for several customers. “Mr. Powney hasn’t come back, has he?” Mike asked.
“No, I can’t think what’s keeping him.” She went over to the end of the bar, consulted with the ale drinkers, and came back. “They say he might have gone straight home instead of stopping in.”
“Wouldn’t he have had to come through the village?”
“No, his farm’s south of here.”
“How far?” Mike asked, thinking, Please let it be within walking distance.
“Not far. Only three miles south by the coast road,” she said and drew a map for him. “But it’s much shorter if you cut across the fields, like this.”
That was probably true, but if Mr. Powney hadn’t gone home, Mike might miss him heading there and waste more time. And there was always the chance somebody else would come along—maybe the Army would show up to put in the beach defenses—and he could hitch a ride with them.
So he kept to the road, but he didn’t see a single vehicle the whole way to the turnoff to Mr. Powney’s.
There wasn’t anybody at the farm either, though Mike tramped out to the barn and the outbuildings, looking for a farmhand he could ask who might know when Mr. Powney was coming back, and he couldn’t see anybody in the surrounding fields, except for a few cows.
Which means I’ll have to take the same damned route back to make sure I don’t miss him, Mike thought, looking longingly at the shortcut Daphne had mapped out for him. He hadn’t prepped for an assignment with this much walking, and the farm had been much farther from Saltram-on-Sea than Daphne’d said—the distance from the turnoff to the farm alone was a good mile—and he was tired and thirsty. And hungry.
He hadn’t had anything to eat since he got here. I should have had that kipper Daphne offered. Or some of the Commander’s pilchard stew. Even it sounded almost good.
I definitely should have had that cup of the Commander’s godawful coffee, he thought, yawning. It would help keep me awake.
The weather wasn’t helping. In spite of everyone’s prediction of storms, the afternoon was sunny and warm and filled with the sleep-inducing drone of bees. He trudged back along the farm track, fighting an overwhelming desire to lie down in the grass and take a nap. When Mr. Powney finally shows up, and I get in that truck, he thought, I intend to sleep all the way to Dover.
But the road back was deserted all the way to Saltram-on-Sea, and there was no truck outside the Crown and Anchor, even though it was nearly three.
He must not be coming back today, Mike thought tiredly. He couldn’t afford to wait for him any longer, with the evacuation racing irretrievably past. He had to get to Dover. It’ll have to be one of the boats, he thought, heading out to the quay. Some of the fishing boats at least should be back by now, and surely he could talk one of them into running him up to Dover—
He stopped, staring. The quay was empty. Down at the end, the Lady Jane was still tied to the dock, but every other boat had vanished, including the Sea Sprite. Its engine had been lying in pieces on its deck. Where could it—where could they—all have disappeared to?
Dunkirk, he thought sickly. The Small Vessels Pool was here while I was gone. But it couldn’t have been. The Lady Jane was still here. Commander Harold would have been the first to volunteer, and they couldn’t possibly have gotten their boats ready so fast. There had to be some other explanation. He sprinted down the quay to the Lady Jane. “Commander Harold!” he called. “Where’s everyone gone?”
No answer. He ran aboard, called down the hatch, and when there was still no answer, climbed down the ladder to see if the Commander was down in the hold.
Maybe he missed it like I did, Mike thought, but the Commander wasn’t asleep in his bunk. He must be at his granddaughter’s.
Mike ran over to the Crown and Anchor to ask Daphne where that was. The door to the inn was open, and next to it a bicycle was leaning against the wall. Mike went in. And nearly collided with the Commander, who was on the phone. “Put me through to the officer in charge of the Small Vessels Pool! The one who was in Saltram-on-Sea this afternoon!” he was bellowing into it. “Then put me through to the Admiralty! In London!” He spied Mike. “Incompetents,