"Orders are orders, and yours are as good as they get, straight from Allied Forces HQ" said Harry. "So I'll take you into Bone and wherever you need to go. Don't expect anything else."
Harry wouldn't even look at me while he spoke. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at the stern as the crew cast off from the dock and he eased his boat out, advancing the throttle slightly, bringing a deep, throaty rumble from the four diesel engines belowdeck. As he turned the wheel I saw he had a bandage wrapped around the knuckles of his right hand. I felt the bruise on my jaw and figured maybe we'd come out even, except for the part where I ended up flat on the ground.
It was a beautiful morning. The sea was calm and we were heading east, into the sunrise. I tried to cheer up and convince myself that Diana would still be in Bone and that soon I'd find her. I wondered what the day would bring, and fingered the Thompson slung over my shoulder. I was geared up with extra clips, my. 45, a couple of pineapples that hung from suspenders, and an M3 combat knife, in case things got personal. My field pack was stuffed with first aid supplies, cigarettes, socks, and K-Rations. Dressed in warm olive-drab wool, with my Parsons jacket tucked in the back of my web belt, and all that gear, plus the helmet on my head, I figured a life preserver wouldn't do me much good if I went in the drink.
I let the light winds whip around me as the boat gained speed and the shoreline faded into the distance off the starboard side. The air was clean and pure, with the promise of a new day. Salt spray kicked up around us as we sped over the low swells and Harry opened up at full throttle. I breathed in the fresh smell of salt air, and for the first time in a while I felt good, as if things might really turn out okay.
The rest of the squadron was out in front of us, their wakes splitting the sea like arrows pointing the way. I wondered what that would look like from the air. I gazed up, into the deep blue sky, wishing for some cloudy weather to ruin this crystal clear day. Just enough to keep the Luftwaffe from spotting us. Everyone else looked up too, every chance they had. We were running hard now, the only sound besides the engines was a rhythmic thump… thump as we sped over the low rolling swells. Behind the bridge were two turrets with twin mounted. 50 caliber machine guns. They added a soft mechanical whine as the sailors manning them traversed the skies, watching for a glint of sunlight off metal to buy a few second's warning.
"Tea's brewed up, Captain," came a voice from below deck.
"Bring up two cups, Stubbins."
"Aye, sir."
I took that as an opening.
"Thanks, Harry."
"No reason to be uncivil, is there?"
"Then what do you call last night?"
"Here you go, sirs," said Stubbins, coming up behind us and interrupting my attempt at a heart to heart. "I hope you like it dark and sweet the way Captain does, 'cause that's what you got. No coffee here, sorry to say."
Harry ignored me and stared at the sky. Stubbins held out two chipped porcelain mugs with one hand while he climbed the steps to the bridge. He was bald, scrawny, wore a stained apron over his khakis and looked like he'd been born with his sea legs. He didn't spill a drop.
"Thanks," I said.
"Aye, sir. Anything else, Captain?"
"Yes, ask Petty Officer Banville to join us."
"Aye, sir."
Stubbins stepped down from the bridge and we both sipped the hot, strong tea. I didn't know what to say, but I was glad Harry at least tolerated me on the bridge. I watched him, and he looked like the same Harry I had met just a few months ago, but worn, tired, and thinner. He was about my age, with shiny blond hair that the breeze was blowing in every direction and whipping against his face. He was tanned, lines showing at the corner of his eyes from squinting into the sun, like he was doing right now. He had bags under the bags under his eyes.
"Pretty big boat," I said, trying to make conversation.
"She's a Fairmile D, newest model," Harry said, not taking his eyes off the horizon. "Bigger than the boat I took you out on last. Over 115 feet long with a crew of twelve. She can do twenty-eight knots without even trying. And this time we have torpedoes, four tubes."
"How long have you been with this squadron?"
"Less than a month."
" Why'd you leave your boat in Scotland?"
"I didn't. Keep a lookout, will you?" That was that. We stared at the sky and drank tea.
"Captain?"
We both jumped a bit at the voice, like a couple of nervous Nellies.
"Yes, ah, take the wheel, will you, Banville?"
Harry stepped aside and cupped his hands around the tea mug, planting his legs wide as the boat skimmed the waves. "Petty Officer Banville, this is Lieutenant Billy Boyle."
"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant," said Banville, taking his place at the wheel and looking straight ahead. "I'm going ashore with you and the captain, since I parlez fairly well. I learnt my French working trawlers between Boulogne and Brest, hauling everything from potatoes to scrap metal. Between the docks and the whorehouses, I managed to pick up a good bit of the lingo. I'll do my best to get the point across when the time comes."
"Banville's a good man ashore as well as at sea," Harry said. "I heat he can handle himself in a brawl."
"That's what comes of a misspent youth at sea," said Banville with^ a wink. There was a scar at the corner of his eye and his nose had been broken at least once. He was a wiry, dark-haired guy with a scrubby beard, a knife on his belt, and a crumpled once-white naval cap on his head. He looked like someone you wanted on your side if you were walking down a dark alley, which we well could be before long.
Banville gave me the once over. "By the looks of that hardware I'd say we should expect trouble," he said.
"I hope not," I said. "We're only looking for a couple of people but I like to be prepared."
He looked at my jaw and swollen lip, then at Harry's bandaged hand. "Good advice," he said, as he turned back to stare over the bow.
"I'm going below for a radio check," Harry said. "We're supposed to contact your Major Harding back at base as soon as we land." He left the bridge and Banville and I remained, swiveling our necks.
"So you knew the captain back in England?" Banville asked.
"We did a job together," I said. "But he doesn't seem too happy to see me again."
"So I noticed. But he's not been that happy about anything since he got here. Not that any of us are thrilled to be here, but we try to make the best of it. Nothing wrong with a good time ashore now and then, right?"
"Not a thing. What about Harry?"
"Keeps to himself, he does. He's a good captain, no doubt, but he holds his cards close to the chest. Doesn't pal around a lot with the other officers, either."
That didn't sound much like the Harry I'd known, however briefly, back in England. He had been cheerful and even wild, ready to take on the German Navy and the North Sea weather. He had been close with his crew, friendly, and down-to-earth. He seemed distant now: not quite aloof, but detached.
"Something must've happened," I said. "A man doesn't change that much for no reason."
"Aye. Not in peacetime, anyway."
"He said he didn't leave his boat. Any idea what he meant by that?"
Banville frowned and shook his head. "He told us about his runs between Scodand and Norway, and what that was like. Not a mention of his crew, though. I asked him about his boat, and he told me plenty about how it was kitted out, but that was all. Near as I can figure it, something happened that he doesn't want to talk about. Or think much about. Some of the boys are worried he's bad luck, but there's been no sign of it yet."
"He was good luck for me last time we were out," I said.
"Well then, maybe you'll be good luck for him," Banville said.
I knew sailors could be superstitious, so I didn't let on that I hadn't been good luck for some of his last crew. Better to let him think I was a walking rabbit's foot.
We cruised along the coast for another hour, the seas growing rougher as the wind freshened. I watched the squadron ahead of us peel off, taking up positions farther forward to cover the approach of the two destroyers. We kept on due east and then began to angle in toward the shore. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on the rolling water and creating sparkles of light everywhere as waves heaved around us. I had to hang on as the waves grew larger and we began hitting each one hard as we changed course. Harry came up and trained his binoculars on the shore.
"There's Bone, dead ahead," he said. "I hope the chaps you're looking for are home."
"Me too," I said. "Me too."