Death in a High Latitude, page 19
Keller was impressed. ‘Good thing you two aren’t planning a crime! The cover seems to me all right, and I like being an Oxford fellow. What do we do if they’ve got a radio and offer to send news of us to the outside world?’
‘They won’t,’ I said. ‘The first thing we’d do on staggering in from an air crash would be to ask if they’ve got a radio that can send news of us. I’m sure that they have got a transmitter, but I’m equally certain they’ll say they haven’t.’
‘What if they’re not like that and want to help?’
‘Let them. Our plane was Echo Mike Juliet 773. Our names don’t matter – they’re not likely to know them. Oh, I suppose I can’t be Blair if I’m not married to Ruth – I’ll be Peter Jones. I can still be a colonel, in fact I’d better be a colonel, because a bursar would be quite likely to be a colonel or an admiral or something. There’ll be some excitement on Radio Canada North, or wherever they send a message, and then a lot of puzzlement. It doesn’t matter. By the time anybody has been able to work out that we’re a hoax whatever is going to happen here will have happened.’
*
Having sorted out who we were, the time had come for action. Making sure that our pistols were handy in our pockets we started on the next stage of our walk. It was steep, and with the pain in my side I found it heavier and heavier going. After about a quarter of a mile the slope became a cliff and we stopped at the edge. It wasn’t particularly high, perhaps a hundred feet or so, and it wasn’t sheer – to get down would be a scramble rather than a climb. But with my side throbbing with pain, and, as I could feel, bleeding, I felt that I couldn’t do it. I sat down and told them about my wound. They were very worried. ‘I knew that we shouldn’t have climbed on you,’ Ruth said. ‘Oh, Peter, how are we going to get you out of this?’
‘Perhaps we can get help from the yacht,’ Keller suggested. ‘After all, we don’t know that they’re all instant murderers. It is quite reasonable that one of the survivors of our crash should be injured. I shall go and ask for assistance to bring you down.’
‘That’s not a bad approach. But I don’t like your going alone. I shall be all right here. Ruth must go with you.’
‘Rubbish,’ Ruth said. ‘I’m staying with you.’
‘Of course. We’re not going to leave you by yourself. And it is logical that one of our party of survivors should stay with the injured man.’
Every instinct prompted me against this. ‘It would be logical if we were what we’re pretending to be,’ I said, ‘but we’re not. We know a good deal about that yacht, and the people who may be on board her, and what we know I don’t like. There’s no telling what sort of reception you may get. If there are two of you, you’ll have a chance of doing something where one might be helpless. You must be together.’
We argued about this for several minutes, but I insisted, and finally they agreed. ‘But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if there’s a fight,’ Ruth said crossly.
‘Kick, my darling . . . Please don’t be cross. There may not be a fight, but there are a thousand ways in which two can succeed where one would fail. Don’t let’s risk disaster now because of my old injury. There’s another thing. You’ve got to get down this cliff, and when you get to the yacht you want to be free for action. Leave the haversacks here. You’ll be coming back, anyway, and you can do without the weight.’
We were not a united party any longer, but they accepted what I said. ‘I hate leaving you,’ Ruth said. ‘God bless you. Oh, Peter . . . Peter . . .’
‘Good luck,’ I said. Having started, neither looked back.
*
There seemed no particular reason for me to be out of sight but natural caution suggested that it might be wise not to give away my exact position on the clifftop, so I found a rock from behind which I could see everything below without being seen. Ruth and Keller were about halfway down.
For this coast Apfel’s little bay was almost comfortable. On our side the beach ended quickly in the cliff, but on the other side there was a good stretch of flat ground before the land rose again. I could see the yacht clearly, and I watched someone come out of the cockpit and go on deck. Keller called out, ‘Ahoy, there!’ The first reaction was on the beach. Someone ashore, whom I’d not seen because he was masked by some rocks, came running to the rubber dinghy drawn up the beach. Another person on the yacht rushed up on deck. Ruth and Keller were just reaching the foot of the cliff.
Suddenly I heard the unmistakable sound of an aircraft and saw a plane that had just crossed the ridge coming in to land on the flat ground at the head of the bay. Ruth and Keller were on the beach with about fifty yards to go to the man standing by the dinghy. They waved at him and began running. He made no move. When they were about thirty yards from him he drew a pistol and fired two shots. Both flung themselves down, but I didn’t think they were hit. It was time for some diversionary action. I had the rifle, the man by the dinghy was within easy range and I aimed for his legs.
In my army days I shot for the Regiment at Bisley, and I have always been good with a rifle. My shot went home, the man with the pistol screamed and fell down. He was wounded, not killed. I sent another round to hit the stones beside him. Dragging his left leg he began to crawl behind the dinghy.
Ruth and Keller were still on the ground. Keller began to get up to go towards the wounded man when the ground in front of him was spattered by more bullets. The plane had landed and three men had jumped out. They were running towards the beach firing from automatic weapons. They were sub-machine guns and made a lot of noise, but were not very accurate at that range. Keller went to earth again, and gallantly rolled in front of Ruth. My rifle was a far better weapon than a sub-machine gun. I fired at the leading man from the plane and my second round got him. The other two panicked and turned to run back to the plane. I sent several rounds after them, and the bullets must have been uncomfortably close, for they gave up running to the plane and threw themselves down. I thought it would be a good thing if some fire came from another part of the cliff, moved about a dozen yards and loosed off. Thank God for the haversacks – they held the extra rounds for the rifle that Ruth and Keller had been carrying. For the moment I had ample ammunition.
