Burckhardt said nothing as he walked past them, heading for his cabin while Dietrich followed the major up the staircase, turning up his coat collar when they reached the deck. A guard stationed permanently outside the door stood to attention as Eberhay went briskly to the bridge. Inside he noted that Hahnemann had stationed two more soldiers in the rear away from the light and stared with keen interest at the destroyer as Dietrich joined him.
'It will be an hour before we know whether they've really gone," Dietrich commented as he looked at Eberhay. The contrast between the two men was startling. Whereas Dietrich was easily the largest man aboard the Hydra, Eberhay was small and lightly built, his face lean and alert as a fox's and his manner almost dandified. In his early thirties, he wore over his uniform a civilian raincoat belted close to his slim waist. The name sounded Hungarian in origin, Dietrich reflected, and there was certainly Balkan blood in his veins. Which probably accounted for the air of intelligence and sophistication which radiated from him.
The escape of the prisoners is unfortunate,' Eberhay remarked, offering his cigarette case, 'but we shall soon find them.' Dietrich shook his head, noting that the contents were Turkish as he extracted his own case and took out a cigar. Eberhay lit the cigar for him as he stooped low to reach the match. 'I'm going on deck now to supervise the search.'
'It is the manner of their escape which is more than unfortunate – it could be catastrophic,' the Abwehr man observed.
Eberhay glanced sharply up at him and then, without replying, made his way onto the open deck followed by Dietrich. As they arrived in the open the Hydra plunged its bows into a massive wave and a torrent of spray drenched them. Dodging close to the starboard side of the funnel, Eberhay mopped his face with a silk handkerchief. Dietrich had also moved and now he was standing by a swaying lifeboat where he caught the full blast of the icy wind. He had to pull his hat down tight over his large head and on another man the compressed hat might have looked absurd, but on this man, Eberhay reflected, it only emphasized an air of physical menace which seemed to emanate from him.
'Your name suggests a Balkan heritage,' Dietrich rumbled, switching unexpectedly to an entirely different topic.
'My grandfather moved "from Budapest to Munich last century,' Eberhay replied stiffly and a little uncomfortably. 'The family has been entirely German since then.' Something about Dietrich suggested to the sensitive Eberhay a whiff of the Gestapo, and he was reminding himself to mention this to Burckhardt when he saw two Alpenkorps soldiers slip past on the port side, their bodies crouched low as they made their way towards the stern. Dietrich had turned and was also looking towards the stern as though something had caught his attention, then he turned away again, and a moment later they heard one of the Alpenkorps call out.
Eberhay ran forward, saw two men standing near the raft as the Alpenkorps soldiers charged along the deck and within seconds a furious struggle had begun. Prentice found himself thrown back against the rail, temporarily winded. A clenched fist scraped his jaw as he jerked his head aside and lifted one knee. The soldier twisted to avoid the thrust, lost his balance and Prentice crashed down on top of him, his right hand reaching for the man's throat. But the German foresaw the attack again and buried his head in his chest to ward off the hand, trying to grab blindly for the lieutenant's hair. They fought ineffectually for a short time and then Prentice tore himself loose from the soldier's grasp and jumped up as though fleeing. The German came to his feet confidently, ran forward and received Prentice's aimed shoe on the point of his kneecap. He was doubling up as his opponent crashed into him and rammed him against the rail. Prentice had used the natural tilt of the vessel to port to give him added momentum and now the German was half-spreadeagled over the side as the vessel went on dropping to port, lifting the German over the rail. Scooping his arm under the German's crooked legs he hoisted and the soldier went over the side head first into the heaving sea. Eberhay had seen the danger and had run forward with his pistol held by the barrel to club Prentice. He himself had earlier given the order that under no circumstances must there be shots fired which might alert the destroyer which now presented its stern to the Hydra. Eberhay was close to the lieutenant when he slipped on a wet patch and sprawled headlong on the deck. In front of the funnel he saw running men as he lifted his head. 'Volber!' he shouted and then dropped his head just in time to escape Prentice's aimed shoe. Volber and two other men were struggling with Prentice while Ford still fought on the deck with the other Alpenkorps soldier as Eberhay looked quickly over the side. The seething waves had swallowed up the man who had gone overboard and there was no sign of him amid the churning crests.
In less than a minute both Prentice and Ford had been overpowered and were being taken along the deck with their arms pinioned behind them. Eberhay had warned Volber that they were wanted for questioning and that they must be looked after carefully, a necessary precaution after one of their comrades had been thrown overboard. Accidents could happen so easily and he didn't want Prentice tripped and thrown down the full length of the staircase. When he turned round, Dietrich was supporting his balance with a hand against a ventilator while he stared at the raft as though it might be alive.
'They almost got away,' were his first words.
'But they didn't…' Eberhay was unsure how to reply. The remark infuriated him since Dietrich seemed completely unconcerned that one of their men had just drowned.
'Three more minutes and they'd have been over the side,' the Abwehr man growled. He glared at Eberhay as though it were all his fault. 'And you wouldn't have dared open fire for fear you warned that destroyer.'
Eberhay rubbed his bruised hands with his silk handkerchief, almost lost balance again as the deck started to rise, then leant against the ventilator. The trend of Dietrich's remarks greatly disturbed him: he had heard that he Abwehr's chief, Canaris, had such a contempt for soldiers that he refused to allow any man who wore a military decoration to enter his office. It looked very much as though his aide shared his chiefs views of the Wehrmacht. It had been a most unfortunate incident and the only officer present had been Eberhay himself. He tried flattery. 'You took a risk yourself coming out into the open like that.'
'So far as I could see they had no guns. I am not interested in displays of courage, Major Eberhay,' he went on bitingly. 'My usefulness to the Reich lies in staying alive as long as I can. Considering what has happened I must have a word with Colonel Burckhardt immediately.' He looked across the Aegean in a westerly direction. 'There are certain things which must be cleared up before we reach the entrance to the Gulf of Zervos. Have you ever made this trip before? No? It will be an experience for you – going into the gulf through that narrow entrance on such a night will be like entering the gates of hell.'
CHAPTER SIX
Sunday, 3 AM
At 2.50 AM the Hydra was steaming into the eye of the storm as seas of unimaginable violence began to take hold of her. The hull shuddered under the impact of the seventy-mile-an-hour wind, the bows of the vessel climbed a rolling wall of water, a Niagara of spray burst in the air and was flung against the window of the bridge with hammering force, blinding their view for several seconds. To stay upright, Burckhardt gripped the rail tightly as he watched the mighty waves swarming in endless succession towards the ship from Cape Zervos, waves which seethed and heaved with a dizzying motion, advancing relentlessly as though bent on the ship's destruction. Close to the colonel stood his shadow, Dietrich, his hat jammed low over his head and an unlit cigar between his lips. A few feet in front of Burckhardt the wheel was held by Schnell, standing with his legs apart and braced, the strain showing in his stooped shoulders, while to his right Nopagos, his face lined and drawn, held onto the rail as he gazed fixedly ahead. Turning, he spoke quickly to Burckhardt, his manner so harsh that for a moment it seemed the Greek had once more resumed command of his own ship.