After pushing the door open Roger stood up in the cabin, rubbing his right leg to help restore the circulation after being cooped up in the locker. He took the opportunity to look out through the windows, never had he seen the sea look so calm. There was barely a ripple on the surface, just a gentle oily swell that lazily lifted Maisie by a few inches at a time as the engines drove her further from England. Over to starboard he could see other boats heading in the same direction, and beyond them smoke from a larger ship.
Roger was just wondering how to announce his presence to Captain Jenks when that gentleman himself came down the steps from wheelhouse.
"What the …" Jenks managed to bite back a swearword. "Roger, what the hell are you doing here?"
"When you said you were taking Maisie over to France I decided to come to. You might need someone a bit younger to help."
"So you thought you'd stow away on board eh? I must admit it's the sort of damn stupid, tomfool, harebrained thing I would have done in my youth. I've a good mind to turn about and put you back ashore. As I said this morning this is not a job for youngsters. Come up top and look at what we are heading for."
Jenks turned about and led back up to the small wheelhouse. At the wheel was a sailor who looked even older than Jenks, with a bushy white beard and blue knitted cap. Jenks gestured to Roger, "Vic, I found us a stowaway. Seems to think he'd be some help on this trip."
Vic slowly looked Roger up and down. Then gave his opinion, "Looks a likely lad. Given time I reckon I could teach him to hand, reef and steer."
"I was thinking more of taking him back."
"Please don't do that," pleaded Roger. "I know lots about boats and can be useful aboard and I can steer and look after the engines."
"I don't know about that." said Jenks, "Take a look ahead and tell me if that doesn't look like trouble."
Roger turned and looked out of the wheelhouse windows towards where they were heading. In the distance, where he knew the French coast should be, a thick, black cloud spread across the horizon.
Jenks nodded towards the hidden coast, "That is where we're going. Somewhere under that stuff the army is being bombed and shelled and Jerry is doing his damnedest to stop us bringing them home."
That ominous cloud made Roger realise that this was not a bit of a lark to tell his school friends about later. It occurred to him for the first time that there was a definite possibility they might not even get back. For a moment he considered telling Jenks that he would rather he was taken back to England, but the thought of appearing a coward in front of these old sailors overrode that idea and he found himself saying, "I think we ought to do our best to help then."
Jenks still looked uncertain but his colleague said, "Well said lad. By the way, I'm Vic Stone. Many times I sailed with Cap'n Jenks as bosun, and I can tell you his bark's worse than his bite. Mostly."
"Pleased to meet you Mr Stone," replied Roger.
"No need to be so formal lad. Just call me Vic, or bosun."
o – o – O – o – o
Maisie motored on over the silky smooth sea towards that ominous cloud. Around them Roger could see more ships and boats as they got closer to France. Every type of craft imaginable seemed to be in the area. Private motor cruisers like those he had seen back in the harbour, paddle steamers, life boats, working boats, even a Thames barge; mixed in with these were larger ships, mainly naval destroyers and former cross-channel steamers acting as troopships.
The decks of the returning ships were all packed with khaki clad figures, members of the British Expeditionary Force. A ferry passed close by and Roger waved cheerfully. A lone sailor raised a hand in reply, but none of the soldiers sitting on the deck appeared to see.
The coast was now close enough for Roger to see a narrow strip of pale yellow beach between the land and sea. As he watched a number of dark shapes appeared in the sky beyond the beaches. These quickly grew bigger and resolved themselves into aircraft.
The aircraft divided into smaller groups and spread out over the area. Some dived down towards the beaches dropping bombs which raised gouts of earth and smoke. Others aimed for the mass of ships and boats. Despite causing great fountains of water, it looked as if nothing was seriously damaged until a destroyer, which had just left the harbour area, stopped with dense smoke pouring from her after superstructure.
As the three onboard Maisie watched, the destroyer's stern settled lower in the water. After a few minutes she slowly rolled over to her portside and slipped beneath the surface. Only a slick of oil and dozens of heads bobbing about in the water marked where the ship had sunk.
"Hell!" exclaimed Jenks. "She didn't last long!"
"Shouldn't we go and help?" asked Roger.
"No, others are much closer than us. We'd only get in the way."
As they watched a paddle steamer, her decks already loaded with troops, approached the men in the water and threw scrambling nets over the side. She was followed by another destroyer sweeping in to aid her sister ship's crew.
"Take the wheel a minute, I want to take look at where we are going. I don't remember all these piers." Jenks moved aside to let Roger take the helm. "Leave that warship to starboard." He instructed. Jenks then trained his binoculars on the shore.
"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, "Those aren't piers, they're men!"
"What do you mean?" asked Roger.
"What look like piers leading in the water are really lines of men waiting to be picked up! What a sight!"
Vic, who had been busy looking for something in the deck locker came into the wheelhouse. "I've got the rope ladder. We can hang that over the bow to help the men aboard. What'll we do with them then?"
"Take 'em out to the one of the bigger ships. Then go back for more." replied Jenks.
