I was a ma.s.s of scratches and bruises from my long battle with the motor, and although my medical kit was still in the boat at the bottom of the bay, I found a large bottle of mercurochrome in my bag. Sherry began a convincing imitation of Florence Nightingale, with the antiseptic and a roll of cotton wool she anointed my wounds, murmuring condolences and sympathetic sounds.
I rather enjoy being fussed over, and I stood there in a semi-hypnotic state lifting an arm or moving a leg as I was bidden. The first hint that I received that Miss. North was not treating my crippling injuries with the true gravity they deserved was when she suddenly emitted a hoot of glee and daubed my most delicate extremity with a scarlet splash of mercurochrome.
"Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer," she chortled, and I roused myself to protest bitterly.
"Hey! That stuff doesn"t wash off."
"Good!" she cried. "I"ll be able to find you now if you ever get lost in a crowd." I was shocked by such unseemly levity. I gathered about me my dignity and went to find a pair of dry pants.
Sherry reclined on the mattress and watched me scratching in my bag "How long is this going to last?" she asked.
"Five days," I told her, as I paused to listen to the unabated roar of the wind.
"How do you know?" "It always lasts five days," I explained, as I stepped into my shorts and hoisted them.
"That"s going to give us a little time to get to know each other."
We were caged by the cyclone, locked together in the confined few square feet of the cave, and it was a strange experience.
Any venture out into the open forced upon us by nature, or to check how Chubby and Angelo were faring, was fraught with discomfort and danger. Although the trees were stripped of most of their fruit during the first twelve hours and the weaker trees fell during that period also yet there was still the occasional tree that came crashing down, and the loose trash and fronds flew like arrows on the wind with sufficient force to blind a person or inflict other injury.
Chubby and Angelo worked away quietly on the motors, stripping them down and cleaning them of salt water. They had something to keep them busy.
In our cave, once the initial novelty had pa.s.sed there developed some crisis of will and decision which I did not properly understand, but which I sensed was critical.
I had never pretended to understand Sherry North in any depth, there were too many unanswered questions, too many areas of reserve, barriers of privacy beyond which I was not allowed to pa.s.s. She had not to this time made any declamdon of her feelings, there was never any discussion of the future. This was strange, for any other woman I had ever known expected - demanded - declarations of love and pa.s.sion. I sensed also that this indecision was causing her as much distress as it was me. She was caught up in something against which she struggled, and in the process her emotions were being badly mauled.
However, with Sherry there was nothing spoken of - for I had accepted the tacit agreement and we did not discuss any of our feelings for each other. I found this restricting, for I am a lover with a florid turn of speech. If I have not yet succeeded in talking a bird down out of a tree - it is probably because I have never seriously made the attempt. I could make this adjustment without too much pain, however, it was the lack of a future that chafed at me.
It seemed that Sherry did not look for our relationship to last longer than the setting of the sun, yet I knew that she could not feel this way, for in the moments of warmth that interspersed those of gloom, there could be no doubts.
Once when I started to speak of my plans for when we had mised the treasure - how I would have another boat built to my design, a boat that incorporated all the best features of the beloved Wave Dancer - how I would build a new dwelling at Turtle Bay that would not deserve the t.i.tle of shack - how I would furnish it and people it - she took no part in the discussion. When I ran out of words, she turned away from me on the mattress and pretended to sleep although I could feel the tension in her body without touching her.
At another time I found her watching me with that hostile, hating look. While an hour later she was in a frenzy of physical pa.s.sion which was in diametric contrast.
She sorted and mended my clothing from the bag, sitting cross-legged on the mattress and working with neat business-like st.i.tches. When I thanked her, she became caustic and derisive, and we ended up in a blazing row until she flung herself out of the cave and ran through the raging wind to Chubby"s cave. She did not return until after dark, with Chubby escorting her and holding a lantern to light her way.
Chubby regarded me with an expression that would have melted a lesser man and frostily refused my invitation to drink whisky, which meant that he was either very sick or very disapproving, then he disappeared again into the storm muttering darkly.
By the fourth day my nerves were in a jangling mess, but I had considered the problem of Sherry"s strange behaviour from every angle and I reached my conclusions.
Cooped up with me in that tiny cave she was being forced at last to consider her feelings for me. She was falling in love, probably for the first time in her life, and her fiercely independent spirit was hating the experience. I cannot say in truthfulness that I was enjoying it very much either - or rather I enjoyed the short periods of repentance and loving between each new tantrum - but I looked forward fervently to the moment when she accepted the inevitable and succ.u.mbed completely.
I was still awaiting that happy moment when I awoke in the dawn of the fifth day. The island was in a grip of a stillness that was almost numbing after the uproar of the cyclone. I lay and listened to the silence without opening my eyes, but when I felt movement beside me I rolled my head and looked into her face.
