gave me a chance to observe without being observed. She stood up and busied herself rewinding the spool with one finger, doing it very carefully as if she didn't want to entrust the task to the recorder's own automatic device.
The rock on which she stood was at my eye-level. Her back remained towards me, so I couldn't see much of her face: indeed, even when she half-turned, the wind blew her hair from under her beret, masking her face. The hair itself was enough to stare at, though–red-gold, as if she'd been caught in a desert sunset. What little I did glimpse of her features made me certain she hadn't been out in the wind and Sperrgebiet sun for long. She was wearing a crumpled loose hip-length suede jacket, darker than the sand, and slacks, also crumpled.
I laid the rifle silently on a ledge of rock above my head, intending vaulting up after it. I paused, however, when I caught sight of various objects the girl had spread about: several very large maps weighted down with stones, a small pile of notebooks and some printed books, one of which bore a remarkable resemblance to the Admiralty Pilot for the Sperrgebiet. There was also a compass on top of the books which had been lined up on the wreck: I could tell this because it was one of those instruments with a mirror case, in which I spotted the reflection of the need!e. A man found on the Sperrgebiet with so compromising a load would have to do a lot of fast talking to a diamond patrol. As for a woman . . . I couldn't begin to guess.
She turned suddenly, and I ducked out of sight. At the same moment the tape started up again. She'd been so near to spotting me that I didn't try to retrieve my rifle, for fear of making a noise. It looked safe enough, however, because the ledge it was on was out of her sight, slightly below the 49
level of her rock.
What the tape said killed my previous intention of getting up there and and demanding what she was up to. It was German. I understand it though my spoken attempts wouldn't win me any language awards.
`Come in, Swakop,' it said. 'U-160 to dinghy. Come in Testing, testing, testing. D'ye hear me? Answer. Over.'
I slid down into a sitting position against the wall of the gully, hunching myself up in defence against the sand blowing in from above.
'Dinghy to U-160: Swakop speaking. Receiving you loud and clear. Do you hear me?'
'Okay. Swakop. Loud and clear. Captain asks, do you sight shore party?'
`Not yet, U-160. Beach not visible. Hidden by big rocks.'
How far to go?'
'Quarter-of-a-mile, maybe. Breakers and rocks to starboard. Can see the Bridge of Magpies . Achtung!
`What is it, Swakop?'
'Beach comes in sight. Recognition flashes. One white, two red, three green. Correct. It's all clear.'
`Captain says pull finger out then. Those flashes can be spotted miles out to sea. This place is a trap. No sea room, no depth of water.'
`Swakop to U-160. Answered code signal, Correctly acknowledged.'
'Sure?
'Sure.'
`Captain says tell those men with you to keep their eyes skinned and guns ready. It could be an ambush.'
`Coming close in now, U-160, See a man standing on the beach.'
'Captain says, re-check that it's Tsushima. Use the code.' `
Swakop to U-160. It's Tsushima all right. I'm going ashore now. Wading. I'll keep in touch.'
'Are you ashore yet, Swakop?'
`No. Still in the breakers. It's bloody cold. Our own Jap is kicking up rough about something. Protocol, 1 think. The man on the beach must be a big shot Lots of fuss and bowing. Our man's taking a parcel from him now.'
'Where are you now, Swakop? On the beach?'
`No, Behind it. On a sandhill:
50
'Captain says, what the hell's the delay? Why don't those goddamned Japs get aboard the dinghy?'
'Our Jap's wading out first with the parcel. Looks as if he's going to go back for Tsushima.–maybe he's too important to get his feet wet?
'By God he is! Captain says–Gott in Himmel! There's a ship and it's firing at us . . .!'
Hydrophone operator to Captain: HE
The rock on which she stood was at my eye-level. Her back remained towards me, so I couldn't see much of her face: indeed, even when she half-turned, the wind blew her hair from under her beret, masking her face. The hair itself was enough to stare at, though–red-gold, as if she'd been caught in a desert sunset. What little I did glimpse of her features made me certain she hadn't been out in the wind and Sperrgebiet sun for long. She was wearing a crumpled loose hip-length suede jacket, darker than the sand, and slacks, also crumpled.
I laid the rifle silently on a ledge of rock above my head, intending vaulting up after it. I paused, however, when I caught sight of various objects the girl had spread about: several very large maps weighted down with stones, a small pile of notebooks and some printed books, one of which bore a remarkable resemblance to the Admiralty Pilot for the Sperrgebiet. There was also a compass on top of the books which had been lined up on the wreck: I could tell this because it was one of those instruments with a mirror case, in which I spotted the reflection of the need!e. A man found on the Sperrgebiet with so compromising a load would have to do a lot of fast talking to a diamond patrol. As for a woman . . . I couldn't begin to guess.
She turned suddenly, and I ducked out of sight. At the same moment the tape started up again. She'd been so near to spotting me that I didn't try to retrieve my rifle, for fear of making a noise. It looked safe enough, however, because the ledge it was on was out of her sight, slightly below the 49
level of her rock.
What the tape said killed my previous intention of getting up there and and demanding what she was up to. It was German. I understand it though my spoken attempts wouldn't win me any language awards.
`Come in, Swakop,' it said. 'U-160 to dinghy. Come in Testing, testing, testing. D'ye hear me? Answer. Over.'
I slid down into a sitting position against the wall of the gully, hunching myself up in defence against the sand blowing in from above.
'Dinghy to U-160: Swakop speaking. Receiving you loud and clear. Do you hear me?'
'Okay. Swakop. Loud and clear. Captain asks, do you sight shore party?'
`Not yet, U-160. Beach not visible. Hidden by big rocks.'
How far to go?'
'Quarter-of-a-mile, maybe. Breakers and rocks to starboard. Can see the Bridge of Magpies . Achtung!
`What is it, Swakop?'
'Beach comes in sight. Recognition flashes. One white, two red, three green. Correct. It's all clear.'
`Captain says pull finger out then. Those flashes can be spotted miles out to sea. This place is a trap. No sea room, no depth of water.'
`Swakop to U-160. Answered code signal, Correctly acknowledged.'
'Sure?
'Sure.'
`Captain says tell those men with you to keep their eyes skinned and guns ready. It could be an ambush.'
`Coming close in now, U-160, See a man standing on the beach.'
'Captain says, re-check that it's Tsushima. Use the code.' `
Swakop to U-160. It's Tsushima all right. I'm going ashore now. Wading. I'll keep in touch.'
'Are you ashore yet, Swakop?'
`No. Still in the breakers. It's bloody cold. Our own Jap is kicking up rough about something. Protocol, 1 think. The man on the beach must be a big shot Lots of fuss and bowing. Our man's taking a parcel from him now.'
'Where are you now, Swakop? On the beach?'
`No, Behind it. On a sandhill:
50
'Captain says, what the hell's the delay? Why don't those goddamned Japs get aboard the dinghy?'
'Our Jap's wading out first with the parcel. Looks as if he's going to go back for Tsushima.–maybe he's too important to get his feet wet?
'By God he is! Captain says–Gott in Himmel! There's a ship and it's firing at us . . .!'
Hydrophone operator to Captain: HE
Similar Books
