I figured it was Moira.
Chapter 8
I watched Sean and Moira McCartin rowing back to the dock in that ridiculous curragh and I cursed myself for letting her make such a fool of me. I’m a pushover for a smart woman. I go all out for one and then I find out she’s made of tinsel and papier mâché like the rest. First that bitch Anita, with the soft, level eyes, the straightest girl in Texas. Sure. All the time shacking up with an oil rigger from the fields behind my back.
I’d almost killed him that night in the alley behind the hotel.
Now I wanted to do the same thing to Joe.
But it wasn’t his fault. It was Moira’s. She’d showed her hand, and I knew it was no good between us and had never been any good from the start. She was just a woman like all the rest of them, with the same tricks and the same lies.
Beneath my feet the deck shuddered from the impact of the monster’s movement. I turned and looked across the deck at the big steel net under the canopy. The crewman on guard now was Michael Degan, and he saw me looking.
“Hello, Mr. Slade,” he said, civilly enough.
“Keep your distance from that thing,” I said. “Hear?”
“Mr. Finn told me in the same words,” he nodded unhappily. “The damned thing is a curse. If he’s allowed to remain in captivity, Mr. Slade, evil will befall us all!”
I started to shake my head with annoyance. But something in the man’s eye held me. I said nothing.
“ ’Tis the word,” Michael Degan said, and lapsed into gloomy silence. He moved away from me and stood on the other side of the monster.
The monster’s big head swiveled around and its red eyes glared at me. It moved slightly, trying to get comfortable under the weight of the net.
I shuddered. I could feel for it. I could feel the weight of that metal net on top of me, too. I was the monster, entrapped in a prison, not allowed my freedom.
“I know you, Ogra,” I said “I know how you feel.”
I’d spent six months in a Red prison camp during the Korean was. I’d never been so close to madness in my life before. It was a brand new experience to me, and a nerve-shattering one. I’d never hoped to escape. I’d spent every day wondering if I could last through another night inside my cell.
Life wasn’t worth living under conditions like those.
I glanced across at the beast. It glowered at me. Ogra, I thought, you had it, old buddy. You’ll never again see the bottom of the ocean.
Small wonder the beast had killed. Small wonder it flailed and maimed. Manifestation of evil? Maybe. Or maybe a manifestation of man’s evil to man.
Maybe it was a warning, warning of destruction and disaster to come. Like with nuclear fission. Like with space exploration. Like with the hydrogen bomb.
Moira was right. I had to set the beast free. Too much was at stake if I didn’t.
I’d put it up to Joe, man-to-man. With the death of Pat Phelan, maybe he’d face the issue and agree. What did we have to lose, anyway? There was no money involved.
I found Joe below, standing by the doorway to his cabin, reading a piece of paper. He glanced up when I approached and slipped the paper in his pocket. His yellow eyes watched me warily.
“She is a bit of a friendly type, isn’t she?” I grinned.
Joe’s mouth dropped open. Then he threw his head back and laughed. I knew he’d been sweating out my reaction to that tête-à-tête on his bunk. And in disarming him like that, maybe I’d gained an edge in my argument about Ogra.
“It’s about the beast,” I went on, before he had a chance to say a word. “Phelan was killed, you know. On guard.”
Joe bit his lip angrily. “I know about Phelan. Its a dirty shame.”
“We’ve got to let the damned thing go.”
The yellow eyes narrowed, and probed me. “You lost your marbles, old man?”
I shook my head. “The beast is bad luck. The island people are right.”
Joe snorted. “It’s that girl, isn’t it? She and her brother! The islands are full of superstitious fools like them. They think everything on earth is a manifestation of good or evil. They’re stupid pagans, Sam. I’m surprised you agree with them.”
I shrugged, trying not to let him read my thoughts. If he knew I even entertained the idea of letting the monster go, he’d kill me. “I just don’t like it,” I said lamely.
“So you don’t like it,” Joe said and reached into his pocket for the piece of paper he had been reading when I came up. He broke out a great big grin. “Here, Sam. You’re going to change your tune when you get a load of this. Came in by radio ten minutes ago. It’s what I’ve been waiting for.”
