The White Pearl (44 page)

He came to an abrupt halt on deck, and his quick eyes took in the scene at once: Hadley in the water, the lifebelt a vivid
white circle on its darkening waves, the sails shortened as the boat drew close. Night was falling fast. Everyone had sprung
forward, and they were now lined up along one side – like sitting ducks, their backs to him. They were calling out to Hadley
and tipping the balance of the boat, so that it rolled awkwardly to starboard. Fitz payne had lashed the wheel, and with a
neat flick of his arm threw Hadley a line that landed smack in front of him. He grasped it firmly. Only then did Madoc notice
the dog’s sodden black head next to him.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ he demanded, aware of Kitty arriving quietly at his side, fully clothed now.

‘Nigel dived in to get the dog,’ Henry Court replied over his shoulder.

‘Daddy has saved Pippin’s life,’ the boy said proudly.

‘How on earth did the animal end up in the water?’ he asked.

Flight Lieutenant Blake frowned.’Yes, that’s a good question.’

Madoc was struck by how grey his face looked. Maybe it was just the shadows.

‘That man did it!’ the boy shouted.

All eyes flicked to him.

‘The Jap, he did it. I saw him.’ Teddy’s young face was screwed up in anger. ‘He threw Pippin overboard.’

Constance Hadley promptly marched over to the prisoner. ‘Is that true?’ Did you throw the dog overboard?’

‘
Hai
. Yes.’

Her hand came up and slapped the Jap pilot’s face. It resonated through the quiet evening air. She immediately resumed her
position at the rail beside her son, and called out to her husband, ‘Nigel, we’ll soon have you back on board.’

‘Grab hold,’ Fitzpayne shouted. ‘We’ll haul you in.’

Even now, Hadley was behaving like the perfect English gentleman. Women, children and bloody animals first. The fool was tying
the rope around the dog’s middle, and Madoc seized that moment – when every-one’s attention was focused on the water and their
backs were turned – to step away from the edge and remove the Tokarev pistol from Kitty’s skirt pocket. Land was no more than
a mile or two away, not too far – for those who could swim.

‘No,’ Kitty hissed at him.

She seized his wrist and wrapped the fingers of her other hand around the muzzle of the gun.

‘No, Madoc.’

He tried to shake her off, but she was strong. Their hands fought a silent battle.

‘No shooting,’ she insisted under her breath.

‘No shooting. Just persuasion to join Hadley in the water.’

He felt her fingers start to loosen. But a small brown hand suddenly slid between them and a penknife blade was stabbed into
his arm. He made no sound as blood oozed from the shallow wound, and Kitty laughed.

‘Thank you, Maya,’ she said, and pocketed the gun once more.

Madoc stiffened and stared into the native girl’s furious black eyes. He knew that one day he would have to rid himself of
this little sewer rat.

*

‘Teddy, get your arms set to take Pippin,’ Fitzpayne ordered as he pulled on the rope, hand over hand.

‘I’m ready.’

The light was going. Connie could sense the nervousness around her on the boat. No one said it, but the words passed from
head to head unspoken:
Leave the dog, Nigel. Get back on board.
Yet she felt immensely proud of him. He had demonstrated his love for his son, for everyone to see. Teddy could never believe
now that his father loved Razak more than he loved him. She experienced a great rush of gratitude to Nigel. Of course, it
didn’t alter the fact that he didn’t love her, but right now that didn’t seem to matter.

‘Come on, Nigel,’ she shouted encouragement.

The sky and the sea were beginning to merge in the coming darkness, and the current was slowly drawing him backward. Her husband’s
familiar face was bobbing like a pale ball on the surface of the waves next to the lifebelt, his hair plastered in strands
to his forehead. She smiled at him and waved. He smiled back and kicked harder with his good leg. As Pippin plopped wet and
ecstatic into Teddy’s outstretched arms, Razak shouted something in Malay. Connie didn’t understand. But she saw Fitzpayne
react. He was untying the rope from the dog, but he stopped and lifted his head. She felt her own heart pause. His eyes scoured
the waves, then he moved fast.

‘Hadley,’ he called out, ‘catch the rope. Be quick.’

His voice was sharp. Urgent. Connie felt alarm crawl up her spine. The rope snaked out once more and landed in the perfect
spot for Nigel to seize hold of it. He started to tie it to the lifebelt he had his arm looped through, but Fitzpayne didn’t
wait.

