‘Your turn on deck Martin, we can only afford to rest one at a time now.’
I rolled over to face him, he looked exhausted. I heaved myself out of the bunk, ‘What's happening?’
He nodded sombrely, ‘Came through the gap about half an hour behind us. While the wind stayed up we were pulling out, but it's been dropping for the last hour or so. At the moment they're tracking us, same speed, about ten miles back. Scott's sure they must have radar because they're right on our line.’
‘They gonna catch us?’ I couldn't hide the urgency in my voice.
‘By mid-afternoon, unless we get some more breeze from somewhere.’
I just stared at him. Thought about that room. The clock and the decision. Another game. I forced the thoughts away. ‘Maybe we'll get someone on the radio.’ I said, stepping up to the ladder. I looked back, Duval was asleep before he hit the bunk.
I could sense the change as soon as I went on deck. The early morning triumph had evaporated. No one greeted me as I emerged into the heat of the day. The atmosphere was grim, occasional commands the only communication. The boat too was muted, she still hustled along well enough, but not with the crash and thunder of the dawn. I realised that all this had been apparent from the bunk. I just hadn't wanted to think about it.
‘Take over the handles from Ben please Martin.’ said Scott, tight lipped and curt. The lines on his face were etched ten years deeper from when I had left him this morning. I nodded and went forward. Ben straightened away from the coffee grinder winch handles and rubbed his hands together, I could almost hear the muscles creak. I stepped into his place and listened for the commands from Kate, but she spoke to Ben first, ‘Ben, you want to go and fix us up something to eat and drink?’
Ben nodded.
‘Give the radio another try when you go past.’ I murmured as he left.
Kate and Scott may have been grim and silent, but they sure as hell weren't driving the boat any less hard. Ten minutes later and my shirt was soaked in sweat. I stripped down to my shorts and started to feel better - at least I was doing something. As we got into a rhythm the atmosphere cleared a little, the commands were less tense. The irony of the three of us working together so closely went unacknowledged. But none of it stopped the inexorable speed drop as the wind slowly deserted us. Every ten or fifteen minutes the pole would ease forward another couple of inches as Scott brought the boat higher to try and squeeze a bit more speed out of the lighter breeze.
Ben kept us fuelled with water and chocolate for a couple of hours and then took over the trimming from Kate, and we worked on. I was sweating it out as fast as I could drink it. I could feel my skin tightening with the sun, even through my tan, but sunburn seemed of no concern. I ground on, listening only for the two words that meant anything, trim and stop. Even through the leather gloves my hands were blistering on the smooth handles. My back was cramped and aching from the bent position and my arms - they just plain hurt. By midday the speed was down to ten knots. When Kate checked the radar they were only seven miles back. Even I could work that one out - they could do thirteen knots, so at best we had a couple of hours. I pounded those handles fit to break the chains, watching Ben's face intently. He barely spoke now, I knew when to wind from his expression. His eyes, hidden by the shades, can never have left the spinnaker. Not once had it collapsed in the hours since I came on deck. The front edge was always just curling, working at a hundred percent, just like they'd told me it should be.
Finally Scott called Kate to take the sheet back, Ben patted me on the shoulders and I fell back to let him take my place. I slugged back a pint of water and held my head in my hands. It throbbed, all of me hurt.
‘Get your shirt on Martin and out of the sun for a while. We don't need a case of heat stroke. And get Pete up so Ben can take a spell.’ said Scott, I needed no second bidding. But when I got below Duval was already at the chart table, bent over the SSB radio. I started, the sight of Duval at the radio providing a jolt of memory of our earlier antagonism. But I said nothing this time. The radio crackled and hissed, much as it had before. I started to speak, but then Duval's hand shot up for silence, and out of the static I could hear another human voice. Not much, but enough.
The button on the transmitter clicked and Duval spoke into the microphone, ‘I repeat, this is the yacht Gold, we have been fired upon and are under pursuit from an unknown vessel. We require urgent assistance, they will be alongside us in one hour. Please give me your position. Over.’
