“How’s the boy?” he asked when Jeremy approached him.
“Sleeping. Thank you, sir. You were very kind to offer your quarters. How’s your leg?”
“It’ll hold. I’m chock full of local anesthetics, but I can still steer the boat. I’ll be all right long enough to get to port and get this leg seen to.”
Jeremy glanced down at the compass. “With that?” he asked, incredulous.
Savage chuckled. “That’s all they had not so long ago.” His brow furrowed. “Are you that boy’s father?”
“No, sir. He was orphaned yesterday. His father was on embassy staff.” Jeremy bit his lip as images of Eva’s leap flitted through his head. “He was killed in the explosion. His mother jumped with us—” His eyes watered, and his mouth quivered. “She never came up,” he said in a raspy whisper. “I don’t know what happened to her.”
“Steady, lad,” Savage said compassionately. He studied Jeremy. “What’s your rank?”
“Second lieutenant,” Jeremy replied, composing himself. “I’m an engineer.”
“How did you come to be on the Lancastria? I’d like to hear your story.”
“It’s a long one, sir.”
“We’ve got time. We’re on course, the weather’s good, and I’ll be sitting right here.”
Jeremy told him of his assignment building airfields in northern France and then finding himself in combat, of his despair at Dunkirk and being rescued by a remarkable French family, and then the tremulous journey across France with Nicolas and meeting up with Jacques.
The captain listened intently. “What are those ribbons on your arm?”
Jeremy looked at his wrist in surprise. He had all but forgotten them. Their colors had faded, but the strips remained tied and intact. He told the captain their purpose.
“Jacques and Nicolas put more faith in me than I warranted,” he said. “British intelligence doesn’t know me from Adam, and the message I carry is one they already know—that the French people will fight.”
Savage grimaced as sudden pain jabbed his leg. He clamped his jaw, closed his eyes, and rested a moment. His first officer, standing nearby, stepped in closer.
Savage opened his eyes and waved him away. “Perhaps your comrades saw more in you than you think,” he told Jeremy. “Be that as it may, all our ships’ captains in Saint-Nazaire were told to be on the lookout for you. The loop’s been closed, and someone in intelligence knows about you, at least generally. Nothing’s lost by your talking with them. You might throw some light on an aspect they hadn’t perceived. All of intelligence is a guessing game anyway.”
He put his hand to his chin and rubbed it while he thought. “What will you do with the boy? They’ll probably take him from you at the port.”
A fleeting memory of his last moments with Eva seared through Jeremy’s mind again. “And put him in an orphanage? That can’t happen. I promised I would protect him with my life.” His retort was stronger than he intended. “Sorry, sir.”
The captain chuckled and waved away the apology. “Your passion is what your friends saw. Your tenacity. By all rights, you should be dead by now.”
He mulled a moment. “The authorities will want to put him with his own family, if they can be located.”
“I’d want the same thing. But given wartime circumstances, he’s just as likely to wallow in an institution until someone gets around to finding out where he belongs.”
“And you’d do what with him?”
“My sister lives in London. She’s a kindhearted soul who loves children. I know she’ll take Timmy until his family is found. I’d do that myself, but I’m sure I’ll be ordered back into the war.”
Savage agreed and pursed his lips. “Perhaps I can help.”
Startled, Jeremy asked, “How?”
The captain smiled as he put his thoughts together. “Maritime law grants a ship’s captain a lot of authority on the high seas.” He half-closed his eyes. “Especially in wartime.” He called to his first officer, who stepped over sharply.
“Draft a document for my signature. It needs to identify one Jeremy Littlefield and Timothy—” He pivoted his attention to Jeremy. “Do we know his last name?”
“No, sir.”
“All right. Put down ‘Surname Unknown.’ The document should say that the lieutenant is appointed on my authority to be Timmy’s legal guardian. Do you understand?”
The first officer jotted the information on a notepad. “Anything else?”
“Throw in a sentence stating that the document is good until the boy’s rightful family is found and accepts guardianship. Include a list of legal references long enough to befuddle the smuggest bureaucrat. In particular, quote maritime law in war. If you don’t have enough relevant sources, throw some in even if they don’t apply.”
The officer smiled and departed, notes in hand.
Jeremy watched him go and then turned to the captain in amazement. “Is that legal? Will it hold up after we disembark?”
Savage chuckled and shrugged off another jab of pain. “Who knows? I’ve never seen a situation like this, and I don’t know anyone who has. We can only try.” His face took on a conspiratorial quality, one that he obviously enjoyed.
He beckoned Jeremy closer. “Listen, when the ship arrives, you’ll wait here and leave with me. I’ll push my weight around. They’ll think twice about trying to stop me.” He grinned. “Especially with this leg.”
“Sir, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
“Taking care of that child is thanks enough. Now go and check his diaper or something. I need to get back to running this ship.” He reached down to pick up his compass and checked the heading.
When they disembarked at Plymouth, Jeremy was not sure what reception he had expected for the soldiers on the Oronsay, but he thought the one they received was a far cry from what they deserved. Holding Timothy in his arms, he watched from the bridge.
No band played. No crowds of jubilant citizens cheered returning heroes. Instead, customs and immigration officials met the first ones
