Bagley, Desmond - The Golden Keel
Page 22
Sanford was besieged. A boat was drawn up on the hard and another boat full of men was just landing. There was a fight going on round Sanford with men trying to climb up on to the deck and our working party valiantly trying to drive them off. I saw the small figure of old Palmerini; he had a rope with a block on the end of it which he whirled round his head like a medieval ball and chain. He whirled it once again and the block caught an attacker under the jaw and he toppled from the ladder he was climbing and fell senseless to the ground.
Palmerini's sons were battling desperately and I saw one go down. Then I saw Francesca wielding a boat-hook like a spear. She drove it at a boarder and the spike penetrated his thigh. He screamed shrilly and fell away, the boat-hook still sticking out of his leg. I saw the look of horror on Francesca's face and then drove home my little attack.
It was futile. We managed to relieve the beleaguered garrison on Sanford, but then we were outnumbered three to one and had to retreat up the yard. The attackers did not press us; they were so exultant at the capture of Sanford that they stayed with her and didn't follow us. We were lucky in their stupidity.
I looked around to see what was happening at the top of the yard. Coertze's party was closer than I had hoped -- he had been driven back, too, but he was not under attack and I wondered why. If both enemy groups now made a concerted effort we were lost.
I said to Francesca, "Duck under those sacks and stay quiet -- you may get away with it." Then I ran over to Coertze "What's happening?"
He grinned and wiped some blood from his cheek. "Our outside boys concentrated and hit Torloni hard on the other side of the wall, all fifteen of them. He can't retreat now -- anyone who tries to go back over the wall gets clobbered. I'm just getting my breath back before I hit 'em again."
I said, "They've got Sanford. They came in from the sea -- we're boxed in, too."
His chest heaved. "All right; we'll hit 'em down there."
I looked up the yard. "No," I said. "Look, there's Torloni."
We could see him under the wall, yelling at his men, .whipping them up for another attack. I said, "We attack up the yard -- all of us -- and we hope that the crowd at the back of us stay put for the time we need. We're going to snatch Torloni himself. Where's Piero?"
"I am here."
"Good! Tell your boys to attack when I give the signal. You stay with Coertze and me, and the three of us will make for Torloni,"
I turned to find Francesca at my elbow. "I thought I told you to duck out of sight."
She shook her head stubbornly. Old Palmerini was behind her, so I said, "See that she stays here, old friend."
He nodded and put his arm round her. I said to Coertze, "Remember, we want Torloni -- we don't stop for anything else."
Then we attacked up the yard. The three of us, Coertze, Piero and I, made a flying wedge, evading anyone who tried to Hop us. We didn't fight, we just ran. Coertze had grasped die idea and was running as though he was on a rugby field making an effort for the final try.
The goal line was Torloni and we were on to him before be properly realised what was happening. He snarled and blue steel showed in his hand.
"Spread out!" I yelled, and we separated, coming at him from three sides. The gun in his hand flamed and Coertze staggered; then Piero and I jumped him. I raised my arm and hit him hard with the edge of my hand; I felt his collar-bone break and he screamed and dropped the pistol.
With Torloni's scream a curious hush came over the yard. There was an uncertainty in his men as they looked back to see what was happening. I picked up the gun and held it to Torloni's head. "Call off your dogs or I'll blow your brains out" I said harshly.
I was as close to murder then as I have ever been. Torloni saw the look in my eyes and whitened. "Stop," he croaked.
"Louder," ordered Piero and squeezed his shoulder.
He screamed again, then he shouted, "Stop fighting -- stop fighting. Torloni says so."
His men were hirelings -- they fought for pay and if the boss was captured they wouldn't get paid. There is not much loyalty among mercenaries. There was an uncertain shuffling and a melting away of figures into the darkn ess.
Coertze was sitting on the ground, his hand to his shoulder. Blood was oozing between his fingers. He took his hand away I md looked at it with stupefied amazement. "The bastard I shot me," he said blankly.
