From his vantage, Jeremy could not hear what took place, but actions plainly revealed a developing hostile situation. The soldiers had surged forward in a mass, their thrill obvious in the jauntiness of their strides. They had stopped short when the officials appeared in a line in front of them. Men pointed, shoving started, and a roar of angry voices arose that could be heard from the bridge. Items flew through the air, hurled at the port officials, and soldiers pushed past them through the gates into the town.
Jeremy’s view shifted to the wrought iron fences on either side of the gates. Quiet crowds had gathered there, pressing their faces against the rails, staring into the port.
The first officer came to stand behind Jeremy. “That’s a sad lot there,” he said, indicating the people at the fence. “Every time we disembark with our soldiers coming home from France, they’re there searching every face. They hold pictures up and beg to know if anyone has seen their loved ones.” He shook his head sadly. “If you stood here long enough, you’d see some wonderful reunions, but I guarantee that when you leave, your heart will be wrenched out by the grief of those still wondering what happened to the ones still missing.”
He took a deep breath. “It’s time to go. The captain wants to take advantage of the uproar outside to get you through. He’s waiting below in a wheelchair. He figures if you walk close to him, with the mood of the soldiers, you’re not likely to be stopped.” He handed Jeremy an envelope. “In here is the document you need, all nicely signed and sealed. I hope it does the trick.”
They started off, then the first officer paused. “Oh, one thing. Let me have your sister’s contact information. We’ll call her so she can meet you at the London station.”
Jeremy’s head lolled back and forth with the clackety-clack of the train headed for London. As Captain Savage had anticipated, they had pushed past port authorities with no difficulty. One customs officer had peered intently at Jeremy and Timmy, but a stern look from the captain had been enough to dissuade him from further action.
They had passed through the gate where family members waited. Jeremy had witnessed the deep anguish of those still searching, and he had seen the joy of hoped-for reunions.
Once through the gate, Savage had bidden Jeremy and Timmy farewell. “My first officer will see to it that you get on the train. He’s off getting food and things for Timmy. Best of luck.” He had then motioned abruptly for his orderly to proceed pushing the wheelchair, and the two of them reversed course to return to the ship.
Now dozing on the train, a cry from Timmy awakened Jeremy. Exhausted from constant motion despite sleeping soundly on the ship, Jeremy guessed that the little boy must be famished and took out some biscuits the first officer had bought. Sure enough, the toddler grabbed for them and munched blithely.
Other soldiers had packed into the train compartment but left enough room for Jeremy to handle Timmy in relative comfort. Most fell asleep, bunched together, with no space between them. The corridor was just as packed, as was the whole train. Those by open windows sometimes reached out to feel the air and see the countryside. Despite weariness, whether awake or asleep, most wore weary smiles.
If they conversed, they spoke of the horrors they had endured or their disbelief at being on British soil. Jeremy heard snippets:
“That bullet struck so close it left a rip in my shirt.”
“My mate went down, right next to me.”
“A French family fed us. They let us stay in the barn.”
“I thought I’d never make it on that ship.”
“I was sure the bombers would get us.”
Jeremy’s ears perked up at one particular conversation.
“What was with those customs chaps?” one soldier asked. “I was far back in the crowd, so I couldn’t hear. I started throwing things when everyone else did.”
“I was right up front,” another replied. “I saw and heard the whole mess. They wanted us to prove that we had a right to be in England. How’re we supposed to do that when we came over to the Oronsay from the Lancastria in our skivvies or worse, not to mention what happened to us in France? And then customs treats us like we don’t belong. You’d think our government wanted us to stay there.”
Expressions of disgust and resentment followed. Then, the soldier who had made the latter comment turned and stared at Jeremy.
“Hey, you’re the bloke who saved that baby from the Lancastria. The story spread all over the Oronsay. Is that him? How did you get to keep him?”
Jeremy smiled. “I’m his legal guardian.”
Until then, he had not thought again about the envelope that the first officer had given him. Now he pulled it out of his pocket and opened it. Inside, he saw the folded document and was astonished to see several ten-pound sterling notes attached to it.
Another smaller scrap of paper was folded over them, containing a short message from Captain Savage.
You’ll need this to get home and get Timmy settled.
Take good care of him. He represents everything we fight for.
Jeremy dropped his head against the back of his seat. His mouth fell open, and he exhaled in disbelief. His mind still whirling, he extracted the document. It was on Oronsay’s ornate letterhead, and as the captain had instructed, it cited multiple legal references authorizing him to confer on Jeremy the legal guardianship of Timmy, signed Captain Norman Savage.
The train moved at a snail’s pace with soldiers intermittently sleeping and conversing. Jeremy had to change Timmy’s diaper several times. The soldiers smiled benevolently during those events and helped discard the waste out the window. Some cooed at Timmy and played with him. Much to Jeremy’s surprise, Timmy played back, raising his hands to them and laughing as only a small child can. He lifted
