Sad Wind from the Sea (v5)

by Jack Higgins

  'What about Hurrier?' Rose said. 'What will happen to her?'

  His face tightened. 'I'm afraid she'll have to go down.'

  'Mark!' There was shocked surprise in her voice. 'You wouldn't sink her?'

  'Why not?' he said. 'I can't do anything else. I'm damned if I'm going to leave her for Kossoff and his pals. I'd rather see her at the bottom of the sea - and believe me, it's deep enough off this coast. When she goes down she'll go a long way.'

  She leaned against the window and stared out into the rain. 'It's rather sad, isn't it?' she said. 'A boat must seem like a real person when you've had her for a long time.'

  Hagen smiled sombrely. 'If I could save her I would but I can't risk that return trip. Not with the gold on board, anyway.' He laughed suddenly. 'It could be worse. After all, I shan't need her after this morning. I'll be living in a different world.'

  She said quietly: 'What will you do? Where will you go - America?'

  He shook his head. 'No, I don't think so. Too many people I know.' He chuckled. 'I wouldn't be welcomed in polite society.' He lit another cigarette and said: 'I think Europe would be the place. Not England - killed by taxes these days. Switzerland or Ireland.' His voice warmed. 'Probably Ireland. Now there's a grand country for you.'

  'What will you be - a country squire?' There was a hint of laughter in her voice.

  He grinned. 'That's about it, I think. A quiet country place near the sea will suit me, and the world can go on without me. I've had enough of the worst of it to last me for the rest of my life.'

  She nodded slowly and said: 'Yes, I don't blame you. It's a nice dream.'

  A wave of tenderness ran through him. He turned and looked at her and the sadness that showed in her face went to his heart. 'Come with me, angel,' he said urgently. 'We can make it together. It doesn't have to stay a dream.'

  She shook her head. 'No, Mark! No, it can't be.' She turned away from him and gripped the handle of the door convulsively.

  'But why not?' he said. 'I can't leave you flat in Macao. You'd always be on my mind.'

  'So you feel responsible for me?' she said. 'Why should you?'

  'It isn't only that.' He felt suddenly awkward. 'There's more to it than that.'

  He reached out a hand and touched her shoulder and she pulled away sharply. 'No, it's no good, Mark. You see, I love you. I thought that was enough but it isn't. I now find that I need to respect you as well, and as things stand I can't.' She wrenched open the door before he could reply and was gone.

  For a little while he leaned heavily on the wheel and stared with blind eyes into the rain and thought about her. It wasn't pretty but then he'd known in his heart from the beginning that he was playing her a dirty trick. He straightened up and shrugged the thoughts away. To hell with it. It was done and that was that. He'd offered her a share and she would get it whether she wanted it or not. After that she would have to look out for herself. He turned to check the time and the engines spluttered, coughed asthmatically, and died.

  There was a sudden, terrible silence and for a moment Hagen stood gripping the wheel, the only sound the drumming of the rain on the roof of the wheelhouse, and then he cursed and went on deck.

  As he passed the cabin door Rose poked her head out, alarm on her face. 'What's up?' she demanded.

  He waved a hand. 'How the hell would I know?' he said and dropped down the ladder into the engine-room.

  O'Hara was on his knees in one corner and when Hagen knelt beside him he turned a glum face. 'One of the fuel pipes, lad,' he said.

  Hagen had a look. 'Bloody hell, that's all we needed,' he said. The pipe had a crack several inches long in it.

  'That's what comes of trusting wog traders,' O'Hara told him. 'I remember you getting that pipe from an Indian in Hong Kong and it was half the usual price.'

  Hagen snorted. 'Who the hell cares about that now. For God's sake get moving. Try binding it with tape. It only has to hold for another half an hour or so.' He got to his feet and scrambled up the ladder on to the deck.

  Rose wiped rain away from her face with the back of a hand and said, 'Is it bad?'

  'Bad enough,' Hagen told her. 'My own fault. I put a cheap pipe in a few months back when I was a bit short. The damned thing was faulty. It's cracked.'

  'Can it be fixed?'

  He nodded. 'O'Hara's having a go at it now. He might fix it enough to get us where we're going.'

