by Peter Tonkin
Hold number three contained fabric and clothing. Hold number two was the fullest, packed with rubber goods, aluminium kitchenware, and cans of specialist fruit from lychees to sugar cane. None of this stuff was needed urgently anywhere and so the shippers had been happy enough to let it sit at Kwai Chung while summer began to wane and the price of canned delicacies began their seasonal rise. Robin was standing on the gallery looking at the cargo and wondering whether it would be worth the effort of climbing across for a closer inspection when her wristwatch alarm went off. It was fourteen forty-five. She was due in the officers’ dining saloon for the first aid meeting in fifteen minutes’ time. ‘Let’s go back,’ she called. ‘We can check number one later.’
There were six men assembled in the dining saloon. Most of them were officers from either the navigating or the engineering sections. All of them had at least some experience and training as first aiders. Soon after Robin arrived, Li and Yung turned up as well, having handed over to Daniel on the still storm-bound bridge. For the next hour, with the fluent first and the stumbling second’s help, Robin tested the knowledge of the men, checked the equipment they might expect to have and satisfied herself that they were competent in its application. Then, in consultation with Li, she went through their emergency station assignments and reassigned them as necessary to ensure each lifeboat had a competent team aboard, whether launched as a result of an emergency aboard the Sulu Queen or in a rescue attempt if they found survivors from the Luck Voyager.
It was after sixteen thirty when she and Li came out of the saloon and crossed to the lift. They paused on the bridge for a word with Daniel; Robin wanted to ask him to hang on to the watch for a little longer. She was taking Li down to hold number one with her and Yung was down below typing up the new orders on the Chinese character word processor and preparing to post it on the crews’ noticeboards. It was typical of Daniel that he should pass her a walkie-talkie the moment he realised she would be going down without him. And in spite of the battering she had given his face that day, she accepted it at once.
A little after seventeen hundred, Li opened the big door into the inspection tunnel and snapped on the lights. This time, with him in the lead, they passed swiftly down the length of the hull, stepping through one great watertight door after another, he opening them and she closing and securing them behind them. They moved so swiftly compared with their earlier inspection that Robin thought she could detect a progressive change in the hull’s movement. It was impossible, she knew, but it did seem that the nearer the ship’s head they came, the wilder the movements became. Out on the deck, scant centimetres of steel above her head, the terrible storm continued to rave, dashing rain and spray across the deck, hurling water in semi-solid mountains at the protesting bows. Mountains made up of millions of tons in rapid, violent motion. Although what happened here should be affecting the rest of the hull in equal measure, there was no doubt that the sounds were worse and so all the rest seemed worse as well. Nowhere else aboard did the stressed steel of the ship’s hull smash through the great racing walls of water. If the shell round hold number four pitched sedately, then that movement was born of the wild tossing and plunging here as the forepeak clove into the black hearts of the rushing waves and then was either pushed down or tossed aloft according to their whim. And they sounded against the stout ship’s triple-strengthened double hull not like serried ranks of water but like a wild avalanche of massive rocks pouring in rugged series from some unimaginable height.
Where the other holds had been dry, this one was not. Round the edges of the concentric covers of the hatches, water leaked in, dripping constantly but occasionally bursting into a fine misty spray as the sheer weight of water on the deck above forced it down. The floor of the hold was shallowly awash as the influx heaved from side to side, draining sluggishly into the bilges to be pumped away aft. It looked perhaps more dangerous than it actually was, but even so Robin frowned. Perhaps the running water and the jumping walls were causing an optical illusion but it seemed to her that the cargo was shifting slightly. And, with the massive balks of wood wedged where they were, any shifting of the cargo here would put the plates of the forecastle at risk.
As well as the radio which Daniel had passed to her on the bridge, Robin had brought another little machine. This was a laser measure. The square black box emitted a red beam and automatically measured the distance it reached before being broken or reflected. The atmosphere was by no means perfect for its use and the conditions could hardly have been worse, but Robin was sure that if she could find a secure location for the measure, she could take a series of readings to various sections of the cargo, which would tell her whether it was moving dangerously or not. Finding a secure location was going to be a problem, however. She herself was being thrown hither and yon with bruising force and it was difficult enough just to hold the thing, let alone to hold it perfectly still. Clutching it against the safety rail was a little better but still not good enough. The little machine’s digital display did not like the vibration or the sudden shocks which reached it through the metal railing. The reading would light up and then flicker irritatingly so that accuracy was out of the question.
Robin decided that the only place she stood any chance at all was on one of the wooden balks. And the best target she could hope for was First Officer Li himself. Ten active minutes later, Li had crossed on the little walkway he had constructed to the top of the column of containers and Robin had gone down the ladder then stepped across to the nearest balk and wedged herself astride it as though she was at horseriding lessons again, with the steel wall at her back and the measure clutched to her belly. The side of the column of containers immediately ahead did not seem to be moving relative to her, but she had the uneasy feeling in her shoulders that the steel wall was flexing.
