Shoulder the Sky_ A Novel - Anne Perry [151]
“I tried to persuade him not to in Gallipoli, and I failed,” he answered. “He left and I caught up with him on board a ship from Gibraltar. We were sunk by the Germans, and ended up in the same lifeboat.”
Sam continued to stare at him, waiting.
“I tried again to persuade him,” Joseph said. “There was another man with us, a crewman, wounded, and one who died. Mason and I were rowing the boat, trying to keep it into the wind as long as we could. And when we couldn’t hold it any longer, we turned and ran before the storm.” He took a deep breath. He had to say it now. “When Mason said he would publish his story, I stopped rowing. I sat in the stern and watched him struggle with both oars. I’d have let him go down, all of us, the crewman as well, rather than have him publish it.”
“But he changed his mind,” Sam said softly. “He must have, or you wouldn’t be here. And you believe him?”
“Yes.” He saw the doubt in Sam’s face. “Not because of what he said. We got becalmed in a fog. A ship came by, destroyer, I think. Mason stood up to hail it. Andy yelled at him not to, but it was too late. Mason didn’t listen. The wash of the destroyer caught us and Mason overbalanced and went into the water. Andy went after him.” He found it hard to say, even now. “I had the oars. I turned the boat and went back. Got Mason out, but we lost Andy.” His throat was aching and his voice was barely audible. “That . . . that’s what changed Mason, not really anything I said. Andy was typical Tommy, his brother’s keeper. . . .”
Sam nodded. He did not need to speak. Suddenly the dugout seemed very small and close.
“Sam . . . I know you killed Prentice,” Joseph said in the silence. “And I know why. Mason told me what he was doing, because he didn’t know he was dead. He said it was all in his schoolboy code—but you could read that, couldn’t you!” He did not wait for an answer—it was in Sam’s eyes. “I don’t know whether I would have done the same or not. A fortnight ago I’d have said no. Now I’m not certain. I couldn’t kill Mason with my own hands, but that’s an equivocation. I was willing to stand back and let him die, which comes to the same thing. And I liked him. We tended the wounded together on the beach at Gallipoli. He was a decent man, not an arrogant, self-serving bastard like Prentice.”
“But . . .?” Sam’s voice was hoarse, his eyes full of inner pain.
He did not deserve to have to listen to Joseph excusing himself, talking about Prentice’s murder, as if that would make what he said any easier.
“But you killed him,” Joseph said. “There are other men here, young men who are offering their lives to save what they believe in, a decency they trust, who know he was killed by one of us. I wish to God I’d covered it some way, but I didn’t, and now it can’t go unanswered.”
Sam looked crumpled, hurt more than he knew how to deal with. “Are you going to turn me in?”
“No,” Joseph said softly. “I can’t do that. I can’t even tell you that you were wrong, only that the army will see it that way. They have to.” He had tried to think of the words ever since he had decided what to do the night he had visited Mrs. Prentice, but it was no easier. “Next time there’s a big raid, like later tonight, you can go over the top with the others.” His voice cracked, but he could not stop. “Find someone dead who looks near enough like you, or whose body is beyond recognition, and change identity tags with him.” He was shivering. “You’ll live, and Sam Wetherall will be missing in action.” He wanted to say he was sorry, that he would have done anything he knew how, but none of it would help. He wanted to close his eyes, not look at Sam’s face, but he could not do that either. “If I can work it out, so will others. Before that . . . please . . . go . . . “
Sam did not speak for several moments. He stared at Joseph, searching.
Joseph wanted to answer, but he could not go back on the decision, or all it meant. Nor could he tell Sam’s brother the truth. No one else must know. It was not his own survival