Even with the engine at full speed there were times when Esmerelda began to drift back towards Falcon, caught in the grip of a cold water current as it rushed in to replenish the vaporized water. An occasional eddy swung her round by the bows and Geordie had to take her out in reverse.
It was three hours before we were well clear of Falcon, a mad jumble of fire, steam, smoke and lava falling mercifully astern of us. Geordie had been spelled at the wheel by Ian and Taffy; the rest of us had managed to extinguish the fires, hurl – the worst of the debris overboard, and bring some faint semblance of order to the ship. We took turns to collapse with exhaustion. Clare worked steadily taking care of burns and wounds.
Some parts of Esmerelda were in better shape than others. By a strange miracle the launch still clung to our coat-tails, though we had no time to stop and haul her up on davits. I found to my great relief that my notes and the bulk of the lab files were in order, though most of the apparatus was wrecked. It was better to work on things like that than to dwell on the last appalling few hours. But there were a couple of matters that had to be taken care of, that could not, for all my wishing, be put off much longer.
Mark was still on board and had to be dealt with.
And so was Hadley.
Taffy had started to tell me, just before Falcon blew its top. Hadley had been one of the two men who had leapt to our deck, and was being held in the brig with the other men from Sirena. It was dismaying to know that he was with us, but for me the most serious problem was Mark.
He and Paula had stayed together in the saloon during the, whole of the encounter with Falcon. Now I had to face him. I pulled myself to my feet and went wearily below. Paula looked up as I entered and her face, like everyone else's, was drawn and shadowed.
'Are we safe yet, Mike?' she asked.
'Pretty well. You should both come up on deck and get some air. It's remarkably peaceful up there now. Paula, thank you for standing by.'
She smiled a brief acknowledgement and she and Mark got up together. He was very pale under the heavy beard, and limped a little, but he seemed fairly strong. He had said nothing as yet. I led the way on deck and they followed in silence, numbed by the sight of so much damage. Nobody spoke to Mark, but more than one of the crew reached to pat Paula's arm or give her a quick smile as she went by.
We stopped outside the deckhouse, a shattered and burnt-out shell. They stood together looking astern at the now distant ascending cloud of smoke.
'I wish I'd seen it,' Mark said. He sounded wistful.
'It was fantastic, but too close for comfort,' I said. 'I'm going to tape my impressions as soon as I can. There's a lot to be learned from such close-up observation. Do you know what happened to Sirena?' 'Clare told us,' Paula said, and shuddered. Mark seemed unmoved. He was not going to be overtaken by conscience as easily as that. I didn't mention Hadley or the other prisoners.
'Mark,' I said abruptly, 'I have to talk to you.'
'I'll go,' Paula offered.
Mark took her arm and held it. 'Stay with me,' he said. She was the only one he could be sure was on his side, and he needed a friend at court. He turned to me and a hint of the old arrogance was back in his voice. 'What's it going to be? One of your little lectures on decency?'
I felt grim and tired. This wasn't going to work.
'For God's sake, Mark, ease off. I'm not going to lecture you – it was always too late to get you to listen to reason. But we have to work something out before we land, or before someone sights us.'
I wanted above all things to lie down, right there on the deck, and sleep for a week. I was physically beat up and exhausted, but the onus of Mark was a heavier burden. I wished I could have had Clare to stand by me, as he had Paula, but I wasn't going to bring her into it.
We stared at one another in stalemate.
My jumbled thoughts were interrupted by a bubbling scream. The sound came from below. Taffy and a couple of the others dived down the companionway, and Ian came past us at a run. I made a move to follow but then held back, leaving it to the professionals.
I said, 'I think it's one of the Spaniards. He must be hurt, poor devil.'
'What Spaniard?' Mark asked.
For answer there was a crash from below, and Hadley burst into view through the burnt-out galley and onto the deck where we were standing. He had a kitchen knife in his hand. I backed away from his red-rimmed crazy eyes as he came at me like a bull.