I went over to him. "Are you all right?"
He held his shoulder again and got to his feet. "I'm O.K." He looked at Torloni sourly. "I've got a bone to pick with you."
"Later," I said. "Let's deal with the crowd at the bottom of the yard."
We were being reinforced rapidly by men climbing over the wall. This was our mobile force which had taken Torloni's men in the rear and had whipped them. In a compact mass we marched down the yard towards Sanford, Torloni being frog-marched in front.
As we came near Sanford I poked the pistol muzzle into Torloni's fleshy neck. "Tell them," I commanded.
He shouted, "Leave the boat. Go away. Torloni says this."
The men around Sanford looked at us expressionlessly and made no move. Piero squeezed Torloni's shoulder again. "Aaah. Leave the boat, I tell you," he yelled.
They raised their eyes to the crowd behind us, realised they were outnumbered, and slowly began to drift towards the hard where their boats were drawn up. Piero said quietly, "These are the men from La Spezia. That man in the blue jersey is their leader, Morlaix; he is a Frenchman from Marseilles." He looked speculatively at their boats. "You may have trouble with him yet. He does not care if Torloni lives or dies."
I watched Morlaix's crowd push their boats into the water. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," I said. "We've got to get out of here. Somebody might have notified the police about this brawl -- we made enough noise, and there was a gunshot. Did we have many casualties?"
"I don't know; I will find out."
Palmerini came pushing through the crowd with Franceses at his side. "The boat is not harmed," he said. "We can put her into the water at any time."
"Thanks," I said. I looked at Francesca and made a quick decision. "Still want to come?"
"Yes, I'm coming."
"O.K. You won't have time to pack, though. We're leaving within the hour."
She smiled. "I have a small suitcase already packed. It has been ready for a week."
Coertze was standing guard over Torloni. "What do we do with this one?" he asked.
I said, "We take him with us a little way. We may need him yet. Francesca, Kobus was shot; will you strap him up?"
"Oh, I didn't know," she said. "Where is the wound?"
"In the shoulder," said Coertze absently. He was watching Walker on the deck of Sanford. "Where was that kerel when the trouble started?"
"I don't know," I said. "I never saw him from start to finish."
IV
We put Sanford into the water very easily; there were plenty of willing hands. I felt better with a living, moving deck under my feet than I had for a long time. Before I went aboard for die last time I took Piero on one side.
"Tell the Count I've taken Francesca away," I said. "I think it's better this way -- Torloni might look for revenge. You men can look after yourselves, but I wouldn't like to leave her here."
"That is the best thing," he said.
"If Torloni wants to start any more funny tricks you know what to do now. Don't go for his men -- go for Torloni. He cracks easily under direct pressure. I'll make it clear to him that if he starts any of his nonsense he'll wind up floating somewhere in the bay. What did you find out about casualties?"
"Nothing serious," said Piero. "One broken arm, three stab wounds, three or four concussions."
"I'm glad no one was killed," I said. "I wouldn't have liked that. I think Francesca would like to speak to you, so I'll leave you to it."
We shook hands warmly and I went aboard. Piero was a fine man -- a good man to have beside you in a fight.
He and Francesca talked toge
ther for a while and then she came on board. She was crying a little and I put my arm about her to comfort her. It's not very pleasant to leave one's native land at the best of times, and leaving in these circumstances the unpleasantness was doubled. I sat in the cockpit with my hand on the tiller and Walker started the engine. As soon as I heard it throb I threw it into gear and we moved away slowly.
For a long time we could see the little patch of light in front of the shed speckled with the waving Italians. They waved although they could not see us in the darkness and I felt sad at leaving them. "We'll come back sometime," I said to Francesca.
"No," she said quietly. "We'll never be back."
