‘So that’s it,’ nodded Gregory. ‘All right, I’m not denying anything, and I take my hat off to you as a first-class policeman for having recognised us after all this time. But as you’re a Frenchman it’s only reasonable to assume that you’ve no real love for the Nazis. Let’s make this a business deal. What’s it worth to you to let us go?’
‘Nothing that you could pay,’ came the prompt reply. ‘That girl with you is Madeleine Lavallière, and the Germans are offering fifty thousand francs for her apprehension. They’re offering another fifty thousand francs for you two men. That’s big money to a man like myself, so you can save your breath and stay where you are until the Nazis come for you.’
‘How about your brother-in-law?’ Madeleine said swiftly.
‘Are you prepared to get him into trouble for having taken us into his house?’
Picquette shrugged. ‘You needn’t bother your head about Boucheron. No one can prove he knew who you were, so I’ll fix things for him all right.’
‘As you say we’re to remain here until the Nazis come for us I take it you’ve already tipped them off?’ remarked Gregory.
‘That’s right; I put a call through to Paris within five minutes of setting eyes on you this afternoon. I didn’t want any local big-wigs interfering with my kill, so I spoke to Major Schaub, the man you knocked out—remember?—in that nursing-home affair. He was as pleased as a dog with two tails when he heard that I’d got you taped. I told him about this place and that we’d be here tonight and that I’d keep an eye on you; so he said that he’d come from Paris himself to pull you in. As a matter of fact, I expected him here about eleven o’clock, so he and his “black boys” may turn up any time now.’
The Quisling policeman had not even told Gregory and Stefan to put their hands up; but he knew his stuff. His revolver was pointing straight at Madeleine. He was banking on the fact that neither of the others would dare to attack him knowing that whatever happened she would be shot.
Gregory and Stefan were horribly conscious of his strategy. In such a desperate situation either of them would have taken the risk of rushing him, but as it was they dared not move; yet their whole escape was now in jeopardy, and their only chance lay in doing something before the Nazi police cars arrived upon the scene.
Madeleine too had sized up the situation. She knew that it was up to her. With splendid courage she suddenly began to walk the few steps forward which separated her from the barrel of the gun.
‘Stand back!’ cried Picquette. ‘Stand back, or I shoot!’
But his momentary hesitation to kill a woman cost him exactly one hundred thousand francs. As his finger squeezed the trigger Madeleine flung herself headlong on the floor; Gregory and Stefan sprang at the same instant. Picquette’s revolver was wrenched out of his hand. Kuporovitch dealt him a terrific punch which landed on the side of his jaw, sending him backwards, so that his head crashed against the wall. He fell, limp and bleeding, in the corner.
The crash of the single shot had hardly ceased to echo before Madeleine had picked herself up and all three of them were outside the building running down the street.
All was quiet outside, as in the occupied cities few people remained out after ten o’clock. For the first fifty paces all Gregory’s thoughts were riveted on the sounds which were coming from the blacked-out windows of the hall. Everything now hung on whether Picquette’s shot had been heard by anyone in the dance-hall. If it had, his unconscious form would be discovered within a few seconds and a score of men would come running out into the street to see if his attackers were still in sight. If they were, a hue and cry would start, the nearest police would join in, and once the human pack was after them it would be difficult, if not impossible, to shake it off.
But Dame Fortune had turned the smiling side of her face to them again. Evidently the music of the accordions, and the stamping feet of the dancers, had drowned the noise of the shot. The merry-making continued unabated, and with a quick word to his companions Gregory brought their pace down to a walk.
‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘We’ve got a few minutes’ grace anyway, and if we run we may attract the attention of some patrolling gendarme. We’ll have to hurry, though, as that fellow caused us to lose quite a bit of time.’
‘I told you before that I thought you were leaving it a bit late,’ said Kuporovitch.
‘We’d have had ample time if we hadn’t been held up,’ Gregory replied, ‘and I fixed the time of our departure as late as possible for two reasons: firstly, I didn’t want to leave the party sooner than we had to in case some Quisling there wondered where we had got to and started to make enquiries about us; secondly, we’ve still got to get into Boucheron’s boat and out to the Sans Souci unseen. We shouldn’t have stood a dog’s chance of doing that earlier in the evening while there were still lots of people moving about among the cafés on the waterfront. They don’t close till eleven anyhow, and we had to give them a bit of time to settle down for the night, so the longer we could leave it the better.’
Boucheron’s boat was in the Arrière Port, so from the Rue Amiral Courbet they had to make their way right round the inland basins and across the railway. That meant a good two miles’ walk, and it was now twenty to twelve. But the Sans Souci was not due to sail until well after midnight, and Boucheron had been confident that she would not get under way until half-past twelve at the earliest.
There was no traffic in the streets, and very few pedestrians, so they were able to put their best foot forward. Gregory had made a careful study of the route they would follow when walking back from the Arrière Port with Boucheron that afternoon, so he had little fear of losing his way. Nevertheless, in the tricky turnings between the railway station and the Quai Georges they did lose it, and a precious ten minutes sped past before they managed to find it again. In consequence, it was twenty minutes after midnight before they reached the Arrière Port, and they were all now in a state of suppressed anxiety, as they felt that their margin had become terribly narrow.
