THE NEXT MORNING, ALEC WOKE THINKING ABOUT THE news on the radio. The BBC said German panzers had crossed into France. He remembered Aunt Lucy's words to the lieutenant. She had been right after all; the war news had been hidden from them.
He took his time going to the docks. He had left a few minutes early, thinking his father would never allow him to leave, given the BBC report from the night before. So, having done his chores and stirred the fires, he slipped out before anyone else was up.
But even though he was moving slowly, he nearly tripped over the girl. He hadn't seen her before, and he wasn't sure why she was standing there now—in front of the inn. In the early light, he was struck by her odd appearance. Her dress hung nearly to her ankles; it was not the dress of a common English girl. He could see that, though worn, the fabric had once been elegant, made for special occasions. Her hair drooped in stringy clumps over her eyes. But the eyes were what held his attention. They showed no emotion. Just dark spots gazing directly at him, they never shifted from his face. She made him uncomfortable.
He guessed her age to be about the same as his, though her sagging shoulders told him her life had been hard. He wondered what she needed. Why was she there? She looked so hopeless; he couldn't pass without saying something.
"Do you need some help?"
The girl only stood there, staring blankly at him. She made no movement to speak or run.
"Are you lost?" Alec asked.
Still she only stared. Then she moved backward, as if she was going to leave. But she didn't.
Finally, slowly, she spoke. "Ich—I—am lost." Alec barely understood her. "I live nearby. Meine Tante—my aunt—she sent me to get milk. From the man. I can't get back home."
She had a definite accent—though he'd never heard one like it, certainly not in Dover.
"What street are you looking for?" Alec spoke slowly.
"Die Strasse, the street ist—is—Market. Market Street. Am I close?"
"Yes," Alec answered. "It's the next lane over; you need only to step down to the end of the block and then turn right. One block over and you'll find yourself on Market."
She didn't understand his words. He spoke again and pointed this time so that she could follow his directions. "Just go down that way and turn right," Alec said, swinging his arm wide, "and you'll be on Market. Once you're there, can you find your aunt's house?" This time, she seemed to understand him, and she turned to move away. "Be sure to stay right," Alec repeated. "The left will take you to the docks. You won't be needing to go there."
He watched her go. She looked out of place. And her accent ... What a strange girl. But knowing he would be left behind if he didn't hurry, Alec moved on to the docks, eager to be back on the boat.
The sky was bright and the day looked unusually clear for their trip down the coast. He was not going to spend a day like today worrying about his father. So he skipped into a run and, slinging his pack over his shoulder, hurried on.
All the way to the docks, Alec kept thinking about the girl. Her eyes held her story. He was haunted by her look, and he wondered if he would ever see her again.
Running along York Street past the jewelry store, he paused only a moment to gaze again at the cross in the window. Tomorrow, he would finish his work early and hurry back to Lawton's before it closed. His mum would like that it was from him, but she would like it even more for what it meant. She was always needing hope.
Alec raced from the store to the docks just in time to hear the captain say, "Now, where's that lad today? Seems like we're waiting for him more and more."
"Aye, Captain," Alec said. "Sorry I'm a bit late. I ran into someone outside the inn. She needed help. I won't be late again. I promise."
"She needed 'elp? So yer 'elpin' a fair maiden in distress, I suppose?" Douglas snickered. "Well, what was the lass's problem?"
Alec felt himself blushing at Douglas's remarks. He wished he had thought a moment before giving his excuse. Now he would be chided the whole trip about the girl. Trying to pretend he hadn't heard Douglas, Alec moved to untie the moorings and toss the ropes onto the Britannia.
"Did ye not hear me, lad?" Douglas challenged. "Aah said she must 'ave been in great trouble for ye to stop and offer yer 'and. What's the story?"
Alec climbed aboard and pulled at the ropes. "All I know is that she said she was lost," he muttered. "I couldn't really understand her that well. She had a strange accent. She acted as if she didn't understand everything. Said something about her aunt's home on Market Street. So I showed her the way and came here."
"Strange accent?" Douglas asked, turning more serious. "What did it sound like? Was she from up north, or even Irish, maybe? What did ye think, lad?"
"I don't think she was northern, and I'm sure she wasn't Irish. No, she's not from anywhere near us."
"Aye, just as aah thought. She's one of those orphans sent here from Germany. Jewish children shipped off to escape the Nazis. Docks 'ave been full of stories about children comin to England without their folks—probably to never return."
"From Germany?" Alec questioned. "How could she have come to Dover from Germany? Who would do such a thing?"
"Well, Alec, you ought not to be so surprised," the captain said as he maneuvered the Britannia through the harbor and toward open water. "You've heard that Dover parents are sending their children north to escape the bombing by the Jerries. So why would you not think the German parents would do the same for their young ones?"
"But Germany? That's such a long way away. How could they ever hope to find all the children again?"
