Читать книгу To See The Light Return - Sophie Galleymore Bird - Страница 19

Two of the flotilla had returned to Cornwall, crossing the perilous straits of the Hamoaze to reach the Rame peninsula and Saltash. The remaining boats headed back to Plymouth, cutting their engines and rowing the last few hundred metres in silence. By the time they reached the pontoons the Major was exhausted, but at least the exercise had kept him warm. Sitting still for so long, waiting for the ship, had chilled him to the bone.

There had been no time to celebrate out on the water, and they couldn’t afford to do so now, but he allowed himself a small smile as he considered the success of the night, tempered by concern for Will, and the urgent need to get back to their vehicles. The sun would soon be fully over the horizon and people would be about.

The nose of the boat bumped up against the dock and he stood, the bowline in his hand and stiffness in every limb, trying to summon the energy to jump out and tie up.

‘Here Major, pass that to me.’ Will appeared out of shadows cast by the dock and leaned over from the pontoon, hand extended.

‘Will! We thought something terrible had happened when we saw the fire.’ The Major passed him the line and Will looped it around a cleat, pulling the boat in tight.

‘I’m so sorry, there was nothing I could do to stop it …’

‘Stroke of genius boy, just what we needed to get the Captain to change course. Mrs Mason improvised on it. Genius.’

‘Oh, well …’ Relief washed over Will’s face. He offered a hand to the Major, who clasped it in his own so Will could haul him up onto the pontoon, where he stood bowed with weariness. Mrs Mason allowed herself to be helped up too. Younger crew had already tied up and disembarked and stood by in silent clusters. Dick, the closest, smacked Will in the arm to signal pleasure that he was still alive.

The pontoon swayed underfoot, and now the Major felt seasick. He’d been fine on the water. ‘Right, well done everyone. Mission accomplished, and now it’s time to get out of here. Back to the vehicles. Dick, you lead. The rest of you, keep an eye out for locals but do not engage unless it looks like they’re going to interfere, or get on to radios or phones. It’s going to be clear what we’ve been up to soon enough, but it would be good to get out of here first.’

Dick led his team along the pontoon towards the harbour wall, where it turned a sharp left. Will, the Major and Mrs Mason took up the rear. Will fell in next to the Major.

‘Er, Major ...’ He kept his voice low.

‘Yes Will.’

‘I had a bit of a problem.’

‘Yes, look forward to hearing your report when we’re back in the truck.’

‘I mean, there’s someone …’

They were reaching the turn. A sharp wailing erupted, causing consternation at the front.

‘What the hell?’ The Major picked up his pace so he was at the head of the procession, taking care not to push anyone into the oily waters as he passed. Someone was cowering in the corner of the dock, arms over his head. The Major reached down and yanked one elbow. The filthy, lined face of an old man emerged from between hunched shoulders.

‘Please!’ Will reached across and offered his hand to the wailing man, who grasped it. The Major didn’t know whether to be more astonished by that or the sudden appearance of a stranger in their midst.

‘Major.’ Will’s tone was pleading. ‘He’s harmless. He was in the shack that burned down – it was set alight by lads trying to kill him. I pulled him out and then he wouldn’t stay on his own. He’s scared they’ll come after him again. We can’t leave him here!’

This was all they needed. But clouds were rolling in threatening rain, he was cold and he needed a bed, even if it was only a cot with one thin blanket. Every moment he delayed took them closer to the threat of reprisals from locals loyal to Spight.

‘Bugger it. OK, he can come with us, but he’s your responsibility and he won’t be able to stay long, it’s too risky. We’ll sort something out later.’ The Major watched with distaste as, helped by Will, the old man stood, swaying more than the pontoon warranted. The sour smell of cheap booze and unwashed skin reached him. ’When he’s sober.’