There was no time left to make a cautious investigation of the wharf side, to satisfy themselves that no fresh sentries had been posted to keep watch on the small craft during the night. They could only take a chance on the sentries being at the same posts as they had occupied that afternoon and go boldly forward to the steps beneath which the boat lay.
Luck favoured them again. The challenge that they dreaded to hear each second did not ring out. Treading as gently as they could, they covered the last few yards of pavé, slipped down the stairs and into the boat. Gregory took the tiller, while Kuporovitch undid the painter and got out the oars. Next moment they were off.
If the Russian had used the full strength of his arms he could have sent the rowing-boat ahead at a fine pace, but dared not do so from fear that the splashing of the oars would attract attention. He could only paddle gently, keeping well into the shadow of the wharf side. The minutes seemed to fly by as they slowly progressed and rounded the corner into the Avant Port, where the Sans Souci had lain that afternoon. Gregory and Madeleine strained their eyes ahead into the darkness, endeavouring to pick out the jetty where the tug and her string of barges had been tied up. At last they saw it, but to their dismay the Sans Souci was no longer there.
With a sudden pull on the tiller-ropes Gregory turned the boat’s nose out to sea, as he said grimly: ‘We’ll have to risk someone hearing the splash of the oars now. Come on, Stefan! Put your back into it! Row for all you’re worth.’
Instantly the Russian dipped his oars deep and exerted all his strength. The boat shot forward with a quick hissing sound, while Madeleine looked anxiously behind them, and Gregory again strained his eyes, peering into the gloom to seaward.
For the next ten minutes they did not exchange a word, as with heave after heave Kuporovitch sent the dinghy bouncing forward. Then Gregory exclaimed: ‘Stick to it, Stefan, stick to it! I can see something ahead.’
The moon was now in its dark quarter, but faint starlight enabled them to see a little distance, and as they advanced Gregory could now make out a black mass that he had sighted across the water with growing distinctness. His heart leapt with joy. He was certain now that it was the Sans Souci with her string of barges. Another five minutes’ hard pulling and they were under the stern of the rearmost barge.
But the Sans Souci was just passing the harbour mouth. The size of the waves was increasing, and having cleared the entrance she was now putting on speed. It was all that Kuporovitch could do, even by the mightiest efforts, to keep up with the rearmost barge. At Madeleine’s urging he put on a final spurt, then standing up in the dinghy, Gregory cast its small anchor up on to the barge. It caught on the low rim which ran round the deck, and by hauling on the anchor rope he was able to pull the dinghy up under the barge’s counter.
For a few minutes Kuporovitch rested from his exertions, while Gregory lashed the anchor rope to the boat’s thwart and got a second grip on the barge with a boat-hook. The Russian then prepared for the difficult job of getting on board.
The side of the barge was eight feet or more out of the water but by standing on the little triangular foredeck of the boat he reduced the distance by two feet. The anchor rope was too thin for him to climb, and the only way that he could reach the barge was to jump.
With the boat now tossing in the waves it was a most hazardous attempt to make. For a few seconds he balanced himself precariously until a wave-crest carried the boat up; then, knowing that if he failed to secure a hold he would be dashed overboard and swept away in the darkness beyond hope of rescue, he sprang.
His fingers caught the wooden rim above the barge’s deck. For a moment he hung there kicking wildly, while Gregory and Madeleine watched him fearfully. Then, with a frantic wriggle, he managed to lever himself up and tumbled head foremost into safety.
A moment later, now lying on the deck, he put his hands and arms over the side. Madeleine was all ready for him. As she jumped he caught her in his arms and hauled her in. As soon as he had released her he turned again, and gripping Gregory’s hand pulled him up too.
For a full minute all three of them sat panting there on the deck, then Madeleine cried: ‘We’ve done it, we’ve done it! We’re safe at last!’
‘Yes, we’ve done it, thank God!’ Gregory echoed. ‘But I’m afraid we’re only safe for the moment. The devil of it is that through that wretched fellow Picquette holding us up we were unable to join our friends, and I don’t see how we can do so. We caught the boat all right, but we’re in the wrong barge.’
‘What does that matter?’ Madeleine shrugged.
‘It matters a hell of a lot,’ Gregory said with unusual seriousness. ‘Now we’re out of France I can tell you the plan we hatched for conveying all our Paris friends to safety. These barges are bound for a Dutch or German port, so they’ve got to pass through the Straits of Dover. Reconnaissance aircraft of the R.A.F. are keeping a daily watch for them. The recognition sign is that the third barge in the string is much smaller than the other four. When we’re sighted the Royal Navy will get busy. The Nazi escort ships will be sunk, and the people in Baras’ barge will be rescued and taken to England.’
‘But how marvellous!’ exclaimed Madeleine. ‘And in that case why ever should you worry? When the Navy comes on the scene we have only to show ourselves and shout, and they’ll take us off too.’
Gregory grunted. ‘That sounds all right, if the Nazis don’t spot us first and shoot us; and if the British come near enough to hear our voices. The trouble is that four out of five of these barges are filled with high explosives. The Navy has orders to cut out the barge which has our friends on board and blow the others sky-high. As I’ve just pointed out, we’re on the wrong barge, and, as far as I can see, have no means of reaching the right one.’