  She gazed over his shoulder and gave a cry of alarm. 'Quick, Mark. We're running aground.'

  He whirled round and saw the long, low back of a sandbank stretching towards them from the mist. He ran to the wheelhouse and turned the wheel and the current pushed them gently towards the bank. There was a slight shudder and they came to a standstill. He went back on deck and reassured the girl. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'The engines will pull us off with no trouble. We're better off here than drifting.'

  He turned towards the engine-room hatch and as he put a foot on the ladder Rose cried, 'Stop!' He turned in surprise and she said, 'I thought I heard something.'

  They stood at the rail, listening together, and gradually Hagen became aware, through the mist and rain, of the unmistakable sound of an engine that drew closer every second. Rose turned to speak and he motioned her to silence. Gradually the noise increased until it seemed to be almost on top of them and then it began to grow fainter. Through the mist a distinct ripple ran through the water and splashed against the hull. Hagen whistled. 'My God, that was close.' Before she could reply the engine of the other boat was suddenly cut and there was silence.

  Rose said: 'What does it mean? Why have they stopped?'

  He stood thinking for a moment and then he went back to the wheelhouse and looked at the chart. After a moment he began to take off his reefer jacket. 'I don't think we're all that near to the outlet,' he said.

  Rose spoke over his shoulder. 'What are you going to do?' He pulled off his shoes and went past her out on to the deck. 'Mark, what are you doing?' There was fear in her voice.

  The deck was cold to his feet and as the rain spattered on his bare shoulders he shivered. 'I'm going for a little swim,' he said. 'Don't worry. I know what I'm doing.' He lowered himself over the rail down into the water. It was bitterly cold and then his feet touched the sand and he smiled up into her frightened face and turned away.

  He waded out of the water on to the sandbank and followed its length into the mist until he could no longer see Hurrier. He began to trot and the blood moved in his body again. Twice he had to wade through deep water but the going was comparatively easy. After walking and wading for some six or seven minutes he heard voices. He stood quite still and listened carefully and after a while he continued, but more cautiously. He heard a voice again, this time far out in the mist to his left. He waded into the water and began to swim.

  It was bitterly cold and a strong current tugged at his body. The current was stronger than he had thought and he was about to turn back when a shape loomed out of the mist ahead. It was Kossoff's launch. For a moment Hagen floated, watching it, and then he turned and began to swim back.

  It was hard work fighting the current and for a few ghastly moments he thought he had made an error and then his feet dragged in shallow water and the sandbank lifted before him. He began to run at a steady pace and it was several minutes before he came to his original footprints where he had entered the water. He paused for a moment and through the mist there came a shattering roar as the engines of Kossoff's launch broke into life. The sound of the launch slowly faded in the direction of the sea and Hagen began to run again, splashing through the water as the tide began to lift over the sandbank.

  It took him longer than he had imagined to return to the launch, and for a little while he thought he had made a mistake. The mist seemed to have thickened a little, and it was with a sense of relief that he saw Hurrier materialize. He splashed through the deepening water and pulled himself over the rail. Rose and O'Hara were both waiting anxiously on deck. He brushed aside their q
uestions and went straight into the wheelhouse and examined the chart. He suddenly felt a blanket on his shoulders and turned and smiled his thanks to Rose. 'It was cold out there,' he said.

  'Did you see the other boat?'

  He nodded. 'Yes, it was Kossoff. Don't know why he stopped. He'll be waiting at the mouth of the Kwai for us.'

  O'Hara groaned. 'Then it looks bad,' he said.

  Hagen traced a finger across the chart and gave a grunt of satisfaction. 'There's a channel here. It's pretty shallow in places but the tide is in and that might make a difference.' He nodded and said in an abstracted way, 'I'll have to do some more wading though.'

  'Why?' Rose demanded. 'It's dangerous and the water's icy. You'll get pneumonia.'

  He shrugged. 'It's got to be done,' he told her. 'I'll have to go ahead and find the deepest part of the channel. You can't rely on this chart - the sands have a habit of shifting.'

  'Will we miss Kossoff altogether if we can get through by this other channel?' she said.

  He frowned and considered the point. 'If we're lucky we might. We'll come out very close to the main channel. So close that if it wasn't for the mist it wouldn't be worth it. He'd be bound to spot us. Let's hope it keeps up.'

