'All right.' Bruce frowned. 'Get a couple of men to help you. Fill the
trucks with gas. We've wasted enough time already.'
IF
They buried their dead in a communal grave, packing them in quickly and
covering them just as quickly. Then they stood embarrassed and silent
round the mound.
'You going to say anything, boss?' Ruffy asked, and they all looked at
Bruce.
'No.' Bruce turned away and started for the trucks.
What the hell can you say, he thought angrily. Death is not someone to
make conversation with. All YOU can say is, 'These were men; weak and
strong, evil and good, and a lot in between. But now they're dead - like
pork.' He looked back over his shoulder.
'All right, let's move out.' The convoy ground slowly over the
causeway. Bruce led in the Ford and the air blowing in through the
shattered windscreen was too humid and steamy to give relief from the
rising heat.
The sun stood high above the forest as they passed the turn-off to the
mission.
Bruce looked along it, and he wanted to signal the convoy to continue
while he went up to St. Augustine's. He wanted to see Mike
Haig and Father Ignatius, make sure that they were safe.
Then he put aside the temptation. If there is more horror up there at
St. Augustine's, if the shufta have found them and there are
raped women and dead men there, then there is nothing I can do and I
don't want to know about it.
It is better to believe that they are safely hidden in the jungle.
It is better to believe that out of all this will remain something good.
He led the convoy resolutely past the turn-off an dover the hills
towards the level crossing.
Suddenly another idea came to him and he thought about it, turning it
over with pleasure.
Four men came to Port Reprieve, men without hope, men abandoned by
God.
And they learned that it was not too late, perhaps it is never too late.
For one of them found the strength to die like a man, although he had
lived his whole life with weakness.
Another rediscovered the self-respect he had lost along the way, -and
with it the chance to start again.
The third found - he hesitated - yes, the third found love.
And the fourth? Bruce's smile faded as he thought of Wally
Hendry. It was a neat little parable, except for Wally Hendry. What
had he found? A dozen human ears threaded on a pencil?
'Can't you get up enough steam to move us back to the crossing -
only a few miles.'
'I am desolate, m'sieur. She will not hold even a belch, to say nothing
of a head of steam.' The engine driver spread his pudgy little'hands in a
gesture of helplessness.
Bruce studied the rent in the boiler. The metal was torn open like the
petals of a flower. He knew it had been a forlorn request.