I forgot about my wound. There were Ruth and Keller to protect, and whatever strange battle this was to be won. My blood was up, and I was determined to win it. This gave me a surge of strength.
But what to do? As long as I was on the clifftop my rifle could dominate events below, and our enemies on the beach could not know how many men with rifles were on the cliff. I changed position again and sent a couple more rounds in the general direction of the men lying on the ground. They made no attempt to get up. The men from the plane had jumped out so quickly that I thought the pilot must be still on board. He was, and he also had a rifle. He got out of the plane, took cover behind the undercarriage, and blazed away at the cliff. Since he could have no idea where I was it was a waste of ammunition.
I decided that my most useful job at the moment was a holding action to pin down the two men who had gone to ground. I could probably have killed them, but I didn’t want to kill unless it seemed imperative, and I could keep them where they were by sending a round every couple of minutes within a foot or two of where they lay. Then things started to happen on the beach. Keller and Ruth wriggled forward slowly towards the dinghy, behind which crouched the wounded man. They knew that he had a pistol because he had fired on them and were taking no chance.
When Keller was five or six yards from the dinghy he motioned to Ruth to stay down, got up and rushed the dinghy. The wounded man was in no condition to show fight. Keller took his pistol and for the moment left him where he was.
Apfel was moored about twenty-five yards offshore. I could see another dinghy on deck, lashed upside down just for’ard of the cockpit. There were still only two people on deck, and while I was engaging the men from the plane they began unlashing the dinghy. When Keller got to the beach they gave up this, and both fired at him with pistols. It was fairly wild shooting. Keller kept his nerve, retreated to a clump of rocks and installed himself in a position from which he could cover the dinghy on the beach, and any attempted landing from Apfel, without being in the least danger from the yacht.
Then Ruth took a hand. I’m not sure whether she had ever fired a pistol in her life but she decided to have a go. Still lying down, she opened fire on the yacht. She was at fairly long range for a pistol shot and whether her bullets went anywhere near the yacht I don’t know, but they were a useful diversion. The two people on the deck stopped firing towards Keller and turned their attention to her. At that range I thought she was probably fairly safe, but nobody shoots at Ruth with impunity. Although at fairly long range they were within reach of my rifle, and I brought them a little nearer by working my way a bit down the cliff. Then I let them have it. My second round brought down one of them, my third the other. Satisfied that they were out of action for the moment I swung round and sent a few more bullets to discourage the men from the plane who were still lying on the ground.
So far as I knew our only opponent remaining effectively in action was the man with a rifle behind the plane. It was difficult to know what to do about him, and he could be as dangerous as I was, although from his wild shooting into the cliff I didn’t think much of him as a rifleman. Keller, however, had been taking in the situation, too. He called to Ruth and she went over to join him by the dinghy. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I could make out what he was doing, and I was thankful to see that he was taking no risks with Ruth. Clearly he was leaving her to keep an eye on the wounded man and guard the dinghy, but placing her behind the rocks where he was. There might be no more danger from the yacht, but there might be other people on board and it was wise to take precautions. Then Keller began walking towards the men on the ground.
I could guess what he was hoping to do, and I had a part to play. My job was to provide a kind of miniature artillery barrage for him, continuing to pin down the men as he made for them. I should have to be careful as he got near to them because I couldn’t risk hitting him, but I thought I could manage by firing slightly to one side of him as he walked. I felt a curious link between us. We were totally out of communication, yet I felt I knew in advance just what he was planning, and he (as he told me later) felt almost that I was beside him.
The men still had their sub-machine guns, which would become more dangerous as Keller got closer to them. I saw one of them trying to adjust his gun and I sent a round within a couple of inches of his head. That kept him quiet. The next thing was that Keller was standing over them with his pistol, ordering them to give up their guns. There wasn’t much that they could do. Keller could have shot either of them with his pistol before they could bring a gun into action, and if they tried to move they could expect what they now knew to be fairly deadly rifle-fire from the cliff. Of course they did not know how many men might be covering them from the cliff, and this was another thing that sapped their spirit.
I saw Keller take the guns and throw them away. Then I understood the next move of his campaign. He ordered the men to get up, put their hands above their heads and walk in front of him towards the plane. He kept close behind them, using them to shield him from any fire that could come from the man behind the undercarriage.
There was nothing more I could do from the cliff, and it was time to try to join the action below. My wound had stood up to things so far, and though I was now conscious again of its hurting I was determined to ignore it. From the dawn of time men have somehow found renewed strength in battle, and I felt now that while I might pay later nothing was going to stop me from doing what I wanted.
I remember nothing of my climb down the cliff – earlier, I had thought that it was beyond me, but now when I came to a difficult place I jumped. I knew that Keller would need me in the battle of the plane, and willpower kept me going. When I got to the beach I started to run.
