The Boy and the Battleship

by Christopher Cummings

  “Who is he?” One of the men asked. “Do ya reckon he’s workin’ fer the coppers?”

  “Shut up, Roper! Get him into the cabin out of sight,” Mellish said.

  Strong hands quickly bound Graham hand and foot with short lengths of rope. An old rag was shoved hard into his mouth, further loosening several teeth and causing blood to seep down Graham’s gullet. The men then lifted him and roughly bundled him along the deck past the fishing nets and into the outboard door. Inside a cabin he was dumped on a bunk covered by rough and smelly blankets.

  The four men crowded into the cabin. Graham was very scared now. It came to him that these were very dangerous men. If they are planning to sink a ship and kill people with a mine then they might kill me, he thought. At that he began to sweat and shiver. Desperately he looked around for a way of escape. His gag was hauled out, half ripping a tooth from his gums. Blood welled into his mouth adding to his growing feeling of nausea.

  Mellish stepped forward and slapped him hard on the face. “OK kid. Who are you? What are you doin’ on my boat?”

  Graham still refused to answer. Mellish snapped at the man named Roper: “Search the little shit.”

  Roper turned out Graham’s pockets but found nothing. Mellish and Steinwehr moved into the wheelhouse next door and muttered in low tones. After a few minutes Mellish came back into the cabin and said, “Find out who he is and what he was doing here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Mellish again left the cabin. Roper stepped forward. “Righto kid, you’d better tell us or you are gunna get hurt. Got it? You can make this easy on yourself or hard. Either way we will find out. So, what’s your name?”

  Graham went cold with fear. Even so, he refused to answer. He swallowed blood and saliva to stop himself gagging and tried to push the loose tooth back into place with his tongue. Roper grinned and slapped him on both cheeks; fast, stinging blows which made Graham’s head reel. Still Graham would not answer, so he was slapped again and again till his cheeks and forehead throbbed and began to go numb.

  Mellish returned to the cabin alone. He gestured the men aside and grabbed Graham’s shirt front with strong hands stinking of fish and tobacco. “Now kid, start to co-operate. Answer the questions or I’ll make it so painful you will wish you had never been born.”

  To reinforce the threat, Mellish produced a wicked looking fish knife and laid the blade on Graham’s cheek. At the touch of the cold steel Graham flinched and real terror gripped him. He felt his testicles contract and his bowels went loose. Only with an effort did he avoid emptying them.

  Mellish gestured to the two men. “Get his shirt off.”

  Graham felt almost paralysed with fear and shook his head in disbelief. “No. Don’t!” he cried. The men ignored him and tore his shirt off, leaving the rags around his arms. Graham began to tremble from fear and shame.

  Mellish leaned down and Graham felt the point of the knife dig in under the fingernail on his left thumb. The pain was so sudden and so sharp he cried out and found it hard to believe something so small could hurt so much.

  “No, don’t, please. I haven’t stolen anything. Let me go please!” Graham pleaded. In his mind raced mortal dread, along with a shocked realization that he might never get to live another day.

  Mellish inserted the knife point under his left forefinger fingernail and pushed. His eyes were flat and hard and so was the expression on his face. “Are you a thief then?” he queried, jabbing with the knife so that Graham felt a hot pain in his left hand which made him gasp in shock.

  “Yes. Yes. I… I was just looking for things to pinch,” Graham lied.

  “So what were you hiding under the tarp for?”

  “Because that man there came out on deck and it was the closest hiding place,” Graham replied. The knife point was pressing in harder causing a searing pain to shoot through him. Nausea welled up causing his stomach to heave. He managed to swallow the bile and vomit but could feel his resistance rapidly crumbling. His mind raced, trying to decide whether it mattered if he told the men who he was. In the end he decided he should say nothing as the men seemed doubtful.

  Mellish eased the pressure then suddenly reapplied it, sending searing waves of sheer agony through Graham. “So what’s your name?” Mellish persisted. The knife point jabbed and twisted again. Graham felt completely humiliated as well as helpless. Stubbornly, he refused to answer. When Mellish realized this he jabbed harder. Waves of pain engulfed Graham and he vomited and almost blacked out.

