'We must wait till morning – if you continue you will wreck us on the rocks.'
'For the sake of your crew you must see that does not happen.'
Burckhardt answered decisively but his outwardly determined attitude did not reflect his thoughts. The view from the bridge was quite terrifying; although the moon was fading there was still sufficient light to see what lay before them as a series of menacing shadows, and to the north-east the cliffs of the peninsula soared up into the night towards the three-thousand-foot summit of Mount Zervos. As the Hydra straddled the crest of another giant roller Burckhardt was able briefly to see the entrance to the gulf, a gap between the shadows so frighteningly narrow that from a distance it seemed as though the hull of the ship might well scrape both sides of the bottleneck. The bows plunged downwards into a fresh trough, the view was lost, and Burckhardt comforted himself with the thought that distance across water at night was doubly deceptive. So when they came closer the entrance must widen, even comfortably so, if that was a word which could be used under such turbulent conditions. Schnell, who didn't understand a word of Greek, asked the colonel what Nopagos had said.
'He wants us to wait until morning. I have said no.' Dietrich noted that Schnell made no reply to this and he suspected that the German naval officer secretly agreed with Nopagos, who was acting as pilot. But Burckhardt would continue on course, he was sure of this, and his assumption was correct. The colonel was in an impossible dilemma: he was compelled to maintain the pre-arranged timetable, to land the expedition at Katyra by dawn. Under no circumstances could there be any possibility of turning back or waiting – his key force had a vital role to play in a far more gigantic operation and play it they must, whatever happened. Or perish in the attempt. And as Burckhardt stared from the bridge it seemed highly likely that they might indeed perish – his staff and the two hundred Alpenkorps troops huddled below decks.
The men on the bridge wore life-jackets – a precaution which Nopagos had insisted on – and the troops below were also similarly protected. But to Dietrich, as he surveyed the way ahead, the precaution seemed futile. If they struck the cliffs the Hydra would be pounded to pieces and no one could hope to survive in the boiling waters which surrounded them. As the vessel climbed again, breasting a further crest, he saw with appalling clarity – even through the foam-flecked window of the bridge – the mouth of the gulf, a rock-bound narrows which would require skilful seamanship in the calmest of seas in broad daylight, but at three in the morning, at the height of an Aegean storm, Schnell was going to have to take the ship on a course which most Greek sailors would have pronounced suicidal. And the weather was definitely deteriorating.
Eberhay stood a few feet away to the Abwehr man's left, and he stood so quietly and inconspicuously, almost like a wraith, that once Dietrich had looked to see if he were still there. He was watching the grim spectacle with interest and it might have been assumed he was nerveless, but in that earlier glance Dietrich had noticed a gleam of sweat across the small man's forehead. He made his remark to the major, knowing that Burckhardt was bound to hear him. 'If the vessel founders we mustn't forget that Greek tied up in the hold.'
"The guard has his instructions,' Eberhay replied. 'In the event of an emergency he will bring Grapos on deck. I gave the order myself.'
Burckhardt pretended not to have heard the exchange but the muscles across his stomach tightened a shade and he cursed the Abwehr man silently. 'If the vessel founders…"… in the event of an emergency.' The phrases pointed up dramatically the desperate course of action he was committed to and he found the reminders unpleasant. Despite the hardening experiences of war Burckhardt was now frightened as he realized that the storm was growing worse. The deck rocked under his feet, the engines throbbed with the agonized vibration of machinery strained to the limit, and the howl of the gale was rising to a shriek. If they weren't careful the ferry was going to slip out of control. He could feel the tension reacting across his shoulder-blades from standing erect in one position, but he remained standing like a statue, determined to give an example of fortitude, compelling himself to watch the rise and fall of the sea which was going up and down like a lift. Yes, conditions were much worse, dangerously so. Beyond the bridge the world was a series of shifting shadows, shallow mountain peaks of sea which were now soaring and surging high above the Hydra 's masthead as the ship sank into another trough. It was weird and nerve-shattering – to see the waves jostling all around and high above them, dark, sliding slopes of water which might overwhelm them at any moment. He had a horrible feeling that exactly this could happen – the sea closing over them as the ferry capsized and plunged down to the floor of the Aegean. Then, once more, the ship seemed to gather itself to mount wearily and falteringly yet another glassy slope as it dragged itself up out of the depths. At the very moment when he least wanted it, he heard Dietrich speaking again.
• 'Nopagos could be right – we may end up as a wreck on the rocks.'
'That is a chance we must take. Personally, I am confident that Schnell will take us through.' Burckhardt paused, struggling to control his sudden rage. He had purposely left out that remark of Nopagos' when relaying what the Greek had said to Schnell, and it infuriated him that Dietrich should have repeated it for all to hear. But in spite of the immense pressure, the almost unbearable responsibility resting on his shoulders, Burckhardt's brain was still working and he had registered something he hadn't previously known.
'You understand Greek, then?' he asked abruptly.
'Perfectly. I speak it fluently – rather more fluently than yourself, incidentally.' Dietrich's tone of voice became scathing, a tone of voice which prickled the colonel's raw nerves. 'Why the devil do you think they chose me for this trip – one of the first qualifications, surely, is a mastery of Greek?'
'Any other languages?' It was just something to say and Burckhardt wasn't in the least interested in the reply.
'Yes, French. I don't anticipate being able to employ that particular talent on this voyage.' He spoke banteringly and his brief outburst seemed forgotten. This was another aspect of the Abwehr man's character which Burckhardt found so disconcerting: his moods changed with astonishing swiftness and kept you off-balance. He stiffened as Nopagos turned and spoke urgently, his eyes pleading.
'There is still time to change your mind – but you must decide now.'
'We are entering the gulf at the earliest possible moment. It is your duty to see that we make safe passage. For the sake of your crew, if for no other reason.'
Nopagos' manner altered. He stood up very straight and stared directly at the German with an authoritative expression. In that case we must change course. There is a dangerous cross-current from the east we must allow for if we are not to pile up on the rocks to the west. Tell your wheelsman…'
Burckhardt relayed the instructions automatically in German, instructions which he didn't understand completely and which he mistrusted. Nopagos had given the incredible order that they must steer straight for the cliffs of Zervos and the strangeness of the order raised an entirely fresh spectre in Burckhardt's already anxiety-laden mind. Quickly, he tried to resolve the fear before it was too late. Nopagos was undoubtedly a Greek patriot – his whole attitude had confirmed this to Burckhardt hours earlier – so to what lengths might he go to prevent the Hydra and its cargo of Alpenkorps troops ever reaching Katyra? Would he deliberately wreck his own vessel on those fearsome cliffs? He had a crew of his own countrymen aboard but would this prevent him from taking action which could only end in the death of every man aboard? Like Dietrich, Burckhardt was secretly under no illusion as to the chances of survival if the ship went down. If anything, they were less than they might have been ten minutes ago. It all depended on the inscrutable mind of one middle-aged Greek.