"I scorn, Wherefore my long bow I '11 lay by;

lost the damn' things about five miles back. Didn't notice it at the timehands were too cold, I reckon." "Feel anything in them now?" "Here and there." He nodded as I touched some spots where the blood still flowed, and went on conversationally: "Am I goin' to lose my hands, Doc? Amputation, I mean?" "No." I shook my head definitely. I saw no point in mentioning that some of his fingers were beyond hope. "Will I ever fight again?" Still the same casual, careless tone. "It's difficult to say. You never know" "Will I ever fight again?" "You'll never fight again." There was a long pause, then he said quietly: "You're sure, Doc? You're absolutely sure?" "I'm absolutely sure, Johnny. No boxing commission doctor in the world would ever let you climb into a ring. It would cost him his listing in the Medical Register." "Okay, so that's how it is. Consolidated Plastics of Trenton, New Jersey, have just got themselves a new factory hand: this boxin' racket was too damn' strenuous anyway." There was no regret in his voice, no resignation even, but that meant nothing: like me, he had more important things to worry about. He looked away into the darkness, then twisted round: "What's the matter with that hound of yours, Jackstraw?" "I don't know. I think I'd better find out." Twice while we had been talking Balto had left us, vanished into the snow, and returned after a few minutes: he seemed restless, uneasy. "I won't be long." He rose, followed Balto into the darkness, returned in a short time: "Come and see this, Dr Mason." "This' was a spot less than a hundred yards away, close into the side of the glacier valley. Jackstraw flashed his torch on to the snow-dusted ice. I stooped, made out a black circular patch on the ground and, a few feet away, a smaller discoloured area where the surface snow had frozen solid. "Oil from the gearcase or sump, water from the radiator," Jackstraw said briefly. He altered the torch-beam. "And you can still see the crimp marks of the caterpillars." "And very recent?" I suggested. The drifting snow, the scouring effect of the flying ice-particles had scarcely begun to obliterate the traces left by the treads. "I think so. And they were stopped here a long time, Dr Masonlook at the size of that oil nikon d70 digital cameras patch." "Mechanical trouble?" I hazarded. I didn't really believe it myself. "Riding out the stormCorazzini must have been blind," Jackstraw said definitely. "If the engine had stopped on that pair, they'd never have got it started again." I knew he was right. Neither Smallwood nor Corazzini had shown any mechanical ability at all, and I was convinced that it had been no act. "Perhaps they were still here when we arrived back there? My God, if we'd only carried on another hundred yards!" "Spilt milk, as you say, Dr Mason. Yes, I'm sure they were here then." "We wouldn't have heard their engine?" "Not in this wind." "Jackstraw!" A sudden thought, a flash of hope. "Jackstraw, did you sleep back there?" "No." "How long were we stopped?" "Half an hour, maybe less." "And you think they were still hereGood God, man, they can't be more than a mile away. The wind's dropping right away, it's getting colder and we'll only freeze to death if we stay here, maybe there'll be crevasses on the glacier to hold them up" I was already on my way, running, slipping, stumbling, Jackstraw by my side, Balto leading the way. Zagero was standing up, waitingand the young German girl by his side. "Helene!" I caught her hands. "You all right? How are you feeling?" "Better, much better." She didn't sound all that much better. "I'm sorry I was so silly, Dr Mason. I don't know" "It doesn't matter," I cut in, rather brusquely. "You can walk? Fine, fine." I could feel new hope surging through me as I rapped out a brief explanation to Zagero, within a minute we had Mahler and Marie LeGarde bundled aboard the sledge and were on our way. But the hope was short-lived. We made the best speed we could, at times breaking into a kind of staggering run, but the sledge slowed us up terribly on that uneven surface of the glacier. Once it overturned, throwing both Mahler and Marie LeGarde heavily on to the snow, and after that we were forced to slow down. Another such violent capsizing, or even too severe a jolting, and that sledge would become a bier. From time to time Jackstraw flashed his failing torch

