Terschelling, Holland, 9 August
Terschelling, Holland, 9 AugustKeep your head down. He will not know me. He saw me but for a few moments, in the dark and over blades. Like the smiting angel he rants about, he will pass me by. But pray God, let it be soon. I am not sure how much more apocalypse I can take.
Through his hands, resting on the pew before him and raised like many of the prisoners around him in an attitude of prayer, Coke risked a look. The man who had been haranguing them for half an hour from the pulpit of the small Dutch church showed no signs of flagging. The only hope that he might make an end of it soon was how the verses were coming more regularly, each delivered with ever-increasing fervour. Coke had suffered enough sermons in his life to recognise their shape – and to
