High Water (1959) (30 page)

Vivian’s eyes misted over, and he lowered his head weakly against the wood coaming. She was alive! Karen was still safe! The words hammered at his brain, until his throat trembled with pent-up emotion. He stared round the murky deck, a feeling of wild elation almost throwing him off his guard, as Cooper moved uneasily by the bell. She was aboard, somewhere quite close to him.

‘Cooper!’ Lang’s voice boomed up through the half-opened skylight.

He heard Cooper clatter down the steps of the companion-way, which led from the wheelhouse, and next he heard his voice from the saloon.

‘Carn I leave off banging that flippin’ bell, boss?’ he whined. ‘My head’s bursting!’

‘I’ll burst it, in a minute,’ laughed Lang ominously. ‘Here, catch this key! Go and see if the little Danish miss is safe and sound.’

‘Gee, thanks!’ Cooper sucked his teeth noisily. ‘I’m sure gonna enjoy this!’

Vivian’s grip tightened on the butt of the pistol. You’re not, you know! He slipped into the wheelhouse, and waited, bent double, at the top of the varnished stairway.

Cooper stepped out of the saloon, and before he shut the door, a beam of light revealed the wolfish grin on his face. He scurried down the narrow passage-way between the cabins, and paused outside the last door, excitedly jamming the key into the lock. As the lock clicked back, Cooper paused, and adjusted his bow tie with a well-practised flick, and without looking back, to where Vivian moved like a shadow at the foot of the companion-way, he thrust open the door. He was excited, that Vivian could see, his face muscles trembling with uncontrollable emotions that he
could
only imagine, although the wild light of lust in the dark eyes left little to the imagination.

‘Well, hiya!’ Cooper leaned against the door-post, grinning at the girl who sat hunched on one of the lockers, in what appeared to be a store cabin. Vivian’s mind noted all these details, as he crept forward, his breath held in tightly, until his temples throbbed painfully. It was all he could manage to tear his eyes away from her face, as she stared at Cooper, her face a picture of horror and disgust.

‘You’n me are goin’ to have a nice little chat,’ continued Cooper.

‘And so are we.’ Vivian spoke softly, yet it was as if the other man had had a gun exploded in his ear.

He swung round, his beady eyes popping out of his head. He couldn’t speak, but his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, almost comically, over his bow tie.

‘Nothing to say, eh?’ Vivian’s voice was like ice. ‘But, then, you’ve said enough, haven’t you?’

He pushed the man back into the passage, screwing his strong fingers into the pale blue suit to get a better grip. Behind him he heard an incredulous sob, and a blaze of anger flooded through him.

Cooper was still emitting gurgling sounds, when the butt of the pistol struck him between the eyes. Vivian lowered him to the deck and stepped back into the cabin, reaching out blindly for the girl, as she flung herself into his arms.

For a long moment they clung together, each unable to believe that the other really existed.

‘Philip! They’re all here! It was Felix …’ she stumbled over the words.

‘I know,’ he murmured soothingly, ‘I know it all now!’

The tiny warning flashed through his mind, which had become dulled by the feeling of warmth and love which
flooded
his heart, and he knew that there was no time to be lost.

‘Come on, Karen, we must get away now, while they’re busy up there.’

He fumbled with the wrist compass, strapping it on to the girl’s tiny wrist, while she still stared at him wonderingly.

‘We may have to swim for it! If you keep an eye on this, and swim due south, you’ll be on the beach in a few minutes!’

He studied her face anxiously. ‘Can you make it all right?’

She flung off her red jacket, her soft mouth pressed into a tight, determined line.

‘Do not worry, I will do it!’

‘Right. Let’s go!’

He gripped her elbow and guided her round Cooper’s prostrate figure, to the end of the passage-way.

From the saloon came the murmur of voices, and the sound of a chair squeaking back against the bulkhead.

‘What the hell’s Cooper up to?’

Lang’s voice was so close, that the girl paused with one foot on the first step.

‘Quick,’ Vivian hissed. ‘Make a dash for it!’

As she reached the top of the darkened stairway, she flung back the small double doors, and a blinding shaft of sunlight burst in on them like a comet. He staggered after her, gasping incredulously at the bright sunlight, which sparkled and flashed on the short, grey waves. Like a white gull resting on the water,
Seafox
lay less than a mile away, her glass scuttles and brasswork shining, reflecting the sunlight from every angle, as she swung at her anchor. Of the fog, not even a wisp remained.