V
We pressed on into the darkness at a steady six knots making our way due south to clear the Portovento headland. I looked up at the mast dimly outlined against the stars and wondered how long it would take to fix the running rigging. The deck was a mess, making nonsense of the term "ship-shape," but we couldn't do anything about that until it was light. Walker was below and Coertze was on the foredeck keeping guard on Torloni. Francesca and I conversed in low tones in the cockpit, talking of when we would be able to get married. , Coertze called out suddenly, "When are we going to get rid of this garbage? He wants to know. He thinks we're going to put him over the side and he says he can't swim."
"We'll slip inshore close to Portovento," I said. "We'll put him ashore in the dinghy."
Coertze grumbled something about it being better to get rid of Torloni there and then, and relapsed into silence. Francesca said, "Is there something wrong with the engine? It seems to be making a strange noise."
I listened and there was a strange noise -- but it wasn't our engine. I throttled back and heard the puttering of an outboard motor quite close to starboard.
"Get below quickly," I said, and called to Coertze in a low voice, "We've got visitors."
He came aft swiftly. I pointed to starboard and, in the faint light of the newly risen moon, we could see the white feather of a bow wave coming closer. A voice came across the water. "Monsieur Englishman, can you hear me?"
"It's Morlaix," I said, and raised my voice. "Yes, I can hear you."
"We are coming aboard," he shouted. "It is useless to resist."
"You stay clear," I called. "Haven't you had enough?"
Coertze got up with a grunt and went forward. I pulled Torloni's gun from my pocket and cocked it.
"There are only four of you," shouted Morlaix. "And many more of us."
The bow wave of his boat was suddenly much closer and I could see the boat more clearly. It was full of men. Then it . was alongside and, as it came close enough to bump gunwales, Morlaix jumped to the deck of Sanford. He was only four feet away from me so I shot him in the leg and he gave a shout and fell overboard.
Simultaneously Coertze rose, lifting in one hand the struggling figure of Torloni. "Take this rubbish," he shouted and hurled Torloni at the rush of men coming on deck. Torloni wailed and the flying body bowled them over, and they fell back into their boat.
I took advantage of the confusion by suddenly bearing to port and the gap between the boats widened rapidly. Their boat seemed to be out of control -- I imagine that the steersman had been knocked down.
They didn't bother us again. We could hear them shouting in the distance as they fished Morlaix from the water, but they made no further attack. They had no stomach for guns.
Our wake broadened in the moonlight as we headed for the open sea. We had a deadline to meet in Tangier and time was short.
BOOK THREE: THE SEA
VIII. CALM AND STORM
We had fair winds at first and Sanford made good time. As I had suspected, the greater concentration of weight in the keel made her crotchety. In a following sea she rolled abominably, going through a complete cycle in two minutes. With the wind on the quarter, usually Sanford's best point of sailing, every leeward roll was followed by a lurch in the opposite direction and her mast described wide arcs against the sky.
There was nothing to be done about it so it had to be suffered. The only cure was to have the ballast spread out more and that was the one thing we couldn't do. The violent motion affected Coertze most of all; he wasn't a good sailor at the best of times and the wound in his shoulder didn't help.
With the coming of dawn after that momentous and violent night we lay hove-to just out of sight of land and set to work on the running rigging. It didn't take long -- Palmerini had done more in that direction than I'd expected -- and soon we were on our way under sail. It was then that the crankiness of Sanford made itself evident, and I experimented for a while to see what I could do, but the cure was beyond me so I stopped wasting time and we pressed on.
We soon fell into our normal watchkeeping routine, modified by the presence of Francesca, who took over the cooking from Coertze. During small boat voyages one sees very little of the other members of the crew apart from the times when the watch is changed, but Walker was keeping more to himself than ever. Sometimes I caught him watching me and he would start and roll his eyes like a frightened horse and look away quickly. He .was obviously terrified that I would tell Coertze about the cigarette case. I had no such intention -- I needed Walker to help run Sanford -- but I didn't tell him so. Let him sweat, I thought callously.
