The man who cried wolf

When Nick first saw the dinghy, he thought it must be fishermen, possibly seine-netters. Then, as it edged into the bay below him, he heard the sound of a vehicle’s engine and a dark shape moved towards the shore.

    The dinghy disgorged two figures. They stood for a while on the beach. Nick saw the flash of headlights, outlining a large car or a truck, and the figures began to walk towards it.

    At the same time, another light appeared from beyond the surf line, flashed a message and repeated it. Dot, dot, dash. U. Pause. Dash, dot, dot, dot. B. After that, the same again, in quick succession.

    U and B? UB? Unterseeboot! It had to be, thought Mostert.

    He felt the hair stand up on the nape of his neck. And as he continued to watch, willing his eyes to get accustomed to the gloom, he could make out the silhouette of a conning tower and a hull swinging on an anchor.

    Nick heard thumping noises, the sound of wood on wood as though boxes were being loaded and then the swish of oars as the dinghy began to move out to sea.

    He turned and ran, down and along the path, back to the ferry. The rowing boat was there, the oars laid across the stern, but the man who had rowed him over was not to be seen.

    Mostert had spoken many times about his prowess as an oarsman, but had never actually tried to row. Now he did, clumsily, in a mild state of panic, catching crabs and going nowhere.

    He slowed down, concentrated on a task that he thought had to be really quite simple, dug the oars deep and began to make progress.    Reaching the other side, Nick dragged the rowing boat as high as he could up the bank and ran to his hotel. Brian Eayrs, the Needles Hotel owner, was in the bar with two customers.

    Mostert took him aside. ‘I need to use your telephone,’ he said.

    ‘Not tonight, Nick, I’m afraid,’ said Eayrs. ‘The main exchange closed at six. Come and have a drink instead.’

    Nick finally had three, wondering as he drank them if he should tell these people what he had seen, and became more convinced with every passing moment that he could not. Nick Mostert, well known in recent Transkeian lore for seeing a U-boat that never was, claims another sighting at Port St Johns.

    He decided it was too late anyway for anyone to achieve anything that night, went off to bed and slept badly, his stomach burbling.

Extract from Spy story (Kindle direct publishing, Amazon.com).