Standing up, Li was far too unsteady a target for her readings, but when she signalled him to kneel down, he was precisely what she required. His torso broke the beam at an exact, easily remembered distance, and, as she watched the display, that distance varied by no more than two centimetres. Even through the wildest of the squalls, the magic two centimetre mark was never passed. A weight came off her shoulders but, careful as always, she looked around for some way to double-check.
And just as she did so the wind tore the cover off the inspection hatch and about twenty tons of water came in on Li’s head. It came down directly on top of him so forcefully that it seemed to maintain the square edges of the opening until it exploded on the container tops with all the force of an avalanche. Perhaps only sailors and drowning men think of water as a solid thing, but twenty tons of the stuff can do as much damage as twenty tons of rock or twenty tons of steel. The containers, full of steel themselves, stood up well to the onslaught. The lines and balks, well away from the direct force of the pouring column, also stood firm. But Li had no chance. Robin did not know whether or not he could have withstood that first fierce onslaught, but a trick of the storm’s movement tossed him sideways with the outwash so that she saw him fall down the sheer cliff of containers immediately before her. As he fell, the balk between her knees leaped like a startled colt, whether from the shock of the water or his falling, she wasn’t sure. He disappeared on to the floor of the hold and the thunderous waterfall stopped.
Robin dropped the measure and scrabbled for the radio. She opened the channel to the bridge. ‘Emergency! Number One!’ she screamed. There was a gabble of reply, nothing she could understand above the cacophony around her but enough to tell her she had alerted someone. She put the radio into her pocket and swung herself on to the ladder. Down she swarmed as fast as she could go, calling Li’s name at the top of her lungs, knowing that whatever state he was in, this was the first thing to do. If he was slipping away, his name might call him back.
Actually, calling the victim’s name is the second thing a first aider should do. The first is to ensure that they are not in any danger themselves. Robin was putting that rule on hold for a moment. The
water came up to her knees. Then the ship gave another corkscrewing lurch and abruptly the water was up to her waist. The emergency lighting was on the gallery, four decks above. Down here it was all restless shadow and she found it very difficult indeed to see. The water was by no means clean and clear; the bilge gave out its essence of oil and waste as well as sucking in the salt flood from above. Li was somewhere under quite a heavy scum of various impenetrable excrescences. If he stayed there for long, he was dead — assuming he had survived being stamped on by a twenty-ton foot.
Doggedly, she waded forward, her eyes busy in the shadows. It was with the more light-sensitive peripheral vision that she saw him first. Another heave threw up a wave which started at the outer edge of her vision and he rose out of the wave as though he was trying to stand up. She jerked round at once and rushed over to him through the thick, dark water. He rose and then fell as though too dizzy or weak to catch his footing. With almost superhuman strength, she hurled herself through the water towards him and before he slid under again she had him round the chest. She knew she should be careful how she moved him but under the circumstances her options were extremely limited. Holding him round the chest, she heaved herself bodily backwards through the deepening wash towards where she estimated the ladder to be. His head kept rolling and tossing this way and that, the back of it knocking into her face, bruising her cheeks and threatening her nose. Each time she stumbled, the solid head punished her cruelly. But still she would not stop. It was bad luck that the back of her head should find the ladder just as the back of his head flung up into her face with the most stunning blow yet. Bright lights flashed across her vision, pain lanced through her brain, back to front, as real as an arrow.
She shifted her hold on him, trying to grasp him with one arm as she raised the other one to hold the rung above her. She shook her head. Thick liquid spattered the unconscious man and Robin was unsure whether this was oil from her hair or blood from her nose. She heaved herself up. She knew she would never be able to climb to the gallery with him but she was going to have to find some way of pulling him up out of the rising water or he was going to drown in her arms. She heaved herself up and pulled him, feeling the muscles across her chest and shoulder begin to tear and the straps of her bra snap apart. A pool of light fell on his head but she could not see any injuries, he was too covered in oil for any detail to be clear. Another heave of the forepeak heralded another thunderous inwash from above and suddenly she was up to her breast in water again. She heaved herself up again, grimly marvelling at the extra heaviness of an unconscious body, literally a dead weight. She heaved again and slipped. Both her handholds broke. She fell with stunning force, her head striking the rungs of the ladder on one side and bouncing out to smash into the crown of Li’s head on the other. She lost consciousness and sank.
Daniel saw her go down. It was the brightness from his torch that had thrown Li’s head into relief for a second. He was five metres above her and yelling uselessly at the top of his lungs when she went. He leaped down without a second thought and luckily the men at the far end of his safety line were alert enough to notice what he was doing. Then he was floundering around in the water looking for her. Christ, it was deep, he thought, swearing, as he always did, in English for all he usually thought in Cantonese these days. He hoped to hell that Second Officer Yung was more competent than he looked and that Chief Engineer Wong would be able to get that hatch re-sealed in short order. He felt an arm and pulled a body up. He knew at once that it was only Li and threw the first officer aside again without a second thought. Only when he had found Robin and was sure that she was still breathing did he snap his line to her safety harness and turn again to look for Li. He found him floating face down and was not in the slightest surprised.