The more they thought about their situation the less they liked it. The five barges were strung together with twenty-fathom lengths of steel cable, and there was no way at all in which they could cross those yawning gulfs to reach Léon Baras’ party, which occupied the second barge in the string.
‘We’ll have to wait till daylight,’ Kuporovitch said. ‘The captain and the crew of the Sans Souci are in the secret. If we signal them they’ll slow down so that we can get back into Boucheron’s boat and row along to join our friends.’
‘I’m afraid there’s not much hope of that,’ Gregory sighed. ‘You seem to have forgotten, Stefan, that this string of barges now forms part of a convoy with a German escort. What the escort consists of we shan’t discover until daylight, but I expect there’ll be at least one Ack-Ack ship and probably several E-boats. Directly we stand up to start signalling the Germans will wonder who we are and come on board to investigate. There’s another thing. We’ll have to cast off the boat before morning. Otherwise the Nazis will spot it and guess that some unauthorised persons came out to this barge in it under cover of darkness.’.
‘Wait a moment, though,’ said Madeleine. ‘If the British Navy is going to capture Baras’ barge and tow it to England why shouldn’t they capture the whole string? This great cargo of explosives would be as useful to the British as to the Germans, and surely the Navy will have thought of that. You must be wrong in thinking they mean to sink all the other barges.’
Gregory laughed. ‘I’m afraid you don’t understand the difficulties of such an operation. The Germans aren’t going to take this little party lying down. We shall be hugging the French coast the whole time, and once the balloon goes up scores of German aircraft will take off to bomb the British ships. They’ll probably despatch to the spot any other fast E-boats they may have within thirty miles and a submarine or so into the bargain.
‘To capture a whole string of barges and tow them back to an English port with the British ships being attacked both by sea and air while they’re on the job would be one hell of an undertaking. Speed is their best defence against such an attack, so there wouldn’t even be time for them to send boarding-parties on to the barges to undo the hawsers and attach each one to a separate ship. They’ll simply come alongside Baras’ barge and throw him a rope. Directly it’s made fast, and he’s cast off from the barges ahead and astern, they’ll pull him out of the string as quickly as they possibly can. When they’ve got his barge to a safe distance they’ll blow up the other four barges by gunfire in order to create confusion among the Germans and destroy this big cargo of enemy war material.’
‘I see,’ said Madeleine softly. ‘Of course, one always thinks of the British Navy as all-powerful, and that there’s simply nothing that it cannot do.’
‘I’m afraid that even the Royal Navy has its limits,’ Gregory smiled, ‘but it’s nice that people should think of it in the way that you say, and actually far too little appreciation is given to the amazing things it has accomplished. The fact of the matter is that the English are not given to talking very much. They’re not very good at bringing home to other people the real basic fact that without them Hitler would have won his war and had the whole of Europe in the bag long ago.’
‘That’s entirely on account of your incredibly ill-managed propaganda in the first two years of the war,’ Kuporovitch remarked. ‘Nine-tenths of the people outside Britain still believe that the English are decadent and that their fighting is being done for them by the troops of the Dominions and a few gallant Scottish regiments. But where would all the others be without them? No portion of the Empire could continue to exist without the homeland, unless they allowed themselves to be taken over by the United States. And where would the United States be if Britain fell? If Hitler had every shipyard in the whole of Europe, including Britain, to build the greatest Navy that the world has ever seen for his assault on the Americas, they couldn’t possibly compete in such a building race. Within five years the Stars and Stripes would be swept from the seas.’
Gregory nodded. ‘You’re right, Stefan. And it’s a rotten shame that this idea that everyone else is doing the fighting should still persist. When I was last in London a great husky Australian stuck a finger in my chest and said: “If you don’t soon get down to business in this war I’ll be meeting you in New York one day with Free English written on your shoulder. How would you like that?”’
‘Of course, it’s quite true that we’re terribly slow in the uptake, and we’re not fighting all out yet. We need, and we’re thundering glad to have, all the help that we can get in this titanic struggle, both from the peoples of our own Empire and the Free Forces of all the peoples who are fighting with us, but that does not affect the fact that the people of the homeland are the rock upon which Hitler will break.’
He paused a moment, then went on: ‘In no other country in the world is there quite the same solidity and strength of purpose as in the little island where the three ancient races are now merged into one; and that brings us back to the Royal Navy. Every other people on earth that is fighting for, or even prepared to fight for, its freedom, is now dependent on Britain keeping free the seas; and, although not many people realise it, over eighty-five per cent of the officers and men who man our fighting ships are drawn from the Southern Counties of England.’
There was another short silence, then he gave a cynical little laugh and added: ‘Of course, the men of Devon and Hampshire and Kent don’t get much credit for the fact that Hitler isn’t occupying Buckingham Palace, or that Britain is still far and away the best fed and most comfortable country among the warring Powers in which to live. Neither do the people of all the other towns and counties between John o’ Groats and Land’s End, who provide much the biggest proportion of the Imperial Armies and Air Forces; yet it is their blood, and their tradition, which permeates all the other Anglo-Saxon peoples of the world. That indomitable spirit, which has made the Empire, lives in it still today, and without it all else which sustains our Commonwealth of Nations must perish.’
