it was a body, face-down, drifting lazily in the wash of the Lady Jane, and over by the mole was another one, this one floating upright, its head and shoulders out of the water and its helmet still on.
No, it wasn’t a body. It was a soldier wading out to the boat, and behind him were two more, one holding his rifle above his head. They obviously didn’t intend to wait for the Lady Jane to dock and put out a gangway. There was a splash and then another one, and when Mike looked over at the mole, he saw another soldier had jumped off it with a bedraggled dog. It paddled along beside him. Above them on the mole stood a dozen men, and farther along the breakwater, a dozen more, running this way. “Don’t jump,” Jonathan shouted to them. “We’re coming in to get you,” and the Commander eased the Lady Jane up to the mole.
Jonathan tossed a line to the men. “Tie her up!” the Commander called to them. “Kansas, toss another line to those men in the water.”
Mike fastened a line to the gunwales, threw it down to them, and began hauling them up, hoping by doing so he wasn’t rescuing someone who wasn’t supposed to have been rescued. But he needn’t have worried. Two of the men had climbed up over the side on their own while he was tying the rope, and the one he’d thrown the line to was busily tying it around the dog’s middle to hoist him up. Saving a dog wasn’t likely to alter events, and it couldn’t get aboard by itself. Mike hauled it up and over the side, whereupon it shook itself all over him, everyone in range, and its owner, who’d just climbed on board.
He was apparently an officer because he promptly took over the rope. “Kansas, help Jonathan get the gangway over to that dock,” the Commander ordered, and Mike complied, but the mole was too far above them, and, anyway, the soldiers had already taken matters in their own hands. They’d tied a ladder to the side and were climbing down it into the water and swimming over.
“Rig another line for them,” the Commander ordered Jonathan, and began untying gas cans from the gunwales.
“Here, let me do that,” Mike said, carrying the heavy cans aft. Refilling the Lady Jane’s gas tank was less likely to affect history than hauling up soldiers, some of whom wouldn’t have made it without help.
“Give me your hand!” Jonathan shouted, leaning over the side. He came up with a soldier in full battle equipment, pack and helmet and all. “I thought you were a goner!” Jonathan said, grabbing him by the straps on his pack and heaving him over the side.
“So did I!” the soldier said, dumping his pack on the deck and turning to help Jonathan heave the next soldier, and the next, on board. Mike emptied the gas cans into the tank and then tossed them overboard. They bobbed away among the planks and clothing and bodies. He went back for two more, stepping around the soldiers who littered the deck.
They were continuing to clamber aboard. “It’s about time, guv’nor,” one of them said, flinging his leg over. “Where the bloody hell have you been?” But most of them didn’t say anything. They collapsed on the deck or sat down where they were, looking beaten and bewildered, their slack faces streaked with oil, their eyes bloodshot. None of them moved into the stern or onto the other side, and the deck began to tilt to port under their weight.
“Shift ’em to starboard,” the Commander shouted at Mike, “or they’ll have us over. How many more are there, Jonathan?”
“Only one,” Jonathan said, helping a soldier with a bandaged arm onto the deck. “That’s the lot.”
For the moment, Mike thought, looking up the mole. He could see soldiers converging on the land end of it from all directions. If they got here, they’d swamp the boat, but the Commander was already starting the engine. “Cut the line,” he ordered Jonathan and pulled back on the throttle. The propeller began to turn and then stopped with a jerk.
“Propeller’s fouled,” the Commander shouted. “Probably a rope.”
“What do we need to do?” Jonathan asked.
“One of you’ll have to go down and untangle it.”
And Jonathan can’t swim, Mike thought. He looked desperately at the soldiers slumped on the deck, at the officer who’d taken over the task of hauling the soldiers up, hoping one