Halfhyde Outward Bound

by Philip McCutchan

  “We shall pray again,” Halfhyde said. He intended taking upon himself the task of going away in a ship’s boat ahead of the steamer with a lead and line, to take soundings and call back directions to Graves; and he was about to embark and be lowered to the water when there was a shout from the lookout, now withdrawn from the island and positioned at the crosstrees below the fore royal mast.

  “Boat in sight, sir!”

  “What’s her heading?” Halfhyde called back, cupping his hands.

  “Entering the channel, sir, with a party aboard. I reckon they’re Huns, sir.”

  Halfhyde grinned through gathering dusk at Graves. “It’s time we were away, sir!”

  “And if we’re spotted?”

  Halfhyde shrugged. “It’s in the lap of the gods now.” He turned for the ladder and went down fast towards the boat’s falls. As he did so, there was another shout from the fore royal mast: the boat was coming round the island and was making no attempt to put men ashore. That looked as though von Merkatz intended to board direct. It also meant a stern chase, which would be far from funny in the dangerous shoals that dotted Disaster Passage.

  Chapter 15

  AS THE Tacoma got under way in increasing darkness, there was a shout in German from astern followed by the crack of a rifle when the shout was unanswered. After that there was no more firing; it seemed likely that the German had settled for no more than a shadowing manoeuvre, as von Merkatz had done across half the Pacific Ocean already. Halfhyde, constantly casting his lead line from the boat ahead, reflected that von Merkatz was showing an unusual sensitivity: he seemed to have no desire to flaunt international practices too far, at any rate not to the point of keeping up a constant rifle fire to harass the British ship’s crew.

  After a while, the German boat withdrew, which was even stranger. Halfhyde puzzled over the matter: why send the boat in the first place? Then he reflected that when he had sent the boat off, von Merkatz wouldn’t have known the Tacoma was getting under way. The fact that she had now been seen to be moving into Disaster Passage was enough, no doubt, for von Merkatz. He would refer to his chart and then go to sea himself, waiting off the exits farther south for his quarry to reappear.

  Halfhyde swore to himself. There was no escape from a lion that merely moved to close the escape route. But all he could do now was to go on. There could be no turning back even if he wanted to. Heaving his lead line ahead again, waiting for it to come up-and-down as his boat moved on, Halfhyde sang out the depth of water. Behind him, the Tacoma moved dead slow through the shoals and past the jags of rocks. There was a long way to go; there were several possible exits, some safer than others; they could take their choice. That aspect might be of some help in avoiding von Merkatz, who couldn’t watch all the exits all the time. But that was a frail thread upon which to base any solid hope; von Merkatz, steaming up and down the coast, would be sure to sight them soon enough.

  MCRAFFERTY WAS sunk by now in despair, and the thought that he might never see his daughter again once Breakup Island was reached. It was a hundred pounds to a penny that the man would have ideas of using her in some fashion to cover his getaway from the Aysgarth Falls. And once away, he would have a fine start so long as Fiona remained the sanction against her father. It would not take the Aysgarth Falls long to reach Brisbane and lay the information, and McRafferty had intended to do this no matter how much trouble might come to him for his own part in the affair. But he would hesitate to speak if Fiona was with Jesson after the landing. Bullock, without being specific, had hinted that a hostage was in Jesson’s mind; and McRafferty hadn’t needed to be told that the first person to die if the net closed on Jesson would be the hostage and the incriminating knowledge in his or her mind.

  He could find no way through his predicament; he was alone, and he was powerless, a shipmaster who had lost control of his ship through the chicanery, to use no harsher a word, of his own First Mate. Naturally, Bullock would be finished so far as ever getting another berth at sea was concerned; but this would not restore McRafferty’s loss. Bullock…disloyalty at sea was almost the worst of crimes on its own, in McRafferty’s view. What Bullock fancied he might be gaining by his behaviour was beyond all comprehension; but no doubt, like himself, he had got in beyond his depth in the first place.