He thought no shame all the day long

They were all looking down here, staring out over the parapet when I arrived. Held them up, took their guns off them and locked them in a cellar. And then I bent their Spandausjust a little bit." This is it, Mallory thought dully, this is the end. This is the finish of everything, the strivings, the hopes, the fears, the loves and laughter of each one of us. This is what it all comes to. This is the end, the end for us, the end for a thousand boys on Kheros. In unconscious futility his hand came up, slowly wiped lips salt from the spray bulleting off the wind-flattened wave-tops, then lifted farther to shade bloodshot eyes that peered out hopelessly into the storm-filled darkness ahead. For a moment the dullness lifted, and an almost intolerable bitterness welled through his mind. All gone, everything everything except the guns of Navarone. The guns of Navarone. They would live on, they were indestructible. Damn them, damn them, damn them! Dear God, the blind waste, the terrible uselessness of it alit The caique was dying, coming apart at the seams. She was literally being pounded to death, being shaken apart by the constant battering shocks of wind and sea. Time and time again the poop-deck dipped beneath the foam-streaked cauldron at the stern, the fo'c'sle rearing crazily into the air, dripping forefoot showing clear; then the plummetting drop, the shotgun, shuddering impact as broad-beamed bows crashed vertically down into the cliff-walled trough beyond, an explosive collision that threw so unendurable a strain on the ancient timbers and planks and gradually tore them apart. It had been bad enough when they'd cleared the creek just as darkness fell, and plunged and wallowed their way through a quartering sea on a northward course for Navarone. Steering the unwieldy old caique had become difficult in the extreme: with the seas fine on the starboard quarter she had yawed wildly and unpredictably through a fifty degree arc, but at least her seams had been tight then, the rolling waves overtaking her in regular formation and the wind settled and steady somewhere east of south. But now all that was gone. With half a dozen planks sprung from the stem-post and working loose from the apron, and leaking heavily through the stuffing-gland of the propeller shaft, she was making water far faster than the ancient, vertical handpump could cope with: the wind-truncated seas were heavier, but broken and confused, sweeping down on them now from this quarter, now from that: and the wind itself, redoubled in its shrieking fugi 610 digital camera consumer reviews violence, veered and backed insanely from south-west to south-east. Just then it was steady from the south, driving the unmanageable craft blindly on to the closing iron cliffs of Navarone, cliffs that loomed invisibly ahead, somewhere in that all-encompassing darkness. Momentarily Mallory straightened, tried to ease the agony of the pincers that were clawing into the muscles of the small of his back. For over two hours now he'had been bending and straightening, bending and straightening, lifting a thousand buckets that Dusty Miller filled interminably from the well of the hold. God only knew how Miller felt. If anything, he had the harder job of the two and he had been violently and almost continuously seasick for hours on end. He looked ghastly, and he must have been feeling like death itself: the sustained effort, the sheer iron willpower to drive himself on in that condition reached beyond the limits of understanding. Mallory shook his head wonderingly. "My God, but he's tough, that Yank." Unbidden, the words framed themselves in his mind, and he shook his head in anger, vaguely conscious of the complete inadequacy of the words. Fighting for his breath, he looked aft to see how the others were faring. Casey Brown, of course, he couldn't see. Bent double in the cramped confines of the engine-room, be, too, was constantly sick and suffering a blinding headache from the oil fumes and exhaust gases still filtering from the replacement stand-pipe, neither of which could find any escape in the unventilated engineroom: but, crouched over the engine, he bad not once left his post since they had cleared the mouth of the creek, had nursed the straining, ancient Kelvin along with the loving care, the exquisite skill of a man born into a long and proud tradition of engineering. That engine had only to falter once, to break down for the time in which a man might draw a deep breath, and the end would be as immediate as it was violent. Their steerage way, their lives, depended entirely on the continuous thrust of that screw, the laboured thudding of that rusted old two-cylinder. It was the heart of the boat, and when the heart stopped beating the boat died too, slewed broadside on and foundering in the waiting chasms between the waves. For'ard of the engine-room, straddle-legged and braced against the corner pillar of the splintered skeleton that was all that remained of the wheelhouse, Andrea laboured unceasingly