Curious, I took the sheet of paper.
“GUARANTY THIRTY THOUSAND POUNDS AGAINST FIFTY PER CENT OF GROSS TO EXHIBIT CAPTURED MONSTER AT DORKIN’S LONDON CIRCUS.”
I stared at the wire, and then I looked at Joe. I could see what it meant, but my mind wasn’t ready to accept the fact.
“Don’t you see, you knothead! We’re rich! We’ll make a fortune with the monster! I’ve been dickering with these guys secretly.”
“But, Joe,” I stammered. “What about the University of Dublin? We promised them—”
“To hell with the University of Dublin!” snapped Joe. “Man, we’re in!”
“But what about the Irish government? Won’t they try to stop us?”
Joe’s eyes narrowed craftily. “Who’s to know until it’s too late?”
I chewed on this for a moment. The plan had merits. And it did mean a lot of money in our pockets. But just the same . . .
I thought of the dead divers. I thought of the three oarsmen torn to pieces in the harbor. I thought of Phelan on the deck of the Triton.
“Damn it, Joe!” I said finally, “we can’t do it! We’ve got to let the thing go and get away from this place. I don’t want any part of it!”
“We’re partners, Sam,” he said quietly. “You want out now?”
“No! I want to bring you to your senses! This thing is a killer! Think what it would do if it got loose in London! My God, Joe, you’d be responsible for the deaths of thousands of people!”
“I’ve thought it through,” snapped Joe. “If you want out, get out!”
He took back the wire and folded it carefully and tucked it in his pocket. I didn’t like the intense, stolid expression on his face.
“It’s that damned girl!” he burst out angrily. “How could you let her turn your head?”
“She doesn’t mean a thing to me,” I said defiantly. I wondered if I sounded as insincere as I felt. Even though I had lost her, I still wanted her.
“You’re a fool!” Joe shouted. “You’re really asking for trouble! She’s just like that other one you got hung up with in Port Arthur!”
“Shut up!”
“No, sir! It’s for your own good, Sam! She’s trying to work on you. For anything she can get. She’s like a bitch in heat. Hell, I should know, shouldn’t I? Can’t you see her game now?”
The blood boiled up in me. I knew he was right. That was what angered me. She was just playing both ends against the middle. She was using me. And yet I knew I had to do something to Joe for saying it. I knew he was a killer, but I had to attack him. I had to come to grips with him.
“Keep off Moira!” I yelled.
“She’s a demon, a damned demon!” Joe cried. “She’s played you for a sucker! The worst kind!”
I leaped at his throat. Immediately I felt myself swung to one side, and my back smashed against the bulkhead along the passage. I slumped down on the deck. Joe was standing over me, his yellow eyes fiery, his hands knotted.
“Is this what you want?” he cried.
“Yes!” I yelled back. “That’s what I want!”
I shot to my feet again, smashing my left into his face. He ducked back, but I caught his jawbone and I heard a crunch. My fist felt as if it had been smashed under a rock. Joe went back. He stumbled.
I leaped on him as he lost
his balance, carrying him to the deck. I flailed at him blindly, not knowing what I was doing, and in turn I could feel him gouging at my eyes, tearing my shirt, hammering me unmercifully. We rolled over and over on the deck, smashing against the bulkhead to one side, and then thrashing back against the other.
I was blind. I was enraged. I couldn’t think. There was no reason for us to be scrapping this way. What had ever possessed me? I was mad. He was right. The girl had turned my head.
Moira.
Then it all came clear, and I was sitting on him chopping away at his face, my knuckles slimy with blood.
I stopped. God, was I some kind of beast myself? And there was one other thing I hadn’t thought about at all. What happened if I did get the best of Joe? Did I seize the ship. Did I become captain of the Triton.
Some subconscious awareness of my impossible position had stayed my hand at the last moment there. I had been too long at sea to depose any captain. I had plunged into a fight I couldn’t possibly win. “Joe,” I said.
