Geoffrey Jenkins - A bridge of Magpies

There was a kind of basic despair about Jutta when she surveyed the scene-as if she couldn't break out of a trap of inner darkness.

She asked suddenly, Struan-what if he's mad? Really mad?'

I glanced across at Gaok. Kaptein Denny stood like a statue at the wheel.

It was both a question and a call for reassurance. She added, 'Master of the Equinoxes, Lord of the Solstice – it sounds like something out of a phoney old-time operetta.'

'He isn't a phoney. Nothing could have sounded more way-out before than his story of U-160 returning. Yet she did.' I gestured. 'You couldn't have more concrele proof – we're not lashed fast to a dream-Jutta.'

'I know-I know. But I can't go along with the rest of it, Struan. Maybe he suffers from some kind of delusion – paranoia, schizophrenia, or whatever they call his particular brand of mania.'

'We'll prove his genuineness, one way or another, pretty soon, when we blow the sub open and see what's inside her.'

'What happens then?' Her attitude implied, 'if'-not 'when'.

'After we've got the Book of Tsu, I'll take it from there.'

She looked so cast down that I put one arm round her and drew her close to me.

'Look, there's our target.'

Ahead, wisps of fog clung to the Bridge of Magpies. It appeared more brown than black in the muted light.

'It's not far-only about a mile to go. Fog lifting. Clear day. Empty horizon. Moderate sea. Not a thing in sight.'

'I want you to know that- whatever happens in the next few hours, I love you more than any words of mine can say.'

'And I you, Jutta.'

But her body against mine was hard and unresponsive and tension-shot. She went on. Her voice was higher pitched-vibrated with nerves.

'Where is Sang A, Struan? Where? What if she's tracking us at this very moment with her radar, now that the sandstorm's over; just waiting to pounce when it suits her-watching us..

'Steady,' I said. 'Steady. There's not a sign of her. We'll win out yet.'

'It's all too quiet! Everything's cooking up underneath! I feel it, Struan I Isn't there anything you can do? The waiting's sending me crazy!'

'Ahoy there!'

It was Kaptein Denny from the sub's conning-tower. I was surprised to see him there. J reckoned he must have left Gaok's bridge, unnoticed; while we'd been occupied.

'Come up here, will you? Both of you. And bring the bomb along too.'

'Right,' I called. 'I'll fetch it from the dinghy.' To Jutta I said quietly, wonder what he's got in mind-we shouldn't need the bomb until we beach her.'

She didn't answer, but cast an anxious glance round the widening horizon.

I collected the bomb and we sloshed across the wet deck and up the rusty ladder to the U-boat's bridge-stepping over the rubber cables which led to the cutting torch. After that long effort previously, we'd changed cylinders and connected up to full ones in Ichabo. We'd switched them from one boat to the other, to obtain a better weight distribution. Kaptein Denny was seated on the Captain's jump-stool, to which I'd secured the emergency wire which held the mine. The brass nozzle of the blowpipe cutter was hooked on to the coaming which encircled the bridge at chest-level. I was surprised to see Sang A's sub-machine-gun on the floor. I looked up to question Denny about it – I was more curious than apprehensive-and immediately I was aware of a great change in him. What had previously disquieted me about his eyes, when we'd been deadlocked over the problem of opening up U-160, had now become a reality: they were slightly hooded with tiredness but clear and intense, with a kind of exultation. He had a smile of welcome for Jutta. He might already have found the Book of Tsu rather than be facing a day of peril and difficulties.

What do you want the bomb for at this stage?' I asked. He replied with a question. 'How secure is that mine?'

'If it lasted last night it'll last today. The sawing effect of the sea's gone, as you can observe for yourself.'

What I mean is-if your emergency cable broke suddenly, would the original cable still hold?'

Probably. It took my weight for a short while when I fixed it.'

I noticed then that he had his Taisho pistol in his belt-along with an odd-shaped knife with a flat handle I hadn't seen before.

'Put the bomb down,' he went on.

I did so.

'Would you agree with me that we're heading north?' `

North – sure. But why.

J didn't complete my question because something crossed his face which sent an adrenalin-charge of fear and doubt racing through me.

'Good,' he said. `Good. In Japan the dead always face north, both ships and men.'

He got to his feet and pointed ahead, changing the subject rapidly before our apprehension had time to crystallize. Took!'

The top of the Bridge of Magpies was catching the first sun. The soaring arch wasn't composed of rock but of feathers

– hundreds of thousands of dun-coloured little birds that had been blown out of the desert by the gale and had found shelter on the arch's seaward side.

'They aren't real magpies, of course, but little desert birds they give that name to.' He was speaking rapidly, as if time were running out on him and he had something important to say before it did. 'It was like that the day you were born, Miss Jutta. There's an old Hottentot superstition. Once a year, they believe, on the day after the great gale, the Girl walks across the Bridge of Magpies and joins the Lover.. I glanced at Jutta, who stood taut and poised, a mixture of pity and growing horror in her eyes. Outwardly she was composed but I knew she was very close to the edge. She'd been right about his sanity. The unconnected prattle and mercurial leaps from subject to subject meant only one thing. His next words to me confirmed it.

'I'd like you to cut the old mine cable with the blowpipe. Leave the new one you used for the repair. Here, where I can reach it.'

He restated himself on the jump-stool and plucked al the wire. I noticed that he put his foot on the sub-machine-gum

'Kaptein Denny.. There was a rising note in Jutta's voice.

The dead always face north, both ships-and men, Miss Jutta. We're now facing north.' The final clincher on the fact that he was out of his mind came when he added, 'I'm going to drop that mine on the stack of torpedoes and blow up U-160.'

Kamikaze. That's a good word for what's happening, J thought, my eyes fixed on Kaptein Denny's seamed, exalted face. That's the way the kamikaze, or divine wind spirit, worked in the Jap fliers who plunged their bomb-laden planes to self-destruction through the Yanks' withering ack-ack fire and on to their carriers' decks. Kamikaze -Sperrgebietstyle. Divine wind spirit gone bad. The thing's eaten into his mind all the years and now he's at the end of the line. I wonder what the C-in-C will say when he gets to hear of it? He won't know what happened-of course, because there won't be any survivors. Kaptein Denny wasn't reacting to my scrutiny. His face was remote. In his last moments he was remembering things and places we'd had no part of. The external world-our world-meant nothing to him.

`You can't… 1' exclaimed Jutta.

'Why?' I demanded peremptorily. I had to get past that mental state of his. 'Why?'

I did get past: 'There!' he pointed.

There was no mistaking Sang A's whalebacked snout and low hull. She was rounding the southern end of Possession, past the tiny horseshoe-shaped curve called Black Prince Cove, and heading into the channel. At yus. He must have spotted her out to sea before he crossed to U-160 from Gaok. Jutta and I stood rooted. Then from behind us there was a smothered noise from Kaptein Denny. We swung round. He'd pulled up his jersey and jabbed that odd knife into himself. He covered up the wound right away but we'd seen the rush of blood. Jutta's face screwed up.