‘Hold it Martin.’
‘I'll kill him.’ I shouted, tightening my grip. Duval was starting to struggle desperately, his face turning red. Then Scott was there as well, pushing between us. The fear and frustration of the past weeks boiled over and then condensed into the energy of pure rage. I tucked my legs up and found a purchase against the side of the chart table. Then jabbed backwards, hard. We couldn't move far and Ben hit the companionway ladder at speed. His grip slackened at the impact and I ripped free. Scott was off balance after the sudden movement and I caught him guard down, just below the rib cage. He staggered back, then tripped over Duval who was on his knees, gasping for air. They went down together. I caught my breath but the half-second hesitation gave Ben a chance to grab hold again. He had my arms and propelled us both forwards before shoving me face down onto the chart table.
‘Let me go Ben, this isn't your fight!’ I yelled.
‘No way.’ he muttered grimly.
‘He was on the goddam radio for chrissakes.’ I spluttered. I pushed up again in a last effort to break free and we staggered back across the narrow deck. But Ben held on and now Scott was on his feet, still breathing heavily, face twisted in pain, ‘Hold him Ben,’ he muttered, ‘I'm going to fucking kill him...’
The sudden crash of the explosion was incredibly loud in the confined space. I looked around wildly for where the shot had come from, and there stood Kate, a rifle at her shoulder, aimed up through the hatch. A wisp of smoke drifted away from the muzzle. Nobody was moving now, although I could feel Ben slowly easing his grip. Nothing but the sound of distressed breathing.
Kate spoke quietly, but there was an emotional force behind the words that held everyone's attention. ‘This ridiculous, macho crap will stop immediately. Let him go Ben.’
Ben relaxed and I sank onto my knees. Scott was only feet away, clutching his ribs, staring at the floor. But it was finished, we were all spent. I watched Kate step over to the radio. It crackled and hissed with static, faintly we could all hear a monotone voice reciting a weather forecast. She clicked it off, ‘This is tuned to the emergency channel. Who were you talking to Duval?’ Kate swung as she spoke, the rifle barrel following her movement, to face him.
He was still crouched on the floor, wheezing, and when his head came up his face was bright red. ‘Weather forecast, it's in the almanac, transmitted out of Darwin.’
There was silence.
‘That's bullshit.’ I muttered.
‘Shut up Martin.’ said Kate curtly. ‘What Martin is concerned about Duval, is that you are trying to report our presence on the boat to the police. Are you?’
Duval slumped into a sitting position on the deck, back against the bunk. His face was a mask, ‘No.’
‘Bullshit, the cops got to him before we left...’ I started to protest.
‘Quiet Martin.’ She looked at Duval, ‘The two cops that died worked for Janac, the man who's after us. That's how he found Martin last time. I went to the police, to this guy called Alex, to get help and he told Janac where I was. When Martin contacted me Janac caught us.’ heavy emphasis and a pause, ‘You call the cops and tell him where we are, and Janac will find us, and there's a good chance you will get us all killed. Do you understand?’
Duval was silent.
‘Do you?’ the rifle waved again.
‘Yes.’ he said tightly. ‘I didn't make the damn call. I was listening to the weather forecast.’
Kate stared at him for a couple of seconds before finally saying, ‘Stay away from the radio from now on. Secondly, stop this petty crap with Scott. And you too Scott. It's only a bloody sponsorship deal for goodness sake, it's not the end of anybody's world. Now shake hands. Do it.’ she insisted.
They weren't happy, but they did it.
‘And you two,’ the rifle waved at Scott and myself, ‘listen good. This ridiculous jealousy trip will stop Scott, there's nothing between me and Martin. Right?’
‘He's the...’ Scott began.
The rifle slammed down onto the deck.
‘Whoo, honey,’ it was Ben now, ‘that could go off.’
I glanced at Scott, and got a look of such blackness I should have dropped dead on the spot. The look slowly passed, finally he nodded. She turned her attention to me. I went more easily, and held up my hands in acquiescence.