  McRafferty paced the poop, his face grim. If only he had Halfhyde with him; but it was useless to think about that. Probably Bullock had had a hand in that as well, seeing Halfhyde as someone who would upset his schemes for an illegal landing of the passenger.

  As McRafferty turned at the after end of the poop, a figure emerged from the saloon hatch, and McRafferty called to him.

  “Mr Bullock.”

  “Aye, sir.” The niceties were still being observed; on the surface, all was well between Master and First Mate. Bullock made his way aft, long arms swinging.

  McRafferty said, “A word in your ear.” He kept his voice low. “Do you imagine you’re going to get away with this?”

  Bullock shifted his feet. He was clearly uneasy. McRafferty went on, “You told me you didn’t intend landing with Jesson. Tell me what you do mean to do with the rest of your life—that’s if you don’t swing for mutiny.”

  “Mutiny…” Bullock rasped a hand over an unshaven chin. “That’s a strong word—”

  “A right one, Bullock. Mutiny is what you did.”

  “At the point of a gun. I had no option.”

  McRafferty bristled. “You had every option! If you admit to cowardice—”

  “Cowardice is no crime. No court will ever say it was. And there was your daughter.”

  “I think you were of little help to my daughter, Bullock. And then you uttered threats to me. Be assured that all the facts will see the light of day as soon as we berth in Sydney. I imagine you never doubted that they would. I imagine also that you may have it in mind to kill me before I can make those facts known. Am I right?”

  Bullock scowled but gave no answer. McRafferty nodded as though he had received confirmation. He said, “That’s one thing you’ll not risk, Bullock, dangerous to you as I may be. I believe Jesson won’t risk it either—”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I shall remain on deck from this moment until we finally enter our proper port of Sydney and make fast to the berth. It’s a long stretch…but I’ve been forty years a seaman, Bullock, and it’ll not be for the first time. There will always be some of the hands about, and I shall be in full view. Neither you nor Jesson can make a clean sweep of the whole of my crew.” McRafferty paused. “You have one chance, and one chance only.”

  “And that is?”

  McRafferty said, “You’re not under threat from Jesson’s revolver while you’re up here, and you have not been at any time since he entered my daughter’s cabin. That gives you freedom of movement—”

  “You forget your daughter, Captain.”

  “I do not. But I believe there is a way to resolve the matter without her coming to any harm. It’ll need your co-operation. That’s what I’m asking for. If you give it, and if together with the crew we succeed, then there are matters that I shall find it conceivable to forget—or make no mention of to the authorities. Well?”

  Bullock seemed about to make some answer when there was an interruption, a shout from the foretopmast head.

  “Land-ho! Land fine on the starboard bow!”

  Bullock snatched McRafferty’s telescope from his hand and moved for’ard at the double, running for the foremast shrouds. He climbed nimbly, searched the distant shore-line, then came down. Moving aft, he approached McRafferty again. He said, “We’ve made a landfall a little south of Breakup Island. There’s no time to alter things now. What’s done must stay.”

  AS DAWN came up, thin and watery to herald a dirty day, Halfhyde hailed the Tacoma still moving on slowly behind him.

  “How far to go now, sir?”

  Graves glanced at the chart, spread before him on the steamer’s bridge. “I make it a little m
ore than six miles,” he called back.

