrier, and started rapidly up the street.

"Wait!" he shouted, and came after her. "Notting Hill Gate's this way," he said, reaching for her arm.

She eluded his grasp. "I live just up the street," she said, pointing, hoping there hadn't been an incident up that way as well.

There was a drone of planes off to the east. The warden looked up. Saved by the Luftwaffe Saved by the Luftwaffe, Polly thought, and walked off quickly in the direction she'd pointed.

"See that you go straight there," the warden called after her.

"I will, warden," she said and kept going, resisting the impulse to look back to see if he was following her. She crossed the street and the next and then ducked into an alley. From this distance it would look to the warden as if she'd turned down a side street. If he was still watching.

He was.

Go drag someone else off to St. George's, she willed him, or go look for blackout infractions or something or go look for blackout infractions or something, but he continued to stand there in the dusk. What if he stood there all night?

He'll have to leave when the raids begin and go look for incendiaries, she thought, retreating into the alley. The raids weren't over Kensington tonight. They were over Bloomsbury and the East End. But as Colin had said, there were lots of stray bombs. She looked at her watch. A quarter to eight. Which meant she had over an hour to wait, and it was already frigid here in the alley.

If the warden would only leave, she could go to St. George's and hide in the sanctuary till everyone was off the streets. It had to be warmer there than here. But the warden was still there, and it was already too dark down the alley to try to go that way. She'd crash into something and make the warden come running.

Leave, she willed the still-motionless figure. Move Move. And after a moment he did.

Oh, no, he was coming this way. Polly backed farther into the dark alley, looking for a doorway or a pa.s.sage like the drop's to hide in. She could just make out a large metal dustbin in the darkness, and on the far side of it, a wooden crate. Polly sat down on the crate, tucking her feet back out of view, and waited, listening for footsteps.

After several minutes she heard some, but they were from the wrong direction and walking swiftly. Contemps going to a shelter. Another reason to stay here. She didn't want to run into Miss Laburnum again and be dragged off to St. George's. She pulled her sleeve back and checked her watch again. Five past. She jammed her icy hands in her pockets and sat there, listening for planes.