Dennis Wheatley - Black August

Those who were not rowing crouched, dejected and miserable, in the bottom of the boat. The man with the injured leg groaned now and again. Gregory tossed in an uneasy sleep. Ann and Veronica, huddled together on one of the seats in the stern, sought to conserve what little warmth they could under a tarpaulin which had been found for them, and the oarsmen were half asleep as they swayed monotonously backwards and forwards at their task.

They had been rowing for the best part of an hour and a half when Silas leaned over to Kenyon:

'What about a spell?'

Kenyon nodded wearily. The boat rocked a little as they ceased to ply their oars and the crews changed over, then the men who had been relieved settled down as comfortably as they could on the hard bottom boards and nodded into sleep.

Rudd thought of examining their supplies and suggesting breakfast, but two thirds of the grey, drawn faces about him were sunk in deep slumber. It seemed no kindness to rouse them from their brief oblivion to a knowledge of the cheerless uncertain prospect. Next moment the thought had drifted from his mind and he too was asleep.

Ann woke from a fitful doze as Kenyon sat down beside her. 'How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

'Pretty miserable I'm so wretchedly cold,' she whispered, but she gave him a sleepy smile.

Very gently he slid his arm along the gunwale behind her shoulders and her head slipped down on to his chest. As he drew the corner of the covering more closely round her she closed her eyes, and wriggling into a more comfortable position dropped off again. Fagged out as he was and aching in every limb the moments were too precious for him to lose them in unconsciousness, and he remained, half dozing but never lapsing from the joyous knowledge of her nearness to him, all through Harker's spell.

With the idea of warming up his Greyshirts, Silas set a quicker stroke, but soon found it necessary to ease down and teach his squad to regularise their swing from Kenyon's example. Time wore on, and as the sun rose higher in the heavens the greyness lightened, but no rift on any side in the all pervading murk.

Kenyon was recalled from his half dreaming state by Silas placing a large hand, on his shoulder, and saying amiably: 'What about it? Your turn now, I reckon.' Another hour or more passed.

He shivered, the damp chill of the mist seemed to have penetrated to the very marrow of his bones, then he pulled himself together and gently resettling Ann, who was now sleeping soundly, took the oar. The crews were already changing places and soon his party had settled down again into a long monotonous stroke. Almost unconsciously he noticed that his men were rowing better for their short training, then the thought of food came to him, but it was too late to think of that for the moment now. He could not leave his oar, and Silas was already curled up in the stern sheets next to Petty Officer Sims, his broad chest rising and falling in the long respirations of deep and healthy sleep.

Rudd sat huddled at the tiller again, his blue eyes alert and watchful. He grinned at Kenyon, showing his uneven teeth. 'Tike yer 'oliday on the Broads this summer, eh, sir. Travel by Moonshine Line kids under six travels free an' if yer got a dozen yer get a cokernut.'

Kenyon's lips parted in a quick smile. 'I only wish we were on the Broads. Ever been there?'

'No, sir, but me uncle's brother in law were drowned there, so I knows a bit abart it.'

'How was that?'

'Well, 'e were a red 'eaded man, sir an' beggin' yer pardon, with no reference to yerself 'e were apt to fly off the 'andle a bit quick if yer know what I mean.'

'Yes,' Kenyon agreed, slightly mystified.

'An' 'e 'ad an upsydisy wiv a lock keeper wot wouldn't let 'im through 'is lock.'

'Why did he refuse to pay?'

'No it weren't that, but George were a bit of a Socialist, more fool 'im tho' we shouldn't speak ill of the dead, an' 'e couldn't see why 'e should wait fer a private yacht ter come through from the other side that's wot started the argument. Then the lock keeper starts gettin' personal abart 'is missus my uncle's sister as was an', they bein' on their 'oneymoon thet properly riled poor old George, so 'e ups in the boat to give the lock keeper a piece of 'is mind when unfortunate like 'e steps on the end of 'is oar.'

Kenyon quickly suppressed a rising chuckle and looked appropriately grave.

'An' the oar come up like a jack in the box an' 'it poor old George on the 'ead.'

'Dear me!'

'Yuss knocked 'im arse over tip, if you'll pardon the words, an' 'e never come to the surface no more.'

'That was appalling luck, especially on his honeymoon.'

'Yuss,' agreed Rudd philosophically, 'but me uncle's sister 'ad twins all the same.'

'Did she get the King's bounty?'

'No fear, sir that's triplets.'

Kenyon swayed backwards and forwards at his oar while Mr. Rudd, having discovered in him a willing and intelligent listener, entertained him with a variety of those views which a close acquaintance with men and things had impressed upon him.

At none o'clock Kenyon woke Silas, who opened his enormous mouth in a gigantic series of yawns and then demanded a cigarette before he took over, his own supply being exhausted.

'Cigarette, sir,' exclaimed Rudd, 'why, 'ere you are, I got enough to larst us even if we goes ter China,' and he produced a tin of a hundred from one of his bulging pockets.

'Thanks, boy were did you get these?' Silas puffed at the Balkan Sobranie contentedly.

'I made 'em out of the Officers Mess in the ship, sir; 'tisn't right them Bolsheviks should be left wiv decent cigarettes although I prefers gaspers meself. Still, I thought they might come in handy. Mr. Gregory's a rare one for 'is Turks.'

'What about some food?' suggested Kenyon when he had been relieved of his Oar.

'Righto, sir. If Mr. Sims'll take charge of the Mayflower, I'll 'ave a look at the eats.'

Sims took over the tiller again but he leant forward towards Kenyon. 'I'm afraid we're a long way off course, sir.'

'Are we? Well, that's not surprising in this wretched fog.'

'You see it's this way, sir,' the Petty Officer lowered his voice. 'The Sunk isn't more'n twelve miles from the shore and so we ought to have sighted land a couple of hours ago if we was makin' dead for it, and even if we was swept out of our course a bit by the current, we ought to have made landfall by now.'.

'Well, what s the best thing to do?' inquired Kenyon.

'Give the men a spell, sir, they can do with it, and we may be rowing further out to sea for all we know. We can keep a sharp look out for shipping an' the sun may break through later in the day.'

'That's sense,' agreed Silas. 'Come on, boys, ship your oars.'

Rudd had pulled an oblong box from under the seat and was examining its contents critically, 'My! this ain't the larder of the Aquitania,' he said softly. "Where's that ruddy Bob-​Bob where are yer?'

'Here I am, sergeant.'

'What d'yer do wiv them stores I give yer ter take care of?'

I left them on the ship, Mr. Rudd. I put them down when the lady was bandaging my arm, and I forgot to pick them up again.'

'Streuth,' muttered Rudd to Kenyon. 'These kids don't arf make yer sick. Anyone ud think 'ed lorst 'is blooming 'ow d'yer does instead of 'aving a blighty in the arm. Any'ow we'll 'ave to make do wiv what they give us.'

'What is there then?'

'Biscuits, a lump of meat, some tea wiv nothin' ter cook it on, an' a bit of cheese.'

'All right, the biscuits and cheese will do for the moment.'

They were hard, unsweetened ship's biscuits and the cheese was mouse trap cheddar. Not a particularly appetising breakfast for people whose nerves had been stretched to the utmost limit of endurance all through the night, and who had then spent some five hours crouching in an open boat chilled to the marrow by sea mist; but the men put a good face on it and gnawed away at the broken bits of flour and water.