A door banged beneath them, followed by a stifled oath and the sound of someone running along the passage-way.

‘She’s gone! Quick, on deck, you silly fool!’ Lang’s voice cracked like a whip.

Vivian glanced round desperately for a new means of escape. The pale golden sands of the distant beach sparkled in the sunlight. It appeared to be deserted of holiday-makers, who had probably not had time to take advantage of the change of weather. He raised the pistol, pointing it down the companion-way.

‘Quick, Karen, now!’

‘But, Philip! What about you?’ Her wide eyes stared at him imploringly.

‘Soon as you’re clear. Must keep you covered, otherwise he’d get us before we were half-way to the shore!’ He spoke shortly, each sentence clipped by the realization of their danger.

‘Please, darling. Now!’ The words were torn from his lips.

She ran lightly to the rail, unclipping her skirt as she went. He saw it flutter to the deck, and from the corner of his eye, he caught the gleam of her brown legs and the flash of yellow as her hair blew out behind her. For a moment longer she waited, poised on the rail like a statue. Then she was gone, her body hardly making a splash, as she struck out for the shore. He looked across at her for a second, watching her hair floating on the surface and her hands spearing forward into the spray.

‘She’s jumped for it!’

Mason’s face appeared over the deck, his pale eyes blinking against the light. As his glance fell on Vivian, his jaw sagged open, and losing his footing, he slithered down the stairway, calling to Lang in an almost hysterical voice.

‘Just stay where you are!’ barked Vivian. ‘I’ve got a gun and I’ll use it if necessary. We’ll just sit here and wait for the police to arrive!’

There was a quick murmur of voices below, and then
silence.
Vivian waited, wanting to look across at Karen, but not daring to take his eyes off the gaping void of the hatchway.

‘Now listen, old boy,’ Lang’s voice floated up to him and he stiffened. ‘Let’s not go off at half-cock over this!’

‘Forget it, Felix. Don’t waste your breath!’ His voice sounded cool, but the blood was churning like water in his veins.

‘I’m coming up, old boy. I shouldn’t behave too foolishly, if I were you. Perhaps we can make a little bargain.’

The step creaked, and Vivian laid the fore-sight in line with the top edge of the coaming.

‘I’m warning you, Felix!’

At that instant he heard the scrape of metal against glass. He whirled round, cursing himself for forgetting the skylight. Mason’s pale face gleamed distortedly through the angle of the small panes, his eyes wide with desperation and fear.

The crack of the shot was deafening, as the top of the skylight shivered to fragments of wood and glass. Mason’s face disappeared with a wild yell.

Vivian swung the pistol back to the hatchway, but too late. The world exploded in his eyes, with a bright yellow flash, and he felt a terrific numbing blow in his right shoulder. Dazedly he watched the pistol spin uselessly across the deck, a deck suddenly speckled with bright red drops, which gleamed and multiplied even while he stared with helpless fascination.

Then, the pain came swooping down on him, crushing his resistance and making the boat rock wildly under his feet. His will to fight, his very manhood, collapsed under the cruel onslaught and he dropped heavily to his knees, feeling the warm blood coursing down his arm.

Lang watched him narrowly, the gun still smoking in his
fist.
‘That’s that!’ he said slowly, then, with a jerk, he turned to the wheelhouse. ‘Come on, Mason! Shake yourself, we’re getting out of this!’

Dimly Vivian saw Mason lope past, his face ashen, his mouth wet with saliva.

‘What are we going to do?’ he babbled. ‘It’s all up now!’

‘Shut up, you fool! We’ve got the plates and enough dope abroad to see us pretty for life. Are you going to chuck it all away now?’ Lang seemed to fill the deck with his presence, his thick neck thrust out commandingly, as he stared fiercely at the whimpering man who faced him.

‘I can’t go through with it.’ There were real tears in Mason’s eyes and, as if in prayer, he twisted his hands together. ‘Please, Felix! Let’s just get out, do anything, but please don’t ask me to go through with it now!’

Through the roaring in his ears, Vivian heard the light step of the girl on the deck, and her exclamation of horror. Then he felt her unsteady hands trying to pull his shirt from around the wound. He saw her face very clearly against the clear, blue sky, her eyes filled with terror.

