He uncorked the water bottle and lifted it to his lips. Alder gave a great sigh and sat down on a stone, as if some invisible string had broken. ‘Here, have a drink! Pieck held out the bottle. He watched as Alder sipped unwillingly at the half-empty bottle, and then felt the tears of frustration and despair pricking behind his eyes.

  ‘We had to leave!’ he said again. ‘They would have shot you otherwise!’ He tried to smile at Alder’s blank face. ‘Never mind We will manage somehow!’

  He pulled Alder to his feet, and they started off once more. He tried to estimate how far they had come since they left the guard-post on the hill and moved away from the sea and darkened ship. When the dawn had found them, they had already moved several miles up the coast, but the heat and the exhaustion in their starved bodies had made careful preparations impossible, and Pieck had to grit his teeth until his jaw ached to keep himself moving at all. His stomach rumbled painfully, but he could not face the dry biscuits and half-sausage which he carried in his bag. Perhaps when it was dark and cooler they could rest, and then he could try to think out what he was going to do.

  Alder fixed his eyes on the boy’s narrow shoulders and the patch of sweat on the ragged uniform, and felt the hard ground jarring through his thin boots with each painful step. He played a little game as he walked. He tried to keep out of step with his companion, and put his feet down carefully, concentrating on Pieck’s jogging limbs in case he should catch him out. Left right, left right. He grinned quietly as he changed step with sudden alarm and then continued his silent counting. He wondered where they were going and when they would meet the others. It was quiet without Schiller and Hahn. He tried to fathom what was happening, but gave it up with a wild grin of resignation. After all, if Willi wanted to show him something, he must try to follow. Left right, left right.

  Alder stopped dead in his tracks, his face suddenly filled with fresh apprehension. He was standing on the top of yet another crevasse, and as he stepped forward, his boots gingerly releasing a stream of loose pebbles, he saw the water far below him, breaking with tiny, silent cat’s-paws across a line of black rocks. He shifted uncomfortably and peered from side to side. He was quite alone. Of Willi there was no sign, and after several long minutes a frown of petulant annoyance crossed his vacant features.

  Then he heard it . . . A voice crying out in pain, and he thought that perhaps he had been hearing it all the time. But the outside world was so often disconnected with his jumbled thoughts that this no longer worried him.

  Biting his tongue with concentration, he took another pace forward. Then he stopped and peered incredulously downwards over the edge. Splayed across a small ledge of outflung rock, some twenty feet beneath him, he could see Willi’s white uniform and terrified eyes.

  Pieck tried again to move, but the pain in his ribs made him whimper. He began to sob uncontrollably as he lay staring blindly at the sun and Alder’s distorted figure on top of the cliff. With the sun on his neck and his limbs moving automatically, he had literally walked over the edge of the cliff. He had struck the ledge with a sickening crash, so that, as his ribs cracked like twigs on the sharp rock, he had seen a thousand stars explode before his eyes, and had waited to die.

  Instead there was silence again, and as he felt the sand spray across his face he realised that Alder was lowering himself carefully down the cliff towards him. He realised, too, that he no longer cared. He had failed once more, and now he was as helpless as Alder.

  The latter moved with surprising agility and total disregard for the height of the ledge above the water. Muttering to himself, he tied Pieck’s wrists together and pulled him up across his stooped shoulders. Then, carrying the boy like a sack, he began to feel his way up the treacherous wall of rock. Each step brought a moan of pain from his burden, but Alder did not alter his expression of concentrated effort.

  As their heads rose above the edge, Pieck saw Alder’s pack which contained the telescope and some more biscuits neatly placed on a flat stone, with his cap balanced on the top. His pain-racked body shook in a paroxysm of inane laughs at the sight, but Alder pursed his lips severely and lowered him to the ground.

  He ripped open the boy’s jacket and ran his hands across the heaving body, his eyes staring blankly at the raw skin and angry-coloured bruises. Beneath his probing fingers he felt the uneven ridges of bone, and sensed Pieck holding his breath against the agony of his discovery.

  He grinned down at him and walked to the pack. Pieck craned his head to watch, as the tattered scarecrow figure pulled out the long telescope and began to peer seawards and along the glittering coastline.

