The sound of the motor launch faded as it passed me by, heading for the quayside. When I reached the village there wasn’t a light to be seen. Roofs wet with dew glistened in the starlight. Five figures were standing at the water’s edge. The boat was already moored, bobbing gently in the water. As I drew nearer, I saw Jack’s profile silhouetted against the night sky.
The boat’s long streamlined shape reminded me of the motor yachts I’d seen racing across Dublin Bay as a child. Jack was up on deck, ready to help anyone who lost their balance as they stepped off the quayside. Everyone was wearing the same bulky clothing as I was. I’d been told that one of the agents was a woman—but from where I was standing it was impossible to distinguish which one she was.
As I watched, I saw someone trip and almost fall into the water. But there was no cry of alarm—not even a muttered expletive. Everything was done in total silence. When my turn came, Jack stood with his hands outstretched, waiting to catch me if I stumbled. When he saw that I was all right, he cupped his fingers around his mouth and made a soft hooting sound, like an owl. I heard footsteps on the quayside, then the sound of ropes slithering into the water. Jack was already starting up the engine. As the boat pulled away, I spotted a solitary figure standing on the shore. I caught a glimpse of his upturned face, pale and round in the starlight. It was George Retallack—the blind man.
We began to pick up speed and the front of the boat lifted slightly, planing across the water. I clung to the rail, gasping as spray drenched my face. When I licked my lips, they tasted of salt.
After a while Jack called to me over his shoulder. “You should go below—get some sleep!”
“I will, in a minute,” I called back.
I had no intention of going down there. I could imagine how crowded it was likely to be in the cabin—and I thought the agents were more in need of a few hours’ rest than I was. They were the ones who were about to risk their lives, going ashore in enemy territory. Besides, I was too nervous to sleep.
With some difficulty, I managed to sit down on the slippery deck. I was afraid to look over the edge of the rail at the water surging around the side of the boat. Closing my eyes didn’t help. Bodies in the water were all I could see. Flailing arms glinting in the moonlight. What if it happened again? What if a German submarine was lurking out there in the Channel?
Please, God, if this is what you want me to do, keep us all safe.
I looked up at the stars, trying to quell my fear by remembering evenings in Africa, and how I used to sit outside during the nuns’ hour of recreation. The sharp salt smell of the sea faded as the scent of the Congo night came back to me: the mingled fragrance of mimosa and jacaranda, underlaid with the smell of dust. I began to hear the high-pitched thrum of crickets and the distant beat of drums. I remembered how, when I first arrived in the Congo, Sister Clare had interpreted the drum language for me. She said that the jungle was reverberating with the news that the new nun was of childbearing age and had big, beautiful eyes.
“Aren’t you cold?” Jack’s voice startled me out of the trancelike state I’d fallen into.
“No,” I called back. “It’s nice up here. Bracing.”
“It’ll be light soon. Can you see—over there—the sky’s just turning pink?”
He was pointing away from the direction in which we were heading. I looked over my shoulder and saw the faint glow on the eastern horizon. It reminded me of that other morning, in this same sea, when I’d clung to life as waves washed me toward Cornwall. Was it only two weeks ago? It felt like a lifetime.
“Come up here, if you like,” Jack called. “I’ll show you where we are.”
I didn’t trust myself to stand up, so I scrambled across the deck on all fours.
“Not got your sea legs yet?” Jack said, as I grabbed the rail at the helm of the boat. In the pale dawn light, I could see his wry smile. “You’ll have to put on a more convincing act when we get to France if you’re going to fool the Germans.”
“I know,” I murmured. “I’m not as bad as I was when we first set off.”
“You’ll be fine. I’m sure the biggest hurdle was stepping off dry land.”
I nodded.
Jack beckoned me to come closer, then pointed at something off to the right. “Can you see that?”
I craned my neck to see what he’d spotted. He was looking over to the west, where the sky was still dark gray.
“Here—have these.” He took off the binoculars looped round his neck.