By all that's wonderful, Andrea, I never thought to see you again. How did it go?
I will soon tell you, Andrea laughed. Just after
You've been wounded! Miller interrupted. Your shoulder's kinda perforated. He pointed to the red stain spreading down the sea-soaked jacket
Well, now, I believe I have. Andrea affected vast surprise. Just a scratch, my friend.
Oh, sure, sure, just a scratch! It would be the same if your arm had been blown off. Come on down to the cabin this is just a kindergarten exercise for a man of my medical skill.
But the captain
Will have to wait. And your story. Ol' Medicine Man Miller permits no interference with his patients. Come on!
Very well, very well, Andrea said docilely. He shook his head in mock resignation, foliowed Miller out of the cabin.
Brown opened up to full throttle again, took the launch north almost to Cape Demirci to avoid any hundred to one chance the harbour batteries might make, turned due east for a few miles then headed south into the Maidos Straits. Mallory stood by his side in the wheelhouse, gazing out over the dark, still waters. Suddenly he caught a gleam of white in the distance, touched Brown's arm and pointed for'ard.
Breakers ahead, Casey, I think. Reefs, perhaps?
Casey looked in long silence, finally shook his head.
Bow-wave, he said unemotionally. It's the destroyers coming through.
CHAPTER 17
Commander Vincent Ryan, R.N., Captain (Destroyers) and Commanding officer of His Majesty's latest Sclass destroyer Sirdar, looked round the cramped chart- room and tugged thoughtfully at his magnificent Captain Kettle beard. A scruffier, a more villainous, a more cut and battered-looking bunch of hard cases he had never seen, he reflected, with the possible exception of a Bias Bay pirate crew he had helped round up when a very junior officer on the China Station. He looked at them more closely, tugged his beard again, thought there was more to it than mere scruffiness. He wouldn't care to be given the task of rounding this lot up. Dangerous, highly dangerous, he mused, but impossible to say why, there was only this quietness, this relaxed watchfulness that made him feel vaguely uncomfortable. His hatchetmen, Jensen had called them: Captain Jensen picked his killers well.
Any of you gentlemen care to go below, he suggested. Plenty of hot water, dry clothes and warm bunks. We won't be using them to-night.
Thank you very much, sir. Mallory hesitated. But we'd like to see this through.
Right, then, the bridge it is, Ryan said cheerfully. The Sirdar was beginning to pick up speed again, the deck throbbing beneath their feet. it is at your own risk, of course.
We lead charmed lives, Miller drawled. Nothin' ever happens to us.
The rain had stopped and they could see the cold twinkling of stars through broadening rifts in the clouds. Mallory looked around him, could see Maidos broad off the port bow and the great bulk of Navarone slipping by to starboard. Aft, about a cable length away, he could just distinguish two other ships, high-curving bow-waves piled whitely against tenebrious silhouettes. Mallory turned to the captain.
No transports, sir?
No transports. Ryan felt a vague mixture of pleasure and embarrassment that this man should call him sir. Destroyers only. This is going to be a smashand-grab job. No time for dawdlers to-night and we're behind schedule already.
How long to clear the beaches?
Half an hour.
What! Twelve hundred men? Mallory was incredulous.
More. Ryan sighed. Half the ruddy inhabitants want to come with us, too. We could still do it in half an hour, but we'll probably take a bit longer. We'll embark all the mobile equipment we can.
Mallory nodded, let his eye travel along the slender outlines of the Sirdar. Where are you going to put 'em all, sir?
A fair question, Ryan admitted. 5 p.m. on the London Underground will be nothing compared to this little lot But we'll pack them in somehow.
Mallory nodded again and looked across the dark waters at Navarone. Two minutes, now, three at the most, and the fortress would open behind that headland. He felt a hand touch his arm, half-turned and smiled down at the sad-eyed little Greek by his side.
Not long now, Louki, he said quietly.
The people, Major, he murmured. The people in the town. Will they be all right?
They'll be all right. Dusty says the roof of the cave will go straight up. Most of the stuff will fall into the harbour.
Yes, but the boats--?
Will you stop worrying! There's nobody aboard them you know they have to leave at curfew time. He looked round as someone touched his arm.
Captain Mallory, this Is Lieutenant Beeston, my gunnery officer. There was a slight coolness in Ryan's voice that made Mallory think that he wasn't overfond of his gunnery officer. Lieutenant Beeston is worried.
I am worried! The tone was cold, aloof, with an indefinable hint of condescension. I understand that you have advised the captain not to offer any resistance?
You sound like a B.B.C. communiqu6, Mallory said shortly. But you're right. I did say that. You couldn't locate the guns except by searchlight and that would be fatal. Similarly with gunfire.
I'm afraid I don't understand. One could almost see the lift of the eyebrows in the darkness.
You'd give away your position, Mallory said patiently. They'd nail you first time. Give 'em two minutes and they'd nail you anyway. I have good reason to believe that the accuracy of their gunners is quite fantastic.
So has the Navy, Ryan interjected quietly. Their third shell got the Sybaris's B magazine.
Have you got any idea why this should be, Captain Mallory? Beeston was quite unconvinced.
Radar-controlled guns, Mallory said briefly. They have two huge scanners atop the fortress.
The Sirdar had radar installed last month, Beeston said stiffly. I imagine we could register some hits ourselves if
You could hardly miss. Miller drawled out the words, the tone dry and provocative. It's a helluva big island, Mac.
Who who are you? Beeston was rattled. What the devil do you mean?
Corporal Miller. The American was unperturbed. Must be a very selective instrument, Lootenant, that can pick out a cave in a hundred square miles of rock.
There was a moment's silence, then Beeston muttered something and turned away.
You've hurt the Guns's feelings, Corporal, Ryan murmured. He's very keen to have a go but we'll hold our fire . How long till we clear that point, Captain?
I'm not sure. He turned. What do you say, Casey?
A minute, sir. No more.
Ryan nodded, said nothing. There was a silence on the bridge, a silence only intensified by the sibilant rushing of the waters, the weird, lonesome pinging of the Asdic. Above, the sky was steadily clearing, and the moon, palely luminous, was struggling to appear through a patch of thinning cloud. Nobody spoke, nobody moved. Mallory was conscious of the great bulk of Andrea beside him, of Miller, Brown and Louki behind. Born in the heart of the country, brought up on the foothills of the Southern Alps, Mallory knew himself as a landsman first and last, an alien to the sea and ships: but he had never felt so much at home in his life, never really known till now what it was to belong. He was more than happy, Mallory thought vaguely to himself, he was content. Andrea and his new friends and the impossible well done how could a man but be content? They weren't all going home, Andy Stevens wasn't coming with them, but strangely he could feel no sorrow, only a gentle melancholy . Almost as if he had divined what Mallory was thinking, Andrea leaned towards him, towering over him in the darkness.