‘We have a long way to go on this trip, and we have to do it together.’ Kate continued, ‘From now on we will behave like normal human beings.’
There was an uncomfortable silence. It was Ben who broke it, ‘Kate, may I have the rifle now?’
‘Certainly Ben.’ and she handed it over. ‘That will be all.’ she said, turning on her heel and walking forward. Scott followed after her. Duval headed up through the hatch back to the wheel without another word. I sullenly watched them both go.
Ben was looking at me, ‘It's ok,’ he said eventually, ‘if he'd been making a link call they would have shifted him to a working channel, not left him on the emergency channel. And there was a forecast.’
‘It was cover. And he had plenty of time to switch it back, he was still in the seat when I got here, but he must have been able to hear me coming all the way down the deck.’ I said quietly.
Ben nodded thoughtfully, ‘I guess, it's possible.’ he said. His hands were automatically checking the rifle. He was handling it comfortably, professionally even, ‘I'm surprised she knew how to take the safety off.’ he added, tersely.
I watched him for a while, ‘Where the hell did that come from?’ I asked.
‘There's a special rack built in the engine box.’ he replied, head down over the weapon.
‘I mean, why is it on board?’
‘Standard in these parts.’
‘Why?’ I said, surprised.
Ben looked up, ‘Pirates.’
‘Pirates? You're kidding me? This is the twentieth century, they went out with Blackbeard, didn't they?’ I wasn't sure whether I sounded worried or amused.
‘Not out here they didn't. Mostly they're from Indonesia, Thailand, but some Malays and maybe even the Chinese as well. It's a real problem, especially once you get further north. Two hundred attacks in the South China Sea year before last, and that was just the ones reported to the International Maritime Bureau. Mostly merchant ships they go after, especially around Singapore, but still, they're out there. That's why we have this baby, three shotguns and a revolver.’
‘Shit, it's an armoury.’ I said, no longer surprised - more astonished.
Ben hefted the rifle up, replaced the magazine and smiled.
‘You've done that before, haven't you?’ I said.
He nodded, ‘A little, I did some time in the army at home. Before I got onto the boats. Don't get the chance to shoot much these days, just a few rounds when we're out here maybe.’ he looked at the weapon, ‘This use to be the standard issue rifle for the Brits, the L1A1. But they replaced it and the Sterling sub-machine gun with the SA80 assault rifle. I heard some of the blokes, especially after the Gulf, think that's a worthless piece of shit anywhere but the range, but this one,’ he cradled the rifle, ‘is alright. I'd better put it back.’
‘Let's just hope we don't need it.’ I said, pointedly.
‘Yeah, right.’ said Ben, with a grim expression. He turned and moved up forward. I shook my head, but I felt a little better. I had a feeling that if there was any shooting to be done, Ben'd be doing it.
Chapter 23
The island looked beautiful as it slipped by to leeward, turquoise reefs and verdant scenery. I imagined endless white, sandy beaches. But it was probably better that Scott had decided not to stop. This trip would only be tolerable when it was over. The wind was helping, it had freshened to a good sailing breeze as we headed past Rossel Island and out into the open water of the Solomon Sea. It had also backed a little, following our turn to the west as we cleared the island, and helping us maintain speed by providing a better sailing angle. Combined, the effect was enough to keep the motor off, but
not so much that it was an uncomfortable motion.
I had stayed on deck as the afternoon had slipped away through Scott and Ben's watch, and now Duval and I had taken our night positions. It was cooler already, and with the sun accelerating towards the horizon shade was no longer a priority. He was steering, and I sat in the middle of the cockpit, near the two sheets if anything needed adjustment. It was also just far enough away that neither of us felt any compulsion to talk. Not that there was much chance of small talk from Duval. Down below I could hear the voices of Scott, Ben and Katie, the fight forgotten, laughing over a beer as she prepared dinner. As I watched the sun disappear and the night close in the glow of light from the main hatch and the buzz of voices became more and more painful. I had never felt lonelier.
