The Angry Hills - Leon Uris [72]
“What in ’ell’s comin’ off?” Ben Masterton demanded.
“We stay till dawn. German orders. British submarines. If we move, a patrol boat will stop us.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
“Do not tell me my business,” Antonis said, ending the discussion.
They waited out the hours at anchor. Mike never took his eyes from the hills of Athens. He was overwhelmed with sadness.
Darkness fell.
Yichiel and Elpis slept locked in each other’s arms in the cabin below. Antonis stood at the rail, looking from water to sky.
Ben Masterton sat aft on the deck near Mike, his back against the rail. He began to sing softly.
The Australian bull fancied himself a concert singer. He sang his way through all of the old numbers of the baritone repertoire with most of the time-worn hammed-up gestures of a baritone. His left hand caressed his beard and his right arm swept the air.
Mike liked Masterton. Earlier the Australian had told him of his four previous attempts to escape, only to get so drunk that he tried to whip the entire German Army.
“Hey, Linden,” Masterton whispered, sliding close to Mike.
“Yes?”
“Look. I don’t make it a habit of drinkin’ with New Zealanders, but I likes the cut of you.” Ben pulled a bottle from his jacket.
“Brandy—just what the doctor ordered.”
“Shhhh, not so loud, you bloomin’ fool. Well be splittin’ it five ways when there ain’t rightly enough for the two of us.”
Mike took a long swig and tried to burn the hurt out of himself. Ben yanked the bottle from Mike’s lips and drank, matching Mike’s swig.
The level of the bottle moved downward quickly.
Ben scratched his head, looked at the empty bottle and flipped it over the rail. “You goddamn Kiwi,” he said. “I shoulda knowd better’n to drink with a goddamn Kiwi....”
“Aw, shaddup, ’less you wanna take a bath, Masterton....”
“I likes the cut of you, Linden.” Ben’s powerful arm went around Mike’s shoulders. “Tell you what... I likes you so much I’m gonna let you sing a duet wiff me—that’s how much I likes you. Too bad you wasn’t wiff me when I whipped fourteen of them spaghetti eaters—fourteen of ’em, see.... Mos’ fun I ever had... what’ll we sing, matey?”
“Don’ feel like singing, Ben.... Don’ feel like singing. There’s a broad in Athens—goddamn broad in a goddamn ’partment and I want that broad...”
“Aw, come now, matey—don’ cry—don’ cry...”
“Can’t hep it... What that goddamn broad...”
“Le’s sing London Dairy Air—les you got a version to a good English song...”
“Thatsa tenor song, you ignorant slob.”
“Linden! I can sing anything—’cluding souprano.”
Soft grunts came from the cabin. Ben got on all fours and began crawling toward it. Mike grabbed him by the belt and dragged him back. “Leave ’em alone, you bastard....”
“Goddamit, Linden, thatsa last time I drink with a Kiwi—very last time....”
They put their arms around each other’s shoulders and blended in dubious harmony.
Antonis held his pose by the fore rail.
The noise in the cabin subsided.
The Arkadia heaved gently under a swell.
Suddenly Antonis took his foot from the rail and stood tense, as if listening. Mike poked Ben in the ribs and they both stared hard through their alcoholic haze.
The distant sound of a motor reached their ears.
Mike and Ben stumbled to their feet and went fore beside Antonis.
“Let’s get this pisspot moving,” Masterton said.
“Hold still,” Antonis ordered. “They may turn away.”
Mike felt his guts turn over. A minute passed, and the motor seemed to fade away. Suddenly it became louder and louder.
“I say let’s get underway!” Masterton roared with the sweat pouring down his face.
The boat was coming close now. They could see its outline about four hundred yards to the starboard side.
Yichiel and Elpis scrambled topside, bug-eyed in terror. The girl buried her head in the boy’s chest.
A siren shrieked.
A flash of light streaked across the water. It settled on the Arkadia and caught the five of them in its beam. The motor roared in louder.
“Arkadia!” a voice boomed in the darkness, “stand by to be boarded!”
THREE
A SEMI-CIRCLE OF German soldiers at fixed bayonets waited