  Suddenly Roper cried out, “There’s a name on his shirt boss.”

  The rags were jerked loose savagely and Graham watched through a swimming mist of nausea as Mellish snatched the torn cloth and read the name tag inside the collar. “Graham Kirk eh? Now where have I heard that name? Come on kid, cough up or I will really hurt you.”

  The knife jabbed in again and Graham tried to squirm away. The pain seared through him again and he groaned and began to cry. Somehow he managed to shake his head.

  These mongrels won’t let me go, he thought bitterly. They will kill me. I’ll be damned if I will give them the satisfaction of finding out.

  But then sheer terror swamped his mind and he was left trembling and on the verge of begging for his life.

  To his relief, Mellish withdrew the knife and said, “Make sure the little toad doesn’t escape. I need to make a phone call.” He left the cabin and Graham could tell by the sounds and movement of the trawler that he had climbed up onto the wharf. The two men sat down.

  Roper said to the other, “Make us a brew Sam, I’m bloody parched.”

  Sam went through another door into a tiny cubby-hole of a galley and began making tea. Roper remained watching Graham, warning him to talk while he still could. By this time Graham was feeling almost numb with the battering and shock. The chill dread of possible death grew in him. Time crept by, each second seeming an hour.

  At last Mellish returned. He grunted and accepted a cup of tea, then sat to glare at Graham. He explained nothing to the other two. Graham tried to relax. He started to feel chilled and numb in the hands and feet. His mind was now concentrated alternately on prayer and on thoughts of how he might escape. Bitterly, he decided no-one was likely to come to his rescue.

  I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. They will never find me in time!

  Footsteps sounded and two people knocked and were let in. The light was switched on and Graham realized with a shock that it was Sean O’Malley and his girl friend Paula. They stared at him curiously and for a moment Graham experienced a shaft of hope.

  Then Paula said something and Mellish laughed harshly, lacerating Graham’s hopes. O’Malley leaned over and peered at Graham. “That’s him all right. What are you doing snooping around here Kirk? Did the cops put you up to this?”

  Graham shook his head and suffered the knife again. They tried several more questions before O’Malley said, “That will do Mellish. It doesn’t matter. We will be gone before he is missed. Let’s get the show on the road.”

  Mellish grunted and swore, but withdrew the knife and slid it back into a sheath on his belt. “So what do we do with the little rat? We can’t let him go. I reckon he’s a spy for the cops; and he knows too much.”

  O’Malley tugged at his beard and his black eyes glinted hate at Graham. After a moment he said, “Take him with you and toss him overboard somewhere. Make sure the body isn’t found.”

  Graham was stunned at the callous death sentence. He started to cry. “Please let me go,” he pleaded. “I don’t know anything.”

  “Like hell!” Mellish snarled. “I just remembered where I seen ya. You was down at the marina the other day. You been watchin’ us.”

  Graham looked at the girl but she sneered and turned her back. O’Malley followed her out with a curt “Get on with it!” to Mellish.

  Roper turned to Mellish. “I don’t like this boss. What do we do after we have laid this bloody mine?”

  “We sail out to meet up w
ith Steinwehr’s yacht of Upolo Cay. Then we scuttle this tub in deep water and skedaddle in the yacht. Now let’s get moving.”

  Mellish went out as well. Graham saw that it was now dark outside. Mum will be starting to worry now, he thought miserably. Then another thought occurred to him: I wonder if Cindy got home all right? He hoped she had.

  After a few minutes, Mellish returned and called to the two men. “Let’s get this tub moving. Make sure those knots are tight and go and stand by the lines Sam. Get the engine going Roper.”

  Graham was left alone, trussed hand and foot. Waves of utter terror swept over him, almost paralyzing him. I don’t want to die! It can’t be true. It must be just a bad dream. I will wake up in a minute! Please God, don’t let me die! I’m sorry I did rude things with Cindy. I promise I will behave in future!

