Chapter 43
chapter
Fire burned in Gerrit’s shoulders and biceps. How many years since he’d last rowed?
Right before sunrise, they’d run out of petrol and had taken turns rowing. Through the night and morning and into the afternoon, Charlie had slept fitfully and the rest of them had snatched bits of sleep and nibbled the provisions of bread and apples.
Sweat needled Gerrit’s scalp under the bandage Ivy had tied about his head in lieu of a hat. He looked ridiculous, but he preferred to avoid a sunburnt scalp.
In the stern, Ivy used a bucket to bail the seawater that slopped inside or leaked through.
Behind Gerrit, Jack raised a Union Jack on the mast to identify them to the Allies as a friendly vessel. “We’re getting close. I see houses. That had better be France, not Jersey.”
“It’s France.” Gerrit leaned forward to start another stroke.
“A lot of boats have blown back to Jersey. What if—”
“We have a compass.” Gerrit kept his tone patient, although Jack had raised the concern a dozen times in as many hours. “We’ve held an east-southeast course as instructed, and we have a westerly wind.”
Jack grumbled. “You’d better be right, because I see men on shore. They have guns. They’ve spotted us.”
Gerrit glanced at Bernardus, and his friend nodded. They paused with their oars out of the water, fished their pistols from their suit jackets, and handed them to Ivy. “Drop these over the stern.”
Her brown eyes enormous, Ivy held the pistols by their handles.
“Don’t!” Jack cried. “We might need them.”
Bernardus gave Gerrit the signal to resume rowing. “Those are Allied soldiers. We don’t need them.”
And German pistols would only cause trouble. Gerrit yanked the bandage off his head, tugged on the oar, and gritted his teeth against the pain in his shoulders.
“What if they’re German soldiers?” Jack’s voice rose. “If that’s Jersey?”
Gerrit’s oars left a glittering trail of droplets on the sea. “Then two pistols won’t do us any good.”
Ivy’s gaze bounced between Gerrit and Bernardus, and she dropped the pistols over the stern. Then she crawled back to kneel in front of Gerrit, and her brow furrowed. “We’ll have to say goodbye soon.”
“We will.” Gerrit had his OT paybook for identification, and Bernardus had his false Jersey papers. Both suspicious. “Bernardus and I will be in custody awhile.”
“We’ll tell the truth.” Bernardus huffed out a laugh. “But the truth is rather unbelievable.”
“They’ll see.” Although Ivy smiled, her brow remained furrowed. “I know they will.”
“Since we’re telling the truth, we have consistency in our favor.” Gerrit leaned back, and the sea fought his oar. “I have one last map as proof.”
Ivy set her hand on his knee. “Ferric chloride, a 10 percent solution in water. Don’t forget.”
“I won’t.” Would the map help if no other maps had arrived in England for comparison? If none of the French resistance contacts had survived to corroborate their story?
Gerrit blew out a breath as he drew the oar through the water. Regardless, he’d done what was right and he didn’t regret it.
Ivy spun away to her medical bag, and she pulled out her sketch pad and pen. “I’ll give you my grandparents’ address in England. Memorize it in case they take it from you during interrogation.” She ripped off a corner of paper and held it out to him.
Bernardus paused rowing so Gerrit could too. After he memorized the address, he tucked it in his breast pocket. “If I can come to you, I will. If I can’t, I’ll write.”
Ivy pushed up on her knees, took Gerrit’s cheeks between her hands, and pressed a kiss to his lips, so sweet, so passionate, he almost dropped the oar.
“Row,” Bernardus said in a stern voice, but then chuckled. “You’ll have time for that later.”
“I will come to you.” Gerrit sent her a firm look and scooped his oar into the ocean.
“Who goes there?” a man shouted from shore.
An American accent, and Gerrit grinned at Bernardus and glanced over his shoulder. Half a dozen men in olive drab pointed rifles at them.
“We’re from Jersey!” Jack yelled. “We’re escaping.”
“New Jersey?” another man said in a deep bass. “You rowed all the way—”
“Not New Jersey, you numbskull,” the first American said. “Old Jersey. Over there in the Channel Islands. The Jerries are still there. Haven’t you heard?”
“Old Jersey?” Ivy said in a low voice. “The original Jersey.”
“How many of you?” a soldier shouted.
“Four men and a girl,” Jack said.
That girl—a grown woman—rose to standing, and she waved. “I’m a physician. My brother has an infected gunshot wound. He needs to go to hospital straightaway. Please fetch an ambulance.”
One of the soldiers jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and two men ran off.
The boat’s hull scraped on the sand.
“You in the bow,” an American shouted. “Get out, hands where I can see them. Pull the boat in.”
Jack splashed down into the water, and Gerrit shoved with his oar.
“Get out, one at a time, hands up.”
“My brother’s too ill to walk,” Ivy said. “He’s on a stretcher.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A soldier sloshed into the water and offered her a hand. “She’s right. Got a kid on a stretcher back here.”
Gerrit laid down his oar and lifted his hands, as did Bernardus. After all they’d been through, the last thing he wanted was to get shot because he made a wrong move.
When a soldier gestured with his rifle, Gerrit stepped out, drenching his shoes and socks. Yet he grinned. On free soil for the first time in over four years.
“Papers?” The soldiers kept rifles and glares trained on the escapees.
“I’m from Jersey.” Jack handed a gum-chewing soldier his identification papers. “So is the girl and her brother on the stretcher. The other two are Dutch.”
“Dutch?” The soldier guarding Gerrit flared his nostrils. “How’d you wind up in Jersey?”
Gerrit exchanged a look with Bernardus and Ivy, and he drew out his paybook. “We’re with Organisation Todt.”
“Forced laborers,” Jack said. “The Germans grab men off the streets and make them build for them.”
“We weren’t forced.” Gerrit handed over his paybook. “We were volunteers.”
Jack’s face distorted, and his hands coiled into fists. “Volunteers? You’re Todts? They’re the worst of the worst. I never would have shared a boat with you.” He charged at Gerrit.
“Hey, now.” A soldier stepped in front of Jack with a rifle.
“We’re with the resistance.” Gerrit kept his hands high. “We joined OT so we could send maps of German fortifications to the Allies.”
Bernardus handed over his papers. “These are false papers. I was injured committing sabotage and went into hiding.”
“Liars.” Jack stayed back, but poison laced his gaze.
“It’s true.” Charlie’s voice warbled as two soldiers carried his stretcher out of the boat. “I was their courier.”
The Americans gaped at the group.
“Hey, look at this.” Gerrit’s guard showed his paybook to the soldier beside him. “It’s this same guy, all right, in a Nazi uniform.”
The second soldier snorted. “We got ourselves a couple of Jerries trying to sneak in.”
“It isn’t true.” Ivy twisted her hands together, and her chin quivered. “They’re good men. They’re on the Allied side. They risked their lives to help us.”
“It’s all right, mijn geliefde.” Gerrit gave her a soothing look. “The truth will come out. No matter what, God is good.”
She nodded, and her face crumpled. “And he is faithful.”
“Even if,” he murmured. “Even if.”