  Alder hummed to himself as he swung the big brass tube and watched the distant cliffs and beaches spring to life in sudden close proximity. But they were, of course, empty. In spite of the heat and their haphazard course they had covered a lot of ground, and Alder frowned with vague disappointment. Not even a small fishing boat moved to break the glassy brightness of the sea, and no birds swooped over the inviting water. Alder felt himself tremble with unaccountable anger.

  Pieck let his head fall on the hard ground, and waited for Alder to stop acting as he was. He began to think of his parents and wondered how they would receive the news.

  All at once he heard Alder muttering with excitement, and as he turned his face towards him he saw him pointing with the telescope towards the horizon. His heart sank. He must have seen the Vulkan. Perhaps she had sailed, and was already standing well out to sea.

  With a sudden determination he gritted his teeth. ‘Here! Let me see her!’

  Alder supported his head and obediently held the telescope. For a long while Pieck searched the empty sea, and began to think that Alder’s mind had given out again. He had to see the Vulkan just once more. He had to. He grunted with agony and leaned his frail body against Alder. Then he saw what Alder had seen. At first he thought it was a part of the haze on the horizon, and then he realised that the hard outline was unchanging, unmoving.

  At the training ship he had seen pictures of such ships before. There was no mistaking the outline of that squat tripod mast and the clean grey funnels.

  He dropped the telescope and stared into Alder’s deep, expressionless eyes. ‘A British cruiser!’ And Alder nodded.

  * * * * *

  Lieutenant Kohler marched purposefully along the deserted beach, his patrol boots squeaking noisily in the darkness, his arms swinging energetically with an almost parade-ground precision. Behind him, his pig-like body making hard going of the uneven ground and treacherous pieces of rock, Petty Officer Elmke kept a respectful distance, his chest heaving with exertion.

  Kohler halted suddenly and glared round the black shadows of the darkened cove. As officer-of-the-guard he was taking his duties extra seriously, and had already awarded punishment to two sentries who had been nodding at their posts. His hand played a little tattoo on his holster as he listened distastefully to Elmke’s heavy breathing. Great fat oaf, he thought angrily. Fancy anyone, even a ranker, letting himself get so gross and ugly.

  He turned right, up the side of the gully, and began to climb up the narrow goat-track which led to the top of one of the tall rock pinnacles. He increased his stride, finding amusement from Elmke’s painful grunting.

  ‘Halt! Who goes there?’ The sentry’s voice was sharp in the still air.

  Elmke managed to reply, ‘Officer-of-the-guard!’ and Kohler marched up to the two white figures with levelled rifles.

  They saluted, and the taller reported: ‘Seaman Schoningen, Lieutenant! All correct!’ They stood quite rigid as the officer prowled around their post, which spanned the goat-track and covered the approach to the beach and another overgrown path from the cliffs beyond the cove. He sniffed, but could detect no cigarette smoke. A pity, he thought viciously. It was bad enough having Pieck, and that other ungrateful idiot Alder, desert, without letting the sentries get slack and take advantage of the Captain’s leniency.

  Schoningen smiled to himself as he watched the officer’s petulant behaviour. He and his companion had heard Kohler long before he had reached the bottom of the path, and had had ample time to douse their cigarettes. When darkness had fallen Schoningen had run down the path and had strewn it with dry branches from a dead tree. The blundering feet of the two men across the tinder-dry twigs had given him plenty of warning. Officers! Think they’re so damned clever! Look at him now, trying to find fault with Blucher’s rifle. I’d like to poke this bayonet right into his guts.

  Kohler handed the rifle back. ‘Filthy!’ he roared. ‘Report to me in full marching order at the end of your duty!’ He smiled in the darkness. That would teach him. It would take him hours to find and assemble the complicated mass of belts, ammunition pouches, helmet and entrenching tool which the German High Command in all their wisdom thought fit to issue to sea-going sailors. He turned to Schoningen. ‘Your rifle, man!’ He felt a little pulse begin to pound in his head as the man stared past him. ‘Did you hear?’

  Schoningen said quietly: ‘I heard something, Lieutenant! Along that path from the cliffs!’

