'Then what?'
'Then you push off and buy us a boat. Something about twenty feet overall and hellish fast, with big engines.'
'Outboard or inboard?'
'Doesn't matter. Outboards will be cheaper, but they must be powerful. You bring the boat round to the shed.' I looked through the window of the cafe. 'Over there is a scrap metal yard; I should be able to get most of what I want over there, including the hire of a welding outfit.'
Alison's brow wrinkled. 'So you have a fast boat and a welding outfit.' She waited patiently.
"Then you hire a truck. Can you drive a truck?' She gave me a look of silent contempt, and I grinned. She had probably passed her driving test with flying colours -- in a Chieftain tank.
I said, 'You take the truck and you buy enough fireworks to fill the boat.'
Now I had got her attention. 'Fireworks!'
'Big ones -- especially the ones that go bang and throw out a shower of pretty lights. None of your paltry penny bangers; I want the big professional stuff. If they're so keen on fireworks here there should be quite a stock somewhere in this island. Think you can do that?'
'I can do it,' she said. 'Now tell me why the hell I should.'
I pulled out the ship plan and laid it on the table. 'I've been on board Artina and everything I saw fitted in with this plan, so I think we can trust it.' I tapped with my finger. "The engine room, containing two 350 hp Rolls-Royce diesels which gulp a hell of a lot of fuel. Under the engine room a supply of fresh water and the ready use fuel tank which holds 1,200 gallons.'
My finger moved on the plan. 'Forward of the engine room is Wheeler's cabin, and farther forward are the crew's quarters. Under that, extending for twenty feet, is a double bottom containing the main fuel supply -- 5,350 gallons of fuel oil. We know she's just taken on fuel so the tanks are full.'
I did a bit of measuring with my finger nail. To penetrate that tank we have to ram a hole at least three fee t below the water-line-preferably deeper. Her plating is mild steel, five-sixteenths of an inch thick -- to punch a hole through that will need a hell of a lot of power.'
I looked up. 'I'm going to build a ram on the boat you're going to get me. At one time ramming was an orthodox naval tactic-all naval vessels had rams. But this is going to be a little different; it's going to be a combination ram and fireship. The boat will be full of fireworks. When we ram the tank we let out the oil. It floats. The fireworks go off pop and set the oil on fire.'
'So you're going to smoke out Wheeler?'
I looked at her in silence for a moment, then I said, 'Don't be silly, I'm going to burn the bastard out.'
m It all took time, and we had little enough of that. I was right in thinking that I could get a suitable boatshed in Senglea, but moving in quickly was something else again. A few enquiries made in the district soon turned up just what I wanted but the dickering promised to be protracted and it was ten-thirty that morning before the deal went through and only then because of the production of a hundred pounds in crisp, British fivers.
As time was getting short I sent Alison off to buy the boat, which 1 hoped wouldn't prove to be as difficult and time-consuming as renting the shed. In the meantime I went to the scrap metal yard and rummaged about until I found what I wanted. I selected a few lengths of angle-iron, a lot of nuts and bolts and a steel bar, eight feet long and an inch and a half in diameter. I was also able to hire a welding outfit there, together with two full bottles of oxygen and acetylene and a pair of goggles.
As I paid out for this lot I reflected that the expense account for this lark was going to raise some Treasury official's hair. 1 could imagine him querying the purchase of perhaps a quarter of a ton of fireworks and acidly scratching out a memo asking Mrs Smith for further verification. But perhaps Mrs Smith also had training in cooking the swindle sheet.
I got all my equipment to the shed and waited around for Alison. I stared across the Grand Harbour to Valletta and wished I could see through it and into Marsamxett Harbour where Artina was still anchored -1 hoped. At one-thirty I was still waiting and coming to a slow boil. Time was wasting and 1 had a hell of a lot to do.
It was nearly two o'clock before she arrived and the steam was blowing out of my ears. I caught the painter she tossed, and said curtly, 'What kept you?'
'I had to go to Sliema. Is she what you wanted?'
