“You think you’re all heroes, don’t you?” The captain glared at them, brimming with contempt. “But it’s not so heroic, if you ask me, putting innocent lives at risk, so you can do what, flee the Nazis and avoid capture?”
“That’s not at all what this is about.” Nordstrum defended his actions as best he could. But he could not tell the captain any more. “And in war, innocents are all at risk.”
“Then what is it, mind you? Don’t get me wrong, we all respect those who stood up and fought the Nazis. But in my thinking, true Norwegians go out of their way to protect their fellow countrymen’s lives. Not put them in peril. That’s what separates us from these…” The word he held on the tip of his tongue, but did not say, was “savages.” Nordstrum could feel it. “That’s what makes us Norwegian.”
“We’re carrying something that needs to be put into the right hands,” Nordstrum finally said, as much as he was prepared to divulge. “Something very important to the war. And those hands are in England, unfortunately.”
“Well, if it ends up on the bottom of the North Sea courtesy of a German dive-bomber, I don’t exactly see how you fulfilled your job.” The captain poured out two coffees and slid one to Nordstrum. “You can see there are women and children on this ship. Many of my own crew have their own families back home.… Do you have a wife, sir?” The captain softened his tone. “Here we are in the midst of all this and I don’t even know your name.”
“Better that way,” Nordstrum said. “And no, no wife. But once…” He was about to tell of Anna-Lisette, but then stopped. Why? To make himself appear more human? To show what he had given up? Why even get into it? he decided.
But the captain kept his gaze trained on him. “Then you can’t really see, can you?”
Nordstrum took a gulp of coffee and thought of Anna-Lisette before looking away. “I can see.”
Suddenly he heard a high-pitched wail from high in the sky. He looked up, shielding his eyes against the sun. Damn. He pointed to the gleam. “Messerschmitts! Two of them at one o’clock.”
“Three!” Jens shouted back from out on deck.
The three German fighters completed a high circle of the ship. Then they dropped down, one by one, seemingly preparing to dive.
“See?” The captain glared, alarm stamped on his face. “I told you they’d come for us. Where is your precious escort now? We’re a defenseless target out here. Sound the alarm!” He grabbed the intercom and barked over the loudspeaker. “Emergency! This is your captain. Everyone off the decks. Quickly get inside or stay in your berths away from the windows and get on the floor immediately!”
They looked toward the stern, and whoever was on deck grabbed their loved ones in panic and hurried under cover. Anxious shouts and wails could be heard everywhere. The German fighters descended in a sharp dive and picked up speed until they were no more than fifty feet above them, and suddenly strafed the decks, bullets tearing up the planking of the old ship, windows shattering, their engines screaming a high-pitched, deafening whine.
“We’re a goddamn sitting duck!” the captain shouted above the rattle of bullets tearing into his ship. “We’re not built to fight. We can’t stand much of this. What do you plan to do, shoot them down with your tommies and pistols? We have to turn around.”
The fighters shrieked past them and then arced back up in the sky, seeming to prepare for another pass. Nordstrum followed them with his binoculars, unsure of what to do.
“If we move to turn around, maybe they’ll just let us go back,” the captain appealed to him. “Otherwise, next time around, they’ll drop their bombs and sink us for sure.”
“If we turn around, we’re as good as dead anyway,” Nordstrum said, keeping his gun on the captain, though now, neither of them thought he would use it. “Keep course.”
“You, maybe, but there’s a hundred and forty passengers on this boat. Are you prepared to take them all to the grave with you?”
They followed the fighters as they turned around, their silver sides gleaming in the sun.
“Are you?” The captain kept his eyes on Nordstrum with an unrelenting glare.
“Keep the course.”
Nordstrum sought out Einar. He knew what they had to put in Tronstad’s hands was of the highest importance and might well save lives, thousands of them, down the line. But right now they were faced with 140 lives on this boat. Norwegian lives. What happened to him and his friends was not important. They’d end up in some Gestapo dungeon, or more likely shot as soon as they stepped foot on shore. But the microfilm … That’s what mattered. That was why they did this.
“They’re coming back around!” Jens shouted from out on the deck.
“We’re sunk.” The captain shook his head with a tragic certainty, fixing on the planes.
“We can take a shot at them on their way in,” said Jens, pulling back the bolt on his Bren. Not exactly a weapon that could bring down a plane. It would seem pointless, but maybe it would disrupt them. In the Songvaln, they’d fought with less.
“All right.” Nordstrum finally nodded to the captain. “Turn it around.”
Einar looked at him. “Kurt, no. We can’t.”
“What hope is there, Einar? We’ve families on board. Turn it around.” He wasn’t prepared to take 140 lives to the bottom of the sea. All of them innocent. Children among them. He turned to the captain and put his Colt on the table. “Bring the ship around now, Captain. Fast as you can.”
“Now you’re finally talking some sense.” The grizzled captain twisted the wheel sharply, sending those on the bridge, and likely anyone standing on the ship, scrambling to the right.
At full speed the old boat quickly responded. Even on the bridge, they had to grab on to remain on their feet. From the air, the German fighters would have to spot their wake. They’d won now; maybe they’d call it off.
But as they came down from the sky, their engines whining, still they didn’t break off their descent. Instead they headed directly for them in a terrifying dive. Each plane was armed with hundred-pound bombs that could blow an old crate like this right out of the sea.
“Sonovabitch, they’re going to sink us anyway,” the captain said, looking straight into their approach. “Well, not if I have anything to do with it!” He jerked hard on the wheel, back to the left. The ship veered starboard. With a chilling whine, the planes bore down on them. One dropped two bombs as it passed overhead. They exploded in the sea, narrowly missing the ship’s stern.
“The next one will hit us for sure,” the captain said.
The second plane lined up to make the next pass.
Einar looked at Nordstrum with a faint smile that read: Sorry, Kurt. We’re done for now. I wish I hadn’t dragged you into this.
Suddenly Jens pointed to the sky. “Jesus, Kurt, look!”
To the west, several gleaming shapes could be seen coming out of the clouds. At first they were no more than sharp reflections in the sun. But as they dove, in tight formation, who they were became clear.
Spitfires. British.