‘You’re right, Gregory, absolutely right,’ Kuporovitch agreed, ‘and we’ll see the Navy doing its stuff tomorrow—if all goes well. Perhaps, though, if we slept for a bit we’d be able to think up some way of getting rid of our ringside seats. It’s quite clear now that they’re going to be far too near the performance to be comfortable.’
Getting up from the deck, Gregory set Boucheron’s boat adrift, then they went down into the small cabin in the stern of the barge, which was occupied by a watchman when it was in port. There were two bunks in it, and on one a couple of coarse blankets had been left neatly folded. Madeleine lay down on one bunk, while Gregory and Stefan tossed up for the other. Gregory won, so the Russian found some old sacking and made himself as comfortable as his makeshift bedding permitted, on the floor. Although they had slept for three hours that afternoon they were still terribly fatigued from their long journey and desperate exertions, so within a few moments they were all asleep.
When Kuporovitch awoke it was daylight. He roused Gregory, and the two of them went cautiously up the short companionway to take a look round and find out the composition of the convoy. They soon saw that none of the ships was within several hundred yards of them, so they were in little danger of being spotted, provided that they did not let more than the top of their heads appear above the hatch.
To their right they could see the coast of France very clearly. They were not more than a mile from shore and were heading up-channel. They were just passing a town that Gregory could not definitely identify but thought was probably Fecamp, and they found that their string of barges formed the second in the convoy, which consisted of six strings altogether. On their seaward side there was a small grey-painted motor yacht, which had doubtless been commandeered from some French port and converted into a Flak-ship. There were also three E-boats, spaced out at intervals along the line. In addition, they also saw that each of the six tugs towing the strings of barges was now flying a balloon as a precaution against aerial attack.
‘The balloon puts paid to any chance of our making our presence known to the people in our tug,’ said Gregory. ‘There must be German Air Arm men on board to fly it, and I expect they rigged up their winches while we were at Boucheron’s yesterday afternoon.’
‘No, we can’t expect any help from that quarter,’ Kuporovitch agreed. ‘Even if there weren’t Germans on board her their friends in the escort ships would see our signals. You were quite right last night in your prediction of the fix in which we’d find ourselves. As far as I can see, the only thing for us to do, when the party starts, is to jump overboard and trust to luck that the British will pick us up.’
‘But you can’t swim,’ Gregory objected.
‘I know; but I can make some sort of raft, or, anyhow, lash together all the spare bits of wood that I can find as something to which to cling.’
When they went below again they found that Madeleine was awake and rummaging in the lockers of the little cabin in the hope of finding some odds and ends of food; but she was disappointed. They had to go breakfastless, and instead employed themselves on making three good-sized floats from cupboard doors which they wrenched off, broom-handles and other wooden gear. There was plenty of twine in one of the lockers, and by the time they had finished, although each of the floats looked like a large bundle of junk, they felt certain that they were large enough and sufficiently strongly tied together, to support the weight of a body in the water for several hours.
From time to time one or other of them went up the companionway so as to be informed at once if any unusual activity was going on. They saw several German planes, and about nine o’clock one that Gregory believed to be British, flying very high. He wondered if its pilot was even then examining the convoy through his observation glasses with special interest.
They thanked God that the weather was fine, as if the plane that Gregory had seen had not identified the Sans Souci and her tow it was a virtual certainty that some other British plane would report the big barge convoy during the course of the morning.
But in any case several hours must elapse before the attack could be expected, as the Admiralty would certainly not be holding a force in perpetual readiness for this minor operation, and even in wartime instructions could not be issued and ships sent to sea at a bare few minutes’ warning. There was also the question of air co-operation and the fact that the British flotilla would have to cross the Channel before it could attack the enemy’s escort.
Aircraft continued to come and go in the sky above, and on two occasions they saw a brief air battle in which Nazi planes came spiralling down into the sea, leaving a long black smoky trail behind them.
Soon after eleven o’clock, as they were beating up towards a large town which Gregory felt certain was Dieppe, Kuporovitch noticed a motor launch leave the pier and come racing out towards the convoy. The launch feathered through the water until it reached the leading tug. Soon afterwards a signal was hoisted, and the convoy came down to half speed, while the various escort vessels closed in upon it.
The Russian had already called the others up, and with some perturbation they began to wonder what was happening. All too soon they knew. Each of the escort vessels picked a barge, and German sailors from the E-boats began to scramble on board them.
‘Hell!’ exclaimed Gregory. ‘What cursed luck! The Nazis have tumbled to something at the eleventh hour. They must have got wind of it somehow that one of the barges contains Baras and the rest of our friends, so the men in the E-boats have been ordered to search them.’
‘Oh, poor wretches!’ Madeleine sighed. ‘It’s too terrible to think of their being caught and hauled back to suffer God knows what horrors when they’ve been cooped up in that barge for a fortnight and are so very near being rescued.’
‘If they search every barge they’ll find us too,’ remarked Kuporovitch grimly.
‘I think that depends on if they stumble on us first,’ Gregory replied. ‘If they find the others they probably won’t bother to search any further. Thank goodness none of the E-boats picked Baras’ barge to start off with, as it’ll probably work the other way too, and if they find us first they’ll be satisfied.’