I studied the boat. She was a sleek, Italian-built job with two 100 hp Kiekhaefer Mercury outboard motors. Her lines looked good and those big engines would push her along at a fair lick. Alison said, 'I got more than thirty knots out of her on the way here.'
'You brought her from Sliema? You must have passed Artina.'
'She's still there.' I sagged a little in relief. "They're doing a lot of work on her stern. When I passed they were hoisting out one of the propellers.'
'Were they, by God?' I laughed. Then it will be an all day job.' I jerked my thumb at the shed. 'There's a cradle in there. Help me get this thing up the slip and out of sight.'
We ran the cradle down the slip, floated the boat into it, and then winched the lot into the shed. Alison looked at her watch. 'I've arranged for the fireworks, too. They'll be ready to be picked up at three.'
'Then you'd better push off.'
She hesitated. 'Can you manage alone?'
'I should be able to. There's a block and tackle up there -I can use that to take the engines out."
There's a flask of coffee and a packet of sandwiches in the boat. And a bottle of whisky. I'll be back as soon as I can.'
She turned to go, and I said, 'Alison, there's just one more thing; see if you can get a big axe. A felling axe used for cutting down trees.'
She looked puzzled and then doubtful. 'I'm not sure they use those on Malta-there are not too many trees.'
'Do your best.' She left and I rescued the victuals before the bottle got broken, and then I uncoupled the steering cables on the boat and hoisted out the engines. I also used the block and tackle to turn the boat out of the cradle so that it lay upside down on trestles. I ate the sandwiches and drank the coffee while studying the problem; the whisky I left strictly alone because there was a job to be done, although I'd probably be glad of a stiff jolt before I set out.
I proceeded to get my hands dirty. The hull was of glass fibre and I began to ruin it by drilling holes in carefully selected places. The idea was to position the ram so that it was at least three feet below the water line when the boat was planing at speed, and it had to be fixed to the hull firmly enough so that it wouldn't come adrift on impact. If that happened then the momentum given by those big engines would be lost and the ram wouldn't penetrate Artina's steel shell.
I cut up lengths of angle-iron and bolted them to the hull and through to steel cross-members which ran athwartship. Then I started to weld it up. It wasn't pretty welding and would have won no prizes at a craft school but, by God, it was strong -- I made sure of that. When I had got that far there were two steel triangles built into the hull, the apexes of which were a little over three feet below the bottom. I took the long steel bar and welded it to the apexes of my steel triangles so that it was parallel to the bottom of the hull and projecting two feet in front.
Alison was back long before I had got that far and gave me enough by then to take you seriously.'
She saw the point, but she didn't like it. She set her face in a stubborn mould and prepared to argue. I forestalled her. 'All right; this is what you do. You wait here until nightfall and help me to get the boat into the water. Then you hop over to Ta'Xbiex and hire another boat -- if you can get anyone to trust you.' I smiled. 'Looking as you do now I wouldn't trust you with a kid's bath toy.'
She rubbed her smudged face and distastefully inspected her fingertips. 'Thanks,' she said. 'I'll clean up.'
'If you can't hire a boat, steal one. There are plenty of loose boats at the Marina. Meet me at the seaward point of Manoel Island and then follow me in, but not too closely. When the balloon goes up watch out for Sl
ade and Wheeler -- they should be doing their best to jump overboard if all goes well. See they don't get ashore.'
'I lost the gun last night,' she said.
'Well, bat them over the head with an oar," I said. 'I'll be around somewhere so keep your oar away from me.' I looked at my watch. 'It'll be dark enough for launching in about an hour.'
That hour seemed to stretch out interminably rather like I'm told it does in an LSD trip; I wouldn't know about that -1 haven't tried it. We didn't talk much and when we did it was of inconsequentialities. The sun set and the light slowly ebbed from the sky until at last it was dark enough to take the boat down the slip without anyone seeing it. Once it was in the water it wouldn't appear too abnormal.
I patted the wickedly gleaming steel axe-head which formed the tip of the ram and went to open the big double doors of the shed, and we steered the cradle down the slip and into the water. I released the boat and we took the cradle away and 1 turned to see how my handiwork had turned out.