"Some would have relatives and friends. Others have been taken in by English families eager to do their part to fight the Germans. We don't know if your young lass is really German, but if she is, she's no doubt Jewish as well." As he finished, the captain turned his eyes away from Alec and toward the water.
Alec scooped up the lines that lay about the ship, coiling each one and placing it near stern or bow. Then, rubbing his hands together to clean them of dirt, he turned to go below to boil water for tea. Just as his foot reached the top of the step, he felt someone grab his arm. It was Douglas.
As Alec faced the first mate, he smelled Douglas's hot breath. "Aah don't care what the cap'n thinks about those German orphans," Douglas hissed. "They don't belong 'ere. It'll just make the Nazis angrier by us 'arborin' the lot of them. We've trouble enough of our own without takin on Jewish scum. Tell yer little friend that. An' tell 'er there's even more like me in Dover what think the same."
"She's not my friend." Alec squirmed free of Douglas's grasp. Then, glancing at the captain, who was preoccupied with steering the Britannia, he said, "She's just a young girl. How could you hate her so?"
"Aah 'ate everythin' that is pullin' us into this bloody war. We've no fight with the Germans, an' now our troops are backed up in France an' are goin' to die. An' we're 'arborin' runaways."
"What do you mean 'backed up in France'?"
Douglas stepped away from Alec and moved to his post. But Alec wasn't finished. It was his turn to be forceful. Grabbing Douglas's sleeve, he asked again, "What do you know, Douglas?"
"What do aah know?" Douglas snapped. "Aah'm only sayin' what the blokes at the White Horse are sayin'. We've got trouble in France. Me friends—they say our lads are being forced back to the coast. That we can't get enough 'elp to them, an' the Jerries are pushin' 'ard with their tanks." Douglas paused. "But don't be worryin' about somethin' ye can do nothin' about. An' stop this badgerin' an' brew us some tea."
Alec stumbled below and slapped a pot on the cooker. He felt helpless as he replayed Douglas's words and thought about the man at the White Horse. He had little time left. He couldn't wait until Thursday. Tomorrow, he would have to try again. He had to know what was going on.
When the water was hot, Alec set the tea to brew and pulled some mugs from the cupboard. Returning topside, he gave Douglas and the captain their tea. He looked about at the water surrounding the ship. It lapped lazily against them as they motored along near the shore. Most days, their trips along the coast were filled with overcast skies and strong breezes. Alec welcomed this sunny change.
Once the ship was under way, he lay back on the steel locker and waited for orders from the captain or Douglas. The sun warmed his face, and he remembered how he and Georgie had battled choppy seas and dreary skies, how they had longed for a day like this one to cast their lines into the Channel and search for mackerel or halibut or snapper.
Then his thoughts turned to the German girl. She couldn't be the trouble Douglas claimed she was. And it wasn't her fault that she had been sent away. Why was he thinking about her now? She wasn't a lovely sight. But something about her made him feel jumpy inside.
He rolled onto his side, steadying himself on one elbow, and peered across the Channel. There, beyond the smooth waters, Calais, France, shimmered in the distance. He resented never having ridden the ferry across the Channel to Calais, but his father would not take the time away from the inn. Now, with the war at its edges, the city was even more beyond his reach.
As he peered at the distant shore, something above the water caught his eye. Moving slowly along the horizon were two tiny specks. He glanced toward the captain, and wondered if he saw them, too. But Captain Cairns was looking at Douglas, no doubt listening to the first mate still muttering about the girl Alec had met.
Turning back to his left, Alec looked for the specks. This time, they were not hard to see. They had grown larger as they moved across the sky toward the English coast. Not sure whether to say anything, Alec watched as they drew near. They approached in neat formation. Then Alec heard the noise.
Because the day was so calm, the plane engines roared above the sound of the Britannia. Alec was worried now. Turning again toward his shipmates, he saw that the captain and Douglas had also noticed the planes as they swooped toward the shore.
"Sonny, come here, lad," Captain Cairns called.
Bounding from the locker, Alec hurried to the captain and Douglas.
"I'm guessing those are Jerries headed our way," the captain said. "Alec, I want you to get out of sight. Douglas, you need to go below and grab the rifles. They won't do us any good, I'm sure, but I feel better having them above deck. I'll do my best to steer toward the coast. We're not far from Ramsgate, and I don't think they are interested in a tiny ship, but we need to be ready."
Douglas took three quick strides and was at the door to the galley. Alec didn't move. Though the captain had given an order, he didn't want to hide. He could not take his eyes off the planes. He examined the curved wings as they nearly skimmed the water and drew closer to the ship.
The captain spoke again. "Alec lad, you heard my order. Get yourself out of sight and do it now." With that, the captain turned the wheel to guide the Britannia closer to shore.