"The storm is over," she said softly, and rose from the bed.
We walked out side by side into the early morning sunlight, blinking around us at the devastation which the storm had created. The island looked like the photographs of a World War I battlefield. The palms were stripped of their foliage, the bare masts pointed pathetically at the sky and the earth below was littered thickly with palm fronds and coconuts. The stillness hung over it all, no breath of wind, and the sky was pale milky blue, still filled with a haze of sand and sea.
From their cave Chubby and Angelo emerged, like big bear and little bear, at the end of winter. They too stood and looked about them uncertainly.
Suddenly Angelo let out a Comanche whoop and leaped four feet in the air. After five days of forced confinement his animal spirits could no longer be suppressed. He took off through the palm trees like a greyhound.
"Last one in the water is a fascist," he shouted, and Sherry was the first to accept the challenge. She was ten paces behind him when they hit the beach but they dived simultaneously into the lagoon, fully clad, and began immediately pelting each other with handfuls of wet sand. Chubby and I followed at a sedate pace more in keeping with our years. Still wearing his vividly striped pyjamas, Chubby lowered his ma.s.sive hams into the sea.
"I got to tell you, man, that feels good," he admitted gravely. I drew deeply on my cheroot as I sat beside him waist deep, then I handed him the b.u.t.t.
"We lost five days, Chubby," I said, and immediately he scowled.
"Let"s get busy," he growled, sitting in the lagoon in yellow and purple striped pyjamas, cheroot in his mouth, like a big brown bullfrog.
from the peak we looked down into the shallow waters of the lagoon and although they were still a Flittle murky with spindrift and churned sand, yet the whaleboat was clearly visible. She had drifted sideways in the bay and was lying on the bottom in twenty feet of water with the yellow tarpaulin still covering her deck.
We raised the whaleboat with air bags and once her gunwales broke the surface we were able to bale her out and row her into the beach. The rest of that day was needed to unload the waterlogged cargo, clean and dry it, pump the air bottles, jet the motors- aboard and prepare for the next visit to Gunfire Reef.
I was beginning to become, seriously concerned by the delays which had left us sitting on the island, day after day, while Manny Resnick and his merry men cut away the lead we had started with.
That evening we discussed it around the campfire, and agreed that we had made also no progress in ten days other than to confirm that part of the Dawn Light"s wreckage had fallen into the pool.
However, the tides were set fair for an early start in the morning and Chubby ran us through the channel with hardly sufficient light to recognize the coral snags, and when we took up our station in the back of the reef the sun was only just showing its blazing upper rim above the horizon.
During the five days we had lain ash.o.r.e, Sherry"s hands had almost entirely healed, and although I suggested tactfully that she should allow Chubby to accompany me for the next few days, my tact and concern were wasted. Sherry North was suited and finned and Chubby sat in the stern beside the motors holding us on station.
Sherry and I went down fast, and entered the forest of sea bamboo, picking up position from the markers that Chubby and I had left on our last dive.
We were working in close to the base of the coral cliff and I placed Sherry on the inside berth where it would be easier to hold position in the search pattern while she orientated herself.
We had hardly begun the first leg and had swum fifty feet from the last marker when Sherry tapped urgently on her bottles to attract my attention and I pushed my way through the bamboo to her.
She was hanging against the side of the coral cliff upside down like a bat, closely examining a fall of coral and debris that had slid down to the floor of the pool. She was in deep shade under the loom of dark coral so I was at her side before I saw what had attracted her.
Propped against the cliff, its bottom end lying in the mound of debris and weed, was a long cylindrical object which itself was heavily infested with marine growth and had already been partially ingested by the living coral.
Yet its size and regular shape indicated that it was man, made - for it was nine feet long and twenty inches thick, perfectly rounded and slightly tapered.
Sherry was studying it with interest and when I came up she turned to meet me and made signs of incomprehension. I had recognized what it was immediately and the skin of my forearms and at the nape of my neck felt p.r.i.c.kly with excitement. I made a pistol of my thumb and forefinger and mimed the act of firing it, but she did not understand and shook her head so I scribbled quickly on the underwater slate and showed it to her.
"Cannon." She nodded vigorously, rolled her eyes and blew bubbles to register triumph before turning back to the cannon.
It was about the correct size to be one of the long ninepounders that had formed part of the Dawn Light"s armament but there was no chance that I should be able to read any inscription upon it, for the surface was crocodileskinned with growth and corrosion. Unlike the bronze bell that Jimmy North had recovered, it had not been buried in the sand to protect it.
I floated down along the ma.s.sive barrel examining it closely and almost immediately found another cannon in the deeper gloom nearer the cliff. However, three-quarters of this weapon had been incorporated into the cliff, built into it by the living coral polyps.