I booted him on the shin but it was like trying to stop a truck. He leapt on me in a bear hug that jarred excruciatingly on the knife-graze in my side. His knife hovered near my throat. Desperately I clawed at his face as we fell. Hadley landed on me with all his weight but thank God his knife-arm was pinned beneath us. I chopped viciously at his throat and he choked. His grip loosened. I jerked a knee up into his crotch and broke free.
But Hadley recovered fast and rolled over onto his feet. Agile for his bulk he leapt on me as I gasped for air. He pinned my arms and I felt the breath being squeezed from my lungs and a rib cracked agonizingly. Blackness surged in front of my eyes.
Suddenly he lost his balance and we both crashed to the deck. Nick, crawling up from behind, had seized Hadley's ankle and had yanked his foot out from under him. I rolled free and Hadley got the full force of a bullet from Ian's gun in his belly.
Astonishingly he regained his feet and swooped for the knife which lay on the deck. For a near-fatal instant we all stood paralysed. With an unearthly bubbling scream of rage and agony he plunged towards Mark and the knife flashed viciously in the sunlight.
Mark flung Paula aside and met the attack full on. The knife sank into his side and he collapsed without a sound.
The weapon fell to the deck. Hadley took two staggering paces backwards, clutching his stomach, and then in a full back arch he went over the railings into the sea.
Silence hung in the air after his fall.
I stood shakily clutching my ribs and breathing in short painful gasps. Clare and Bill Hunter were first at my side. When Campbell went to help Paula, she brushed him aside and ran to Mark, who was still lying on the deck. But he was conscious and trying to sit up.
Geordie arrived at a run and a babble of voices told him what had happened. Taffy said harshly, 'My fault, skipper. I let the bastard out. We heard a man screaming and I thought someone was in pain in the brig. I went in with Bill but Hadley went through us like an express train.'
Bill said, 'No wonder that poor devil was screaming. Hadley had near taken the arm out of his socket; to get us to open up.'
'He was quite mad,' said Ian soberly.
To dispel the air of gloom Geordie said briskly, 'Well, he tried and he failed. And that's the last of them. The others won't make any trouble. Now, lads, back to work. We're not home and dry yet.'
They dispersed slowly. Geordie turned to me and said softly, 'The last of them – bar Mark. What are you going to do about your brother, Mike?'
I looked at him bleakly.
'I don't know. First I must see how badly he's hurt. But I can't just hand him over to the police.'
'I don't think you've any choice, laddie.'
'I guess not. But it's a hell of a thing to have to do.'
Clare, her arm comfortingly firm around my rib cage, waited in silence for me to come to a decision. I said, 'Geordie, I have to talk to him alone. Take Paula with you, Clare. Look after her. God knows she's had enough to cope with. Keep everyone away from us for a while, would you?'
'I'll do that,' Geordie said.
Clare gave me a smile of compassion and warmth and then walked back to the deckhouse. Mark was sitting propped up against the railing with Paula as always by his side. I waited until Clare took her gently by the arm and the two girls went below to join Campbell. I wanted to speak to Mark, perhaps for the last time, with no one to act as a shield between us.
He looked stonily at me as I squatted beside him.
'How is it?' I asked.
He shrugged his shoulders.
'Not good,' he said breathlessly. He was sheet-white and his eyes were cloudy.
I said, 'Mark, thank you for saving Paula.'
'Don't thank me. That was my business.' He did not want to hear praise from me. 'I told you that man was off his rocker.'
'Well, he's out of it now. Ramirez too. Which leaves only you, Mark. And puts me in a devil of a fix.'
I expected his usual sneering retort, but instead he surprised me. He said, 'I know that, Mike. I've caused you a lot of grief, and I'm sorry. I'm likely to cause you a lot more as long as I live.'
'No, I'
'Which won't be long. I'm no doctor, but I know that much.'