Madeleine nodded. ‘It’s really a question as to what information they have. If they’re looking for sixty or seventy people they won’t be content with us three, but, if they’ve just been tipped off that there are some stowaways on one of the barges, finding us would put them off the track of the others altogether.’
Gregory and Kuporovitch remained silent, but looked quickly at each other. They both knew what was in Madeleine’s mind; if they showed themselves at once, and gave themselves up, that might be the means of saving some sixty other people from death and torture.
It was a terrible decision to have to make. The Gestapo would show them no mercy, and once they had given themselves up, with all three of them as prisoners, and no one outside to give them aid, they knew that there was very little chance of their being able to escape again. Yet, in the past weeks they had suffered so much already, and were now so very near freedom. Even though they were standing above a great mass of high explosive the odds would have been about even on their being picked up by the British after they had taken to the water, if only they could swim far enough from the barge before it was blown sky-high. It was Madeleine who decided their terrible problem for them by saying:
‘I think we ought to, don’t you?’
The others both knew what she meant, and they nodded slowly. Then she walked up the few remaining steps of the companionway on to the open deck, and that tough man Stefan Kuporovitch felt that it could have been no braver sight to have witnessed Marie Antoinette walking up the steps of the guillotine.
The men followed her out from their hiding-place and waved to the Germans in the nearest E-boat. The boat cast off from the barge ahead of them, which it had just been examining. An officer in it spoke to one of the sailors, who stood up in its prow and began to semaphore the other boats. Immediately the men in them gave up their search, and together with the launch which had put out from Dieppe they all headed for the barge on which Madeleine and her friends were standing.
The nearest E-boat pulled up alongside, but none of its crew attempted to come aboard. Two of them covered the stowaways with automatic rifles and waited until the launch arrived, A black-uniformed figure was standing in its stern, and with grim forebodings the little party on the barge recognised him as their old enemy, Major Wolfram Schaub.
Two sailors scrambled on to the barge, then two S.S. men, then the Major. As he came forward his strong nobbly face was wreathed in smiles.
‘So!’ he said. ‘I’ve got you after all. It was a near thing, after that idiot policeman messed things up last night.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Gregory cynically, ‘On your marvellous staff work. We’ve been up against every Gestapo man in France for the past fortnight and made our way through the German lines of the forbidden coastal area; yet you owe it to pure chance, and a dumb-headed French Quisling having recognised us, that you got on our track before we could get clean away.’
‘Enough!’ snapped Schaub. ‘I will teach you manners and to cringe at the name of the Gestapo before you’re very much older. Get down in the boat, all of you.’
There was nothing to do but to obey, so they lowered themselves over the side into the stern of the launch. All took as long as possible, as it seemed to them now that every second counted, and they were still hoping against hope that the British Navy might come on the scene before Schaub actually get them into Dieppe.
With eager, desperate gaze they searched the sea and sky; but there was not a sign of any shipping except that in the convoy, and above them only two patrolling Messerschmitts circled lazily.
When they were in the boat Schaub ordered the young naval officer in it to return to Dieppe. Their speed increased and the launch shot forward. They had not more than two miles at the outside to cover, and as they sped away they now kept their eyes fixed sadly on the string of barges that for so many days they had struggled so desperately to catch, and which, as it proceeded slowly up-channel, carried away their last hopes of life and freedom.
They were half-way to the shore when Gregory suddenly spoke: ‘You haven’t got Léon Baras yet, have you?’
Schaub looked at him quickly. ‘No, why do you ask?’
‘Because I don’t like Baras. He once did me a dirty trick, and sooner or later I always get even with my enemies. Would you make it any easier for us if I told you where you could lay your hands on Baras?’
‘Yes, I’d do a deal,’ the Major replied. ‘The Communist Deputies have been giving us a lot of trouble, and I’d like to make an example of one of them. Naturally, you’ll understand that all three of you will face a firing-squad, but I can arrange matters so that you face it standing up, instead of lying on the ground already beaten to a pulp.’
‘All right, then,’ Gregory nodded. ‘I’ve only got your word, and I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to get even with Baras, but I’m going to trust you about seeing to it that we’re not tortured before we’re shot. Baras was in our party, but we disliked each other so much that he decided to travel in a different barge. If you like to turn back you’ll find him in the second barge of the second string.’
Madeleine and Stefan had been listening to Gregory and wondering what on earth he was trying to do. Now they both stared at him in open amazement. Either of them would have given a great deal to escape torture and flogging before they died, but having decided to give themselves up in order to save all those other people, it seemed a poor cowardly businness not to go through with it right to the end, as if Baras was discovered all the others must be too.
Suddenly they caught a faint rat-tat-tat high above their heads and, looking up, they saw something they had not noticed while listening to Gregory. Two squadrons of British fighter planes had suddenly come on the scene, diving from a great height at terrific speed right out of the sun on to the two German Messerschmitts. Gregory’s strong eyes had seen those squadrons first, and the sight of them had convinced him that the party was on.
Air battles were nothing new to Major Schaub, and with hardly a glance above his head he ordered the launch back to the string of barges. Before they were half-way there the two Messerschmitts, caught napping, disintegrated under an absolute hail of cannon-shells from the swarm of British fighters, and the pieces came fluttering down into the sea. The two squadrons then divided; one turning south, and the other north, they curved away in opposite directions across the coast of France.
