Read Online The Passenger by F. R. Tallis - Free Book Online

‘Survivors,Brandt. About twelve men, I’d say.’ The radio operator was also responsible for provisions. ‘Can we spare something?’
    â€˜I’ll see what I can find.’
    â€˜And a compass—see if you can dig out a compass—there’s one under the chart table. I have no idea what it’s doing there—a cheap toy—the sort of thing a schoolboy might own. Even so: better than nothing on the open sea.’
    There were more detonations but the screaming had ceased.
    Red and yellow flashes penetrated the sooty pall and the effect was horribly infernal. The approaching lifeboat might have been navigating through the waterways of hell.
    Brandt returned with a bulging sack.
    â€˜What’s inside?’ Lorenz asked.
    â€˜Water, some cans of condensed milk: the cook wasn’t happy—but there we are.’ Brandt spread his fingers out. ‘Ten cans of boneless chicken meat and a piece of cheese.’
    â€˜Good.’
    â€˜And the compass, Kaleun.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ Lorenz threw the sack over his shoulder and looked around at his companions. ‘Stay here.’ Falk exempted himself from the order and started to follow. ‘No,’ Lorenz added, ‘I’ll do this on my own.’ The first watch officer stepped back. Lorenz’s precise motivation was unclear, but he was aware of some scruple that demanded he accept full responsibility for his command. To do anything less would be cowardly. His rank obliged him to look directly into the eyes of these ‘poor bastards’ without flinching. He climbed down the conning tower ladder and walked along the deck, past the 8.8 cm gun, and toward the bow. As the lifeboat drew closer he noticed that the woodwork was striped with scorch marks. A coxswain was seated at the tiller and six oars rose and fell in rough synchrony. The wind cleared some of the smoke and the ruddy light of the burning tanker revealed a gang of filthy men who were either completely bald or possessed only patches of singed hair. None of them had eyebrows. Theylooked very similar, as if they all shared a common congenital abnormality. The coxswain issued some final directions and the lifeboat scraped to a halt against the iron bow. Some of the men were retching so hard it seemed that they meant to expel their innards through their mouths.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ Lorenz said in English. ‘I can’t take you on board; however, I can inform you that your radio operator succeeded in sending out a distress call, so someone may come to your assistance. Otherwise, you might consider maintaining a north-easterly course and there is a reasonable chance that by tomorrow afternoon you will be sighted by an airplane or encounter a fishing boat. Here, take this.’ Lorenz took the compass from his pocket and tossed it into the lifeboat. ‘Iceland isn’t far and the weather forecast is good. We aren’t expecting any more storms for the next few days at least.’ Lorenz became aware of a familiar smell, a whiff of grilled meat blending with the pungent, oily fumes. There was another detonation and the tanker flames flared. Some of the seated men had suffered terrible burns. Beetroot-colored flesh sagged and ran down their faces like melted candle wax. Lying in the lifeboat were other men with charred heads and smoldering clothes. They had obviously been pulled out of the water too late. Lorenz was thankful when the tanker flames died down again. ‘I have some provisions for you,’ he continued. ‘Food, water, milk: not much, I know, but it will be enough to ease your discomfort for a day or so—should that prove necessary.’ He lowered the sack and two men reached up to receive it. They were close enough for him to see the whites of their eyes. None of them said anything. It would have been easier had they shouted abuse. Their neutrality, their dignified silence, their refusal to judge,