"Shall I plot an intercept course?" Bernard asked.
"Ja, you do that," Balz said while studying the convoy with binoculars. "Then start rowing into attack position." He removed his smoking jacket and tea cozy. "We donīt want those buggers to see us."
"Being taken prisoner by the Brits is a better option than dying on a life raft," I said.
"Surrender to the Brits?"
Balz made a farting sound. "That lacks hoochie woochie. Even in the wretched state we are in, I am the great Balz and still armed and dangerous." He waved a P-38 pistol.
For a while, we could see the mast of a corvette, then we were again alone, a spot of black rafts in the huge immensity of the ocean.
That night we got soaked by a tropical shower. It got cold but we were able to collect water. The predominant wind was easterly and each hour it pushed us further away from the African coast. People would say we died a heroic death. not slowly like miserable castaways. A simple signal rocket would have saved us when that convoy was nearby.
If I could only take that pistol away from Balz...
Stay tuned for the next exciting Balz episode.