The trickiest job for Keller would come when he got to the plane. As long as he kept away from the plane, and kept the men in front of him, he was safe enough from the pilot; but while the pilot was in action with his rifle none of us was safe. Keller was obviously determined to put him out of action, but at close quarters they would be three against one, and if they showed any guts in turning on him and risking his pistol he would be in peril. It was absolutely vital that in those critical last moments I should be there to help.
It was touch and go. As they got up to the near wheel of the undercarriage the pilot dashed round it, getting behind Keller’s shield provided by his captives. If the pilot had been a better rifleman events would have gone differently. There was a split second when he could have shot Keller with no risk of hitting either of the other men, but he was running with the rifle, and though he fired once he was too excited to aim and the bullet went harmlessly overhead. Even so, the men in front saw their chance, and when Keller turned to face the pilot they turned and made for Keller. I was perhaps fifty yards away. The pilot swung his rifle like a club and in a moment it would have crashed viciously on Keller’s head. It didn’t, because I broke the pilot’s arm with a bullet a fraction of a second before his blow fell. At the same instant Keller shot one of the other men in the shoulder. When the third man saw me he put his hands up.
*
We had won a battle, but our situation was far from triumphant. The man from the plane whom I’d shot from the cliff was dead, but we had three wounded prisoners on land, and perhaps two more on the yacht. One of the enemy, now standing with his hands up, was unhurt – what was to be done with him?
Keller and I had no time for mutual congratulations, nor did we feel like them. ‘The first thing is to do something about the wounded, then we must go on board the yacht,’ I said. ‘Do you think there’ll be a first-aid kit on the plane?’
‘Quite likely.’ Speaking in English he asked the unwounded man, but the fellow didn’t seem to understand. He tried German, and he understood at once. ‘Are you German?’ Keller asked. The man nodded. Speaking in German he said he didn’t know if the plane carried a first-aid kit, but he would ask the pilot. The wounded pilot said Yes, there was a box of bandages and other things, and he explained where it was kept. Keller told the unwounded man to go and get it.
The first-aid box was quite well-equipped, but there was not much we could do with it. The pilot had a broken arm and I fixed this as far as I could with bandages and a couple of splints from the box. His wound was not bleeding much, and he said he felt more comfortable. The man shot in the shoulder was more badly hurt. Keller and the unwounded prisoner carried him to the plane and laid him down on the floor of the fuselage between the two rows of seats. It was a fair-sized aircraft, capable of carrying thirty or forty passengers at least, and comfortably fitted out. With seat cushions and some blankets that we found on a rack we made the prisoner as comfortable as we could.
‘We’ll get Ruth up here to look after him as soon as we can,’ I said. ‘Now we must get to the yacht.’
We dared not leave either the pilot or the other man with the prisoner. The pilot had a broken arm, but he might still be capable of flying the plane. And the plane had radio – the last thing we wanted was for messages to be sent that might bring reinforcements, or alert people we had no wish to be alerted. Even to leave a seriously wounded man in the plane seemed a risk, but we felt we had to take it – we could not leave him lying in the open, for he would lose heat rapidly and die. Inside at least he had shelter from the wind, and he was well wrapped in blankets. He was barely conscious, certainly incapable of piloting, and we did not think that he could get up to work the radio.
Making the pilot and the other man walk in front of us we went down to the beach. Ruth ran to meet us. ‘Nothing has happened here and I have been frantically worried about you,’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’
‘More or less,’ I said. ‘We seem to have won, for the moment, anyway. Look, my darling, can you go to the plane? There’s a badly wounded man on board, and he needs looking after.’
Ruth was not happy.
‘I’d much rather look after you,’ she said.
‘I can keep going. There’ll be some sort of galley on the plane, and there ought to be some water. See if you can find any – the man may need a drink.’
‘But he tried to kill you.’
‘Yes. That doesn’t matter now. We’ve got to do what we can for him.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I suppose so, but I don’t like it.’
‘None of us likes any of this, my darling. We’ve just got to go on.’
*
Keller was getting ready to launch the dinghy. The man who’d been hit in the leg was on the ground beside it. He couldn’t walk, but I didn’t think that he was gravely hurt. We decided to leave him, the pilot and the unwounded man on the beach while we went on board the yacht. Keller spoke to them sternly in German. ‘You will stay here, and you will not move from this spot,’ he said. ‘You have seen what the Herr Colonel can do with a rifle – if any of you try to leave the beach he will shoot you from the yacht.’
Just before Ruth went off to the plane I said to her, ‘With any luck we’ll join you soon. Keep your pistol handy. If any of this lot tries to board the plane, shoot. None of them has a gun. Stand at the door, and shoot as soon as anyone gets to the boarding steps.’
Keller rowed, and a couple of strokes of the oars got us to the yacht. There was nobody in the cockpit. I made fast the dinghy’s painter and we climbed on board. She was a beautiful boat, with a rather deep cockpit. A central companion way led down to the saloon. The door was open. A woman’s voice called through it in German, ‘If you move a step farther I shall shoot Dr Braunschweig.’