  Kohler glared at the man’s shadowy face. ‘If you are merely saying this to distract me . . .’ Then he turned and listened also. Probably one of Fleiuss’s estate workers, he thought. ‘Has anyone come along here while you have been on watch?’

  ‘No one, sir!’

  Kohler smiled as he heard the sound again. A seaman from the ship, most likely. Slipped through the guards earlier to steal something from the estate. These two guards were probably accomplices. It would be worth something to see their faces when the other man arrived.

  They could all hear the dragging footsteps now. It sounded as if the man, whoever he was, was dragging a considerable load with him.

  Schoningen lifted his rifle, his thumb on the safety-catch. Through the dried brush and tangled trees which had overgrown the twisting path he had already seen a faint white shape. It seemed to be swaying, and his heart sank. Some fool must have broken ship and gone off on his own to get drunk.

  Resignedly he yelled: ‘Halt! Who goes there?’

  The shuffling footsteps stopped, and they could hear the man’s wheezing breath.

  Schoningen shifted the rifle unsteadily. ‘Advance! You are covered!’ Must be a drunk, he decided.

  They gave a combined gasp of surprise as Alder’s bent shape staggered up the last few yards, his eyes like two black holes as he peered short-sightedly at the tense group in front of him.

  Kohler stepped forward, aware of the limp shape which the seaman carried across his back. Pieck. It could be no one else.

  Alder laid the boy on the sand and then fell on his knees beside him, his narrow chest shaking with strain and exhaustion.

  ‘Get up! You mutinous swine!’ Kohler lashed out with his foot and kicked the man on the arm so that he toppled on to his side.

  Pieck’s voice, weak but desperate, called out: ‘Please, sir! Do not touch him! He has carried me for miles! He would not leave me. I told him to, but he would not put me down!’

  Kohler clenched his fists, a white-hot rage sweeping over him. ‘Get up, I said!’ He kicked Alder again, but the man lay limp and indifferent to the cruel blows.

  Pieck moved his head jerkily, as if to clear away the mist of pain which closed in on him. ‘Sir! We came back to report that we have seen a ship! A British ship!’

  Kohler laughed, an ugly sound. ‘A likely story! Where did you see it, in the hills? You’ll have to plead better than that before I have you shot!’

  ‘Surely you don’t think I’m lying, sir?’ There was despair in the boy’s voice.

  ‘Yes, you damned hound, I do think so! And I think you fell and injured yourself, so you came crawling back for mercy!’ He stooped over the spread-eagled figure and groped savagely for the bare skin. ‘Where does it hurt you? Here?’ He pushed down hard, and the boy’s thin scream shattered the stillness.

  Kohler laughed delightedly. The touch of that smooth skin under his hand reminded him again of this boy’s treachery and the frustration it had caused him. He could feel the broken ribs move beneath the pressure of his hand, and trembled with excitement. Admit it! You deserted your ship, and came back because you were hurt!’ He pushed again, and quivered to the shrill scream.

  Elmke stood staring at the torture with glazed eyes, his mouth dry with fright. Schoningen felt the sweat cold on his face, and gripped his rifle with such force that his knuckles cracked with pain.

  There was a metallic click from the path behind them, and Schiller’s unmistakable voice said quietly: ‘Stand up, Lieutenant! And don’t do anything foolish!’

  Kohler leapt to his feet, his head swinging towards the faintly gleaming rifle with its fixed bayonet. In Schiller’s hands it looked like a child’s toy. ‘What are you saying?’ It was Kohler who was screaming now. ‘Are you mad? This will mean death for you, for all of you!’

  Elmke stepped forward. ‘Please, sir, it’s not my fault!’ He blinked from Kohler’s pale shape to the steady bayonet. ‘I did not know he had left his post!’

  ‘Shut up, you fat pig!’ Schiller’s voice was a dangerous snarl. ‘Schoningen, Blucher, carry Willi down to the Quarter Guard on the beach, and call for the boat. Elmke! Help Alder down to the boat as well!’

  Kohler shook his fists in the air. ‘Don’t move any of you! This is mutiny! I’ll have you all hanged! I’ll have . . .’