It wasn't too bad; she was down by the head but not by too much considering the weight of iron under her bows, and she appeared quite normal apart from the bits of angle-iron which showed above water on each side of the hull. In another ten minutes it would be too dark to see even that, but even if I was picked up by a light in the harbour I doubt if anyone would notice anything particularly odd about her.
'That's it,' I said wearily. I was bone-tired; no sleep, a beating-up and a hard day's work did nothing to improve me.
'I'll go now,' said Alison quietly. 'Good luck, Owen.' She didn't kiss me, or even touch me. She just walked away, picking up her coat as she went.
I climbed into the boat and rearranged a few of the fireworks to make myself more comfortable. I put the scuba gear handy and checked my primitive system of fuses. Then there was nothing to do but wait another hour before I was due to move off.
Again it was a long wait.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I checked my watch for the twentieth time in fifteen minutes and decided that time had come. I put on the scuba gear, tightened the weighted belt around my waist, and hung the mask around my neck. Then I started the engines and the boat quivered in the water. I cast off the painter and pushed the boat away with one hand and then tentatively opened the throttles a notch, not knowing what to expect.
At a slow speed she didn't handle too badly although there seemed to be something a little soggy about her response to the wheel. 1 switched on the lights because I didn't want the harbour patrol to pick me up for running illegally, and went down French Creek into the Grand Harbour. Here, in time past, the British Battle Fleet had laic, line upon line of dreadnoughts and battle cruisers. Now, there was another, but odder, naval craft putting to sea, but this one was in an earlier tradition -- more like one of Drake's fireships.
Across the harbour Valletta was all lit up and there were strings of coloured lights spangling Floriana. Tinny music floated across the quiet water punctuated by the thumping of a bass drum. The merry-making was well under way.
I rounded the head of Senglea and steered to the harbour mouth. Nothing was coming my way so I decided to open up and see what the boat would do. The note of the engines deepened as I opened the throttles and I felt the surge of acceleration as 200 hp kicked her through the water. In terms of horse-power per ton of displacement this little boat was perhaps forty times as powerf ul as Artina; that's where the speed came from.
The steering was worse than bad- it was dreadful. The wheel kicked in my hands violently and my course was erratic, to say the least, and I went down the Grand Harbour doing a pretty good imitation of a water boatman, those jerky insects that run across the surface of ponds.
The damned boat wouldn't get on the step and plane and I don't suppose her speed was more than twelve knots, and that wasn't going to be enough. All the power going into the screws was doing nothing more than raising waves and I wasn't supposed to be in the wave-raising business. In desperation I slammed the throttles hard open and she suddenly rose in the water and took off, picking up at least an extra ten knots in as many seconds. But the steering was worse and there was a definite lag between hauling the wheel around and the corresponding reaction.
I throttled down again and she sagged into the water, and her speed dropped as though she'd run into a wall. This was going to be a dicey business. At a pinch I could get the speed, provided the engines didn't blow up, but I didn't know if I could steer her straight enough to hit my target. In spite of the flow of cooling night air I found I was sweating profusely.
If the only way to get her to plane was to run the engines at full bore I'd better not try that again. There would be no more trial speed runs because I was scared of the engines packing up, and next time this boat would be at speed again would be the last time. As for the steering, I'd have to handle that as best I could.
I dropped speed even further and plugged on towards St Elmo's Point. Fort St Elmo reared up starkly against the night sky as I passed between the point and the breakwater. Now I was in the open sea and the boat wallowed sickeningly. That heavy steel bar slung three feet under the water was acting as a pendulum. This lubberly craft was enough to give any self-respecting boat designer the screaming meemies.
I rounded the point and turned into Marsamxett Harbour, glad to get into sheltered waters again, and headed towards Manoel Island. Valletta was now to my left and I wondered from where they shot their fireworks. I checked the time and found I had little to spare.
As I approached Manoel Island I closed the throttles until the engines were barely ticking over, just enough to give me steerage way. Not far away a light flickered and I saw that Alison was in position; she had struck a match and held it so that it illuminated her face. I steered in that direction and made contact.