We both waited, the air not even disturbed by the sound of breathing. The radio crackled again, I could barely distinguish it as words, but Duval seemed tuned in to the sound. He leaned forward intently, then there was silence. Once again he clicked down the transmit button on the microphone and spoke, painfully slowly and clearly, stopping to spell out the yacht's name, ‘This is the yacht Gold, under attack from an unknown vessel, please acknowledge.’
The radio was silent.
We waited for another minute but there was only the noise of static, nothing that even Duval could distinguish as words. He tried again, simplifying the message still further this time. Still no response.
‘They can't hear us, for chrissakes,’ he turned on me angrily, fist shaking the patched up microphone, ‘this thing's fucked.’
I stared at him, ‘You don't know that, we could be out of range.’
‘I can hear them!’ he retorted angrily.
‘That crackling sound? It's not exactly a crystal clear signal is it? It could be a more powerful radio, even I know that.’ I was starting to get angry now, my emotion feeding on his, winding each other up. The truce that had kept relations smooth between us finally crumbling in the face of one shortened temper.
‘This is all your fault pal, you've been screwing my life up from the second you got in it. This guy's chasing you, I say we just put you in the liferaft and let him have you.’ he threw down the microphone.
‘How the hell do you know it's him? If you didn't phone up the cops and bring him down on us in the first place! Huh? Come on, tell me, how do you know Duval?’ My accusation hung in the air for a second.
Then he responded, ‘Fuck you!’
I saw the right coming with the words, and caught his arm in motion. I threw my weight at him, and off-balance from the misjudged blow he went down hard against the companionway ladder. I was on top of him instantly, kneeling on his chest, slapping open handers to his face, ‘Come on Duval, tell me you did it, I know you did,’ I taunted him. Several stones lighter he was powerless with my weight on him, but he writhed and wriggled like a trapped snake. All the time screaming back at me.
I didn't see the blow coming that caught me from behind, but I heard the words that went with it as I crashed sideways off Duval under the impulse of Ben's foot.
‘Pack it in you morons, there's no one sailing this boat now.’
I groaned slightly at the pain from my shoulder, Duval was silent. Everything was silent. The rush of ocean along the hull had almost disappeared. Then there was a huge slap and a crack as the boat rolled upright on a wave and blew all the wind out of the sails. Ben was already on his way even as Scott's voice came down the hatch, ‘The wind's gone, let's have the engine down there.’ Differences forgotten Duval struggled to his feet and turned to the radar. I watched grimly as he fiddled with a dial, the scaling ring slid in to the green blip.
‘Three miles, we should see them soon.’ he said.
The engine choked and belched and finally kicked into life. There was a clunk as Scott dropped it into gear on deck, and I felt the propeller start to bite. But I wasn't exactly thrown backwards by the acceleration. Ben reappeared, ‘Let's go talk to Scott.’ he said. On deck the boat speed dial was reading between eight and nine knots. The spinnaker was already down and Scott was on the foredeck bagging it. Kate was winding the mainsheet into the centreline to stop it flapping, the boat steering on the autopilot. The wind had gone completely.
I helped Kate with the mainsail
, as Ben went forward to help Scott. Within seconds they were both trotting back down the deck. Scott taking the wheel and clicking off the autopilot.
The five of us gathered together again. But the tension in the air now had nothing to do with love or money. Only death and its urgent possibility. And it was getting nearer with every passing minute.
‘We got a radio contact, but they can't hear us.’ Duval told the assembled group.
‘We kind of figured that.’ said Scott, ‘I don't want to remind you two, in particular,’ he stressed the last words heavily, ‘of your responsibilities to the rest of us. You will cut the fighting and do your jobs, ok?’
Duval and I nodded silently.
‘They are what? Two, three miles back?’ he looked at Duval.
‘Just under three miles back and five knots faster.’ he replied.
‘So they'll be up with us in about half an hour. As I see it we have two choices. We can surrender or we can fight. I'll accept the wishes of the majority.’
‘We should put Cormac in the liferaft and let them have him.’ said Duval with a chilling simplicity.
‘That isn't an option,’ said Scott with a fierceness that was more surprising than Duval's coldness, ‘Even if it's just him they want, it isn't going to happen over my breathing body. Any other suggestions?’
