Read South By Java Head for Free Online

churned the surface of the sea to a white foam. "Are you sure, man?" he repeated. "I can't hear a damn' thing."

"Aye, I'm sure. Heard it plain as anything."

"He's right!" It was the big sergeant who spoke, his voice excited. "By God, he's right, sir. I can hear it, too!"

Soon everybody could hear it, the slow grinding creak of rowlocks as men pulled heavily on their oars. The tense expectancy raised by Fraser's first words collapsed and vanished in the almost palpable wave of indescribable relief that swept over them and left them all chattering together in low ecstatic voices. Lieutenant Parker took advantage of the noise to move closer to Farnholme.

"What about the others -- the nurses and the wounded?"

"Let 'em come, Parker -- if they want to. The odds are high

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against us. Make that plain -- and make it plain that it must be their own choice. Then tell them to keep quiet, and move back out of sight. Whoever it is -- and it must be the Kerry Dancer -- we don't want to scare 'em away. >As soon as you hear the boat rubbing alongside, move forward and take over."

Parker nodded and turned away, his low urgent tones cutting through the babble of voices.

"Right. Take up these stretchers. Move back, all of you, to the other side of the road -- and keep quiet. Keep very quiet, if you ever want to see home again. Corporal Fraser?"

"Sir?"

"You and your men -- do you wish to come with us? If we go aboard that ship it's highly probably that we'll be sunk within twelve hours. I must make that clear."

"I understand, sir."

"And you'll come, then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you asked the others?"

"No, sir." The corporal's injured tone left no doubt about his contempt for such ridiculously democratic procedures in the modern army, and Farnholme grinned in the darkness. "They'll come too, sir."

"Very well. On your head be it. Miss Drachmann?"

"I'll come, sir," she said quietly. She lifted her left hand to her face in a strange gesture. "Of course I'll come."

"And the others?"

"We've discussed it." She indicated the young Malayan girl by her side. "Lena here wants to go too. The other three don't care much, sir, one way or another. Shock, sir -- a shell hit our lorry tonight. Better if they come, I think."

Parker made to answer, but Farnholme gestured him to silence, took the torch from the sergeant and advanced to the edge of the dock. The boat could be seen now, less than a hundred yards away, vaguely silhouetted by the distant beam of the torch. Even as Farnholme peered through the heavy rain, he could see the flurry of white foam as someone in the sternsheets gave an order and the oars dug into the sea, back-watering strongly until the boat came to a stop and lay silently, without moving, a half-seen blur in the darkness.

"Ahoy, there!" Farnholme called. "The Kerry Dancer!"

"Yes." The deep voice carried clearly through the falling rain. "Who's there?"

"Farnholme, of course." He could hear the man in the sternsheets giving an order, could see the rowers starting to pull strongly again. "Van Effen?"

"Yes, Van Effen."

"Good man!" There was no questioning the genuineness of the warmth in Farnholme's voice. "Never been so glad to see anyone in all my life. What happened?" The boat was only twenty feet away now, and they could talk in normal tones.

"Not much." The Dutchman spoke perfect, colloquial English, with a scarcely discoverable trace of accent. "Our worthy captain changed his mind about waiting for you, and had actually got under way before I persuaded him to change his mind."

"But -- but how do you know the Kerry Dancer won't sail before you get back? Good God, Van Effen, you should have sent someone else. You can't trust that devil an inch."

"I know." Hand steady on the tiller, Van Effen was edging in towards the stonework. "If she sails, she sails without her master. He's sitting in the bottom of the boat here, hands tied and with my gun in his back. Captain Siran is not very happy, I think."

Farnholme peered