  ‘You will have this bayonet in your belly, Lieutenant, if you don’t do as I tell you!’ Schiller lowered the rifle an inch so that the saw-edged blade was level with the officer’s stomach. ‘We are going back to the ship to see the Captain. I heard what Pieck told you, and I believe him. But then I know him better than you do!’

  ‘You’ll pay for this! You’ll wish you’d never been born!’

  Schiller gestured towards the edge of the path. ‘Be careful, Lieutenant! A man could fall here in the darkness, and might never be found!’ In a louder voice he bellowed: ‘Hold on, Willi! We’ll look after you!’

  Schiller followed the silent party down the narrow path, his chin hard on his deep chest. Well, you’ve done it this time. You’ve stuck your stupid neck out once too often.

  But he thought of Pieck’s terrible screams, and was glad he had done as he had.

  * * * * *

  The sentry outside von Steiger’s quarters stamped his feet together and banged the butt of his Mauser sharply on the polished deck as Lieutenant Heuss pushed open the door and entered the wide cabin. Heuss glanced from Dehler’s grim face to Damrosch’s apprehensive stare, and then at the Captain, who sat behind the polished walnut table, the low light shining on his neat dark head.

  Von Steiger looked up and nodded. With a steady hand he poured a large measure of brandy into a vacant glass and pushed it across the table. ‘Sit down, Heuss, and drink this. I am sorry to call you to my quarters like this, for I know you must be feeling quite shaky still.’

  Heuss picked up the glass and watched von Steiger over the rim. He tried to detect sarcasm in the level voice, but could find none. Von Steiger looked calm, even composed, but Heuss had learned enough to know this was only a façade.

  ‘I understand there has been some more trouble ashore, Captain.’

  ‘Trouble? I should think so!’ Dehler’s thick voice broke in. ‘A mutiny more like it!’

  Von Steiger’s eyebrows twitched slightly with irritation. ‘There has been some trouble. Ebert is up forward questioning two sentries and the petty officer of the Guard, and I have had the man Schiller placed under arrest. For the moment, I am letting Lieutenant Kohler quieten down in his cabin, but I shall question him again myself in due course.’

  Dehler stuck out his lower lip. ‘And the deserters, sir?’

  ‘Both in the sick-bay. I shall go and see the boy Pieck in a minute, but first I want to ask you what you know about all this. Why is it left to a crisis to show me what is happening in my ship?’ His voice was still level, but his eyes were cold and bitter.

  Heuss placed the glass slowly on the table. ‘Perhaps we all thought you were too aware of what was happening, sir. We have all seen the power you hold over the crew.’

  Von Steiger’s eyes flickered. ‘Do not be frivolous, Heuss! Let me put it plainer to you. I can have all these men shot. The sentries for not coming to an officer’s aid; Schiller for mutiny, and the other two for desertion! Are you prepared to carry out those sentences, Heuss?’

  Heuss shifted in his chair. ‘I don’t see that it’s any part of my duty . . .’ he began, but von Steiger leapt to his feet and killed the words in his throat.

  ‘Don’t be so damned smug! Men’s lives are your duty! You still exist because of them! I do not expect to have to lecture any of you, but you have made it obvious once more that you are still only half aware of your duties!’ He swept the three of them with a scathing glance. ‘Are all these men to be sacrificed just to uphold the prestige of one of my officers? Well, can’t you answer me? Prestige is like respect, it is something to be earned, it is not issued with the uniform!’ He was shouting now, and Heuss felt the words like a whip across his cheeks. ‘I have had a man shot already for that purpose, but, by God, if I had only known then what I know now . . .’ He left the threat unfinished, and sat down wearily in his chair.

  In a calmer tone he continued: ‘The boy Pieck has reported seeing an enemy warship off the coast. If he is right I shall have to change my plans. It could be serious!’

  Heuss said slowly, ‘Shall I speak to him, sir?’

  ‘No, I will. There are a lot of things I wish to know in good time. What happened to Petty Officer Brandt? Why was Seaman Hahn’s body left in that sinking ship? And what would make two men desert and then come back to the ship because it was in danger of destruction? Does that sound like the act of a coward or a traitor?’ He picked up his cap and stood up, the black cross glinting in the lamplight. ‘No, gentlemen, as officers you have had your opportunity to prevent these irritations. By failing to do so, it falls to me to solve them!’