Duval stared at Scott, ‘Ok, how about we play it cool, talk to them and we see what they want, money, whatever, and we give it to them.’
There was a silence. My stomach churned, I wiped away guilty perspiration from my forehead - and glanced at Kate. She was watching me. ‘Don't even think about it.’ she said quietly.
Scott glanced at us both, ‘We stick together.’ he said, ‘That's final. No more discussion on it.’ Then he turned to Ben, who was next to him, ‘Ben?’
‘We fight for sure.’
Kate was next, she had looked away, and was staring at her feet. ‘Kate,’ Scott said, trying to bring her out of her reverie.
She looked up suddenly, and spoke softly again, ‘We fight.’
Everyone was looking at me, but I had no choice. I wetted my lips, and then nodded, ‘We fight.’
‘Ok,’ said Scott, glancing over his shoulder, ‘I make it four to one. That liferaft's all yours Duval, if you want it. You stick with us, you do as you're told.’
Duval shook his head with a bitter expression, ‘You crazy bastards.’
‘Make your choice Duval, we don't have time for this.’
He took a deep breath, ‘Ok, I'll stay and I'll fight.’
‘Alright, we haven't got long, we'd better get with it.’ said Scott, ‘First, we'll all get the main down, then Ben and Martin get half the sails up on deck, we'll pack them round the inside of the cockpit. The Kevlar should stop most things, they make bullet-proof jackets out of it. I'll wrap the other half around the nav station. Kate, get all the ammunition into there, you'll be with it, reloading. You can also use the radio from there, keep trying that boat, see if they can hear us. You can steer for now. Duval, get the weapons into the cockpit, and some food and water. We'll leave the liferafts up here, protected by the sails. Also the first aid kit. Anything else you think we might need, grab it, I want everyone in the cockpit together, except me.’
‘Where the hell are you going?’ said Duval.
‘Up the rig with the rifle, might be able to keep them out of range with the extra height.’
There was silence, then Ben's quiet voice, ‘No Scott, that's my job. You know you can't hit a barn door with that thing.’ More silence, I could hear the pulse thumping in my temples.
‘He's right Scott. Ben's the best shot by a hell of a long way.’ It was Duval speaking.
Scott ground his jaw, then he said, ‘I don't like it but I don't have time to argue, let's get it done.’
Action helped, the mainsail tumbled down onto the deck and was hurriedly flaked onto the boom ready to be rehoisted. Then Ben and I tore into the sails, we worked feverishly, heaving them aft and packing them round the inside edge of the cockpit. Down below I could hear Scott cursing and swearing as he struggled to move sixty kilo sail bags into position round the nav station. Time ticked away. And the chasing boat got bigger and more threatening with every backward glance. As we shoved the last sail into place, Scott emerged from the hatch. He was soaked in sweat, took one look aft then shouted below as he climbed out, ‘We haven't got long, Duval, where the hell is that rifle?’
Duval emerged behind him, passing up the weapon, spare magazines and several boxes of ammunition. Ben was already pulling the climbing harness on. He took the hardware from Duval, accepted a bottle of water from Kate and packed it all into the bag clipped to his waist, he slung the rifle on his shoulder, then nodded.
‘I'm ready.’ he said.
Scott was hurrying forward to clear the halyard. I moved to the handles, Duval to a winch for the tail. Ben clipped onto the halyard and was almost immediately flying upwards.
‘Third spreader should do it.’ said Scott through gritted teeth as he swung into the handles with me.
‘Okay,’ replied Duval, ‘five feet, slowly now, two feet, hold. That's good.’
Scott stood up from the winch, ‘Tie yourself off Ben, in case the winch or halyard goes.’
‘Have done. I'm ok, you sort yourselves out. I can see the whole boat from here, they're nearly in range.’ The reply drifted down to us from sixty feet up.
The three of us ran back to the cockpit. Duval had done a good job; food, water and first aid equipment all stood in separate piles. Enough for a couple of days. Kate sat carefully loading a shotgun, her feet on the wheel, steering. Beside her lay two more, a pistol and a flare gun. I grabbed the pump action I had had earlier and checked it.
‘They're all loaded.’ said Kate tersely.