  Frantically, he looked around for a way of escape. He tried to wriggle free but the ropes were too tight and expertly tied. All he could do was wait in a state of mounting panic and fear as the trawler’s engines rumbled to life below him. As the motion of the vessel indicated that it had been cast off and was heading out into Smiths Creek Graham’s imagination sent him into the depths of absolute desperation and fear. Into his mind came fearful images of death, a jumble of ideas from every sermon he had ever heard, and of books and stories. He tried to come to terms with the fact that he would die very soon but still found it difficult to accept the reality of his situation.

  Images of what death might be like tormented him. The thought of his flesh rotting and being gnawed and torn by fish so repelled him that he closed his mind to the possibility. It was all he could do to keep from whimpering cravenly. Instead he turned to prayer, begging God for forgiveness.

  The trawler heeled to starboard and began to pitch slightly. This told Graham that they had turned to port out in the Inlet and that they were now heading down channel. With every passing second he became more and more desperate, his mind searching frantically for some escape. None presented itself and the dreadful journey continued. Graham began to compose himself for the inevitable end. One of the images that formed in his mind was of him and Margaret in the bath. He pictured her snuggling up to him in bed and somehow that felt just right and gave him great comfort, but also intense regret.

  I will never know what it might have been like; and she will be very hurt when I am gone, he thought.

  After about 20 minutes, the trawler’s engines suddenly slowed and the vessel turned to starboard before coming to a rocking standstill. Oh no! It is time! Graham’s mind screamed. He bit his lip and prayed aloud till the door banged open and Roper came in with Mellish.

  “Time to take your dive kid. Sorry about this, but you know too much,” Mellish said. Graham made no comment. There was something about the men’s manner which indicated that any plea would be futile.

  They grabbed his arms and dragged him off the bunk and roughly hauled him out through the door.

  ***

  It was dark outside and a bright red light glowed in the sky. For a moment Graham was disoriented. Then he realized the light was on top of one of the channel marker pylons. The lights of Cairns took up half the horizon still and he estimated they were only about a kilometre or so offshore. It was a cool night and a gentle breeze was pushing up a small lop.

  “Boat coming in,” Sam said as the two men dumped Graham on the deck near the stern.

  Mellish looked. “Only a Green Island ferry. Hurry up, tie the kid to the mine.”

  Shock and revulsion coursed through Graham. Tie me to the mine! It was so horrible he could only gasp and retch as spasms of terror gripped him.

  Roper bent and passed a roped around Graham’s waist and tied it firmly. He said, “This is a good idea boss. When it goes bang there will be no evidence left.” Then he gave a chuckle which sent paralyzing tremors up Graham’s spine.

  The trawler rocked in the wash of the passing ferry. Mellish watched it, then peered in all directions. “OK. I can’t see any stray fishermen or anything. Get the Stonefish over the side.”

  The aft deck of the trawler was in darkness, but in the glow of the riding light on her mast and the light from the wheelhouse Graham could see the men’s faces as they worked. They looked hard and pitiless. The nets were dragged aside then the tarpaulin lifted and dragged clear. The rope around Graham’s waist was tied securely to the mine’s frame. Mellish produced a torch and knelt beside the mine. In the beam of the torch the mine shone a shiny, sinister yellow. Mellish began making adjustments to something near the nose of the weapon.

  “Right, the mine is armed,” he said to the others. “Winch her up Sam and let’s get her over.” He paused and looked down at Graham, then shone his torch full in his face. “You got anything to say yet kid? No? Oh well, too bad. Sorry about this, but I gotta admit you’ve got guts. Pity really. Righto, Sam, wind her up.”

  Graham found his chest so tight he could not breathe properly. He was sweating and trembling and his mouth moved automatically in prayer. Oh please God! Make it quick! The winch grated and screeched as it started to wind up the steel wire rope now shackled to the top of the mine by a snap catch of some sort. The mine began to rise from its cradle on the deck.

  “No, please,” Graham gasped.

  “Sorry kid. This is the way it’s gotta be,” Mellish replied.

  As the mine lifted it swung with the vessel’s movement, bumping painfully against Graham’s chilled and clammy flesh. The winch rattled and scraped and the mine rose higher. Mellish switched off his torch and looked around.

  Roper called out, “Another boat coming boss, fast, from over near the mangroves.”

  “Where? I can’t see any lights,” Mellish called anxiously.