Roger kept Maisie heading for the nearest line of men while trying to dodge the increasing amount of debris that was drifting about and avoiding other boats manoeuvring away from the beach.
"Here, I'll take the wheel now," said Jenks, "You give Vic a hand getting the men aboard. Tell him I'm aiming to get them over the starboard side, and remind him not to take too many. I don't want to go aground in the shallows."
Roger handed over to the Captain and headed forward to help Vic and pass on Captain Jenks' message.
Roger pointed to something in the water. "Is that man dead?"
"'Fraid it looks that way," responded Vic.
Roger watched with horrified fascination as a soldier in British uniform floated facedown only a few yards away.
"Shouldn't we do something?"
"Look lad, there are hundreds of men on that beach who need our help. We can do something for them but not for this poor guy. We need to help the living."
Roger nodded in agreement. He could see the sense in what the old bosun said, but it still seemed wrong to leave the unknown soldier bobbing astern of them without even saying a prayer. He remembered the morning last term when the headmaster had announced with solemn tones the death of one of the school's old boys, killed on active service with the RAF. The whole school had stood in silent tribute and later the name was added to the Roll of Honour in the chapel. It had all seemed so much cleaner and noble than being left to drift at the mercy of the wind and waves in the oily water of the English Channel.
He looked away as the body disappeared astern and back towards the beach. In the short time his attention had been distracted by the dead man they had got much closer to the shore.
The engine note changed as Jenks throttled back and cautiously nosed Maisie into shallow water while avoiding another launch that was just backing out with her deck packed with men.
As Captain Jenks manoeuvred the boat up to the line of waiting troops Roger and Vic rigged the rope ladder so it hung over the starboard bow. The men had waded out into the deeper water until it was up to their chests and the occasional wave even splashed across their faces. Roger realised how fortunate it was that the sea was so calm, any rougher and the men would not be able to get so far out from the beach and the boats would not get in without grounding.
One by one Roger and Vic helped the soldiers up the rope ladder and on to the deck. Vic directed the first men to the cabin. "Sorry we can't offer you first class accommodation, "he joked.
The soldier raised a wry smile at the feeble joke and went below as instructed. A sergeant was the third man taken on board and he took charge of the troops, his gruff voice chivvying the men along. "Come on boys, lovely day for a cruise round the bay. Get a move on there... don't dawdle!"
It was not long before Vic had to call "That's the lot! We're full up!", and started hauling up the rope ladder.
The men still waiting pleaded to be brought on board, but the old bosun was adamant. He gestured to Jenks to back away from the beach and shouted to the waiting soldiers, "We can't take any more. We'll take these out to one of the bigger ships and come back for more."
As Jenks put the engines astern and Maisie started to pull away from the beach an aircraft roared overhead, its chattering guns sending a hail of bullets to whip the sea into white foam. Several of the waiting soldiers fell into the sea, one staggered to his feet again with blood pouring from a wound to his head. Others did not rise again and a red stain spread in the water
Roger started to call to Jenks to go back for the injured man, but stopped when he saw Vic's expression. The old bosun's face was contorted with pain and his left arm hung uselessly at his side. Blood ran in a continuous stream from the mangled mess that had been his elbow and fore arm.
"Help me please lad," he gasped, as he sank to the deck
Franticly Roger tried to think what Susan would do. She had always administered first aid on minor cuts and burns but he was at a loss of what to do for the old seaman. Iodine and a sticking plaster would be no use here. As he stood there wracking his brains the sergeant who had directed the soldiers pushed past and knelt beside Vic. "Tourniquet!" he barked.
"What?" asked Roger, still shocked by what he had witnessed and the realisation that he had been only feet away when Vic was hit but was unscathed himself.
"He needs a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. Have you something I can use?"
"I've got a handkerchief. It's pretty clean."
"Give it here then!"
Expertly the sergeant wrapped the handkerchief around Vic's upper arm and started twisting to tighten it and slow the blood flow.
"There that'll do for now. But he must be seen by a medic as soon as possible."
"How is he?" The shout came from the wheelhouse. While they dealt with Vic's injury Roger had forgotten about Captain Jenks and where he was taking the launch.
"He'll live." called back the sergeant, "But as I've just told your boy here he needs proper medical attention."
Jenks pointed to a minesweeper slowly steaming towards the shore. "Looks like that one's just arrived. Maybe she'll have a doctor onboard." He spun the wheel to put Maisie on a converging course.
The 'sweeper was only a mile or so away but to Roger the time it took to reach her was interminable. The sergeant had left him to check on his own men and his place was taken by a young soldier, who squatted down on the deck beside Roger and Vic. He looked exhausted, his eyes sunken in their sockets. "Have you come from England just to rescue us?" he asked.
"We just came over to help out. The Navy were taking a lot of the boats and we sort of decided to come along too."