‘Hadley, just hold the rope for God’s sake, and we’ll pull you in.’

His shout was impatient, and he gave the rope a strong tug that yanked Nigel towards the boat. Connie’s eyes stopped watching
her husband and examined the waters around him. That was when she saw it: the tip of a thin black fin. Like a blade slicing
through the waves behind him. It was circling in a leisurely manner, as if it had all the time in the world.

‘Nigel! Hurry!’ she cried out.

He heard the fear in her voice. They all did. Nigel quickly spun himself round in the water and caught sight of the fin only
yards away.

‘Shark!’ Johnnie bellowed, snatching at the rope. ‘Get out of the …’

Later, much later, Connie learned to turn down the volume on Nigel’s scream in her head. But that first time she heard it
as the shark attacked, it felt as though the sound of it split her skull apart.

So fast. So brief. So rough.

Suddenly Nigel was jerked from the water. He shot sideways ten feet, arms flailing, his body shaken back and forth like a
rag doll. Connie clutched Teddy to her, burying his face in her dress. For a split second Nigel rose up above the water and
she screamed as an arc of blood soared into the air before he was abruptly hauled below the surface. Bloodstained water closed
over his head. Silence now. One solitary hand flapped briefly in the curve of a wave, a final farewell. Nothing more.

But his scream was trapped inside Connie’s head, tearing chunks out of her skull.

Six hours. Circling and circling the area. Through the darkness they searched the secretive surface of the ocean, risking
torches, chasing shadows. The moon rose. Its brittle light turned the water into hard metal, impenetrable and unyielding.

There was no Nigel. They all knew that he was gone, but it wasn’t until Fitzpayne, his face as tight as a fist, finally caught
the tip of a boat hook into the floating sleeve of a shirt that had once been white, that Connie could bring herself to nod
her head, the signal to hoist the sails. Treacherous muscles. To give the nod. Bones that betray.

As
The White Pearl
set off before the wind, she didn’t abandon the spot where she was standing when her husband screamed. She stood there all
night, listening to him.

‘I’m so very sorry.’

It was Fitzpayne. He was standing at Connie’s side at the rail. How long had he been there in the darkness? He was generous
enough not to look at her, giving her that much privacy, and she was grateful. Instead, he stared out at the black, rolling
seas and made a sound like the wind through his nostrils, exhaling hard.

‘You did your best,’ she said. The words felt stiff in her mouth.

‘The boat was too slow.’ He shook his head. ‘She is sluggish to respond because she is damaged. I couldn’t …’

‘You did your best,’ she said again.

‘Not enough. The sea is unforgiving of mistakes.’

‘The only mistake was Nigel’s.’

For a long time after that, they remained silent. Between them stood her son, asleep on his feet, his hands clutched around
Connie’s waist, her arm looped around his shoulders holding his weight against her body. His head lolled against her ribs,
warm and heavy. Clouds marched across the night sky, throwing a shroud over the moon and stars, so that only the thinnest
beam of light sneaked through. Connie watched it bounce like a silver pebble skimming across the waves.

‘Do you know what I want to do?’ she asked fiercely.

‘Tell me.’

‘I want to plunge my hand into the ocean and wrench him back to life.’ She lowered her head and inhaled silently through her
mouth, so that he would not hear the ragged edges of her breath.

In the darkness he stroked her hair, his hand cupping her head. It was a gentle, comforting touch that brought forth a great
shudder of grief from her. He left his hand there, until she was still once more.

‘Let me take the boy,’ he urged.

His arms lifted Teddy effortlessly without waking him, and Connie was thankful that her son could find such oblivion.

‘I’ll carry him to Madoc’s cabin, if you prefer,’ he said. ‘They can move into the master bedroom.’

Her heart tightened. How could he know of her reluctance to enter the room where she and Nigel had shared a bed, in case her
husband’s salt-stained figure rose from the sheets, covered in trailing seaweed and pointing an accusing finger at her?

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

‘You still have your son. He’s safe.’

‘Yes.’

She walked behind him towards the hatchway, her eyes fixed on her son’s bare legs hanging over Fitzpayne’s arm, and her feet
moved as though they belonged to someone else.

Suddenly she said hotly, ‘The sea is a monstrous thing.’