Cheops erected the first Pyramid

place. "It does look as if it has seen better days," Mallory admitted. "Nevertheless, sir, it's exactly what we want." "Can't understand it, I really can't understand it." With an irritable but well-timed swipe the Major brought down a harmless passing fly. "I've been providing chaps with everything during the past eight or nine monthscaiques, launches, yachts, fishing boats, everythingbut no one has ever yet specified the oldest, most dilapidated derelict I could lay hands on. Quite a job laying hands on it, too, I tell you." A pained expression crossed his face. "The chaps know I don't usually deal in this line of stuff." "What chaps?" Mallory asked curiously. "Oh, up the islands, you know." Rutledge gestured vaguely to the north and west. "Butbut those are enemy held" "So's this one. Chap's got to have his H.Q. somewhere." Rutledge explained patiently. Suddenly his expression brightened. "I say, old boy, I know just the thing for you. A boat to escape observation and investigationthat was what Cairo insisted I get. How about a German E-boat, absolutely perfect condition, one careful owner. Could get ten thou. for her at home. Thirtysix hours. Pal of mine over in Bodrum" "Bodrum?" Mallory questioned. "Bodrum? Butbut that's in Turkey, isn't it?" "Turkey? Well, yes, actually, I believe it is," Rutledge admitted. "Chap has to get his supplies from somewhere, you know," he added defensively. "Thanks all the same"Mallory smiled"but this is exactly what we want. We can't wait, anyway." "On your own heads be it!" Rutledge threw up his hands in admission of defeat. "I'll have a couple of my men shove your stuff aboard." "I'd rather we did it ourselves, sir, It'swell, it's a very special cargo." "Right you are," the Major acknowledged. "No questions Rutledge, they call me. Leaving soon?" Mallory looked at his watch. "Half an hour, sir." "Bacon, eggs and coffee in ten minutes?" "Thanks very much." Mallory grinned. "That's one offer we'll be very glad to accept." He turned away, walked slowly down to the end of the pier. He breathed deeply, savouring the heady, herb-scented air of an Aegean pentax digital camera optio mx4 dawn. The salt tang of the sea, the drowsily sweet perfume of honeysuckle, the more delicate, sharper fragrance of mint all subtly merged into an intoxicating whole, indefinable, unforgettable. On either side, the steep slopes, still brilliantly green with pine and walnut and holly, stretched far up to the moorland pastures above, and from these, faintly borne on the perfumed breeze, came the distant, melodic tinkling of goats' bells, a haunting, a nostalgic music, true symbol of the leisured peace the Aegean no longer knew. Unconsciously almost, Mallory shook his head and walked more quickly to the end of the pier. The others were still sitting where the torpedo boat had landed them just before dawn. Miller, inevitably, was stretched his full length, hat tilted against the golden, level rays of the rising sun. "Sorry to disturb you and all that, but we're leaving In half an hour; breakfast in ten minutes. Let's get the stuff aboard." He turned to Brown. "Maybe you'd like to have a look at the engine?" he suggested. Brown heaved himself to his feet, looked down unenthusiastically at the weather-beaten, paint-peeled caique. "Right you are, sir. But if the engine is on a par with this bloody wreck.. . ." He shook his head in prophetic gloom and swung nimbly over the side of the pier. Mallory and Andrea followed him, reaching up for the equipment as the other two passed it down. First they stowed away a sackful of old clothes, then the food, pressure stove and fuel, the heavy boots, spikes, mallets, rock axes and coils of wire-centred rope to be used for climbing, then, more carefully, the combined radio receiver and transmitter and the firing generator fitted with the old-fashioned plunge handle. Next came the gunstwo Schmeissers, two Brens, a Mauser and a Coltthen a case containing a weird but carefully selected hodge-podge of torches, mirrors, two sets of identity papers and, incredibly, bottles of Hock, Moselie, ouzo and retsima. Finally, and with exaggerated care, they stowed away for'ard in the forepeak two wooden boxes, one green in colour, medium sized and bound in brass, the other small and black. The green box held high explosive TN.T., amatol and a few standard sticks of dynamite, together with grenades, gun-cotton primers and canvas hosing; in one corner of the box was a bag of emery dust, another of ground glass, and a sealed jar of potassium, these last three items having been included against the

We shall live well -- we shall live very well.