This time, Alec obeyed. Scrambling around the deck, he looked for a place to hide and spotted the steel locker. The planes' engines were roaring now. Alec lifted the locker's heavy lid and grabbed the canvas cover stored inside. Tossing it out on the deck, he hoisted himself up and over the locker's edge, sinking down into the dark space. Just before closing the lid, he looked once more at the planes and spied the black cross spread across the Stukas' tails. Then, with his knees scrunched to his chest, he waited—he wasn't sure what for. A bomb to drop? Fire from the gunnery?
He could hear the muffled voice of the captain as he called to Douglas. Alec worried that the ship would be spotted, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. It was hot inside the hot locker, and his shirt was soaked through. What are Captain Cairns and Douglas doing? Will we be bombed? The dull roar of the planes grew weaker.
Hidden in the locker, Alec felt as though hours had passed, but then he heard a crunch and squinted as light stole into his hiding place. From his dark hole, Alec saw Douglas holding the lid aloft as he waited for him to climb out.
"Aah think the danger's passed, boy. Ye can come out. It's safe now."
"What happened?"
"We don't know, lad," the captain answered. "We didn't see anything except that iron cross. Jerries for sure. The dailies reported that Stukas have been seen along the coast, photographing the harbors, no doubt. I'm sure the chaps in Ramsgate saw them, too. We'll ask when we get there. But we're wasting no time unloading this wire. If your folks discover we were out in the Channel when those Jerries flew over, your days on the Britannia could be done."
Alec nodded. He was not going to tell his folks or even Aga about this scare. He knew what his father would say, and he could only imagine his mother weeping and begging him to leave the shipping to the other men. No, this news was not leaving the Britannia.
In a few minutes, the ship glided into port, and Alec helped Douglas and the captain carry die wire and stack it near the docks. They scrambled to finish quickly and be on their way home. When some dockhands from Ramsgate stepped up to help, the captain asked them about the fighters.
"Aye, mate. We saw them. Thought for sure they were coming to drop a load on our docks here. But they just flew on over and turned back for France. Don't know what to expect now."
"I'll wager they're scouting the coast. Looking for a good place to clear a landing for their German ships," Captain Cairns said.
"Well, if that be the case, then your town of Dover is more likely to get the drop. You folks need to be on your guard. Hider will take all of England if he gets into Dover."
Alec listened. The Germans were getting bolder every day—flying scouting missions in broad daylight. How could England protect itself when most of the British troops were across the Channel? What were they going to do?
Though the day continued bright and clear as they made their way home, Alec could no longer enjoy it. Once they cast off, he sat back on the locker and peered at the horizon, fearful that the Germans might return. But the sky remained empty.
Back in Dover, the crew finished their chores in silence before Alec picked up his rucksack to start for home. But as he turned to leave, a hand once again caught his arm. Douglas stood over him.
"Boy," he said sharply. "The cap'n's wrong. Yer folks should know about today. They should know about the girl, too. This war is comin our way, an it's not going to pass ye by. Keep yerself close to 'ome, an' don't be takin' up with some German girl."
Alec didn't have the strength to wrestle himself away from Douglas, but he didn't have to. Douglas released his arm and stepped back. Perhaps he expected Alec to say something, but Alec didn't. Douglas was a man out for himself. He cared little for others. Alec wasn't that way.
Weaving in and out among the fishermen on the docks, he rushed toward home. He would have trouble for sure if he was late getting back to help Aga. Pulling his pack over his shoulder, he turned toward the Shaftbury. He climbed the hill and was almost home when something familiar caught his attention. Moving up the street in front of him was the girl from that morning. Even from the back, Alec recognized her—her scraggly hair and shabby dress were unchanged.
What was she doing there again? Alec wondered.
Just then, the girl turned. She slowed her pace and waited for Alec to catch up. But he didn't want to stop. Aga needed him. Still, the girl was already by him.
"Hello," Alec said. "Are you lost again? Market Street is just around the corner, remember?"
"Nein—no, no, I am not lost," she answered. "I—I was hoping to see you. To say danke—thank you—for your help. My aunt—she's grateful, too."
Alec listened for the accent. It was definitely there, but her English was better. She was calmer, not so flustered with her words. He began to think Douglas was wrong. Though she was not English, Alec didn't believe she was German. Yet he couldn't be sure.
"I am visiting my aunt," she continued. "I know no one but her. What is your name?"
Alec hesitated before answering, remembering the first mate's severe warning.
"Alec," he said. "My name is Alec. What about yours?"
"Eva. I'm vierzehn—fourteen," she volunteered. "How many Jahre—years do you have?"
Alec didn't want to tell her he was her age. He didn't want to tell her anything more. She clearly wasn't in the hurry he was, and he had no time for anyone right now. "I hope you'll like Dover, Eva. I'll see you another time. I'm late for supper."
He kept himself from turning around until he reached the rear stairway. Then he glanced back down the street, expecting Eva to still be there. But she had gone.
He was glad. Things were getting too muddled. He didn't need another person taking up his time. Especially some silly girl.