Читать книгу Most Secret онлайн

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"I'm ashamed to say I don't," I said. "I know it's quite a big fleet. How many vessels sail out of Douarnenez?"

He pulled out his notebook again. "I can give you that." He fumbled for a little, and found the page. "On March 1st there were a hundred and forty-seven sardine-boats, Diesel-engined wooden vessels sixty to seventy feet long. There were thirty-six sailing tunnymen, ketch-rigged, about a hundred and ten feet long. And there were seven sailing crabbers, about a hundred and thirty feet. A hundred and ninety vessels all told, excluding small boats."

"That's a very strong fleet," I said. "What do all those ships do now?"

"They still go out fishing."

"Are those the fishing-boats that the destroyers see when they make their sweeps? Between Ushant and Belle Isle?"

He nodded. "Those are probably the ones they see. The tunnymen go down to the Bay of Biscay; the sardine-boats don't usually go south of the Île de Sein. It's the sardine fleet that concerns us now."

I stared at him. "Wait a minute," I said slowly. "I thought I knew something about this. Didn't two or three of them come into Falmouth in June of last year? Loaded with refugees? Or am I thinking of some other boats?"