The Germans in the launch cursed a little and shook their fists in impotent anger as they saw the wreckage of the Messerschmitts tumbling down from the sky. The Ack-Ack escort ship had come into action, as also had the anti-aircraft guns in the E-boats, but after a few moments they all ceased fire, as the British squadrons had passed out of range. As far as the Germans were concerned it was just an episode of the war, which was now over.
The guns had hardly ceased firing when the launch reached the barge where Léon Baras and his friends were confined. Once more two sailors went aboard, then two S.S. men, then Major Schaub. The three prisoners remained seated in the stern of the launch, listening with all their ears and wondering what the devil was going to happen.
Suddenly there was the sound of shots and shouting from the barge. The shots increased to a din as more and more rifles and automatics came into action. As Gregory had guessed, Baras and his companions, all of whom were armed, were not going to allow themselves to be taken without a struggle, and there were at least twenty Frenchmen to the five Germans. Gregory had led the Major into a pretty trap.
One by one the Germans had disappeared down the companionway in the after-part of the barge. Now one of the S.S. men reappeared and dashed to its side. ‘Help! Help!’ he shouted. ‘The barge is full of these damned Frenchmen, and they’ve all got guns! Quick! Up you come, all of you, and lend a hand!’
There were two more S.S. men in the launch, guarding the prisoners, one sailor up in the bows, and the young naval officer who was standing by the tiller. One of the S.S. men turned to the officer and with a wave towards the prisoners cried: ‘Here, you, look after these people!’ Then both of them hauled themselves up over the barge’s side; the sailor in the bow jumped after them.
As Gregory and Kuporovitch had only just given themselves up they had not yet been searched or disarmed. No sooner were the S.S. men out of the way than they pulled their guns from their pockets. The young officer made a quick grab at his holster, but too late. As he turned to face Gregory, Kuporovitch hit him a mighty backhander, and he toppled overboard. Next minute the two friends had come into action with their guns, taking the S.S. men on the barge in the rear. They shot both of them in the back.
Madeleine grabbed up a boat-hook and fixed it into the barge’s deck-rim so that the launch should not drift away from it, as she cried to the other two: ‘Up you go! I can manage to hang on. I’ll be all right here.’
Stefan shook his head. ‘No, Baras and the rest are more than enough to tackle those Nazis. But there’ll be more of them arriving in the other boats in a minute. I’m staying here with you.’
The sounds of firing had already attracted attention. The convoy had come down to slow, and the three E-boats were all racing towards them.
Gregory was now desperately anxious. If he had been wrong about those two squadrons of fighter planes, and they had no special interest in the convoy, but had merely appeared above it by chance on one of their daily patrols, the fat was in the fire with a vengeance. The Germans in the E-boats and the Flak-ship were more numerous and better armed than Baras and his friends. It would be a frightful business if all of them were now killed or captured as a result of his clutching at a straw, and if, in the hope of saving his own party after all, he had wrecked everything by his premature disclosure that Baras was in the barge. The launch was on the landward side of the barge. With a quick glance at the oncoming E-boats he sprang on to her deck to stare wildly at the sea horizon.
For a moment he believed the game was up. Then he thought he saw some faint smudges of smoke on the skyline. Shading his eyes with his hand he stared again. Yes, he was right—there were six of them. The Germans had seen them too; a hooter on the Ack-Ack ship began to wail.
After that everything seemed to happen incredibly quickly. The planes were back again, circling overhead; the smudges of smoke increased and grew nearer with fantastic speed, turning into six long low destroyers. They were still several miles away when they opened fire with their biggest guns. Shells began to scream overhead and plunge into the water among the other strings of barges, sending up great fountains of foam. The German E-boats were within a few hundred yards of the launch, but all of them now changed their courses and swerved out to seaward of the line of barges. Below the barge’s deck fighting was still in progress. Revolvers cracked, and every moment there came the scream or curse of a wounded man.
Fascinated by the sight of the action as he was, Gregory forced his eyes away from it and, turning, yelled to Madeleine: ‘Come on up! You’ll be all right here now.’ Stooping, he grasped her hands to drag her on board. Kuporovitch hauled himself up after her, and when he got to his feet Gregory saw that he was laughing.
‘Well done!’ exclaimed the Russian. ‘Well done, my friend! It was a stroke of genius on your part to get Schaub himself to take us off that cargo of dynamite and deliver us safely to this barge and our friends.’
‘It was more by luck than judgment.’ Gregory grinned.
‘If those planes of ours hadn’t turned up just at that moment I would never have dared to risk it, and as it was I gambled on their being in on this show. Come on! Let’s clear one of the hawsers. Even the Navy will want all the help we can give them in a party like this, where time is everything.’
The two of them ran forward and with frantic fingers began to release the great wire cable which attached the barge to the one ahead.
The R.A.F. fighters were now dealing with the balloons, sending streams of tracer and explosive bullets into them. One after the other the great blimps burst into flames and came gently sailing down, their cables coiling in loose curves as they dipped into the sea. The Sans Souci had already unhitched herself. The sailors were fighting the German balloon men on her deck, and her captain had turned her nose north-westwards to get behind the protective screen of the British destroyers.