On the gallery he knelt beside Robin and gave her a swift first examination, calling her name in English until her eyes flickered. Wise fingers found the welt on the back of her head and wise eyes saw the deepening bruise on her temple. ‘Take her back to her cabin carefully,’ he ordered the rescue team in raucous Cantonese. ‘Sponge her face and head clean but do nothing else. I will be there soon to check your handiwork. My eyes are the eyes of the Dragon Head and my hands are his hands. Be warned!’
Then Daniel turned to the body of the late first officer. ‘Take him to the ship’s infirmary. Do not touch him once he is there. There is nothing we can do for him.’
It was more than an hour later that Daniel arrived in Robin’s cabin. She lay, still dressed in her filthy, streaming clothing, on her bunk. Chief Steward Fu, careful of her comfort as always, had spread a rubber sheet beneath her so she would not soil the bedding. She had passed from unconsciousness directly into deep sleep. Daniel compounded this situation by injecting a measured dose of painkiller directly into her neck. Then he took a long knife from his pocket.
During the next five minutes he cut away her wet-weather clothing and then her overalls. Being careful to move her as little as possible and checking gently but increasingly deeply and intimately for injuries, he pulled the mess of clothing out from beneath her and then removed the rubber sheet so she was lying on warm, dry bedclothes. Then, at last, he lifted from her breasts the twisted wreckage of her broken bra. In the sudden chill, her nipples tensed and rose. While his eyes remained on them, transfixed, his hands fell on the plain white cotton of her panties. The knife wavered, dangerously near her pale flesh, within an ace of cutting away this last wisp of damp white cotton. But then he stopped. For a moment more he looked down at her frail, helpless, utterly unprotected body. Then with an almost robotic physical wrench of his body, he tore himself away. With his rigid back to her, he folded the knife closed and slipped it away. At the very end of her bed there was an extra blanket carefully folded. He caught this up, shook it wide than placed it gently over her. He tucked it round her, taking care to fold it over her shoulders and smooth it under her chin. He stroked an oily curl or two out of her sleeping eyes. Then he stooped and pressed his lips to hers.
‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep,’ he murmured. Then he rose, and, speaking more loudly he said, ‘It’s not A Midsummer Night’s Dream but it’ll do; and it’s better than “Full fathom five thy husband lies and of his bones are coral made … ”’
He went out into the captain’s day room and proceeded to make himself comfortable on her couch. He had uttered his direst threats and knew they would be disseminated but he doubted they would be enough. Where Robin saw efficient seamen called almost magically together to serve her urgent purpose, Daniel saw only men who leaped into instant obedience at the whim of a Triad lord. And if he at this moment chose to sup with the Devil, that was no reason at all to trust everyone else in Hell.
17
The tiger did not hesitate. It hurled itself forward in one bound and then reared on its hind legs, forepaws spread, massive claws unsheathed, towering over Richard’s head.
He stared at the pale golden belly, deep chest, square head with its soft pink nose and hypnotic golden eyes; he heard the whispering susurration of its breath; he smelt the scent of its body. This is it, he thought numbly. I’m dead.
And Sally Alabaster threw herself down from the nearest rock on to the rearing tiger’s back, screaming at the top of her considerable lungs. This really was Jungle Jane stuff and wildly dangerous but she could see nothing else to do. She had no real idea of killing the tiger, or even of hurting it. She simply wanted to scare it away. Her scream had as much of naked terror in it as of brave attack. The black-striped pattern of the great beast’s shoulder sprang upwards into her face and she clutched at it unhandily, vaguely planning to stay astride the beast and out of reach of its claws. The impact smashed her head back and the attacking tiger down. Its front legs buckled and she was hurled over the top of its head. She bounced once on suspiciously soft and shifting ground, and then skidded over to where Richard was standing.
Richard was jerked out of his stasis by the sou
nd of her attack and by the shocking suddenness of her arrival. He sprang over her prostrate body, also yelling full voice as the stunned tiger leaped up on to all fours again. But no sooner had Richard’s weight landed on the flat, apparently solid square of guano between Sally and the tiger than the most unexpected thing of all happened. The ground, already weakened by Sally, opened under Richard. The weight of his charge broke through the crust of centuries-old bird droppings and a gully in the rock gulped him down.
Sally reacted with a speed which belied her dazed state, reaching forward and grabbing at him as he fell. Their hands met and clutched, palm to wrist, like artistes on the high trapeze. It should have stopped his fall but it did not. Instead, a massive weight pulled on Sally’s arm and shoulder before she had time to prepare herself; it transferred itself to her back and legs before she had time to anchor herself. She didn’t slide or slither, she simply flipped over the edge and followed Richard head first into the hole. So that, as the tiger bellowed its terrifying challenge and gathered itself to charge again, its potential prey simply vanished into the ground.
The throat of the narrow cleft down which Richard and Sally were sliding was fairly smooth and any hazardous outcrops had long been coated with slimy cushions of guano. As long as they weren’t interested in stopping or breathing, they were fine. The cleft took a slight angle to become a tunnel, and the guano with which it was packed became thicker, deeper, and changed its nature and its stench.