  Halfhyde groaned and went back to his task of taking soundings. In point of fact Disaster Passage hadn’t proved as bad as he had feared from the horrific account in the Sailing Directions; but it was utter desolation, almost terrifying in its loneliness, an excellent part of the coast to land a man on the run, so long as he could survive until he reached the outposts of civilization. Jesson, Halfhyde supposed, would equip himself with basic foodstuffs and fresh water from the Aysgarth Falls, but things could still go very wrong with him if he fell in with any hostile Abos. If he did, there would be justice in that. The boat was pulled on; the casting of the lead line continued. Halfhyde was cold and wet; there had been a thinnish rain for the last three or four hours, and now it was coming down harder, penetrating even the oilskins worn by the boat’s crew, trickling down the necks and up the sleeves as they pulled on the oars. The surroundings were dreary: greenish water, with a surf coming over the shoals, the mainland grey and dismal and half obscured by the weather. Clouds hung low and there was little wind to move them. Halfhyde shivered; it would be a depressing place in which to die and he spared another thought for the unlucky convicts on the run so many years before. Convicts so-called—men who had taken bread to feed their families were said to have outnumbered the real criminals. Harsh days; the men who had died aboard that barquentine had very probably been far better men than Sergeant Cantlow alias Jesson.

  The rain was worsening…Halfhyde was reminded of his honeymoon, as much a misnomer as to call hungry men convicts. It had rained in Scotland and to be confined indoors had brought no solace. Even if Mildred had been disposed towards consummation of the marriage, she would have bridled at such a thought in daytime. It would not be seemly; the cloak of darkness was more respectable. The boat trip across Loch Lomond had taken place during a bright day when the mists had vanished, but it had been damp, and Mildred had complained about the boat’s thwarts transferring the moisture to what she referred to as her sit-upon. Halfhyde grinned at the thought of his coarse response to that euphemism, which had been uttered with a blush, a very daring remark that he had hoped might have been intended to indicate a thaw. Not so; Mildred had become huffy and even more withdrawn and she hadn’t spoken for the rest of the day. Halfhyde found himself hoping it was raining now in Portsmouth, or Newmarket if Mildred was there still. More than her sit-upon would be wet if she were riding, but then so long as a horse was available she didn’t mind the weather…Mildred had been born with the wrong form; she should have been a mare, but if she had would no doubt have galloped at speed from the sight of a stallion.

  The water beneath the boat was deepening now, deepening fast, and the land was opening out towards the sea. Halfhyde was about to hail the steamer when he was himself hailed by Graves.

  “We’re through, Mr Halfhyde! All safe now.”

  Halfhyde waved. “I’ll return and come alongside for hoisting, sir.” He paused. “Is there any sign of von Merkatz outside, or the Aysgarth Falls?”

  “No sign of von Merkatz, but there’s a full-rigged ship coming into view from easterly. I can’t identify her.”

  Halfhyde waved again. The ship could be anything, making into the Brisbane River to the south, though it was doubtful if she would make her landfall quite so northerly if Brisbane was her destination. He let the boat drift as the Tacoma came up; the crew hooked on to the falls and the boat was hoisted and secured to the davits. Halfhyde made his way to the bridge.

  Graves pointed out the sailing ship, still distant. Halfhyde studied her through a telescope. “I believe it’s Captain McRafferty, sir, though I can’t yet be certain. If it is…”

  “This is where the trouble starts,” Graves said. “You can rely upon my assistance, Halfhyde.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m grateful. Now we must watch for von Merkatz.”

  Graves said, “He’ll know nothing about the Aysgarth Falls. He’ll not be taking any particular notice of her—”

  “But she will of him if he emerges, as we said earlier. Once the cruiser’s spotted, Jesson will see to it that the Aysgarth Falls fades away again to sea.”

  “Von Merkatz won’t follow, presumably?”

  “No. For the same reason as we’ve just mentioned—she’ll appear harmless enough so far as he’s concerned. For us—I suggest we go astern a little way, sir, until we’re hidden again by the land. We can keep a watch from the fore royal yard—there should be a clear view across the spit of land, I fancy.”

  “And if the windjammer turns away—”

  “Then I shall assume it’s the Aysgarth Falls and that von Merkatz has been spotted. Captain McRafferty—or Jesson—shall be our distant lookout!” Halfhyde rubbed his hands together; there was the light of battle in his eyes now. “If she turns away, we chase—and pray that we’ll have a fair start on von Merkatz!”