Even as the men watched, they could see the colour returning to the swarthy cheeks, the indignant bristling of the heavy, dark moustache, the darkening anger in the eyes. Suddenly the man reached up, tore Mallory's hand away from his arm. "Who are you?" He spoke in English, clear, precise, with hardly a trace of accent. "Sorry, but the less you know the better." Mallory smiled, deliberately to rob the words of offence. "I mean that for your own sake. How are you feeling now?" Tenderly the little man massaged his midriff, flexed his leg with a grimace of pain. "You hit me very hard." "I had to." Mallory reached behind him and picked up the cudgel the man had been carrying. "You tried to hit me with this. What did you expect me to dotake my hat off so you could have a better swipe at me?" "You are very amusing." Again he bent his leg, experimentally, looked up at Mallory in hostile suspicion. "My knee hurts me," he said accusingly. "First things first. Why the club?" "I meant to knock you down and have a look at you," he explained impatiently. "It was the only safe way. You might have been one of the W.G.B.. . . Why is my knee?" "You had an awkward fall," Mallory said shamelessly. "What are you doing here?" "Who are you?" the little man countered. Miller coughed, looked ostentatiously at his watch. "This is all very entertainin', boss" "True for you, Dusty. We haven't all night." Quickly Mallory reached behind him, picked up the man's rucksack, tossed it across to Miller. "See what's in there, will you?" Strangely, the little man made no move to protest. "Food?" Miller said reverently. "Wonderful, wonderful food. Cooked meat, bread, cheeseand wine." Reluctantly Miller closed the bag and looked curiously at their prisoner. "Helluva funny time for a picnic." "So! An American, a Yankee." The little man smiled to himself. "Better and better!" - "What do you mean?" Miller asked suspiciously. "See for yourself," the man said pleasantly. He nodded casually to the far corner of the room. "Look there." Mallory spun round, realised in a moment that he had been tricked, jerked back again. Carefully he leaned forward and video still digital camera touched Miller's arm. "Don't look round too quickly, Dusty. And don't touch your gun. It seems our friend was not alone." Mallory tightened his lips, mentally cursed himself for his obtuseness. VoicesDusty had said there had been voices. Must be even more tired than he had thought. . . . A tall, lean man blocked the entrance to the doorway. His face was shadowed under an enveloping snow-hood, but there was no mistaking the gun in his hand. A short Lee Enfleld rifle, Mallory noted dispassionately. "Do not shoot!" The little man spoke rapidly in Greek. "I am almost sure that they are those whom we seek, Panayis." Panayis! Mallory felt the wave of relief wash over him. That was one of the names Eugene Viachos had given him,. back in Alexandria. "The tables turned, are they not?" The little man smiled at Mallory, the tired eyes crinkling, the heavy black moustache lifting engagingly at one corner. "I ask you again, who are you?" - "S.O.E.," Mallory answered unhesitatingly. The man nodded in satisfaction. "Captain Jensen sent you?" Mallory sank back on the bunk and sighed in long relief. "We are among friends, Dusty." He looked at the little man before him. "You must be Loukithe first plane tree in the square in Margaritha?" The little man beamed. He bowed, stretched out his hand. "Louki. At your service, sir." "And this, of course, is Panayis?" The tall man in the doorway, dark, saturnine, unsmiling, inclined his head briefly but said nothing. "You have us right!" The little man was beaming with delight. "Louki and Panayis. They know about us in Alexandria and Cairo, then?" he asked proudly. "Of course!" Mallory smothered a smile. "They spoke highly of you. You have been of great help to the Allies before." "And we will again," Louki said briskly. "Come, we are wasting time. The Germans are on the hills. What help can we give you?" "Food, Louki. We need foodwe need it badly." "We have it!" Proudly, Louki gestured at the rucksacks. "We were on our way up with it." "You were on your way. . . ." Mallory was astonished. "How did you know where we wereor even that we were on the island?" Louki