Janwillem De Wetering - Tumbleweed

"No," Buisman agreed, "and when he talks it's Bible talk. Old Testament."

"The God of vengeance," de Gier said, "Jehovah."

"Jehovah wasn't easy to get on with either," Grijpstra said. "Well, as you say, we can't sit here all day. If you lower that dinghy, sergeant, I'll row myself ashore and see if I can get close to him. He won't kill me in cold blood."

"No," de Gier said, "I'll go. I can pull my gun faster than you can. I won second prize at the rifle range last week. If he does grab his shotgun I can shoot him in the arm perhaps."

"Lower the dinghy, sergeant," Buisman said in a low voice. "I'll go. I do know him after all."

Grijpstra protested and the sergeant offered to go but Buisman insisted.

The three men watched the dinghy approach the bank.

"Look," de Gier said, and pointed at the cabin on stilts. Rammy Scheffer had appeared on the balcony.

Buisman was clambering out of the dinghy, being careful not to upset it. They saw him walking to the cabin and they saw Rammy shouldering the shotgun. Buisman stopped. He was shouting through cupped hands. De Gier saw Rammy shake his head slowly. They heard the deep bark of the shotgun.

Buisman was still on his feet. They saw him turn around. He was holding his chest and staggering.

"The bastard," the sergeant said, pumping up a second dinghy furiously. De Gier took the carbine and the two of them gingerly boarded the small rubber boat.

The sergeant was a skillful rower and the dinghy shot through the small waves which a weak breeze had begun to form. They reached the bank in minutes and de Gier shouldered the carbine. He missed Rammy Scheffer deliberately but the bullet struck the cabin close to his head and Rammy disappeared into the cabin.

"Run," de Gier shouted at the sergeant as he fired at the cabin, hitting it just under the roof. The adjutant was still on his feet but moving slowly. The sergeant sprinted and picked Buisman up, talking to him softly.

"You'll be all right, Buisman, hold on to my neck."

De Gier fired once more but there was no sign of either Rammy or his weapon.

"Never mind now," the sergeant said. "He can't hit us here. I'll take Buisman and you can take the other dinghy. Can you row?"

"Yes," de Gier said.

The two dinghies got to the launch at the same time and Grijpstra helped the sergeant to get Buisman aboard. Together they opened his coat. The fine shot had drawn a lot of blood but the wounds weren't deep. Buisman's jacket had protected him somewhat. He hadn't been hurt in the face.

"You deal with it," the sergeant said. "I'll see if we can get help."

The island didn't answer. The sergeant kept on trying.

"Riekers must have left the station," the sergeant muttered. "He is probably trying to find us. He could have called me, the idiot."

"You were on another frequency," de Gier said, "talking to the plane."

"True," the sergeant said. "Now what? We can't leave that murdering rat alone, he'll escape in his boat."

"We can take his boat with us, can't we?"

"No," the sergeant said. "He may swim off the bank. He is a good swimmer."

A jetfighter came screaming over, throwing its shadow at them and drowning them in noise.

"When you have had everything," de Gier said when the airplane had disappeared.

"The jets," Grijpstra suddenly shouted. 'Wow they can help."

De Gier and the sergeant looked at Grijpstra.

"Don't you understand?" Grijpstra shouted. "Get them on the radio and tell them to fly at that cabin. They'll scare him out in no time at all."

"Genius," de Gier said.

The sergeant was on the radio again.

"Can you get the fighter base for me, sir?"

"Why?" a gruff voice answered.

The sergeant explained. He had to explain several times.

"Very irregular," the gruff voice said.

"Rather an irregular situation, sir," the sergeant said.

"How is your adjutant?"

"Needs medical help."

"All right," the voice said. "We'll send you a boat with a doctor. It will take an hour, two hours maybe, and I'll telephone the island and tell them to send your doctor out as well, in somebody's yacht. And I'll speak to the fighter base about this. I'll probably get into trouble but that'll be later. Out."

The first jet appeared within five minutes. It circled to make sure of its target, climbed and roared down. The men in the boat were covering their ears and trying to get as low down as possible. De Gier suddenly stopped regretting that he had never been in a war. The immense whine of the jet chilled his body and made tears spring to his eyes. He forced himself to keep his eyes open and he saw the plane grow in size until it was blotting out the sky. Then he turned his head and saw the fighter skim the cabin's roof with seemingly no more than a few feet to spare. When he looked around again the second fighter entered its dive while the first was climbing and going into a bank to regain its original position. The second fighter got even closer to the cabin's roof than the first.

The radio was muttering and the sergeant turned up the volume.

"Are they there?" the police officer on the mainland was asking.

"Just listen, sir," the sergeant said, and held the microphone above his head as the first fighter came screaming down again.

"They aren't firing their guns, are they?" the voice asked.

"No, sir, just diving."

"It sounds like the end of the world."

"Here the other one comes again," the sergeant said.

"That's it," de Gier shouted.

They saw the green-clad figure of Rammy appearing on the balcony. He was waving his hands. He didn't have the shotgun. "Come down," de Gier shouted, forgetting that Rammy couldn't hear him.

Rammy was coming down, he was falling down the staircase in his hurry to reach the ground. They saw him running toward them. The jetfighters had seen him too and they stopped diving and began to circle.

De Gier grabbed the carbine and lowered himself into a dinghy.

"Wait," Grijpstra shouted, and put his leg over the side of the launch.

Grijpstra rowed while de Gier covered Rammy with his carbine. Rammy was waiting for them, quietly, his arms dangling down. When they came close they saw that his mouth was open and that spittle was trickling down its corners.

"Put your hands up," de Gier said in a loud voice, thinking of the long knife which would be somewhere under the green jacket, but Rammy didn't hear him.

Grijpstra walked around the prisoner and patted his jacket He found the knife and put it away. The handcuffs clicked. Rammy began to mutter.

"What's he saying?" de Gier asked Grijpstra.

Rammy's voice was very low and Grijpstra bent his head trying to catch the meaning of the words.

"I don't know," he said after a while, "something about Satan."

"Come with us, Rammy," de Gier said gently. "Nobody is going to harm you. Just get into the dinghy and we'll go to the launch. Soon you will have a nice sleep."

Rammy looked up.

"You'll be fine," Grijpstra said.

"You are not too badly hurt," the doctor said, "but you are hurt. How is die pain?"

"All right," Buisman said, and groaned.

"I'll have to get that shot out of your chest. Most of it sits in your clothes but there's some in your skin as well. We can take you to the mainland and keep you in hospital for a while."

"No."

"You prefer to go home?"

"Please," Buisman said. "The food is better."

The doctor nodded and turned toward the shape of Rammy, who was sitting on the floorboards of the launch. He was shaking and his teeth were chattering.

"How are you, Rammy?" the doctor asked.

The doctor touched his head, very lightly, but die small ranger didn't notice.

"Shock," the doctor said to de Gier. "Bad shock. He'll have to go to the mainland. You want to come with us?"