Hungry as the Sea (52 page)

“I have to go – I think it’s
Golden Dawn
,” he said, and she listened quietly while he told it to her, Only when he finished speaking did she begin to ask the questions which kept them talking quietly, locked in each other’s arms in the old brass bed, until long after midnight.

She insisted on cooking his breakfast for him, even though it was still dark outside and she was more than half asleep, hanging on to the range for support and turning up the early morning radio show so that the music might shake her awake. “Good morning, early birds, this is W. W. O. K. with another lovely day ahead of you. A predicted 8 S at Fort Lauderdale and the coast, and 80 inland with a 10% chance of rain. We’ve got a report on hurricane Lorna for you also. She’s dipping away south, towards the lesser Antilles – so we can all relax, folks – relax and listen to Elton John.”

“I love elton John, Samantha said sleepily. Don’t you?”

“Who’s he?” Nicholas asked.

“There! I knew right away we had a lot in common.” She blinked at him owlishly. “Did you kiss me good morning?”

“I forget. Come here,” he instructed.

“You’re not going to forget this one.” Then, a few minutes later, “Nicholas, you’ll miss your plane.”

“Not if I cut breakfast.”

“It would have been a grotty breakfast anyway.” She was coming awake fast now.

She gave him the last kiss through the open window of the Cougar. “You’ve got an hour – you’ll just about make it.” He started the engine and still she held on to the sill. “Nicholas, one day we will be together – I mean all the time, like we planned? You and me doing our own thing, our own way? We will, won’t we?”

“It’s a promise.”

“Hurry back,” she said, and he gunned the Cougar up the sandy driveway without looking back.

Chapter 45

There were eight of them crowded into Tom Parker’s office. Although there was only seating for three, the others found perches against the tiered shelves with their rows of biological specimens in bottles of formaldehyde or on the piles of reference books and white papers that were stacked against the walls.

Samantha sat on the corner of Tom’s desk, swinging her long denim-clad legs, and answered the questions that were fired at her.

“How do you know she will take the passage of the Florida Straits?”

“It’s an educated guess. She’s just too big and clumsy to thread the needle of the islands.” Samantha’s replies were quick.

“Nicholas is betting on it. I’ll go along with that then,” Tom grunted.

“The Straits are a hundred miles wide –”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Samantha smiled, and turned to one of the other girls. “Sally-Anne will answer that one.”

“You all know my brother is in the coast Guard – all traffic through the Straits reports to Fort Lauderdale,” she explained. “And the coastguard aircraft patrol out as far as Grand Bahama. We’ll have a fix on her immediately she enters the straits – we’ve got the whole U. S. Coast Guard rooting for us.”

They argued and discussed for ten minutes more, before Tom Parker slapped an open palm on the desk in front of him and they subsided reluctantly into silence. “Okay,” he said. “Do I understand the proposal to be that this chapter of Green-Peace intercepts the tanker carrying cad-rich crudes before it enters American territorial waters and attempts to delay or divert the ship?”

“That’s exactly it,” Samantha nodded, and looked about her for support. They were all nodding and murmuring agreement.

“What are we trying to achieve? Do we truly believe that we will be able to hold up the delivery of toxic crudes to the refinery at Galveston? Let’s define our objectives,” Tom insisted.

“In order for evil men to triumph it is necessary only that good men do nothing. We are doing something.”

“Bullshit, Sam,” Tom growled.

“Let’s cut down on the rhetoric – it’s one of the things that does us more harm than good. You talk like a nut and you discredit yourself before you have begun.”

“All right,” Samantha grinned. “We are publicizing the dangers, and our opposition to them.”

“Okay,” Tom nodded. “That’s better. What are our other objectives?”

They discussed that for twenty minutes more, and then Tom Parker took over again. “Fine, now how do we get out there in the Straits to confront this vessel – do we put on our water-wings and swim?”

Even Samantha looked sheepish now. She glanced around for support, but the others were studying their fingernails or gazing with sudden fascination out of the windows.

“Well, Samantha began,” and then hesitated. “We thought –”

“Go on,” Tom encouraged her. “Of course, you weren’t thinking of using University property, were you? There is actually a law in this country against taking other people’s ships – it’s called piracy.”

