“Forget it,” Thomas Hudson said. “I’m resting. You know how to search a key, don’t you?”
“I should.”
“See what there is on Mégano.”
“That’s mine. Willie and Ara have gone in already. I’m just waiting with the other party for Antonio to come back with the dinghy.”
“How is Peters?”
“He’s been working hard on the big radio all afternoon. He thinks he has it fixed OK.”
“That would be wonderful. If I’m asleep, wake me as soon as you get back.”
“Yes, Tom.” Henry reached down and took something that was handed to him. It was a big glass full of ice and a rusty-colored liquid and it was wrapped in a double thickness of paper towel held fast by a rubber band.
“A double Tomini,” Henry said. “Drink it and read and go to sleep. You can put the glass in one of the big frag slots.”
Thomas Hudson took a long sip.
“I like it,” he said.
“You used to. Everything will be fine, Tom.”
“Everything we can do damn well better be.”
“Just get a good rest.”
“I will.”
Henry went down and Thomas Hudson heard the hum of the outboard coming in. It stopped and there was talking and then he heard the hum of it going away. He waited a little, listening. Then he took the drink and threw it high over the side and let the wind take it astern. He settled the glass in the hole it fitted best in the triple rack and lay face down on the rubber mattress with his two arms around it.
I think they had wounded under the shelters, he thought. Of course it could be to conceal many people. But I do not believe that. They would have come in here the first night. I should have gone ashore. I will from now on. But Ara and Henry could not be better and Willie is very good. I must try to be very good. Try hard tonight, he told himself. And chase hard and good and with no mistakes and do not overrun them.
VIII
He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Ara and he said, “We got one, Tom. Willie and I.”
Thomas Hudson swung down and Ara was with him. The German lay on the stern wrapped in a blanket. His head was on two cushions. Peters was sitting on the deck beside him with a glass of water.
“Look what we got,” he said.
The German was thin and there was a blond beard on his chin and on his sunken cheeks. His hair was long and uncombed and in the late afternoon light, with the sun almost down, he looked like a saint.
“He can’t talk,” Ara said. “Willie and I tried him. You better keep to windward of him, too.”
“I smelled it coming down,” Thomas Hudson said. “Ask him if he wants anything,” he said to Peters.
The radio operator spoke to him in German and the German looked toward him but he did not speak nor move his head. Thomas Hudson heard the humming of the outboard motor, and looked across the bight at the dinghy coming out of the sunset. It was loaded down to the water line. He looked down at the German again.
“Ask him how many they are. Tell him we must know how many they are. Tell him this is important.”
Peters spoke to the German softly and it seemed to Thomas Hudson almost lovingly.
The German said three words with great effort.
“He says nothing is important,” Peters said.
“Tell him he is wrong. I have to know. Ask him if he wants morphine.”
The German looked at Thomas Hudson kindly and said three words.
“He says it doesn’t hurt anymore,” Peters said. He spoke rapidly in German and again Thomas Hudson caught the loving tone; or, perhaps it was only the loving sound of the language.
“Shut up, Peters,” Thomas Hudson said. “Translate only and exactly what I say. Did you hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” Peters said.
“Tell him I can make him tell.”
Peters spoke to the German and he turned his eyes toward Thomas Hudson. They were old eyes now but they were in a young man’s face gone old as driftwood and nearly as gray.