The Ack-Ack ship was in flames and sinking. One of the E-boats blew up with a terrific bang, as a shell exploded among its torpedoes. The other two had turned once more, and with every ounce of speed they had were racing for the shelter of Dieppe.
Several coast batteries had now come into action. German shells were falling among the destroyers. One was hit and had the top part of its mast carried away. Amidst the crash of the explosions and the banging of the pom-poms, the rat-tat-tat of machine-guns and the individual crack of rifle-shots, the droning of the many planes made constant thunder in the sky. Several flights of the Luftwaffe came screaming out of the blue sky over the coast; some attempted to dive-bomb the warships, while others attacked the British squadrons.
There were fifty dog-fights going on at once. The planes swooped and circled in an indescribable mêlée with such speed that it was impossible to follow their individual movements. The sky above the convoy was now a haze of curving vapour trails. Five aircraft burst into flames and fell within a few seconds of one another; from four the pilots had managed to bale out, and swaying from side to side under their graceful parachutes they gently floated down.
When Gregory and Stefan had run forward to cast off the forward hawser they left Madeleine standing alone amidships. She had her back turned to the companionway, and it was the sound of running feet which caused her suddenly to swing round. A single figure had emerged from the interior of the barge. Hatless, bleeding from a wound in the face, and his left arm hanging limp from his side, he ran towards her. It was Wolfram Schaub.
With demoniacal fury in his face he raised his pistol to fire at her. She sprang back with a quick cry, but the pistol only clicked. Its magazine was empty.
For an instant they stood glaring at each other, then with the courage of intense hatred she flung herself straight at him.
It had never entered his head that a woman would go for him with her bare hands. Taken off his guard, he made one step back, but he was not quick enough. The violence of her onslaught carried him off his balance; clutching frantically at the air, he fell backwards into the sea with a wailing cry that was only cut short as the water closed over his head.
For a moment Madeleine swayed wildly, very nearly taking a header after him. With a terrific effort she recovered her balance. Pale and shaking, she turned to see that one of the destroyers had left the others and in a graceful curve was now coming alongside.
As the destroyer approached, Baras and his men came tumbling up on deck from the companionway. The sailors threw some ropes. Gregory caught one at the forward end of the barge and at the after end some of the Frenchmen near Baras caught another. The destroyer had reversed her engines, and, oblivious of the battle that was raging all round, a naval lieutenant sprang down on the the barge’s deck. Raising a megaphone which he held in one hand he shouted through it: ‘Is Mr. Sallust aboard?’ And with an answering shout Gregory ran along the deck to him.
‘I was asked to find you,’ said the N.O. quickly. ‘I gather you’re in charge here. Will you get all the people up from below as quickly as you can so that we can take them off?’
‘Aren’t you going to take the barge in tow?’ Gregory asked.’
‘Good God, no! Towing a thing like this would reduce our speed to about fifteen knots, and we’ve got to get out of here just as quickly as we can.’
‘Right-oh!’ said Gregory, and he began to shout orders in French.
In a very few minutes the whole party, except those who had been killed in the recent fighting with Schaub and his men, were up on deck, and with willing hands the British sailors helped them on to the destroyer.
Gregory left last with the Lieutenant, who said that the Captain commanding the flotilla wished to see him as soon as they were clear of the scrap. The destroyer’s lines had already been hauled in, and her engines were turning over once more at full speed, thrusting her out to sea.
In a bare two minutes she had covered the best part of a mile. Then there was a colossal explosion. One after another, the barges of ammunition disintegrated in huge sheets of flame as they blew up. Turning into line ahead, the flotilla, with its anti-aircraft guns still belching fire and smoke at individual Nazi aircraft, raced away, its work accomplished.
When the guns had ceased to thunder Gregory sought out the Captain on the bridge and thanked him on behalf of all concerned for the brilliant feat of rescue work that the Navy, with R.A.F. help, had carried out.
‘Oh, that’s quite all right,’ smiled the Captain. ‘It’s all in the day’s work, you know. We’re very happy to have been of service to you and got so many of these poor people out of the clutches of the Nazis. By the by, I don’t suppose you’ve heard the latest news: the war’s taken quite a new turn since this morning. Hitler’s decided to try to cut his old friend Stalin’s throat. The German Army attacked at dawn along the whole front of the Russian-held territories.’
‘Is it really war, do you think?’ asked Gregory anxiously. ‘Are the Russians fighting back?’
‘Oh Lord, yes!’ the Captain laughed. ‘They’ve announced that since Hitler’s double-crossed them they mean to fight to the death.’ And he went on to give the full story of that Sunday morning’s world-shaking news.
With a little sigh of satisfaction Gregory went below to find Madeleine and Stefan, to tell them all about it. In a single hour the whole orientation of the Second World War had been fundamentally changed. He had never believed that in any possible circumstances Hitler could achieve complete and final victory. Now he knew that the Germans could not even hope for a stalemate and that this now aggression must shorten the war by years.
When Madeleine heard the news she exclaimed: ‘But why should Hitler have attacked Russia? He really must be crazy.’
Stefan smiled as he took her hands. ‘You didn’t tumble, then, to what we’ve been up to all these weeks?’