I swam in closer, ducking under the first barrel and went into the jumble of debris and fallen coral blocks. I was within two feet of this amorphous ma.s.s when with a shock which constricted my breathing and flushed warmly through my blood I recognized what I was looking at.
Quickly and excitedly I finned over the mound of debris, finding where it ended and. the unbroken coral began, forcing my way up through the sea bamboo to estimate its size, and pausing to examine any opening or irregularity in it.
The total ma.s.s of debris was the size of a couple of railway Pullman coaches, but it was only when I pushed aside a larger floating clump of weed and peered into the squared opening of a gun port, from which the muzzle of a cannon still protruded and which had not been completely altered in shape by the encroaching coral, that I was certain that what we had discovered was the entire forward section of the frigate Daurn Light, broken off just behind the main mast.
I looked around wildly for Sherry and saw her finned feet protruding from another portion of the wreckage. I pulled her out, removed her mouthpiece and kissed her l.u.s.tily before replacing it. She was laughing with excitement and when I signalled her that we were ascending, she shook her head vehemently and shot away from me to continue her explorations. It was fully fifteen minutes later that I was able to drag her away and take her up to the whaleboat.
We both began talking at once the moment we had the rubber mouthpieces out of the way. My voice is louder than hers, but she is more persistent. It took me some minutes to a.s.sert my rights as expedition leader and I could-begin to describe it to Chubby.
"It"s the Dawn Light sure enough. The weight of her armament and cargo must have pulled her down the instant she was clear of the reef. She went down like a stone, and she is lying against the foot of the cliff Some of her cannons have fallen out of the hull, and they"re lying jumbled around it-"
"We didn"t recognize it at first," Sherry chimed in again, just when I had her quiet&led down. "It"s like a rubbish dump. just an enormous heap."
"From what I could judge she must have broken her back abaft the main mast, but she"s been smashed up badly for most of her length. The cannon must have torn up her gundeck and it"s only the two ports nearest the bows that are intact, -" "How does she lier Chubby demanded, coming immediately to the pith of the matter.
"She"s bottom up," I admitted. "She must have rolled as she went down."
"That makes it a real problem, unless you can get in at a gun port or under the waist," Chubby growled.
"I had a good look," I told him, "but I couldn"t find a point at which we could penetrate the hull. Even the gunports are solid with growth."
Chubby shook his head mournfully. "Man, looks like this place is badly hexed," and immediately all three of us made the cross-fingered sign against it.
Angelo told him primly, "You talking up a storm. Shouldn"t say that, hear?" but Chubby shook his head again, and his face collapsed into pessimistic folds.
I slapped him on his back and asked him, "Is it true that you pa.s.s iced water - even in hot weather? and my attempt at humour made him look as cheerfal as an unemployed undertaker.
leave Chubby alone," Sherry came to his rescue. Let"s go down again and try and find a break in the hull." "We"ll take half an hour"s rest," I said, "a smoke and a mug of coffee - then we"ll go take another look."
We stayed down so long on the second dive that Chubby had to sound the triple recall signal - and when we surfaced the pool was boiling. The cyclone had left a legacy of high surf, and on the rising tide it was coming in heavily across the reef and pounding in through the gap, higher in the channel than we had ever known it.
We clung to the thwarts in silence as Chubby took us home on a wild ride, and it was only when we entered the quieter waters of the lagoon that we could continue the discussion.
"She"s as tight as the Chatwood lock on the national safe deposit," I told them. "The one gun port is blocked by-the cannon, and I got into the other about four feet before I ran into part of the bulkhead which must have collapsed. It"s the den of a big old Moray eel that looks like a python - he"s got teeth on him like a bulldog and he and I aren"t friends."
"What about the waist?" Chubby demanded.
"No," I said, "she"s settled down heavily, and the coral has closed her up."
Chubby put on an expression which meant that he had told us so. I could have beaten him over the head with a spanner, he was so smug - but I ignored him and showed them the piece of woodwork that I had prised off the hull with a crowbar.
"The coral has closed everything up solid. It"s like those old forests that have been petrified into stone. The Dawn light is a ship of stone, armour-plated with coral. There is only one way we will get into her and that is to pop her open.
Chubby nodded, "That"s the way to do it," and Sherry wanted to know: "But if you use explosive, won"t it just blow everything to bits?"
"We won"t use an atomic bomb," I told her. We"ll start with half a stick in the forward gunport. just enough to kick out a chunk of that coral plating," and I turned back to Chubby. "We need that gelignite right away, every hour is precious now, Chubby. We"ve got a good moon. Can you take us back to St. Mary"s tonight?" and Chubby did not bother to answer such a superfluous question. It was an indirect slur on his seamanship.