Over her shoulder, Lang’s voice drawled calmly. ‘I suppose that goes for you too?’

She nodded dumbly, her face made old by fear.

‘Right!’ Lang’s voice sounded settled. ‘Get the plates up here on deck, and quick!’

‘What are you doing?’ Mason paused in the hatchway.

‘I’m getting out,’ answered Lang quietly, ‘and I’m taking the whole lot ashore with me.’ He jerked his gun at Janice. ‘Get that dinghy in the water. I’ll give you a hand.’

Vivian groaned softly, as the others moved out of his immediate vision. He tried to think clearly, but his strength seemed to be failing fast. He smiled to himself. Karen’s safe. Whatever else happens, she’s safe now. Nothing more to harm her.

The deck shook under his pain-racked body as Mason breathlessly dumped two large suitcases, and that familiar, waterproof bag, which he knew held the plates, down beside the break in the rails, where a line secured the yacht’s dinghy alongside.

Lang appeared to be breathing heavily, with the suppressed excitement of one about to carry out a fantastic scheme. He controlled his voice with an effort, his words clipped and strained.

‘This is good-bye, then?’ He laughed shakily. ‘I’m going over to the
Seafox
, and I’ll run her ashore somewhere. They won’t catch me!’ His eyes danced wildly. ‘Now get below, the pair of you!’

He stifled their protests with a wave of the gun, and Vivian heard the slam of a door below, as Lang locked them in a cabin.

A shadow fell across his body, and he raised his head with an effort, studying Lang’s glistening face through heat-waves of pain.

‘So long, old son! Pity it had to be like this!’ Lang shook to a tremor of silent laughter.

He’s mad, raving mad, thought Vivian dully. But it didn’t seem to matter. He watched as Lang burst open the package, and thrust the gleaming plates into his jacket and trouser pockets. He was humming to himself, and entirely immersed in the job he was doing. He didn’t seem to hear the shouts from below, the pounding fists on the locked door. He stood looking blankly at two small plates.

‘Blast! Can’t get ’em in! Still, they’re only cheap ones!’ And he placed them carefully on the deck.

Quickly he flung the suitcases down into the dinghy, and with a last glance round, he strode over to Vivian.

‘Come on, old boy, better get you into the saloon.’

Vivian struggled feebly, biting back the scream of agony,
as
Lang dragged him down the companion-way, and pitched him on to the saloon deck.

As Lang slipped the key into the outside of the door, Vivian rolled over on to his side, the sweat breaking out on his face with the effort.

Lang’s teeth gleamed white in his pink face. ‘Forgot to mention that I’d opened the sea-cocks!’

The door slammed, and seconds later footsteps thudded overhead, followed closely by the squeak of the dinghy’s fend-offs. The yacht was suddenly quiet, even the others down aft seemed to be listening.

Already it felt heavier in the water, and as each swell lifted under the keel, she responded only sluggishly. She was going down fast.

He swore aloud in his agony. If once Lang could get to the
Seafox
, he might well get clear. The excitement of a sinking yacht would draw all eyes and hands from the shore.

Inch by inch, he pulled himself across the thick carpet, his left hand doing the work of two. He fell once on his side and something sharp jabbed into him. He gasped excitedly, clawing inside his shirt. The Very Pistol! There might be still time.

He pulled it out, and dragged himself snakewise over the settee berth under the square ports. He was sweating profusely now, and each small move was an agony of fire.

Blindly he lashed out at the thick glass, feeling the pieces shiver around him. Suddenly, the warm sunlight was on his upturned face, and the quiet water lapped only two feet below him. He thrust out his arm, regardless of the jagged teeth of glass gashing his skin, and only vaguely aware of Lang’s expression of surprise and bewilderment, as he pulled on the dinghy paddles.

Gritting his teeth with determination, Vivian pointed the bell-mouthed gun straight up at the untroubled sky, and
pulled
the thick trigger. There was a loud click. Nothing more.

Lang rested on his oars, fumbling in his coat. The light caught the gleam of steel in his hand.

As if it weighed too much for his arm, Vivian lowered the useless weapon, its barrel swung down like a signal of defeat. It was curious how everything had turned against him. He had even been finally beaten by a damp flare. He felt like laughing crazily.

Lang swayed on his seat, as he levelled his pistol, his eyes narrowed to points of hard light.