  Roper pointed. “Over there. He hasn’t got any lights. You can just see the bow wave.”

  Mellish looked and then swore. “The bastard’s moving fast, and heading this way. I don’t like this. Get that bloody mine over the side, quick!” he snapped. He sprang forward and pushed to swing the boom of the derrick outboard. The mine swung out over the side and the rope around Graham’s waist suddenly jerked tight, making him cry out in fear and pain. He was lifted from the deck, feet first, so that his head banged painfully on a cleat.

  Sam suddenly looked up. “What’s that bloody noise?” he shouted. Graham shook his head to clear the ringing from his ears and heard a deep, throbbing roar sounding above the noise of the winch.

  Rope looked around and suddenly pointed back along the channel. “Another boat, big bugger too, and moving fast!” he cried.

  “No! It’s a bloody chopper!” Mellish cried.

  Hope surged in Graham. Suddenly the trawler was bathed in a brilliant white light from a powerful searchlight and a loudspeaker boomed across the water: “This is the police. Stop! Do not move!”

  The police! Graham thought, hope surging.

  Mellish uttered an obscenity as another spotlight came on from the helicopter, which was now roaring overhead in the darkness. “Bloody cops! It’s a trap! The bastards are onto us. You little rat! You were a bloody police spy!”

  He kicked savagely at Graham’s butt as he dangled from the rope. Loudspeakers boomed again and a brilliant flare burst high overhead, lighting everything up like day. Mellish swore and kicked Graham again, viciously. At that moment a boat thudded alongside and black clad figures came scrambling over the rail.

  “Hands up! Don’t move. This is the police!” shouted a man who crouched and pointed a pistol at Sam.

  At that Mellish snatched up a large wrench and swung it savagely at the catch holding the mine, which now dangled out over the water. There was a loud metallic tung! and the mine suddenly dropped. Graham saw it fall with disbelief.

  “No!” he screamed.

  Before he could do more than scream, he was savagely jerked against the side, then up and over the bulwark. He had a fleeting glimpse of a large launch rushing alongside only metres away; of silver ripples as the light of the flare reflected on the waves.<
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  Then he plunged into cold, black water.

  Chapter 39

  THE BATTLESHIP

  Terror flooded through Graham. It isn’t true! his mind screamed. It couldn’t be possible! But he was under water and being dragged rapidly to the bottom of the sea! The rope around his waist cut sharply into him, firmly tied to the Stonefish mine. So rapidly did Graham and his lethal anchor sink that his ear drums ached painfully from the rapidly increasing pressure. He swallowed instinctively and somehow managed to keep from breathing in water.

  I must get free or I will drown! he thought desperately; although he already felt it was hopeless. Death was only a minute or so away. Already it seemed it was enfolding him in its cold embrace. He squirmed and wriggled frantically but with both hands and feet tied he knew it was no use.

  The worst thing was that his eyes were open and he could see. All around him was nothing but absolute blackness but above him he could see the blurred black silhouettes of the trawler and the launch beside it, outlined by the dazzling flare which flickered and shimmered overhead. He could even see bubbles and dark shapes swirling above him.

  Now the pain in his ears was so intense he felt like crying aloud. The descent suddenly slowed and he slid to a stop in a layer of clammy ooze. I’m on the bottom, his mind registered. On the bottom of the main shipping channel—and dead! Already his lungs were bursting from the effort of holding his breath and he knew he could only last a few more seconds. The agony in his lungs built up as he struggled to hold out, even as his mind said to him What’s the use?

  Bright lights appeared in his vision and he started to release bubbles. His straining chest heaved and trembled as he struggled to squirm free. Stars danced in his vision and he began to pray. Please God, forgive me for being naughty with Cindy. Please take me to heaven.

  Something had him. His heart palpitated wildly as terror redoubled. Shark! No a groper, or an octopus. That was even worse. Can’t it even wait till I’m dead! his tormented mind called. A bright light shone into his eyes and then something was rammed into his mouth, hard. Bubbles and pain. The taste of blood from his loose teeth which had just received another battering. And he could not hold his breath any longer. With a shudder he gave up and breathed out.