iron pirate by Unknown Author Read Free Book Online

steadied him. Some of the seamen sighed as the lighter dived beneath the surface, and one said, 'Lucky it didn't happen when we was alongside the old Prinz, eh, lads?'
    No one answered him, and when Stoecker again lifted his eyes he saw the major was watching him. He appeared to be smiling.
    They barely paused at the pier before turning and heading back at speed for the ship. It seemed important to all of them that they should be there, with faces they knew, and trusted.
    There had been a black car waiting for the major and his men. He apparently offered a lift to the young naval officer, but the latter merely saluted and walked away.
    Stoecker put his hand inside his jacket and touched the letter. The man had known he was going to die. He remembered the SS men looking at their watches. Most of all, he remembered the major's smile.
    He looked up as the heavy cruiser's great shadow swept over them. He had expected to find comfort in it, but there was none.

Chapter Three
    And So Goodbye
    One day after the admiral's visit to the ship the news of leave was announced. It was little enough of an offering and brought a chorus of groans from most of the mess-decks and wardroom alike. Only seven days' leave would be allowed, and first preference for married men only. The rest of the ship's company, by far the greater proportion, was confined to local leave on Danish soil, with no sleeping-out passes below the rank of petty officer.
    For the lucky ones seven days would be precious but pared away by the time taken to reach their destinations and return to the ship. It was rumoured that rail transport was always being delayed or cancelled due to day and night air raids.
    As the men were lined up and inspected in the pale sunshine before rushing ashore to the waiting buses and trucks, Fregattenkapitan Theil reminded them of the seriousness of careless talk and the damage it could do to morale. Anyone who witnessed bomb damage or the like would keep it to himself, nobody would gossip about the ship, the war, anything.
    Viktor Theil left the ship himself as soon as the others had departed. His home was in Neumunster on the Schleswig-Holstein peninsula, so he had less distance to travel than most.
    As he sat in a corner of a crowded compartment in a train packed to the seams with servicemen and a few civilians, Theil reflected on the choice of a home. Not too far from Denmark. Now it seemed ironic, something to mock him.
    The train crossed the frontier and clattered at a leisurely pace through the Hans Andersen villages, and the green countryside with its scattered lakes and farms. It was a beautiful part of the country, especially to Theil who had been born and brought up in Minden. At least, it should have been.
    He thought of his wife Britta, their nice house on the town's outskirts, the perfect retreat for a naval officer on leave. He was known there, and certainly respected, especially when he was appointed to the Prinz Luitpold.
    But he sensed people watched him, wondered what he really thought, if he cared. For Britta was Danish, and marriages from across the border were common enough before the war. It was often said that the Germans on the peninsula were more like Danes than they were. That too had a bitter ring for Theil.
    When the German army had invaded her country Britta had tried to discover what had happened to her parents. Her father was a printer in Esbjerg, but he also managed a local newspaper. It had begun with letters and telephone calls, none of which had been answered. In despair she asked Theil to make enquiries but he had met with a stone wall of silence from the security offices. Eventually, when he was on a brief home leave, a plain-clothes police officer had called to see him. He was fairly senior and eager to be friendly and understanding.
    'Your wife probably does not understand the need for security in these matters
    Theil had tried to delve deeper and the policeman had said, 'You are a well-respected officer,