Reggie nodded, then posed the question he couldn’t keep back: “What about me?”
Stefan resisted an impulse to fling Reggie against the bulkhead. Instead he gave him a sharp pat on the cheek.
“Ouch!” Reggie rubbed the red mark left behind.
“Because I’m fond of you,” Stefan said, “you can have Jerzy’s bunk. He won’t need it anymore.” Stefan decided to keep to himself the fact that Jerzy was notorious for never changing or washing anything—blankets, clothes, hair. In the submarine, perpetually rich with smells, his bunk was a particular standout. “Oh yes, you can share it with our other guest, that Veski what’s-his-name.”
Before returning to the bridge, Stefan gave the Eagle a quick inspection, double-checking for himself her various mechanical systems, dispensing reassuring jokes and words of advice to the crew along the way. Typically, submarines were manned by the youngest sailors in the fleet. Stefan apart, the Eagle was no exception. Not that he needed to say anything to any of them. Stefan was one of those rare individuals who could radiate confidence like a wood stove in winter. He didn’t miss a thing, pointing out three broken valves, a pile of greasy rags in a corner—a fire hazard, deadly on a submarine—and half a dozen other minor items
On his way back to the bridge, he noticed that the galley was deserted. That was a good sign. Stefan knocked on the bulkhead outside the captain’s quarters. No answer. He peered through a crack in the curtain. Kate was curled up on the bunk, her notepad on the mattress beside her, pen still in her hand. She was asleep. Stefan hesitated for a moment, and then. stepped inside. He closed the notebook, pulled the pen from her hand, and then draped one of Sieinski’s wool sweaters over her shoulders, lingering a moment to watch the peaceful expression on her face. This is worth fighting for. The thought came unbidden to his mind. Not pride, or honor, or country even, but for her and those like her. It seemed enough.
Stefan was still preoccupied with thoughts of the woman as he set his arms on the smooth edge of the conning tower and leaned into the breeze, letting it scour his face like a cold shower.
The Estonian gave him a few moments. “Will you be joining me in Sweden?” he asked.
Stefan turned his attention to his pipe. He packed the bowl with tobacco, and then, shielding it from the wind, lit it carefully. He let smoke trickle out of the corner of his mouth and then clamped down on the stem with his teeth. “Not Sweden,” he said, finally addressing the question. “We will make for England— after we drop you and your friend off—and not right away.” Stefan had already decided that despite the danger, they would not try to escape the Baltic immediately. That’s what the Germans would expect. They would know that the Eagle was low on food and water, hampered by lack of charts. Instead, as the German’s grew tired of waiting for them near The Øresund, the Eagle would go to war elsewhere.
Talli nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
Stefan was surprised he was that obvious. “Why?”
“It is where I would go,” Talli answered.
“You can come with us, you know. I could use another man. We could boot your partner off the boat by himself.”
Talli considered the offer, and then shook his head with regret. “Tempting, yes. But I think Sweden is for me. You see, my help does not mean I am not a loyal Estonian. I must make my way home.”
Stefan understood. They were not that unlike, he and Talli. “We’re making good time?”
Talli nodded. “She is a wonderful vessel, you know.
“I know,” Stefan said.
“Light soon, what then? Dive?”
Stefan pulled up his collar, peered at the sky to the east. There was a hint of horizon, a pale line with darker gray above and below. No answers in the captain’s handbook for this particular problem. What would they do when night no longer protected them? It was a tossup: stealth or speed. Each had its risks. Stealth meant they would spend the day underwater, powered by electric motors, cruising at a pace little faster than a quick walk. On the surface, they could fly along at nearly ten times the speed. But of course, all that might be for naught if they were spotted from the air. And so, the decision became one more of art than science, more intuition and gut feeling than facts and logic. “Steady as she goes, commander,” Stefan decided, and then more loudly for the new lookouts in the conning tower. “Eyes sharp. We dive at the first sign of anyone. We don’t fight, not yet. Got that?”
Brief nods in response.
“Yes, they will be looking first to the southwest,” Talli said. “When they find nothing, then their eyes will swing this way. Now it is the time to run with the wind.”
Stefan clenched his pipe tightly and chuckled. “You sound like a poet.”
“Just an ordinary seaman,” Talli responded.
“Like I said,” Stefan muttered to himself. “A poet.”
Soon enough, the Eagle was caught by dawn. Stefan and Talli and the rest of the men on deck watched the sky lighten, marveling at the fresh pastels like children emerging from a world made up entirely of gray and black, their senses no doubt heightened by their recent brushes with death. And as the day began to age and the weather continued to worsen, the sky and sea remained strangely empty of all pursuers except for the occasional gull.
At noon, Talli ordered a course correction. The bustling Swedish port of Stockholm was but 250 kilometers west of Tallinn and Eagle had been racing at top speed almost directly toward the Swedish capital city ever since leaving the last Estonian buoy behind and curving west around Naissaar Island. Talli didn’t need navigation charts to sense that every passing mile greatly increased their chance of detection. The busy sea route between Helsinki and Stockholm was just over the horizon to the north. Their luck was bound to change.
“You know, I think Veski and I would enjoy Gotland this time of year,” Talli announced as the Eagle’s wake began to curve toward the southwest, “if that is all right with you, captain.”
Stefan nodded, any thought of reply interrupted by a sudden appearance from Eryk, his head popping up through the conning tower hatch like a toy jack-in-the-box. “News from the BBC,” he said. “Thought you might like to hear it. The Soviet Union has joined the Nazis, invading from the east.”
“Those bastards!” Talli exclaimed, realizing immediately what was in store for his own country.
“And three of our submarines are now interned in Sweden,” Eryk continued, “one has rendezvoused with the British. They didn’t say which one. And you’ll like this. The Germans are reporting our escape. We’re famous, or infamous. They say we executed two Estonian guards and two officers in our escape, and in an unprovoked attack, destroyed a half-track, killing all of her crew onboard.”
And with that, Eyrk gave both men a sunny smile, disappeared down the hatch. He reappeared a moment later. “Oh, yes, the Germans also say we have sunk two unarmed passenger ferries. Hundreds dead. ”
Talli shook his head. “You’ve really upset them now. Next they’ll accuse you of a sneak attack on the Führer himself.”
“If only we could get a chance at that sonofabitch,” Eryk remarked.
Stefan was only half paying attention. Word of the Soviet Union’s entry in the war was bad news indeed, though not entirely unexpected. It didn’t change anything except for more quickly sealing Poland’s fate. There had been little hope with the Germans as the sole adversary; there was none at all with the Soviets.