but that isn't really the case. The sergeant is borrowed from the Engineers, but the crew are footsoldiers. We're not really in charge, but we make use of the craft.'
'Hello?' Private Sudema asked through the radio. 'Barracks here. Over.'
The radio coughed.
'Are you all right again, skipper?' Private Sudema asked.
'Right, right. A bit better, let's say.'
'Can you take two men to Ameland?' Private Sudema asked.
'Why not? It's a nice day.'
'We'll be there soon. Over and out.'
'Fetch the bus,' the adjutant barked. 'You. Before you fetch your motorcycle.'
The private drove the bus into the yard. The adjutant inspected the vehicle. The ashtray contained two butts. The private excused himself, took the ashtray inside the building, and came running back. He pushed the ashtray back into the dashboard.
'Where did Sudema go?'
The adjutant went back into the building. De Gier followed. 'Can't find cartridges,' Private Sudema said.
The adjutant and Sudema opened and closed cupboards.
'I emptied my last clip on the shooting range,' Private Sudema said. 'There should be a box here.'
The adjutant locked in a file. 'Ordered a thousand rounds three weeks ago. They usually take a month. Next week, maybe?'
'I have an extra clip,' de Gier said. 'Same caliber. You use twenty-two Magnum too.'
'No,' the adjutant said. 'Thanks all the same. You have Municipal Police cartridges, and if Sudema lost them, we'd have a week of paperwork. I'm short on clerks too.'
'Don't really need them,' Private Sudema said.
'Exactly,' the adjutant said. 'Just imagine that, God help us, you wounded a subject. Do you have any idea what a room in the hospital would cost us per day?'
'But we never shoot anyone,' Sudema said.
'It could happen,' the adjutant said, 'if we had something to shoot with. It's simple enough. All you have to do is pull a trigger. What happens afterward may be beyond all hope.'
Sudema closed his eyes, considering possibilities.
'It happened to me once,' the adjutant said. 'Long ago, but still… In Korea. I'll never forget. We had eight hundred men out there, and ten military policemen. We mostly directed traffic. I was in charge of a crossing. I was short-tempered then. Nobody ignored my orders. We were near the front line, and a carload of Koreans came at me. I motioned to them to stop. The stop sign is international, everybody is supposed to know it, but that vehicle kept coming. Some sort of jeep, of Russian manufacture, and the soldiers in it were from the north. By chance- there's always chance, you know-an American soldier stood next to me and was carrying a bazooka, complete with a rocket in the tube, but he wasn't doing anything, for I was in charge of the position. I took that bazooka and fired it at the jeep.'
'A hit?' de Gier asked.
'Not much distance, and a big rocket. Hard to miss, Sergeant. It happened that I'd been trying out a bazooka the day before, so I knew what to do.'
'North Koreans were the enemy?' de Gier asked.
'Let's go,' Private Sudema said.
The bus drove off, the young private at the wheel. 'The adjutant is still as short-tempered as ever,' Sudema said, 'but that time he got a medal.'
The trip didn't take long. The ship was waiting in the port of Harlingen. It seemed in excellent order, sixty feet long, painted blue and white, a clean new flag on the after deck.
'Nice,' de Gier said.
The skipper welcomed his passengers. 'You like my boat? I do too, but she's obsolete, I'm told. There'll be a new vessel next month. Cost as much as a jet fighter, and this one will be sold for scrap.'
'A sturdy craft,' de Gier said.
The skipper caressed the railing. 'She'll take you to the end of the oceans, provided you stick to the channels. She's really too deep for here.' The boat, with the help of two soldiers, detached herself from the quay. The skipper showed off the engine room. 'Nothing ever breaks down,' he said. 'Pity, really, I do like repairs. Every two weeks the boys and I take everything apart and fit it back together again, but the material is outdated, couldn't break it if we tried.'
'Look here,' the skipper said. 'Every part is made out of copper. Nice to polish. We do that a lot.'
'Stolen copper?' de Gier asked.
'What's that?' the skipper asked. 'Are you here because of theft? You're a detective, aren't you? I won't have thieves on board, ever. Couldn't stand it. What's this copper that was stolen?'
'Not on your boat,' de Gier said. 'I heard that copper was stolen on the island-maybe a rumor. You mentioned copper, and I thought of what I heard.'
'On Ameland they like to steal,' the skipper said. 'Have you heard their song?' He sang to the beat of his wrench, tapping on a tube:
'Three good men from this isle
Without forethought or guile
Lifted three beams from a house
As quiet as a mouse
The house fell apart
Now wasn't that smart?'
De Gier and Sudema applauded, for the skipper had a good voice. They climbed to the bridge, where a soldier handled the wheel. Sudema lit a pipe. The skipper began to cough. 'Does the smoke bother you?' Private Sudema asked.
'The old chest, you know. Should be in bed, but it's a bit boring at home. Better to be here.'
Sudema looked for an ashtray. 'Knock it outside,' the skipper said. 'Portside.'
'Where?'
'Left. That side. Where the wind isn't coming from.'
De Gier observed the sea that stretched away beyond the merry bow wave, deep blue to the horizon. The flag behind him snapped in the breeze. Seagulls planed effortlessly above the thumping ship as it began to ease itself into the waves. 'Lots of thieves in Ameland?' de Gier asked.
'All residents of islands are thieves,' the skipper said. 'I'm from an island myself. The sea brings gifts and you pick them up, and before you know it you're picking up everything in sight. A good habit, in a way, as long as you can keep mum about it. The people of Ameland like to talk too much. They even show their thievery in their flag. You know the Ameland flag? Three beams on a blue field, and the moon in it too. Because they like to steal at night. They put in a crown as well, to make things all right again.'
'What did they want with the three beams?'
'Sell them to a builder,' the skipper said. 'On the mainland. All landlubbers are fences. They leave the adventurous part to us.'
Sudema came back to the bridge. 'Can I smoke down there?'
'As long as you keep portside,' the skipper said. 'That's left.'
De Gier followed Private Sudema.
'Your uncle mentioned copper,' de Gier said. 'Would the deserter have been lifting copper? There must be a connection to Scherjoen. Did Scherjoen like copper?'
'Uncle Sjurd was really drunk?' Sudema asked.
'Sorry,' de Gier said. 'I shouldn't have said I got the tip from a drunk.'
'Uncle Sjurd can be as drunk as he likes,' Sudema said. 'But he helps to run the church, and I've always seen him slam the cork after he's had two drinks.'
'Not this time,' de Gier said. 'Let him be drunk for once, and tell me about the copper.'
Sudema watched the sea. De Gier watched the sea too.
'Aunt Gyske,' Sudema said dreamily. 'You met her, did you?'
