Just then, a fierce wave hit the port side of the sloop and splashed across the deck. The Marines had been dead silent since setting sail, but when the cold water crashed down upon them, they began to curse and scramble. Raymond, too, cursed under his breath, and Elna heard him straining against the tiller, trying to push it to starboard. Prig scrambled up the deck toward them.
“Remember, we have to come in from the northwest,” he said, his face a jumble of red shapes in the dim flashlight beam. “Don’t let it push us too far south.”
“I’m trying. I’m trying,” Raymond replied.
She heard Malin adjusting the sail, and she made her way toward him, stepping carefully on the dark deck. They managed to compensate for the strong current, and soon Elna saw a glint of orange light on the shore.
“Campfires,” she noted. “We’re on course.”
As she said it, as she realized how close the hazy, orange glow of Rod’s camp was, she felt a flutter in her belly. She reached out and grabbed Malin’s hand, needing some kind of comfort.
“I never thought I’d go back to this place,” she said. “Not willingly.”
“Well, let’s make this the last time,” he replied. “No holiday visits to the old family, okay?”
“Okay.”
Just then, she felt a shudder coming up through the deck beneath her. It happened so suddenly she wasn’t sure she felt it. Then it happened again. She had the wild idea that it was a shark, some massive ocean predator bumping against them in the dark water, preparing to tip the boat over and snack on the contents.
“Those were rocks,” Malin said.
At the third shudder, she knew he was right. They were scraping the bottom. She cursed and made her way back to Raymond. Prig met her there.
“Are we hitting the bottom?” Prig asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Elna said. “I don’t think we can get much closer without running aground.” She leaned over the starboard side and gazed down at the dark water. They were still about twenty yards from the beach, as best she could tell in the darkness.
“We don’t want to get stuck here,” Raymond said. “We’ll never get back to the island, friends. We have to drop anchor.”
Prig grunted, as if considering their options. “Okay, get us as close as you can, drop anchor, and we’ll go ashore.”
Raymond dared to move a little closer to shore, but when they scraped bottom again, Elna called it. The risk was too great. They lowered the sails and dropped anchor. Elna saw a tiny red light winking in the darkness. When she turned the flashlight toward it, she realized it was a small two-way radio that Prig had pulled out of his pack. It was wrapped in a clear plastic bag.
“There’s still plenty of battery left,” Prig said, handing this radio to Raymond, “so keep it on. I’ll call you when we’re on our way back.”
“Yes, sir,” Raymond replied, tucking the radio into the pocket of his raincoat. “Please, please, hurry. I’ll raise anchor and move out a bit while you’re on shore, but it will just be me alone in the dark, waiting.”
“Don’t worry,” Prig said, clapping Raymond on the back. “We’re coming back, buddy. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
And with that, he signaled for the others, tightened the straps of his pack, and promptly leapt over the boat into the water. The other Marines followed him without hesitation. Only Malin and Elna lingered. She could see them in the dark water, shapes moving toward the beach like the vanguard on D-Day.
“Well, this is it,” she said. She passed the flashlight to Raymond to keep with him and followed the Marines overboard.
She hit the water and sank, shocked at the skin-biting cold. She was under, flailing about, for perhaps two seconds, but she realized her feet were on the ground. She pushed herself up, broke the water, and took a deep breath. Malin brushed against her, found her hand again in the water, and they moved together toward the beach.
9
Elna found the Marines gathered at the bottom of the slope just beyond the narrow strip of beach. They were unwrapping their sidearms from the clear plastic bags they’d placed them in. Prig also unwrapped the two-way radio. Instead of discarding all of the plastic wrap, however, he stuffed it all in a side pocket of his backpack. It was very dark on the beach, the only light coming from one of the taped flashlights, which produced only the faintest red glow.
The Marines spoke in hushed voices as she walked up, and Prig was drawing some kind of crude map in the sand with his finger. Elna realized she was still holding Malin’s hand in the cold night. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted the sailboat bobbing against the dark night sky, and she could tell it was moving away from them. Raymond had raised anchor, but seeing him leave, she felt a terrible sense of foreboding.
We’re stuck on the mainland now, she thought. This is enemy territory.
“Follow my lead,” Prig said. “Remember, we’re circling the camp to the north, then cutting right through on the east side. Avoid guards as best you can. Move in the shadows. We’re going to do this as fast as possible. By the time they realize something’s up, we want to be on our way out of the camp. All it takes is a single guard raising the alarm. If we’re spotted too early, Marines, you know what to do. Elna and Malin, stick close at all times. If there’s trouble, stick even closer. We’ll try to cover you.”
He got grunts of assent from Spence and Archer, and Elna found herself grunting along with them. Then he rose and started up the slope, moving in a crouch with surprising speed, his left hand holding the flashlight, his right hand drawing the sidearm from its holster at his hip. The other Marines followed quickly, moving like a