Scott took the second shotgun from Kate and Duval picked up the third. Then he settled into position with his back to the forward bulkhead, staring aft. On one side was the autopilot control, on the other the wheel.
‘I'll take it from here Kate.’ he said. She slid away from the wheel, and took the pistol Scott offered her.
‘Get down below Kate, try those guys on the radio again, and keep trying.’ said Scott.
She nodded and was ducking down the hatch. Then Scott caught her arm and said, ‘Maybe you got a spare cigarette huh?’
She turned back, with a wry expression, and handed him a packet, ‘No one so fanatical as the converted Scott, hey?’
Scott shrugged, took the cigarettes and offered the packet as Kate disappeared below. Duval and I both accepted. The match flared, Scott lit his own, held it out for Duval, then me.
‘Now we wait.’ said Scott, flatly, waving the match to kill it.
Chapter 26
The trouble with waiting is you get time to think. My first thought was Kate. The second was a fear of dying. And the third was doing something about the first two. Scott had obviously gone down the same path. He stubbed out the cigarette and, with a glance at me, slipped quietly below to see Kate. He must have been saying all the things that I wanted to say. Goddamit, this was a new game, all bets were off. I finished the smoke, flicked the butt over the side and waited. Finally, he came back out of the hatch and sat down. He lit another cigarette carefully, his hands were shaking, and took a deep toke. He looked at me, no expression.
‘You bastard.’ he said, in a whisper.
I couldn't look at him.
‘You've both been shitting me all along.’
What the hell had she said?
I struggled to find a reply, but then he was on me and we were all through with talking. And restraint. I fell backwards, a charge of adrenaline at this new, closer threat. His hands were round my throat. I began to choke and gag, struggling harder, getting more desperate. Suddenly Scott froze, locked on me, but letting me breathe. I stopped struggling, twitched my head to see, there was a shotgun barrel at his temple. It was Duval.
‘Now Scott,’ Duval's voice was under control, almost
urbane, ‘He's our ticket out of this, we can negotiate with them, use him, that's who they want.’
‘Duval.’ Kate had appeared at the hatch.
‘Shut up Kate!’ Duval never took his eyes off Scott. ‘Well Scott? What do you say now?’
I looked at Scott's face, and every emotion was crossing it. I held my breath. With Ben up the rig there was little I could do about it against the two of them, except... I felt the deck quietly for the shotgun. But, almost imperceptibly, Scott's grip around my throat was loosening. He looked from me to Duval. ‘Take the gun off me Duval.’ he said, his voice emotionless.
‘Sure, just trying to get your attention.’ the gun moved quickly away. ‘There's no reason for us all to die Scott.’
‘Just why are you so sure that it's him they want Duval?’ Scott was staring at him intently now, but his hands were still around my throat.
‘They wouldn't chase us this hard for money, would they?’ he answered, still in that calm, persuasive voice.
The next move was never made. Ben's voice crashed in on the scene, ‘What the hell is going on down there, they're almost on us!’ The rifle cracked out from above, emphasising the point.
Scott rolled away from me for cover against the opposite cockpit coaming, grabbing for the gun. ‘He stays here Duval,’ he jabbed a finger at him, ‘and you just remember who you're supposed to be pointing that dammed gun at. And you...’ the staccato finger swivelled, punching the air at me, ‘this is a long way from finished.’ He rolled and peered over the coaming out the back of the boat, I followed his gaze, shotgun retrieved and held a good bit tighter than before.
The boat topped a wave behind us, close enough to see detail - rust streaks, flaking paint - she rolled and swayed with the swell. No one was visible on deck. She was overhauling us fast when there was another crack from above. I saw the splash, Ben had put a shot ten feet off her bow. The engine note changed as they slowed down. But they hadn't chased us for twenty hours to be put off by a few shots. Almost at once they started to move out to our starboard side, Duval flicked the wheel to keep them astern. I heard their engine gun and saw the bow wave pick up as they accelerated. With the greater speed it quickly became obvious they could get alongside even round the outside of a much bigger circle. Duval turned tighter, but they maintained the angle to slowly draw level.
The Defector Page 25
