The Wreck
‘Come on, McOwan!’
Drew’s voice reached Rebecca above the noise of the surging seas, as she paused to collect herself at the cave mouth. The others were in the boat already. She took a few deep breaths, trying to gather her wits together and make sense of what had just happened in the cave. Her legs were shaking uncontrollably. A second warning. She recalled the words of the monk in the graveyard. It must have been him in the cave. But why? And how had he got here … if he was mortal? Rebecca was not sure she wanted to think much more on this. She wanted to find a rational explanation but … first the woman screaming in the carriage, now … the Black Monk? And what was the significance of the obelisk? Why was he weeping over it?
‘Not sure I’m ready to share this with the group yet,’ she muttered. ‘Come on legs … get a grip.’
She managed to slip back on board without any of the others remarking that she was greatly disturbed. Drew was back at the wheel and skilfully manoeuvred their way back through the perilous swell around the rocks to the calmer sea. Everyone gathered inside the cabin to discuss the next move, too excited over the discovery of the remains of Himmel’s crates to notice that Rebecca was preoccupied, for which she was grateful. They decided to head back towards shore.
‘What is that?’ asked Laura, standing next to Rupert.
A few hundred yards off shore where more black triangles of rock broke the surface of the seas, the large bulk of a vessel listed at an unnatural angle.
‘Ah yes, the wreck of the Johann Sebastian Bach,’ said Rupert. ‘German cargo ship, foundered on those rocks in a massive storm early this year. They tried to re-float her but she would not budge, not even in the neap tides.’
‘Wrecks are great. Shall we go and have a quick look?’ asked Drew. Not waiting for an answer, he turned the wheel, pulled back the throttle and in a short time they were circling the hulk of the cargo vessel. It had become a makeshift home for seabirds, dozens of which swooped around the abandoned bridge and conning towers, perching on any suitable roosting point.
‘That’s it!’ said Rebecca, clapping Drew’s shoulder and spinning him round excitedly.
‘I knew something was niggling me! Johann! Of course!’
‘Make sense, please, McOwan,’ said Drew, gripping the loose wheel tightly. ‘And careful while I’m steering the good ship Dewhurst- Hobb. There are rocks here we can run aground on, just in case you hadn’t noticed what happened to that big ship there.’
‘Hook Nose said ‘our friend JOHANN’, didn’t he, Laura – not just ‘our friend’!’
‘And?’ The other three looked at her, still mystified.
‘You think he has boats for friends?’ asked Drew, deadpan.
‘Johann is German … for John. Laura, it was no flight of fancy and I apologise.
You asked why Sky is so interested in the tape and everything. Well, you know I said I though he was an odd mix, when he was telling us off the other night … I think he is German. His manners, his funny pronunciation of certain things, the way he bows.’
Rupert was staring at Rebecca as if scales had suddenly been removed from his eyes.
‘You are both right! Why didn’t I see the really obvious thing? Sky in German is “Himmel” …’
There was a shocked silence.
‘No … you mean …’
Rupert nodded slowly and emphatically.
‘John Sky – in German, Johann Himmel … what was the SS officer’s Christian name? Karsten, Karsten Himmel.’
‘Sure it’s not too obvious?’ said Drew, sceptically.
‘What is the connection between the two of them?’ asked Laura, agog at this revelation.
Rebecca gripped Rupert’s arm. ‘If he’s still alive, Karsten Himmel would be a very old man by now, nineties at least, way older than Sky. But say he had a son in the1940’s or 1950’s, could be fifty, sixty … How old is Sky, do you know?’
‘Sky is Himmel’s son?’ Laura looked aghast.
‘He must be late forties at least … Mum’s fifty.’ Rupert shook his head slowly.
‘Bloody hell. A Nazi in our midst.’ Drew murmured, open-mouthed in astonishment.
‘On the tape the Admiral said Sky is not to be trusted, didn’t he?’ said Rebecca. ‘Did he guess something?’
‘I’m not sure I want to think about what all this might mean,’ said Rupert, sitting down and putting his head in his hands.
‘Well, too late. We’re in it now.’ Rebecca was looking up at the wreck. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Unless my eyes are playing tricks, there’s somebody on the wreck.’
The others turned swiftly. ‘Where?’
Rebecca was convinced she had seen a light from one of the portholes on the bridge. As she stared, something dark appeared to flit across the glass, as if the shadow of a person had passed by.
‘There!’
‘You’re imagining it, McOwan. Where?’
‘If I’m imagining it, what is that?’ This time Rebecca was not pointing at the porthole but at the side of the wreck, where a small boat had been tied up to the bottom of a long metal ladder on the hull. ‘Somebody is on board.’
‘Probably just curious like us, nosing about,’ said Drew.
‘Bit risky isn’t it? Taking a boat through those rocks?’
‘Drew’s right,’ said Rupert. ‘But it’s time we were heading back. I’m likely to cop it from Herr Himmel when he finds out I’ve escaped.’
‘I’d still like to know who it is,’ said Rebecca, gazing pensively at the vast vessel.
‘Don’t we have to go near the monastery on the way back? Why not take a quick look there too?’
‘Why? It’s the opposite direction.’
‘Curiosity.’ Drew turned them around and opened the throttle.
* * *
Druids Rock rose out of the water like a giant whale. Its sides were inaccessible faces of sheer rock. Where the rock met the sea were the dark openings of caves. Atop the cliffs was the monastery itself, cold and forbidding.
‘Have you ever seen pictures of Bran castle?’ said Drew. The others looked blank again.
‘Och! Don’t you know your Bram Stoker, guys? Dracula’s castle in Transylvania? This is just like it! Sheer walls, spiky turrets. All you need is the Count himself climbing down the walls to grab us and take us to his lair.’
‘I’m sorry, he’s from the Scottish Highlands,’ said Rebecca, raising her eyebrows in resignation. ‘They don’t get out a lot.’
* * *
As the boat drifted slowly back into the boathouse, Rebecca’s phone rang. She jumped out onto the landing stage. ‘Hallo? … Oh hello! … thank you for ringing me back, we … yes, I – I … I see … yes… yes… okay, if you think that’s best … Yes … until tonight then.’ She turned to find three faces looking at her inquiringly.
‘The man in the wheelchair, Mr Wood. Wants us to meet him up at the old manor this evening after dinner. Quite insistent.’