She was in what seemed to be a small runabout driven by a little outboard motor. "That's nice,' I said. 'Where did you get it?'
'I took your advice; I stole it,' she said, and laughed quietly.
I grinned in the darkness. 'It's our duty to save government money,' I said virtuously.
'How did you get on?' she asked.
'She's a bitch,' I said. 'As cranky as the devil.'
'She was all right when I brought her from Sliema.'
'That was a different boat. She's damned near uncontrollable at speed. How much time have we got?'
'About ten minutes."
I looked about. 'I'd better get in position. We don't want to stay here or we'll be run down by the Sliema ferry -- she's coming now. Is Artina in the same place?'
'Yes.'
'Then I'll be on my way. I'll go right down Lazzaretto Creek and turn around so as to get a good run up. You keep clear on the other side of Artina.' 1 paused. 'The steering is so bloody bad I might even miss her on the first pass. In that case I'll turn around and have a go on the other side. Don't be in my way or you'll get run over.'
'Good luck again,' said Alison.
I said, 'If you see Wheeler give him a good clout with my compliments. He was looking forward to seeing his Chinese friend operate on me. If things work out I'll see you in Ta'Xbiex -- at the same place as last night."
Gently I eased the throttles forward and moved off. I passed Artina quite closely; there were three men on deck -- Wheeler, the Skipper and the Chinese, Chang Pi-wu. I could see them quite clearly because they were illuminated, but I was low on the water in the dark and there was no chance of them recognizing me. I was just another snip passing in the night. , Mentally I made a cross on the place on the hull I intended to hit, and then I carried on down Lazzaretto Creek. At the bottom, near the Manoel Island bridge I turned with idling engines. I switched on the air from the scuba bottle and checked the demand-valve, and then bit on the mouthpiece and put on the mask. If things went well I wouldn't have time to do any of that later.
Behind me traffic passed on the road and presently a procession came by with a band of pounding drums and off-key brass. I ignored it and looked across to Valletta
and the forthcoming firework display. There was what I thought to be a heavier thump on a drum but it was a mortar banging off. A maroon burst over Valletta in a yellow sunburst and in the echoing reflection from the water of the harbour I saw Artina clearly for a brief moment. The fireworks had begun and it was time for me to add my share to the festivities.
1 advanced the throttles and moved off slowly as a rocket soared up and exploded in a shower of red and green fiery rain. I steered with one hand and with the other liberally doused my cargo with petrol from an open can, hoping to God that the sparks from the fireworks were totally extinguished by the time they reached water level. It only needed one of those in the boat and I'd go up in a cloud of glory.
Then I pushed open the throttles wider and by the time I was making any kind of speed the sky was alive with lights as the Maltese spent their fireworks with reckless abandon. Artina was clearly silhouetted as, with equal abandon, I jammed the throttles wide open.
The engines roared and the boat reared up in the water almost uncontrollably as she began to plane. The wheel lucked m my hands as 1 strove to keep her on course and I zig-zagged dangerously close to the line of yachts moored at the marina. 1 swung the wheel hard over but the bitch was late in responding and there was an outraged cry from the bow of one of the yachts. It sounded like the curry-voiced colonel who must have got the fright of his life as I scraped his paint at twenty knots.
Then I was past him and heading out into the harbour, bucking and twisting and steering a course which would have brought tears to the eyes of any self-respecting helmsman. The fireworks banged and flashed overhead striking dazzling reflections from the water and my heart jumped into my mouth as a small runabout came out of nowhere and cut across my bows. I cursed him and swung the wheel and missed him by a whisker. That made two damned fools at large in Marsamxett Harbour.
As I swung the wheel hard over the other way I looked for Artina and I saw that I was going to miss her by a sizeable margin. I cursed again at the thought of having to make another mad sortie. It occurred to me that with the steering being as crazy as it was then I'd better aim at anything but Artina and then I might have a chance of hitting her.
Bagley, Desmond - The Freedom Trap Page 23