The soldier shook his head in amazement, "I thought we were all goners. We just kept retreating. I didn't see a single German soldier, just their planes. Where ever we went they found us and bombed us to bits. I was driving a fuel tanker and every time I thought they would get me. One hit on that tanker would have been enough to blow us to kingdom come. Finally we were told to disable our trucks so the Germans couldn't use them and wait on the beach to be picked up. We were queued there waiting since first light. The line seemed to move so slowly. Then you came along…" The soldier ended with a sob.
Embarrassed Roger looked away and checked on Vic.
The old man gripped Roger's arm with his good hand. "You're a good lad," he whispered, "Get me back to Blighty and I'll be right as rain."
As Maisie approached the minesweeper Roger could see other small craft were already alongside. Jenks held back for a few minutes until another boat had moved away and then slid in to take her place near the stern. A scrambling net hung down for the soldiers to climb up to the deck.
Again the sergeant alternatively harangued and cajoled the exhausted soldiers as they climbed the net to the safety of the naval ship. As he did so Roger called up to a sailor on the 'sweeper's deck, "Can you take this man? He's got a badly injured arm and can't climb up. I think he's lost a lot blood and needs to see a doctor."
"Hang on mate!" came the reply. "I'll chuck a line down to you."
Almost immediately a line was dropped down. Roger tied a bowline tightly under Vic's armpits. The old sailor grunted as Roger accidentally knocked against the injured arm. "Steady lad, don't make it worse than it is."
"Sorry Vic, there'll soon be a doctor to look at you."
Two sailors from the minesweeper climbed down to help Vic up onto the deck, as others above heaved in on the line. Before Jenks turned Maisie away from the ship's side Vic gave a wave with his good arm and called down, "You're acting bosun now lad."
Roger waved back and shouted above the noise of the engine as Jenks backed away from the ship's side, "Goodbye. Good luck. Hope they fix your arm."
Vic waved again and disappeared from view supported on each side by a sailor. Roger stood watching astern as Maisie headed back towards the beaches.
"Do you think he'll be alright?" he asked Jenks.
"He'll be fine. The navy chaps'll look after him. Now get ready to pick up some more and have the rope ladder ready."
"Aye aye, sir!"
They returned to the beach and embarked another load of soldiers that were waiting patiently for their turn.
"We'll go back to that 'sweeper." called Jenks, "We might be able to find out how Vic is getting on. Can you see where she is now?"
Roger scanned the area trying to pick her out from the confusion of shipping in. At last he spotted her, partially hidden behind a departing ferry.
"There she is!" he called, pointing the direction to Jenks.
As the boat chugged along Roger joined Jenks in the wheelhouse, who gave his approval to Roger's work.
"You've not done badly there. Not for a stowaway anyway. Look at the time, we should have time pick up one more load from the beach and take them back home with us. We should just make it before it gets too dark."
Roger nodded in agreement. The thought of returning to the little harbour was very appealing. This had been enough of an adventure for now. His stomach reminded him that he had only eaten one small currant bun since breakfast and he promised himself that he would have the other after these soldiers were transferred to a bigger ship. The apple would be his treat on the way back.
As if reading his mind Jenks continued, "When we've dropped off these lads pop down below and look in my kitbag. There's a couple of bottles of beer in there, and a meat pie from my missus. Should keep us going for a while."
This time Jenks was able to take Maisie straight alongside the minesweeper. As the soldiers made their weary way up the scrambling nets Jenks called out to the sailors on the deck, "How's my mate Vic doing? We brought him out with an injured arm."
"Is that the old boy with a beard? Looks like the ancient mariner?"
"Bloody cheek!" muttered Jenks, "we're the same age, roughly." Then louder, replying to the sailor, "Yes, that'll be him."
There was a pause while the sailor called to someone else. A Sub-lieutenant appeared at the rail, "I think he's with our doc at the moment. We'll take him back to Dover. He'll be well looked after."
"Thank you."
As the last soldiers climbed wearily over the 'sweeper's rail Jenks waved a brief farewell to the watching sailors and backed Maisie away.
"Last trip. There should be time for that beer now. Nip below and get them up."
Eagerly Roger went down to the small cabin to look for Jenks' kitbag. The place was a mess with odd pieces of discarded military kit, and the deck was wet from the seawater that had dripped from their uniforms. He found the kitbag under the starboard bench and rummaged inside. He took out the bottles and the pie and put them on the table, while he went to the locker where he left his knapsack. The bun was still there, it was a bit squashed but he was ready to eat anything.
Gathering it all together he started to climb the steps back up to the wheelhouse when, above the noise of the boat's engine, he heard the scream of approaching aircraft and the stutter of machine guns, and was just in time to see a German plane flash past closely pursued by an RAF fighter. Seconds later the German plunged into the sea, leaving nothing but a spreading patch of oily foam to mark its passing.
There was no time to celebrate the small victory. Jenks pointed skyward, "Watch out! Here come some more!"
Roger followed where Jenks' finger was pointing and saw a group of planes high above. As he watched they tilted over and dived towards the ships below. Rapidly the planes got bigger until Roger felt they were coming straight for him. Unwittingly he ducked as he saw bombs detach from the aircraft and hurtle towards them.