  Chapter 16

  BULLOCK HAD gone below to report the sighting of land to the passenger.

  “Is it all clear?” Jesson asked from the cabin doorway.

  Bullock nodded; he was unaware of the presence of the Tacoma and the German cruiser, both of them well concealed in the lee of Breakup Island. “Not a ship in sight—so far,” he said. “We’re bound to pick up someone sooner or later, making in or out of the river.”

  “I don’t doubt that. Tell McRafferty he’s to get in the lee of the land as fast as he knows how.”

  “It’s up to the wind,” Bullock said and turned away. Then he turned back. “How’s Miss McRafferty?”

  “She’s all right. Are any of the hands getting nosey?”

  “I don’t think so,” Bullock answered.

  “Get back on deck, then, and keep it that way. Just a moment, though, something you can do. Get along to my cabin and bring all my gear in here. All the leather bags.” Steel came into the voice. “All of them, mind. When the time comes, you’ll load them into the boat, the one that puts me ashore behind Breakup Island.”

  “How are you going to hump ’em once you reach the mainland?”

  Jesson said shortly, “I’ll see about that when the time comes. Now go and get the gear.”

  Bullock left the cabin, closing the door behind him. The bags were heavy; Jesson was going to have a hard task, and for a long way at that. His likely solution had not been lost on Bullock: Jesson had ideas of forcing him along as well, or maybe he would come up with a promise of a split of the diamonds. Bullock had already given that possibility thought and he didn’t go much on it. Too risky to his own life, and Jesson wouldn’t prove trustworthy. But he was going to have to play along unless a miracle happened. Bullock sweated with more than the job of carrying the bags to Jesson; he fully realized that he was between the devil and the deep blue sea. If Jesson didn’t knife him in the back once his usefulness ashore was over, then McRafferty was going to send in his report on arrival in Sydney. Bullock felt a shake in his hands and the start of real panic in his head. A choice was going to have to be made pretty soon now. Ashore, he would have a fighting chance. It would be a simple case of one man against the other, and come to that, Bullock still had his revolver, which Jesson didn’t know about any more than McRafferty did.

  The diamond bags transferred, Bullock went to his cabin to get the revolver.

  “I’D GIVE much to know what von Merkatz is up to,” Halfhyde said. Reports from the masthead lookout had indicated that the Aysgarth Falls, now identified as such by Halfhyde himself, who had gone aloft with a telescope, was still coming on under full sail for Breakup Island.

  Graves said, “I don’t doubt we can expect him to weigh and steam south to lie off outside the Passage.”

  “There’s been no apparent reaction to him from the Aysgarth Falls,” Halfhyde pointed out. He brooded, feeling savage. It might not be long before the German warship’s fighting top was sighted even if she didn’t steam out from the lee of Breakup Island; and when von Merkatz in his turn sighted another ship entering such desolate and unlikely waters, then he might sm
ell a very large rat and see some connection with Lieutenant Halfhyde. If he acted in some as yet unknown fashion upon his suspicions, all kinds of trouble might ensue and it was only too likely that Jesson would get away in the confusion. Besides, Halfhyde, who disliked inactivity, was beginning to feel like a rat himself, one caught in a closing trap. His whole instinct was to force the issue now before it was too late, and he decided to act on that instinct. He said, “The time has come for something else, sir.”

  Graves gave him an enquiring look.

  “We must go to sea. We must intercept the Aysgarth Falls, immediately. I am sorry to sound peremptory and demanding, sir. But I have a duty to Captain McRafferty—and to the crown as well.”

  “I gave you my promise of assistance,” Graves said mildly.

  “Yes, sir. And I said I was grateful—I am. When we intercept the Aysgarth Falls I shall remove Jesson from the ship and bring him aboard you, relying once again on the effectiveness of the White Ensign against Admiral von Merkatz. Will you support me in that, sir?”