  O'Hara had listened with a worried expression on his face and now he spoke. 'I've managed to tape that pipe, lad, but it won't last for long. Wherever we're going we'd better get there soon.'

  Hagen clapped him on the shoulder. 'We'll get there, O'Hara. Take the wheel and follow me through the shoals. Whatever happens keep her dead slow and watch me like a hawk. If we get stuck in this lot we'll be a sitting duck for Kossoff when the mist lifts.'

  He threw off the blanket and smiled at Rose and then vaulted over the rail into the water. The channel he was seeking was a hundred yards back along the sandbank on which he was walking. O'Hara started the engines and reversed Hurrier off the sandbank and turned her round in a smooth curve that had her finally making a parallel course to Hagen. The sandbank dipped under the water and Hagen went cautiously forward until the water was at chest level. He waved his arms and beckoned and O'Hara brought the boat round in a tight curve and she slowly entered the channel.

  Hagen swam forward into the shoals, sounding for bottom with his feet every few yards. Behind him Hurrier came steadily on, carefully following his circuitous trail. It was bitterly cold, and after twenty minutes he felt completely numb. Finally, even his brain was affected and he carried on sounding with his feet and followed the channel, using a kind of blind instinct born of desperation and necessity. Once the launch grounded on a sandbank when the channel took a particularly sudden twist, but O'Hara managed to refloat her with little difficulty.

  Hagen became aware that the water was lifting into his face and suddenly he lost bottom and had to swim in earnest. His leaden limbs moved slowly and he dipped under the water and panic gripped him, and then something bumped against him and hands reached down and grabbed him by the hair. He blindly lifted an arm and his hand was seized, and then he was hauled up and over the rail and subsided on the deck.

  O'Hara was grinning down at him, his lips drawn back, exposing his foul old teeth. 'You've done it, lad,' he cackled. 'You've done that bastard in the eye.'

  'Christ, but I'm cold,' Hagen said and Rose wrapped a blanket around him. He scrambled to his feet and said to O'Hara: 'Full speed ahead. Give her everything she's got. Doesn't matter about the noise. Kossoff will never catch us in that tub of his.' The old man grinned and gave a mock salute and Hagen painfully went below.

  There was coffee brewing on the stove, and as he pulled on dry pants and a sweater Rose poured some in a mug and added brandy. 'Here, drink this,' she said. 'I don't know how you managed to stand it.'

  The whole boat shuddered and lifted suddenly as O'Hara took her forward quickly at full power. The noise of the engines deepened into a steady roar and Hagen grinned and raised his mug. 'A sailor's farewell to Comrade Kossoff,' he said, and as he placed the mug to his lips the engines missed a couple of times, spluttered, tried to pick up and then died completely.

  The girl's face turned deathly white in the silence which followed, and Hagen carefully put the mug down on the table and stood up. 'If the bastard doesn't get us now,' he said, 'he doesn't deserve to.' He passed quickly out of the galley and went up on deck.

  13

  Hagen dropped into the engine-room and found O'Hara on his knees in the corner. There was a stench of burning oil and the old man's face was grey with fear. Hagen crouched down beside him. 'What's happened?' he said.

  O'Hara wiped sweat from his forehead with an oily rag. 'The crack's lengthened,' he said. 'Engine vibration. It was only to be expected.'

  Hagen cursed softly and wiped the pipe clean so that he could examine it. He nodded slowly and sat back on his heels. 'Doesn't look so good.'

  'What can we do, lad?' the old man said, and there was despair in his voice.

  There was a sound of movement on deck and Rose looked in through the hatch. 'Will it be all right, Mark?' she said anxiously.

  He shrugged and replied: 'Can't tell yet. Any sign of action up there?'

  She shook her head. 'Not a thing. I can't even hear the launch.'

  He came to a sudden decision. 'How long would it take to unscrew the pipe and braze it?'

  O'Hara frowned and shook his head. 'Too long, lad. Ten minutes to get it out. About twenty to braze it and another ten to replace it.'

  Hagen nodded. 'About forty minutes. That's not so bad. Get moving.'

  'It's too long,' O'Hara's voice rose, high-pitched and frightened. 'We're like a sitting duck here.'