‘Surely,’ Gregory laughed, ‘the report of Hitler’s speech at the time he launched the attack, which I’ve just given you, must have provided you with the clue.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I still don’t get it. He said that Russia had been trying to stab Germany in the back while pretending to be her friend, didn’t he? And that therefore he must settle with her and render her impotent before he smashed Britain for good and all.’
‘That’s it,’ Gregory agreed. ‘But don’t you remember the bit about the great conspiracy, having its ramifications all over Europe, that he said the Gestapo had uncovered; how, although supposed to be his Allies, Stalin and Co. had been plotting all the time with the Freedom groups in the occupied territories, so that when he was up to the neck in a death-grapple with Britain they would be sufficiently well organised to rise up and rend him? Well, that was our party.’
He paused a moment, then corrected himself. ‘No, I’m wrong—it was your party, Madeleine. You were the one who started it all, by laying down the law to Stefan and myself that the people in the occupied territories would just die of starvation in a year or two, unless somehow the whole war could be given an entirely new twist. We talked it over and we made a plan. I went back to London and got things moving there, while Stefan sat in Paris typing documents night and day.’
‘Of course,’ Madeleine interrupted. ‘All those hundreds of letters on the typewriter with a Russian set of characters, that he had such a job to obtain.’
‘That’s it,’ Gregory smiled. ‘They were supposed to be instructions from the Soviet Government to their secret agents in Occupied France. Meanwhile in London we forged countless letters in French, Dutch, Norwegian, Danish, Czech, Polish and German, with which we were able to build up huge correspondence files. The documents in those files were supposed to have been received by the Freedom fighters in all those different countries, and every one of them told the same story: they were being financed and instructed by Moscow in their work of sabotage and fermenting revolution. London made arrangements for the people in other countries: Stefan and I, with Lacroix’s consent, handled Occupied France. We planted the files with the most trusted members of our organisation, then at the beginning of this month we started to smuggle our friends out, and immediately they’d left split on them one by one. Their homes were raided, the files were discovered hidden in all sorts of cunning places. The Nazis put two and two together, then four and four, and finally added hundred to hundred when we blew up the whole works a fortnight ago.’
Kuporovitch chuckled. ‘We must have given Himmler and all the Gestapo people the greatest headache that they’ve ever had.’
‘I’ll bet we did,’ Gregory grinned back. ‘And they couldn’t laugh off such a great accumulation of evidence from so many different quarters. We provided them with chapter and verse, which made them dead certain that a vast conspiracy existed in the whole of the German conquered lands, inspired by Moscow, to rise against them when the time was ripe. Mind you, we were taking a colossal gamble. I don’t wonder that Lacroix hesitated before he came in with us. We were simply betting on the fact that, although Russia would never attack Germany, she would fight if she were attacked; and it was our work to force the Nazis’ hand, so that they should be absolutely convinced that they’d lose the war unless they settled with Russia before attempting to tackle Britain.’
‘Oh, it was marvellous!’ Madeleine whispered. ‘Absolutely marvellous! Perhaps now in a year or so France may be free again, and these filthy German brutes will get their just deserts.’
Gregory nodded. ‘I hope so. You wanted vengeance, Madeleine, and now you’ve got it; not a little vengeance, like the killing of Schaub because he shot your Georges, or the sabotaging of a few trains containing German soldiers—but a real vengeance. At dawn today Hitler took on 200,000,000 new enemies, and before this job is through every living German will curse his name. Next winter they’ll be dying by the million in the biting winds and freezing snows of the Russian plains. You weren’t content to take an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But you needn’t worry—your will to break Hitler is going to destroy the flower of the whole German race.’
They were silent for a little, then Gregory said: ‘You’ve never been to England, have you, Madeleine? I do hope you’ll like it.’
‘I’m sure I shall,’ she laughed, ‘as Stefan and I are going to get married there. Wherever we may go afterwards, we shall always think of England as our second home.’
‘Bless you both,’ Gregory smiled back. ‘I insist on being best man, and old Pellinore will dig out some champagne for the wedding. I hate weddings as a rule, but I’m going to love this one, because I’m so damn’ certain that both of you are going to be marvellously happy.’
He left the two lovers then and went up on deck to get some air. At last he could allow himself the luxury of savouring the joy of a good job well done, and feel that he had earned the right to take a little time off to be once more with his beautiful Erika. That night, if he were lucky, or, at least, tomorrow, he would hold her in his arms.
An hour or so later he was still leaning on the rail thinking of her and watching the white cliffs of Dover as they rose out of the sea, when the Lieutenant who had jumped down on to the barge came up to him, and said: ‘Pretty good business this—old Hitler going for the Ruskies, isn’t it? Might even keep him busy for a few weeks!’
‘Yes,’ said Gregory quietly. ‘I rather think it might.’ And a few minutes later, as the Lieutenant was called away by some message from the bridge, Gregory smiled to himself.
Those few words had been so typical of the English spirit. Evidently the nice efficient young officer had not yet visualised the vast potentialities of the Soviet Union—the greatest land Power in the world. He regarded the new war as another episode in the war between Britain and Germany which might prove helpful to the British cause. Without thinking very much about it, he was just calmly and superbly confident that, whoever might come in with or against Britain, she was bound to be victorious in the end.
As the afternoon sunlight played on Dover’s cliffs Gregory was very proud to be an Englishman.