I stared mournfully out to sea watching a light off to port. It was a single white, dipping and ducking, I presumed with the waves, and then it disappeared. Over the horizon I guessed. But with nothing else to do and far too much to think about I kept watching. Twenty minutes later it reappeared, in the same place. I couldn't figure that out. It certainly looked like the same light, but if it was travelling parallel to us I should be seeing a green starboard light as well as the white stern light. And all there was, was the one, erratic white. I watched carefully and it stayed exactly on station for the next twenty minutes.
The existence of any other ship on the ocean was cause enough for concern in my paranoid state, and this sort of behaviour made it worse. I thought about telling Duval, but it could wreak the truce, mentioning more of my suspicions. So it came as a surprise when his voice butted in on my thoughts, ‘You been watching that light?’ I turned and looked at him, he was staring out at it, ‘It's been there for a good twenty minutes now.’ he went on.
‘More than that,’ I said, ‘I was already watching it before. It disappeared for a while and then came back about twenty minutes ago.’
Duval turned and looked at me, then nodded slowly. ‘He's only showing that one light too, no green.’ Was there something in his voice, a little edginess? ‘Reach down and fetch the binoculars will you?’ he asked.
I hopped down the aft hatch and picked them up off the hook by the chart table. When I re-emerged Duval spoke as I sat down beside him.
‘What do you see?’
I put the binoculars up to my eyes. The image danced around as the boat moved, but slowly I pieced together the picture. I could see that the light was from a lamp inside a cabin. It was moving separately to the cabin structure so it must have been hanging. Occasionally it hid itself behind the wood work. That explained its erratic nature. Apart from that I could see little more of the boat. Nothing to indicate its size or type. The only clue was the superstructure around the lamp, which looked old - it probably wasn't a modern cruising boat or a sailboat. Not the police and not the kind of fast launch I thought Janac would use.
I reported all this to Duval as I watched. He listened in silence until I took the binoculars down.
‘I'm gonna alter course towards him, see what he does.’ he said. I looked over at him. His face was lit by the glow of the compass. He was a little twitched about something. I didn't think he believed our story about the cops working for Janac. If he had reported us the only thing he'd be expecting would be the Australian Navy. And they wouldn't be messing around following us with only a lamp showing. Maybe he was worried about the pirates Ben had mentioned. Minutes more passed by in silence. Finally, he glanced at the compass and said, ‘I've altered course twenty degrees towards him so far, and he's still paralleling us.’ He looked at me, ‘I'll come back on course and we'll track him on the radar. You know how to use one?’
I shook my head.
‘No, ok, take the wheel and I'll go set it up. We're steering three twenty, which is a little high of the rhumb line to keep the speed up.’ He looked back at the compass, ‘And we're on three twenty, just about now.’
I took the wheel from him and he stepped over to the main and genoa sheets to give them a small trim before going down below. I wedged myself in beside the wheel and checked the course, three twenty it was. As Duval disappeared down one hatch Ben emerged from the other carrying a couple of plates. He picked his way carefully aft, no mean feat with both hands full, even though the motion was an easy one.
‘Supper's ready.’ he said, ‘Special tonight, the last tin of that chicken.’ he smiled broadly.
I pointed out towards the light still bobbing along to leeward and said, ‘Duval's just setting the radar up to track that guy.’
‘What is it, cruising boat or something?’ said Ben, staring at the light, just as it disappeared for a second time.
‘Except that it's paralleling us, and not showing a green light.’
‘Or any lights now,’ said Ben, ‘I'll go and tell the boss. Hang on to these.’
I clicked the autopilot on and took the two dishes from him. I bent down the aft hatch. Duval was sitting at the chart table, tweaking the radar. He accepted the plate with a grunt of thanks and turned back to the screen. As I sat up again, Scott appeared at the main hatch. I could see Ben pointing out where the light had been and repeating my description of the happenings.
