'Jesus help me,' muttered Ormerod. 'That was terrible.'
'Terrible?' asked the girl practically. She looked at Ormerod gazing at the place where the net and the bodies had gone below the green surface of the early morning sea. 'Have you never seen men die before?' she asked.
'Yes. But I've never
watched
them die,' he said. 'There's a difference.'
Marie-Thérèse shrugged. 'The way anybody dies makes no difference to them,' she said. 'To them it was no different to being shot. In fact better. Water is soft. Bullets are hard.' Now she turned and spoke to the French fishermen, explaining who she and Ormerod were, and instructing them what to do next. She again went back to Ormerod. 'Killing is what war is all about, Dodo,' she said almost happily, using the codename for the first time. 'I have told these men to make a hole in the Germans' boat so that it seems it may have struck a rock and sunk. Also to sink our boat. They say that the two Germans
67
came from the mainland to fish. We are lucky. There are no Boche on the island.'
'That's good news anyway,' said Ormerod. For them as well.'
She laughed at him outright. 'It is much easier to kill when they do not look like other men. If they had taken your country as they have taken mine then perhaps you would have found it easier.'
He nodded and said: 'Yes, I suppose I would. Why do you think there aren't any Germans on Chausey?' They had begun to walk down to a small beach where, Ormerod now saw, a long fishing boat was drawn up. Two of the Frenchmen, who had scarcely spoken a word during the whole episode, had gone to find the two boats at the far side of the rocks. Two of the others carried the German rifles. These they now took to a blunt piece of rock overlooking the place where they had dropped the enmeshed bodies and, simultaneously, they threw the rifles into the sea. Marie-Thérèse tried to stop them by shouting but they took no notice. The rifles sank and she berated the men in French. Their reply was in a sulky monotone. She turned away and bit her lip.
'They don't want to know, do they?' guessed Ormerod. He was surprised to hear the satisfaction in his own voice.
'They are crazy,' muttered the girl. 'Already they have killed two German soldiers, so why not keep the rifles? They will need them to kill more.'
'I think that you're probably going to find that a lot of your countrymen have had enough,' he forecast. 'They don't want to go on with the war. After all that's why they surrendered.'
She looked at him angrily. 'They are already involved in it. They will always be at war until the last German is dead or out of France. And these men are now deep in it - whether or not they like the idea.'
They began to walk along the shingle towards the fishing boat. The sun was rising with its customary assurance, flooding the sea and the islands with a fine green light. The water lapped along the shingle and Ormerod had a feeling that it would be nice to paddle his feet. 'How did these people know?' he asked, nodding at the fishermen.
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'They spotted the submarine,' she said. 'There is not much
they do not see. They saw us come ashore and they knew the
Germans were fishing in the area. The Germans went to the island last night for food and drink. They come from the
garrison at Granville. The fishermen came over to their lobster
pots and perhaps to warn us.'
'And they end up resistance fighters,' smiled Omerod grimly.
'I expect that is how a good many heroes are made. Just by poking their noses in. Still, if this lot had not got to us, we'd now be in irons, I expect.'
'Rubbish,' said Marie-Thérèse vehemently. 'I would have killed those fools anyway. As it was the job was done for me.'
Ormerod's eyebrows went up. 'You're a really violent lady, aren't you?' he said.
'If they had needed a woman who was good at sewing they
would have sent her,' she answered sullenly.
They climbed into the fishing boat. The September day was
growing confidently all around them. Ormerod unhappily
studied the five fishermen. Apart from the man who had done
the talking, two were middle-aged, grey and with silent faces.
Another was a younger man with an injured arm, probably one
of those returned from the war. The fourth was the simpleton,
a puzzled smiler, strongly made, but with the helpless look of
one who is never sure of anything. They all wore the thick Breton jerseys and hard blue trousers.
They waited for ten minutes after getting into the boat, nobody speaking, until the other two men, both in their
twenties and with more eagerness about them, returned around
the rocks. 'It is done,' they said to Marie-Thérèse. 'The boats
are now also under the sea.' They climbed aboard and the slim vessel started across the two hundred yards or so of deep water
that was called The Sund.
'These men say that the Germans have not put any men on
Chausey,' said Marie-Thérèse to Ormerod. 'They only come over from the mainland to fish or to buy some lobster.'
'Buy some?' said Ormerod. I thought that conquerors always
took what they wanted. Food, women, everything.'
She made a face as if sniffing the salt morning air. 'They will,'
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she said. 'When the time comes. At the moment they do not
want to make trouble for themselves. They are not sure of their
feet. Once they are sure they will begin to take what they wish
to have. You will see.'
Ormerod did not argue with her. 'It beats me why they haven't got troops on the island though,' he grunted. 'An antiaircraft gun at least.'
'They will come, too I expect. But the men here say it is
because the Germans are in great strength in Jersey and Guern
sey in the English Channel Islands. They are making them
fortified. So Chausey is of no importance yet. Later it may be.
It seems we are lucky, Dodo. Very lucky.'
The boat turned into an enclosed anchorage. Ormerod looked
out on the most peaceful of scenes, a row of serene stone cottages with boats pulled up almost to their doors, a larger house, like a farm, standing back, creepers on its walls and
dogs about its wide archway. There was a small church on the
promontory, some further houses in the distance and a lighthouse standing like a daytime ghost at the southern extreme. In the middle of the island, where the land dipped into a
sheltered meadow, some full trees were growing, and at the northern end he could see the shoulders of a substantial house.
Marie Therese spoke to the fishermen. No one answered for
a moment, then the older man, apparently having made some
decision himself, replied. She smiled at Ormerod. 'We are going into prison,' she said.
'So soon?'