“As a matter of fact –” Samantha gave a helpless shrug.

“And as a senior and highly respected member of the faculty, you would not expect me to be party to a criminal act.” They were all silent, watching Samantha, for she was their leader, but for once she was at a loss. “On the other hand, if a party of graduate researchers put in a requisition, through the proper channels, I would be quite happy to authorize an extended field expedition across the Straits to Grand Bahama on board the Dicky.”

“Tom, you’re a darling,” said Samantha.

“That’s a hell of a way to speak to your Professor,” said Tom, and scowled happily at her.

Chapter 46

“They came in on the British Airways flight from Heathrow yesterday afternoon. Three of them, here is a list of the names,” Bernard Wackie slid a notepad across the desk, and Nicholas glanced at it quickly.

“Charles Gras – I know him, he’s Chief Engineer at Construction Navale Atlantique, “Nicholas explained.

“Right,” Bernard nodded. “He gave his occupation and employer to immigration.”

“Isn’t that privileged information?”

Bernard grinned. “I keep my ear to the ground,” and then he was deadly serious again. “All right, so these three engineers have a small suitcase each and a crate in the hold. It weighs in at three hundred and fifty kilos, and it’s marked Industrial Machinery.”

“Don’t stop now,” Nicholas encouraged him.

“And there is an S6iN Sikorsky helicopter sitting waiting for them on the tarmac. The helicopter has been chartered direct from London by Christy Marine of Leadenhall Street. The three engineers and the case of machinery are shuttled aboard the Sikorsky so fast that it looks like a conjuring trick, and she takes off and egg-beats for the south.”

“Did the Sikorsky pilot file a flight-plan?”

“Sure did. Servicing shipping, course 196 magnetic. ETA to be reported.”

“What’s the range of the 6iN – 500 nautical miles?”

“Not bad,” Bernard conceded. “533 for the standard, but this model has long-range tanks, she’s good for 750. But that’s one way, not the return journey. The helicopter hasn’t returned to Bermuda yet. She could refuel aboard – or, if they aren’t carrying av-gas, she could stay on until final destination.”

Nicholas said. “What else have you got?”

“You want more?” Bernard looked aghast. “Doesn’t anything ever satisfy you?”

“Did you monitor the communications between Bermuda Control, the chopper, and the ship she was servicing?”

“Nix,” Bernard shook his head. “There was a box-up.” He looked shamefaced. It happens to the best of us.”

“Spare me the details. Can you get information from Bermuda Control of the time the chopper closed her flight-plan?”

“Jesus, Nicholas, you know better than that. It’s an offence to listen in on the aviation frequencies, let alone ask them.”

Nicholas jumped up, and crossed swiftly to the perspex plot. He brooded over it, leaning on clenched fists, his expression smouldering as he studied the large-scale map.

“What does all this mean to you, Nicholas?” Bernard came to stand beside him.

“It means that a vessel at sea, belonging to the Christy Marine fleet, has requested its head office to send machinery spares and specialist personnel by the fastest possible means, without regard to expense. Have you figured the air freight on a package of 350  kilos?” Nicholas straightened up and groped for the crocodile-skin cheroot case. “It means that the vessel is broken down or in imminent danger of breakdown somewhere in an area south-west of Bermuda, within an arc of four hundred and fifty miles probably much closer, otherwise she would have requested service from the Bahamas, and it’s highly unlikely they would have operated the chopper at extreme range.”

“Right,” Bernard agreed.

Nicholas lit his cheroot and they were both silent a moment. “A hell of a small needle in a bloody big haystack,” said Bernard.

“You let me worry about that,” Nicholas murmured, still without taking his eyes from the plot.

“That’s what you are paid for,” Bernard agreed amiably. “It’s
Golden Dawn
, isn’t it?”

“Has Christy Marine got any other vessels in the area?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Then that was a bloody stupid question.”

“Take it easy, Nicholas.”

“I’m sorry.” Nicholas touched his arm. “My boy’s on that pig.” He took a deep draw on the cheroot, held it a moment, and then slowly exhaled. His voice was calm and businesslike, as he went on: “What’s our weather?”

“Wind at 060 knots. Cloud three eighths stratocumulus at four thousand feet. Long-range projection, no change.”