There was a homed moon, with a pale halo around it. The atmosphere was still full of dust from the big winds. The stars also were misty and very far away, but the cyclone had blown great ma.s.ses of oceanic plankton into the channel so that the sea was a glowing phosph.o.r.escent ma.s.s wherever it was disturbed.
Our wake glowed green and long, spread behind us like a peac.o.c.k"s tail, and the movement of fish beneath the surface shone like meteors. Sherry dipped her hand over the side and brought it out burning with a weird and liquid flame, and she cooed with wonder.
Later when she was sleepy she lay against my chest under the tarpaulin I had spread to keep off the damp and we listened to the booming of the giant manta rays out in the open water as they leaped high and fell to smack the surface of the sea with their flat bellies and tons of dead weight.
It was long after midnight when we raised the lights of St. -Mary"s like a diamond necklace around the throat of the island.
The streets were utterly deserted as we left the whaleboat at her moonngs and walked up to Chubby"s house. Missus Chubby opened to us in a dressing-gown that made Chubby"s pyjamas look conservative. She had her hair in large pink plastic curlers. I had never seen her without a hat before and I was surprised that she was not as bald as her spouse. They looked so alike in every other way.
She gave us coffee before Sherry and I climbed into the pick-up and drove to Turtle Bay. The bedclothes were damp and needed airing but neither of us complained.
I stopped at the Post Office in the early morning and"my box was half filled, mostly with fishing equipment catalogues and junk mail, but there were a few letters from old clients inquiring for charter - that gave me a pang - and one of the buff cable envelopes which I opened last. Cables have always borne bad news for me. Whenever I see one of those envelopes with my name peering out of the window like a long-term prisoner I have this queasy feeling in my stomach.
The message read: "MANDRAKE SAILED CAPETOWN OUTWARD BOUND ZANZIBAR 12.00 HOURS FRIDAY 16TH. STEVE."
My premonitions of evil were confirmed. Mandrake had left Cape Town six days ago. She had made a faster pa.s.sage than I would have believed possible. I felt like rushing to the top of Coolie Peak to search the horizon. Instead I pa.s.sed the cable to Sherry and drove down to Frobisher Street.
Fred c.o.ker was just opening the street door of his travel agency as I parked outside Missus Eddy"s store and sent Sherry in with a shopping list while I walked on down the street to the Agency.
Fred c.o.ker had not seen me since I had dropped him moaning on the floor of his own morgue, and now he was sitting at his desk in a white shark-skin suit and wearing a necktie which depicted a Hula girl on a palm-lined beach and the legend "Welcome to St. Mary"s! Pearl of the Indian Ocean."
He looked up with a smile that went well with the tie, but the moment he recognized me his expression changed to utter dismay. He let out a bleat like an orphan lamb and shot out of his chair, heading for the back room.
I blocked his escape and he backed away before me, his gold-rimmed gla.s.ses glittering like the sheen of nervous sweat that covered his face until the chair caught him in the back of his knees and he collapsed into it. Only then did I give him my big friendly grin - and I thought he would faint with relief.
"How are you, Mister c.o.ker?" He tried to answer but his voice failed him. Instead he nodded his head so rapidly that I understood he was very well.
"I want you to do me a favour."
"Anything," he gabbled, suddenly recovering the power of speech.
"Anything, Mister Harry, you have only to ask." Despite his protestations it took him only a few minutes to recover his courage and wits. He listened to my very reasonable request for three cases of high explosive, and went into a pantomime to impress me with the utter impossibility of compliance, He rolled his eyes, sucked in his cheeks and made clucking noises with his tongue.
"I want it by noon tomorrow - latest," and he clasped his forehead as if in agony.
"And if it"s not here by twelve o"clock precisely, you and I will continue our discussion on the insurance premiums-" He dropped his hand and sat upright, his expression once more willing and intelligent.
"That"s not necessary, Mister Harry. I can get what you ask - but it will cost a great deal of money. Three hundred dollars a case." "Put it on the slate," I told him.
"Mister Harry!" he cried, "you know I cannot extend credit."
I was silent, but I slitted my eyes, clenched my jaws and began to breathe deeply.
"Very well," he said hurriedly. "Until the end of the month, then."
"That"s very decent of you, Mister c.o.ker."
"It"s a pleasure, Mister Harry," he a.s.sured me. "A very great pleasure."
"There is just one other thing, Mr. c.o.ker," and I could see him mentally quail at my next request, but he braced himself like a hero.
"In the near future I expect to be exporting a small consignment to Zdrich in Switzerland." He sat a little forward in his seat. "I do not wish to be bothered with customs formalities - you understand?"
"I understand, Mister Harry."
"Do you ever have requests to send the body of one of your customers back to the near and dear?"