'Mark, we'll be back in port pretty soon and you'll be in medical hands. We may even be sharing a ward,' I said, trying to speak lightly. Mark was sombre and less arrogant than I had ever known him, and I was dismayed.
'Don't be a fool, Mike,' he said with a touch of his old acerbity. 'You're going to have a million questions to answer as it is. It's not going to make things easier for you if you suddenly turn up with your long-lost, murdered, murderer brother, is it?'
I knew that he was right. I foresaw nothing but trouble for both of us. I shrank from the thought of turning him over to justice, but I could see no other way. Mark let me think about it for a while.
'Mike, I have one chance, just one, to make things easy for you. I've never done anything for you before. You have to give me this one chance.'
I said slowly, 'Dear God, what can I do?'
He pulled himself more upright and swayed a little. Then he said, 'Mike, I'm going to die.'
'Mark, you don't know'
'Hear me out.' His voice shook. 'Remember, Mike, I'm already a dead man. Without me you have every chance of coming clean out of this. There will be nobody to contradict your story. You were sailing to meet up with Ramirez on a survey expedition, and got caught up in the shambles of Falcon. By now the world will know it's blown. There'll be scientists overflying, ships coming to look, the lot. You know that. Your stalwart fellows can wipe out all traces of a gunfight. And you can persuade those Spaniards you've got on board to shut up.'
He drew in a harsh breath. He was drenching in his own sweat.
'Christ, do I have to spell it out for you? I'm not going to recover. I can do one thing for you, if you'll help me now.'
I asked, knowing the answer, 'Help you to do what?'
'Help me to die.'
I had known. 'Mark, I can't kill you.'
'You won't need to.'
Something glittered in front of my eyes. It was the kitchen knife Hadley had used on Mark, bloody at the tip but winking in the sunlight. I swallowed, a hard lump in my throat.
'What – do you want me to do?'
'Get me over the side, into the sea. It'll be as quick for me as it was for Hadley.'
Silently I got up and began to pace the deck. He watched me carefully, saying nothing, giving me time. This was the only completely unselfish thing he would ever have done in his life. But he gave me a dreadful choice.
At last I came back to him.
'All right, Mark. God forgive me, I'll help you.'
'Good.' He became brisk. 'Don't let anyone see us. The story will be that I climbed over on my own, after you'd gone. I would do that, but I need your help.'
There was nobody in sight. Geordie had done his work well.
I could find nothing else to say. Mark gave a short hard cough and his head drooped, and for an instant I thought that he had already died, sitting there. And then he raised his head and looked me in the eye. For the only time in my adult life our gazes locked without antagonism.
It took only a couple of moments. I got him over to the railing and we both looked down into the sea where the bow-wave ran along Esmerelda's side. I remember thinking how quiet it was.
He hooked one leg over the rail and I helped steady him as he lifted the other across. For an instant I held him.
'Goodbye, Mike,' he said clearly.
I let go. He fell backwards and disappeared into the spray. I turned blindly away and with my head in my hands huddled down by the side of the deckhouse.
After a while I stood up shakily. It was done. And I must go and talk to some of the crew. Not to Paula, not yet. But I must give Mark's plan a chance to work. I turned to leave.
The knife had gone from the deck.
I stood for a moment riveted, a flood of thoughts pouring into my mind. Then I swung round to look at the deck where Mark had been lying. There was still no knife, and now that I came to think of it, very little blood.
In two strides I was at the rail, looking aft, my thoughts erupting as the volcano had done. The motor launch which had been running in tow was gone, and the painter dangled loosely over the stern. Across the water I thought I could see a ' tiny dancing speck, but I couldn't be sure of that, or of anything.
Slowly I walked aft and hauled in the painter. The end of it had been cut across, newly-severed and just beginning to fray.
There was fuel in the launch and iron rations, for it had always had the function of a lifeboat. There were fishing lines, blankets, flares, a first aid kit. There was everything needed for survival.
I stood at the railing, alone as I'd asked to be, and bade my brother a final, ironic farewell. And yes, I wished him luck.
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