  Hagen grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him viciously. 'Get some sense,' he said. 'If we tape the whole damned pipe it might last twenty minutes, but what if the freighter doesn't show up? Anything could happen.'

  He released his grip and O'Hara nodded dumbly for a moment and then said, 'You're right.' He breathed deeply and squared his shoulders. 'Don't worry, lad, I'll get it done. You'd better get on deck in case of trouble.'

  Hagen smiled reassuringly and clapped him on the shoulder. 'Don't worry,' he said, 'we'll make it. We haven't come this far to throw in the sponge.'

  He scrambled up on to the deck and as he appeared, Rose said: 'Listen, Mark. I think I hear something.'

  The boat lifted on the swell and the only sound was the slapping of the waves against her bows. He stood at the rail, ears straining, and away in the distance he heard the sound of an engine. He gripped the rail with both hands and waited. 'Tell O'Hara to make as little noise as possible,' he said.

  Rose disappeared down the engine-room hatch and Hagen went into the wheelhouse and got the sub-machine-gun. He stood at the rail and listened as the sound of the engine drew nearer and, after a while, it was very close and unmistakable. Rose stood at his side. 'Is it Kossoff?' she said.

  Hagen nodded and said bitterly: 'Sounds like his launch. He must have heard us.'

  She nodded. 'I don't suppose he could have missed hearing.' There was a quality of finality in her tone. 'What will he do?' she said.

  He crooked the sub-machine-gun in one arm and lit a cigarette, his hands cupped against the wind. 'It's pretty obvious. He'll know that one of two things has happened. Either we've broken down or we're meeting somebody. He has a rough idea where we are. Now all he has to do is sweep backwards and forwards through the mist until he finds us.'

  She turned her troubled face and gazed out anxiously into the mist and they listened as the sound of the launch drew nearer and nearer. Once it passed very close indeed. For a moment Hagen had a wild hope that Kossoff had missed them, that there was still a chance and then, suddenly, the noise of the engine lifted and the launch charged out of the mist. He pushed Rose roughly on to the deck and crouched beside the rail.

  The launch came straight towards them and then veered slightly at the last moment and cut across their stern. Suddenly the air was violent with the chatter of a machine-gun and Hagen ducked low as bullets swe
pt across the deck. The wheelhouse rocked and glass splintered, and then he jumped to his feet and fired a long burst at the two men who crouched at the machine-gun in the rear of Kossoff's launch. There was a strangled scream, and as the launch disappeared into the mist he had the satisfaction of seeing one of them lurch to the rail and topple into the sea.

  The sound of the launch faded and he shouted to Rose: 'Get below. Next time he'll pour it on hot.' He ran to the wheelhouse and pulled out the box containing the grenades.

  The launch seemed to make a broad sweep and circled in the mist several times. Hagen waited impatiently and was aware of Rose crouching beside him with the carbine in her hands. Before he could argue with her, the launch moved rapidly out of the mist and came towards them again. There were another two men behind the gun and this time Hagen started the shooting. He raked their wheelhouse in the blind hope that Kossoff might be in there, and then he threw himself flat on the deck as another hail of lead swept across the rail. Again the launch veered sharply, and as it cut across their bows, Hagen lobbed a grenade neatly over the rail on to the deck. As the launch swerved, heeling over, the grenade rolled towards the rail, but before it bounced into the water it exploded. A wave swept over the stern of the launch, and when it cleared, the machine-gun and the two soldiers had disappeared. The launch ran on into the mist and suddenly there was quiet.

  Rose wiped blood from her face and said, 'I think a splinter caught me.'

  He turned quickly, concern leaping inside him. 'Here, let me have a look.' There was a deep cut in one cheek. 'Come into the wheelhouse. I'll put a plaster on it.'

  O'Hara poked his head out of the hatch. 'Are we still in one piece?' he demanded.

  'Get back on the job,' Hagen snarled. The old man disappeared back into the engine-room and Hagen took the girl into the wheelhouse. He pulled out a splintered drawer and found a tin of surgical tape. 'This will have to do for now,' he said. He cut off a strip and placed it over the deep cut. 'There, how's that?'

  She smiled wanly. 'Better, but what's going to happen now?'