Charles Todd - An Unmarked Grave

He was ordered on board with the others, and at the end of the long line, I myself handed over my own papers. I didn’t see the man I’d been following, but I thought perhaps he was taking care not to be in plain sight, just in case someone could identify him-or inform the port authorities that he wasn’t who he claimed to be. The only other possibility was that he wasn’t on Merlin at all, that he was scheduled to depart on the ship just tying up behind her, and he’d come early to keep out of sight.

In due course, Merlin was given leave to sail, the lines were hauled in, dripping wet, and coiled neatly on the fore and aft decks. I stayed by the rail, looking out over the city, watching the flashes of the guns in the distance. My father remembered France from well before the war, and I wondered if it would ever look again as it had then.

The ship eased into the current, then turned to steam slowly down toward the sea. The night was dark, the running lights masked, and as I looked up to the bridge, I could see Captain Grayson’s profile, tense and focused on what lay ahead.

He had given me his cabin for the voyage, as he wouldn’t be using it as long as Merlin went in harm’s way.

Indeed, as soon as we reached the sea, word was passed that we were being shadowed by a submarine, and the watch was doubled. The rating who came to my door was young but steady, assuring me that we were safe. But of course I knew otherwise, having sailed on Britannic . It was a long journey, seemingly longer than the usual, nerves stretched almost to the breaking point as we waited for the shout of “Torpedo!” My life vest was too warm but I kept it on, in case.

We reached the shelter of the Isle of Wight without being attacked, and Portsmouth Harbor lay ahead. I slipped out on deck to watch us come in, standing in the shadows, where I wouldn’t be in the way or noticed.

But someone had seen me.

Out of nowhere, someone put hands on me, thrust a canvas bag over my head before I could scream or struggle, and then I was being dragged toward the railing.

It had happened so fast-a matter of seconds-and then I was being lifted over the railing, my muffled cries covered by the racket of the heavy anchor cable paying out as we came into the roads to await a berth.

I could feel myself dangling now, no foothold or handhold, and unable to see, I couldn’t tell where to reach out and save myself.

And just as suddenly I was being pulled up so roughly that I struck my head on the teak railing, seeing stars in the blackness of the bag. I landed on deck with such force I was winded, and then as I reached shakily for the bag, someone stepped on my skirts. I realized that just above me, two men were locked in a fierce struggle. Only their feet were visible, and I quickly rolled out of the way.

As the heavy bag fell away, I could see their shapes. One in an officer’s uniform, the other in the distinctive blue worn by Base Hospital patients. They were surprisingly well matched in size and reach. But Morton’s hip wound put him at a disadvantage, unable to keep his balance on the moving deck. He was quickly losing the battle, pushed until his own back was hard against the rail, and as I watched, the other man rammed his knee into Morton’s groin and hip.

The crew, busy with docking, had no time for us, but two orderlies had just come on deck from below. If they saw him fighting with an officer, he would be taken up for the offense. I could do nothing then.

He had saved me.

I still had my little pistol in my pocket. Scrambling to my feet, dizzy at first, and then quite determined, I brought it out, aimed, and fired.

The shot seemed so loud in our ears that we froze where we were. Morton turned his head to look at me, stunned, and in his grip I could see his attacker’s eyes incandescent. I wondered how anyone could have described them as cold.

A trickle of blood began to run down the side of the man’s face where my bullet had grazed his skull. With an oath he let go of Morton, turned, and stumbled away, disappearing down the nearest companionway as three ratings converged on Morton and me, alerted by the shot.

They caught his arms, pinning him, and I realized that they thought he’d been attacking me. I shoved the pistol into my pocket, and pointed over the railing.

“There!” I shouted. “Someone just tried to climb aboard. Look!”

They held on to Morton but ran for the railing, staring down into the dark, swirling waters. I joined them, pointing down the side of the ship now. “Over there. Stop him!”

Leaving Morton where he was, they raced along the railing, still searching for the intruder, shouting to the watch to ask if anyone could be seen.

I took Morton’s arm. “Quickly. Get back to the wards. What were you thinking, coming on deck like this?” Trelawney had warned me Morton might try to escape.

“I told you I’d keep an eye out for him. He was searching the ship, and I watched him. I didn’t see you there in the shadows, and then he had you pinned and was tossing you over the side.” He leaned against the companion doorway wearily, hurting. “I don’t want to be sent to hospital. I want to go home.”

It was blackmail.

Hugh Morton had saved my life.

“I’ll see to it. Go find Trelawney and tell him what happened. He’ll be readying the motorcar. Don’t leave him.”

“But the Major’s somewhere still. He’ll find you again and I won’t be there.”

“Not now. There are too many men on deck. Go, before they come back to question you.”

Reluctantly he did as he was told.

I went back to Captain Grayson’s cabin, and a moment later, the Second Officer knocked, asking around the door, “You saw someone trying to come aboard? Is it true?”

“He was wearing an officer’s uniform. He fired at me.”

“Gentle God,” he said, and disappeared again.

A false rumor, but there was nothing else to be done. Otherwise I’d have had to explain why I’d shot a British Major with a pistol I was not supposed to possess. I’d be detained while the Major disappeared.

I poured water from the Captain’s carafe onto my handkerchief and held it to my aching head, where it had come in contact with the railing. I didn’t think I was concussed, but it had been a hard blow all the same and I could feel the swelling under my hair.

I could hear racing feet and shouting for a while longer, and then the same officer returned to tell me that they’d found no one, and whoever it was had presumably either drowned or swum back to the port. The authorities there had been alerted to watch for him.

I was asked if I could identify the intruder, but I shook my head. “It all happened so quickly-by the time I’d realized what he was doing, he’d disappeared over the side again.”

It was tempting to catch the Major in this net of lies. But his uniform was dry, they would never believe he’d come out from shore.

“You’re a brave woman, Sister Crawford. Who was the patient who came to your aid?”

“I didn’t stay to ask, I came directly back to my cabin.”

He nodded. “Very wise.”

As the door shut behind him, I found myself wondering what on earth my father would say, when he learned I’d thwarted a would-be boarder who didn’t exist, rescued an unreported deserter who did, and shot a purported British officer in the head.

Soon afterward the anchor came up again, we tied up to the dock, and Trelawney was at my door, reporting that the motorcar had been offloaded.

“What have you done with Private Morton?”

“He’s in the motorcar. The sister in charge was glad to be rid of him. It seems he’d wandered the ship all night, alarming the other patients and mumbling unintelligible drivel.”