“Steady trade winds again,” Nicholas nodded. “Thank God for all small mercies.”

“There is a hurricane warning out, as you know, but on its present position and track, it will blow itself out to sea a thousand miles south of Grand Bahamas.”

“Good,” Nicholas nodded again. “Please ask both
Warlock
and Sea Witch to report their positions, course, speed and fuel-conditions.”

Bernard had the two telex flimsies for him within twenty minutes.

“Warlock has made a good run of it,” Nicholas murmured, as the position of the tug was marked on the plot.

“She crossed the equator three days ago,” said Bernard.

“And Sea Witch will reach Charleston late tomorrow,” Nicholas observed.

“Are any of the opposition inside us?”

Bernard shook his head. “McCormick has one in New York and Wittezee is halfway back to Rotterdam.”

“We are in good shape,” Nicholas decided, as he balanced the triangles of relative speeds and distances between the vessels. “Is there another chopper available on the island to get me out to Warlock?”

“No,” Bernard shook his head. “The 6iN is the only one based on Bermuda.”

“Can you arrange bunkering for Warlock, I mean immediate bunkering – here in Hamilton?”

“We can have her tanks filled an hour after she comes in.”

Nicholas paused and then made the decision. “Please telex David Allen on Warlock,

TO MASTER WARLOCK FROM BERG IMMEDIATE AND URGENT NEW SPEED TOP OF THE GREEN NEW COURSE HAMILTON HARBOUR BERMUDA ISLAND DIRECT REPORT EXPECTED TIME OF ARRIVAL ENDS.”

“You’re going to run, then?” Bernard asked. “You are going to run with both your ships?”

“Yes,” Nicholas nodded. “I’m running with everything I’ve got.”

Chapter 47

Golden Dawn
wallowed with the dead heavy weight of one million tons of crude oil. Her motion was that of a waterlogged hulk. Broadside to the set of the swells, her tank decks were almost awash. The low seas broke against her starboard rail and the occasional crest flopped over and spread like pretty patches of white lace-work over the green plastic-coated decks. She had been drifting powerlessly for four days now.

The main bearing of the single propeller shaft had begun to run hot forty-eight hours after crossing the equator, and the Chief Engineer had asked for shut-down to inspect the bearing and effect any repairs. Duncan Alexander had forbidden any shut-down, over-riding the good judgement of both his Master and Chief Engineer, and had only grudgingly agreed to a reduction in the ship’s speed.

He ordered the Chief Engineer to trace any fault and to effect what repairs he could, while under reduced power.

Within four hours, the Chief had traced the damaged and leaking gland in the pump that force-lubricated the bearing, but even the running under reduced power setting had done significant damage to the main bearing, and now there was noticeable vibration, jarring even
Golden Dawn’s
massive hull.

“I have to get the pump stripped down or we’ll burn her clear out,” the chief faced up to Duncan Alexander at last. “Then you’ll have to shut down and not just a couple of hours either, It will take two days to fit new bearing shells at sea.” The Chief was pale and his lips trembled, for he knew of this man’s reputation. The engineer knew that he discarded those who crossed him, and he had the reputation of a special vindictiveness to hound a man until he was broken. The Chief was afraid, but his concern for the ship was just strong enough.

Duncan Alexander changed direction. “What was the cause of the pump failure in the first place? Why wasn’t it noticed earlier? It looks like a case of negligence to me.”

Stung at last, the Chief blurted out, “If there had been a back-up pump on this ship, we could have switched to secondary system and done proper maintenance.”

Duncan Alexander flushed and turned away. The modifications he had personally ordered to
Golden Dawn’s
design had excluded most of the duplicated back-up systems; anything that kept down the cost of construction had been ordered.

“How long do you need?” He stopped in the centre of the owner’s stateroom and glared at his engineer.

“Four hours,” the Scot replied promptly.

“You’ve got exactly four hours,” he said grimly. “If you haven’t finished by then you will live to regret it. I swear that to you.”

While the engineer stopped his engines, stripped, repaired and reassembled the lubrication pump, Duncan was on the bridge with the master. “We’ve lost time, too much time, he said. I want that made up.”

“It will mean pushing over best economic speed,” Captain Randle warned carefully.