L’Alouettedrifted low in the water, her powerful diesels still working, pushing her towards the island. Progress was agon-isingly slow and in the conning tower Jacaud waited, a ciga-rette in his mouth, watching the island grow nearer in the gathering dusk.
Below, things were bad and getting worse every minute. The crew worked knee-deep in water and it took the petty officer all his time to keep them under control.
Fenelon lay on the bunk in his tiny cabin, lips moving soundlessly as he stared up at the bulkhead. He shivered as if he had the ague and when someone attempted to speak to him he gazed at the man with vacant eyes.
Guyon lay huddled in a corner of the conning-tower bridge, blood oozing from a nasty gash in his forehead,knocked insensible by Jacaud the moment they had hauled him from the sea.
Jacaud stirred him with his boot, wondering exactly how he was going to kill him. It would have been easy to leave him in the sea or even to put a bullet through his head the moment they hauled him aboard, but that would have been too simple. Guyon deserved something special. He was a traitor and had been all along the line.
The throb of the diesels faltered and stopped and in the silence which followed there was a startled cry from inside the submarine. The forward hatch opened and the crew poured out. They brought with them several inflatable din-ghies, including the one with the outboard motor which Jacaud had used in the marshes.
Jacaud picked Guyon up, slung him over one shoulder with easy strength and went down the ladder. He walked along the hull and paused a couple of yards away from the frightened sailors. They were no more than a quarter of a mile from the great reef which linked lie de Roc and St. Pierre, the tide carrying them in. Jacaud did not intend to wait and see what happened toL’Alouette when she was pounded across those terrible rocks.
He nodded to the petty officer. “I’m taking the one with the outboard motor. You’re coming with me.”
There was a chorus of startled cries from the men and one of them rushed forward. “Why you? Why not us?”
Jacaud took a Liiger from his pocket and shot the man twice in the chest, the bullets knocking him into the water. There was a sudden silence and they all crowded back.
A few moments later the largest dinghy was moving away, the petty officer in the stern operating the outboard motor. Jacaud sat in the prow facing him and Guyon sprawled in the bottom.
The power of the current was already swinging the doomed submarine in towards the reef and there was a con-fused shouting on deck. One by one, the men crowded into the remaining dinghies and the current immediately swept them away.
Below inL’Alouette Fenelon lay in his cabin, forgotten by everyone. It was only when the water reached his bunk that he came to his senses. He sat up, stared down at it for a moment, then suddenly seemed to come to life.
He moved outside and started forward. At that moment the lights went out. He screamed as darkness enfolded him and started to feel his way along desperately.
As he reached the control room, light streaming in through the open conning tower, water started to cascade down the ladder and the whole world seemed to turn upside down.
He was aware of the crash, the rending of the metal plates and then a green cascade mercifully engulfed him. The sea swungL’Alouette in across the reef. For a brief moment she poised on the edge, then plunged down into the darkness of the Middle Passage.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
THE RUN TO THE ISLAND
theoars dipped and rose and Mallory pulled with all his strength, but his arms were tired and already there was a blister in one palm from a splinter in the rough handles.
It was more than an hour sinceFleur de Lys had gone down and he had rowed steadily for most of that time, making little progress. The fog still hung low over the water in long, wraithlike patches. On one occasion he seemed to hear a faint cry. When he looked back there was a brief flash of yellow on top of a wave as one of the submarine’s rubber dinghies was swept out to sea.