Coertze's shoulder was not so bad; it was a clean flesh wound and Francesca kept it well tended. I insisted that he sleep in the quarter berth where the motion was least violent, and this led to a general post. I moved to the port pilot berth in the main cabin while Francesca had the starboard pilot berth. She rigged up a sailcloth curtain in front of it to give herself a modicum of privacy.
This meant that Walker was banished to the forecastle to sleep on the hitherto unused pipe berth. This was intended for a guest in p ort and not for use at sea; it was uncomfortable and right in the bows where the motion is most felt. Serve him damn' well right, I though uncharitably. But it meant that we saw even less of him.
We made good time for the first five days, logging over a hundred miles a day crossing the Ligurian Sea. Every day I shot the sun and contentedly admired the course line on the chart as it stretched even farther towards the Balearics. I derived great pleasure from teaching Francesca how to handle Sanford; she was an apt pupil and made no more than the usual beginner's mistakes.
I observed with some amusement that Coertze seemed to have lost his antipathy towards her. He was a changed man, not as prickly as before. The gold was safe under his feet and I think the fight in the boatyard had worked some of the Violence out of him. At any rate, he and Francesca got on well together at last, and had long conversations about South Africa.
Once she asked him what he was going to do with his share of the spoil. He smiled. "I'm going to buy a plaas" he said complacently.
"A what?"
"A farm," I translated. "All Afrikaners are farmers at heart; they even call themselves farmers -- boers- -- at least they used to."
I think that those first five days after leaving Italy were the best sea days of the whole voyage. We never had better days before and we certainly didn't have any afterwards.
On the evening of the fifth day the wind dropped and the next day it kept fluctuating as though it didn't know what to do next. The strength varied between force three and dead calm and we had a lot of sail work to do. That day we only logged seventy miles.
At dawn the next day there was a dead calm. The sea was slick and oily and coming in long even swells. Our tempers tended to fray during the afternoon when there was nothing to do but watch the mast making lazy circles against the sky, while the precious hours passed and we made no way towards Tangier. I got tired of hearing the squeak of the boom in the gooseneck so I put up the crutch and we lashed down the boom. Then I went below to do some figuring at the chart table.
We had logged twenty miles, noon to noon, and at that rate we would reach Tangier about three months too late. I checked the fuel tank and found we had fifteen gallons left -- that would take
us 150 miles in thirty hours at our most economical speed. It would be better than sitting still and listening to the halyards slatting against the mast, so I started the engine and we were on our way again.
I chafed at the use of fuel -- it was something we might need in an emergency -- but this was an emergency, anyway, so I might as well use it; it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. We ploughed through the still sea at a steady five knots and I laid a course to the south of the Balearics, running in close to Majorca. If for some reason we had to put into port I wanted a port to be handy, and Palma was the nearest.
All that night and all the next morning we ran under power. There was no wind nor was there any sign that there was ever going to be any wind ever again. The sky was an immaculate blue echoing the waveless sea and. I felt like hell. With no wind a sailing boat is helpless, and what would we do when the fuel ran out?
I discussed it with Coertze. "I'm inclined to put in to Palma," I said. "We can fill up there."
He threw a cigarette stub over the side. "It's a damn' waste of time. We'd be going off course, and what if they keep us waiting round there?"
I said, "It'll be a bigger waste of time if we're left without power. This calm could go on for days."
"I've been looking at the Mediterranean Pilot," he said. "It says the percentage of calms at this time of year isn't high."
"You can't depend on that -- those figures are just averages. This could go on for a week."
He sighed. "You're the skipper," he said. "Do the best you can."
So I altered course to the north and we ran for Palma. I checked on the fuel remaining and doubted if we'd make it -- but we did. We motored into the yacht harbour at Palma with the engine coughing on the last of the fuel. As we approached the mooring jetty the engine expired and we drifted the rest of the way by momentum.
It was then I looked up and saw Metcalfe.
II
We cut the Customs formalities short by saying that we weren't going ashore and that we had only come in for fuel. The Customs officer commiserated with us on the bad sailing weather and said he would telephone for a chandler to come down and see to our needs.