Fitzpayne stopped. Without turning he said softly, ‘I know.’ The gentleness of it made her want to cry. Then he descended
the steps.

She hesitated, unwilling to leave the deck. Down below, she knew she would suffocate. The waves would seep in and smother
her nose and
mouth. She made herself listen to the familiar slapping of the water against the hull, and gazed out over the dark, heartless
sea.

‘Goodbye, Nigel,’ she whispered, and hurried down to her son.

A knock on the door made Connie turn her head. It took an effort. The joints of her neck felt stiff and rusty, she had been
sitting so rigid on the bed. She had no idea for how long. Hours? Days? No, not days. Teddy was curled up beside her like
an exhausted kitten, his head on her lap.

The knock came again. Her fingers touched her son’s damp hair as if she could keep the noise from penetrating, but he didn’t
stir. Between his eyebrows, a miniature version of his father’s frown-crease rumpled his smooth skin, and she ironed it gently
with her thumb.

She didn’t want to talk to anyone.

She heard the rustle of a sleeve against the door as an arm was raised to knock again, her senses too acute, everything painful,
even the light falling in a puddle from the kerosene lamp and the grating whirr of a fly’s wings, the creak of the timbers.
The sounds seemed to grind against each other in her brain. Before the knock could be repeated, she slid out from under Teddy’s
cheek and moved to the door, the words
Go away
forming on her tongue. She opened the door.

It was Henry, the last person she expected. He looked red-faced and awkward.

‘Yes?’ she asked.

‘I want to …’ He stopped. Started again. ‘How are you?’

‘I’ll live.’

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, searching for the words he had come to say. ‘When Harriet died … you were a real
help to me. I know you want to be alone, but it’s not always best.’

‘I have Teddy with me.’

‘I know.’

They stood staring at each other’s shoes.

‘I’m sorry that the Jap isn’t dead,’ Henry burst out suddenly. ‘Admired the way you slapped the blighter.’

‘You would have done the same for Harriet.’

He nodded. But grief had changed her. She didn’t notice Henry’s mottled cheeks, or the way he unconsciously stroked the bulk
of his stomach for reassurance, which had always irritated her before. All she saw
was the loneliness he was trying to hide. The dark anger deep within him, and the anxious downturn of the edge of his mouth.

‘Wouldn’t you?’ she asked in a quiet voice, ‘do the same for Harriet?’

‘I’ll never know, will I?’

She touched his arm and felt the hollowness of it, as though Harriet had been the marrow in his bones.

‘Constance, I’d kill him, but I don’t have the nerve.’

Henry’s hands were shaking. Abruptly he walked away.

Dawn spilled its light into the master cabin. Madoc could hear Fitzpayne working the bilge pump hard below him. Still taking
on water, then. He sat fully clothed on the edge of the bed and listened for other sounds. No sobbing from other cabins, no
gnashing of teeth. All good signs. Nobody out of control. That’s what he didn’t want, because that’s when you could get caught
in the crossfire. Madoc had only had two hours’ sleep, but he could feel his blood pumping fast. Today would be his day –
he could feel it in his bones.

With a grin he reached over and smacked Kitty’s broad rump. ‘Wake up, wife. Just because we’re in the master bed doesn’t mean
you can snore the day away.’

She grunted, opened one eye and dug a finger into his ribs. ‘Piss off.’ She rolled over, turning her back on him.

He had to admit that Kitty was not at her best first thing in the morning. He lifted her skirt from where it lay on the floor,
but it was not weighed down in one spot the way he expected it to be. He shook it, frustrated.

‘Where’s the gun?’ he hissed.

‘It’s not there.’

‘Where the hell is it?’

‘When you need it, it will be ready for you, Madoc. You won’t need it today.’

‘So you’re a bloody crystal-ball gazer all of a sudden, are you? Able to see what’s waiting around the corner?’

‘Don’t shout.’

He seized her shoulder and shook it, though not hard enough to hurt her. She sat up, her breasts naked, and he could smell
the sleepy musk of her body. He whispered harshly, ‘I need it, Kitty. Today we’ll be landing
at Fitzpayne’s bloody island. We’d have been safely there by now if he hadn’t wasted hours in an insane search for a dead
man. God only knows what will happen, and I need to be ready to …’

‘Let’s see how the land lies first, shall we?’