He rolled his head, eyeing me through bruises.
“Joe.” I got off him and stood up, shaking my head, trying to clear it.
He moved toward his cabin. I went after him, trying to frame some kind of an apology. We were partners, and he was the boss on board the Triton. How could I square myself?
I stood in the doorway, paralyzed.
Joe faced me, his eyes gleaming. He held a revolver in his hand. He had gotten it out of his things.
“Don’t mess with me, Sam,” he said tightly, drawing his lips back from his teeth in a grimace. “I’m going to take the beast to London. If you want to come along, come on. Glad to have you. But if you try anything funny . . . Well, I still am captain on the Triton.”
There was only one thing I could say. I said it.
“Okay, Joe. You win.”
For now, I said under my breath as I went above. For now. Because I had made up my mind. I was definitely going to free the beast. Whether it was because of Pat Phelan’s death, or because of Moira’s fear of the thing or because of the bad blood between Joe and me, I was going to free it. I didn’t spend time trying to analyze my feelings one way or the other.
And I had a plan. It was simple and direct. I knew exactly what I’d do. I’d get the donkey engine going, attach a cable to the winch, and hook into the top of the monster’s net. I’d have to trick him into his cabin, and barricade him up. Then I’d have to keep the crew under guard while I moved the cargo overboard.
I needed someone trustworthy to help me.
Jack Finn was out; he was loyal to Joe.
One of the crew? They were loyal to the Bos’n, far more so than they were loyal either to Joe or me.
Then I knew. Sean and Moira McCartin.
The trick was to get them aboard without creating a stir. The obvious thing to do was smuggle them on at night. And there was a way to manage that. Several hours later I climbed to the bridge room where I found Joe with a chart of the British Isles spread out on the table. He was bending over it, making penciled calculations.
He glanced up casually as I joined him. “Oh, hello, Sam. I’m just trying to lay out a course.”
As if nothing had happened between us! Apparently he had no suspicion of my intentions.
I leaned over his shoulder. “When do we sail?” I asked.
Joe scowled and rubbed his chin. “Not before midnight, I’d say. The tides will help us from twelve-thirty to four. Why?” He turned and his yellow eyes flickered. “You got a heavy date or something?”
“Oh, I thought I might do some reconnoitering on the beach tonight,” I drawled.
Joe struck a match and lit a cigarette. “One last fast one on the village mall,” he chuckled. “Go on. I’ll count on you back at eleven-thirty. Finn can drop you on shore after chow.”
“I don’t know if I should make a big production out of it,” I said, as if reluctant to complicate matters.
“No, no,” Joe said, turning back to the charts. “Go right ahead. It may help get her out of your system for good.”
I left him looking at his charts. And I was grinning to myself. He’d practically set it up for me, step by step. It would be the easiest thing in the world to do.
I’d have Moira get hold of her father’s launch, by hook or crook. She could do it, if not alone, at least with Sean’s help. Then I’d meet her and Sean at the cove, ride out to the Triton, secure Joe in his cabin, hold the crew off at gun point, and set the monster free. Most of the crew would probably want to help me, anyway.
It was a daring plan, but I knew that a daring plan had the best chance of success and I was determined to succeed. I knew if I didn’t the damned monster would kill us all.
Chapter 9
About four o’clock in the afternoon the village fishermen began coming back in from their day’s stint. I hailed a likely looking lobsterman sailing a one-man curragh, and handed him a note I’d written to Moira. On the outside of this note I had written Sean McCartin.
“Sean McCartin,” I explained to him carefully “Tugair nóta ceo do Sean McCartin. Give this note to Sean McCartin.” I deliberately wanted to keep it out of Moira’s hands because I knew her father would be watching her like a hawk.
The lobsterman nodded, and I handed him a few silver coins which he pocketed immediately. He seemed visibly impressed. “Sean McCartin,” he promised.
I kept making excuses to join Joe in the bridge room. About six o’clock I picked up the binoculars for the fifth time and scanned the rock promontory by the McCartin cottage. Then I saw it. One of Moira’s blue shirtwaists was hanging on the clothesline, beside the thatch-roofed cottage. That was the signal I’d mentioned in my note: Message received and will do.