'It is not like that. There is an old fortress on the island, from
the last century. I have seen it marked on the maps. It has eight sides and it is sunk into the ground. They will keep us there.'
'They've agreed to hide us then?'
'Not with a good heart. They are telling me the Germans will
be over soon to look for their missing friends. Our comrades
here do not want to hide us too carefully because, in the first
place, they say there are not many places to hide. I don't believe
that. But if we are caught hiding then it would be bad for the
population. They would have reprisals on them.'
Ormerod nodded. The small boat was at the anchorage now
70
and they were able to step out into the translucent water only inches deep and then on to the soft beach. A woman with a cooking pot in her hands and some sunburned children appeared at the low cottages and watched. 'I can't say I blame them,' said Ormerod. 'They look as if they are having a nice
peaceful sort of life. You can't blame them for wanting to keep
it that way.'
She sniffed. 'They are in it,' she said practically. 'They are in
the war. Deep with us. They will have to learn that.'
Ormerod politely helped her from the boat, taking the petite hand and holding her small elbow. 'You're not going to make
yourself very popular, lady,' he thought, looking at her.
She seemed to read the thought. 'They will not like me,' she
sniffed. 'There are few who will. But they must be taught to fight, to resist. The French must make up for the past.'
'But they won't hide us.' He was beginning to walk up the beach.
'No. They say we can keep out of sight. But that is not the same as hiding us. We can take shelter in one of the cells at the old fortress.'
They were at the top of the shingle now. The morning air
was unstirring, full of warmth and promise. Chickens stalked
about and a man in a wide white hat rode a bicycle on the single track road with not a glance in their direction. On the
other side of the island a dog began to howl. The woman with
the cooking pot had been joined by two others. They looked rough and simple. Children dangled around them. They all
backed away as the two strangers and the fishermen reached the
top of the beach. One of the woman said to the oldest man: 'We heard shooting.'
'It was nothing,' he said. 'Nothing to worry about.'
The woman looked suspiciously at Marie-Thérèse but hardly
gave a second glance at Ormerod. Ormerod thought how odd
it was that women so rarely trusted women. For the first time Marie Therese seemed uncomfortable. She turned to Ormerod as if she had to say something to get away from their glances.
'This place has been the same since the days of William of
Normandy, the Conqueror,' she joked. 'And some of these women look as though they've been here since then.'
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The oldest man began to plod along in the direction of the
large house and he indicated that they should follow him. 'They
are being difficult,' said Marie-Thérèse. 'Cowards. Keep your
gun ready. We may need to persuade them to do things our way.'
'You're not choosy who you shoot, are you?' observed Ormerod. They seemed accidentally to be walking like prisoners, with the Frenchmen grouped around them.
I cannot afford to be,' she shrugged. 'One day it may be necessary for me to shoot
you,
Dodo.'
'Let me know in advance, will you?' he grunted. .
'It may not be possible.'
They had reached the top of a small incline that had begun
with the beach. Now a man came from the courtyard preparing to mount a bicycle and with two dogs at his feet. He
was obviously some sort of leader because the men treated him
with deference. Marie-Thérèse was not prepared to let them tell the story, however, and she pushed her way forward. Speaking quickly, she soon covered the circumstances and, turning the advantage with an ease that made Ormerod nod
with admiration, began to ask questions in her turn. Her words
came out quickly and forcefully. The man, reluctantly at first
as his position was usurped, began to answer. Eventually he
turned to the others and spoke volubly. The old fisherman
answered him, shaking his large, teddy-bear head. The others mumbled agreement. The man returned to Marie-Thérèse. He
spoke slowly now, but it was clear to Ormerod that they had
decided on their position and they were not going to move from it. Eventually the girl turned to him.
'They have no guts,' she said briefly. 'Not even for France.
They will not hide us. They say we can hide ourselves, but they will not hide us. They will leave a boat for us to get to the mainland but they will not take us.'
'Can't blame them,' sighed Ormerod. I wouldn't in their position either. Have they got a cup of tea?'
The leader of the men understood. 'Please come with me,' he said in English. 'We have some Liptons. The quicker you leave this place the happier we will be.'
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Three hours later Ormerod awoke in the dry dimness of a
nineteenth-century room in the fortress. It was piled with nets,
lobster pots and other tarry equipment. The happenings of the night and the early morning had drained him and as soon as
the Chausey fishermen had shown them their refuge, he had
stretched out on some dry nets and fallen into the deepest sleep.
At first he was conscious of Marie-Thérèse moving about, but only vaguely, and then not at all. When he awoke she was not
there. A fan of sunlight was coming through the ill-fitting
doors. He looked at his watch. It was half past eleven. As he
stretched he felt a dozen aches. He stumbled to his feet and
disturbed three mice who were gnawing at some tallow in one
corner. They startled him as much as he startled them. He had reached for his pistol, only to put it away with relief when he
saw what had caused the noise. He scratched himself and made
for the narrow sunlight.
The rough door opened easily and the warmth of the strange
enclosure outside the cell came to him. It was like a symmetrical crater, a hundred feet across, with octagonal stone walls piled up around and the close atmosphere of the Sep
tember day trapped in its confines. What had been soldiers' quarters and cells all around were now small storehouses for
fishing and agricultural equipment. There was a decrepit
dinghy lying in the centre of the space, weeds and wild flowers climbing enthusiastically over it, pushing their tendrils through
its split boards. Alongside the boat was a group of small
sheltered trees between which fishing nets were slung to dry. Outsized bees and flapping butterflies moved around the walls and the flowers. Ormerod sniffed appreciatively and looked up
to an octagon of cloudless sky. It was a lovely day to be an invader.