Scott nodded, then disappeared again with Ben following him. I slurped at the chicken, it was damn good. Scott's voice drifted up from the aft hatch. I glanced down, he was bent over the radar with Duval, who was explaining, ‘They're keeping station about six hundred metres off, I've set the bearing and range indicator up on them, so it will be easy enough to track them.’
‘Set the alarm for closing within two hundred metres or moving out to a thousand.’ responded Scott, gruffly, not polite, but not exactly rude either. There was a silence, Scott stared fixedly as the dot glowed and then dimmed with each sweep of the radar.
‘Probably just another cruising boat looking for company.’ said Duval.
‘Damn funny way to behave, running without lights, and tracking your course change.’
Duval shrugged, ‘Just wanted to stay with us I guess. Maybe his lights are broken.’ His voice was devoid of inflection, as expressionless as you could make it.
It didn't sound like Scott was convinced, ‘I still don't like it,’ he said finally, ‘we'll set up a zig-zag pattern. Twenty degrees one side of our course for fifteen minutes, then twenty degrees the other side for another fifteen minutes. Keep doing it, see how badly they want to stay with us.’
‘Hell Scott that'll slow us up nearly as much as if we were going upwind.’ Anger was creeping into Duval's voice.
Scott stared straight ahead. He was visibly struggling with his temper. In the end he brought it under control, ‘Just do as I say please Peter. Steer the pattern.’ he looked up at me and said, ‘Martin come down here and watch this thing on the radar. Duval will show you how it works. Report to me in half an hour.’ He backed out of the navigation station, without looking at Duval, and went forward. Ben glanced at me and then followed his skipper.
I stepped down the hatch, carefully keeping what was left of my supper upright, and slid onto the chart table bench beside Duval.
‘This is kind of strange.’ he said, flatly.
I nodded my agreement. If it was Janac, why would he wait? Why not move straight in? I stared at Duval, but the face, bathed in the red glow of the night light, was giving nothing away this time. ‘You think it could be pirates?’ I said, finally.
Duval was still staring at the radar, ‘Maybe.’ he said.
So that was what he had been worried about.
‘But it's unlikely,’ Duval shook his head, ‘they don't usually operate this far south. It's probably just another cruising boat.’ He started fiddling with the radar again, I watched him for a couple of seconds, then he turned and said, ‘It's simple enough, we're in the centre, this dot,’ he pointed, ‘is them. If they move from position let me know. Just in case you fall asleep, I've set these rings up as alarms. So it will buzz when they close to less than two hundred metres, or move out beyond a thousand. You t
urn off the alarm here, ok?’ I nodded. ‘Right, let me through then.’ I shuffled sideways so he could get out.
‘Hey,’ I shouted as he disappeared up the companionway, ‘What about your supper?’
‘Forget it,’ came the reply, ‘I'm not hungry.’
The cubby hole that formed the chart table and navigation station was probably the most comfortable place on the boat. I'd seen Kate working in here a few times, she seemed to do most of the navigating. The motion was bad because it was so far aft, but that was alright. I settled back against the cushions and watched the green blip. Thirty minutes later there was no change. Despite Duval's two course alterations they remained fixed on our beam. I was about to go and find Scott when he and Ben appeared beside me.
‘Well?’ he asked curtly.
‘No change.’ I replied, equally as abruptly.
‘Might as well Skip.’ said Ben.
I looked round to see what they were talking about as Scott
reached over my shoulder and picked up the radiotelephone.
‘All ships, all ships, this is the yacht Gold, over.’
The transmit button clicked off, and we all listened intently, nothing.
Scott tried again.
And again.
Still silence.
He replaced the receiver and shrugged. ‘If they were a cruising boat they should be listening on 16. It doesn't prove much, a lot of people are pretty slack about radio watches.’
‘What's the range of that thing?’ I asked.
‘About twenty miles.’
‘Is that all!’
‘We have the SSB, the one with the radio microphone you hurled across the fucking boat this afternoon!’ Scott retorted angrily.
The Defector Page 22