Everything was set. I was to meet her at the cove at 10:30 that night. So far so good. I went on deck then, and uncoiled a line over the stern of the Triton, securing it to a shackle bolt. No one saw me. I made sure of that.
It was about chow time, and I went down to eat with Joe and Jack Finn. I tried not to appear over-eager, but at the same time I didn’t want to underplay it and appear to be engaged in something deep. I got Joe into a discussion about the Cuban revolution and we stayed carefully off the subject that was really bothering both of us.
At about 9:30 I looked in at Joe in his cabin and told him I was on my way to the beach. He came out to see me off in the launch, and warned Jack Finn to come right back and get the ship ready to pull out. I arranged to meet Finn on the dock at 11:30, even though I knew damned well I wouldn’t be there. We waved to Joe, and he disappeared.
“Little last-night exercise?” Jack Finn asked me, grinning behind his cigarette as he steered the launch in toward the dock.
“Something like that,” I said. “I wish I had your gift of gab in the mother tongue,” I added a bit wistfully.
Finn laughed, his gusty voice booming out over the harbor. “You seem to be doing fine, Mr. Slade.”
I waved a hand at him in dismissal as I hopped out onto the dock.
“Eleven-thirty,” he called to me as he turned back to the Triton.
Even with my pocket flash I found it difficult going, climbing the rocky hill behind the village, and crossing over behind McCartin’s cottage to approach the cove from the side. But I finally made it after bloodying up my hand once in a fall on the rocks.
I climbed quietly down the steep embankment behind the sand strip, and stood there brushing myself off.
“Ssst!”
I looked carefully around. I couldn’t see a thing.
“Somhairle!”
It was Moira all right, but where was she? I could see absolutely nothing.
Then I remembered the cave mouths. I moved over toward the cliff and poked the flashlight beam in through the openings.
She jumped out at me laughing. I staggered back. “Moira!”
“I knew you’d do it!” she cried. “I knew you’d help me! I’m ever so glad, Somhairle.”
“Sh!” I said.
“I don’t want your old man poking his nose into this.” I looked around. “Where’s Sean?”
Her eyes were round in the darkness. “I thought you’d sent him off on some chore.”
I shook my head. “You mean you didn’t get my message?”
“I got it fine! ’Tis why I’m here. But Sean said nought about coming, too.”
“I need you both,” I said, trying to cover my concern. Had McCartin found the note, and held the boy?
“Since dinner I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him!” Moira went on.
“Perhaps he’ll turn up later,” I said. “Where is the launch?”
She smiled. Then she beckoned me with her finger and stood up, backing into the cave mouth. I followed. “Turn your light here.”
I did as directed. The beam lit up the inside of a large natural cave, and I could now see something I had not guessed. The cave was connected to the ocean by a free-running sluice of water. And just in back of Moira a shiny blue launch with the name “Maighréad” on it’s prow bobbed up and down in the silence of the cave.
“Get in,” I said. She climbed in beside me. “I don’t know how you did it, but thanks.”
“ ’Twas as simple as stealing candy from a wee one. I have a way with Mulkerns.”
“Who the hell’s Mulkerns?”
“A favorite boatman of my father’s,” said Moira with a lilting laugh. I pointed the beam of light at her face, and saw her toss her head to one side flirtatiously.
“You little minx!” I had to grin. She’d done it as much for me as she’d done it for herself. How could I get angry because she’d enlisted the aid of this nonentity named Mulkerns?
I started up the launch and adjusted the engine down until it was muffled and low, and then moved the craft slowly out through the inlet and into the cove. Here the waves were rougher than inside the cave. The tide was coming in strong, but I headed the prow of Maighréad for a point a half mile from the lighthouse at the end of the cape, and kept pushing.
Moira didn’t say much. She was obviously excited at the prospect of freeing Ogra. I had my hands full trying to navigate in the darkness without running lights.
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