Then another wave poured down across both of us, tipping Esmerelda the other way and doing what I couldn’t manage, forcing Nick’s body back inboard. We slid away from the railings together, half submerged in the gritty water that cascaded down over the deck.
I landed spitting and spewing up sickly-warm sea water. Hands helped me to stand up, and one of them was Clare’s.
‘Mike – are you all right?’
She was trembling and so was I.
‘I’m okay. How’s Nick?’ I was still panting and spluttering. But I was comfortably aware that our engine was still running, and Geordie was backing us steadily away from Sirena.
Clare gave me a fierce hug and I winced.
‘Mike – you’re hurt?’
‘Don’t worry, it’s really nothing. But go carefully with those hugs for now.’
Campbell limped up to us, his face blackened with smoke, his clothes scorched and sodden. He and I exchanged a look over Clare’s head and he smiled briefly.
‘How’s Paula?’ I asked him. ‘And Mark?’
‘Both all right. We haven’t lost anyone else,’ he said grimly. ‘The boys pulled two Spaniards aboard and two others jumped across.’
Taffy was helping Nick to his feet. Apart from his arm which was obviously crippled and the abrasion on his face there seemed to be little wrong with him. Again I marvelled at his strength. Taffy said, ‘We’ve sent all the Spaniards below and Ian’s got ’em locked in our homemade brig.’
I said, ‘Surely they aren’t a danger to us now?’
‘Well, there could be trouble,’ said Taffy. ‘We’ve got –’
A stunning crash interrupted him. The hail of ash and magma had died down briefly, but now it started up again as a fresh pillar of smoke and steam boiled skywards from almost dead ahead of us. Our ship rocked wildly as another barrage of waves hit us. Sirena reemerged from this last assault on fire in several places. We heard men’s voices faintly through the uproar.
I’ll lay odds that Geordie Wilkins must be the best seaman ever to put his hands on a wheel. With consummate skill and an astonishing use of gear and throttle he edged Esmerelda nearer and nearer to the doomed Sirena, to aid the stricken men. As we closed in we saw that one of Falcon’s barrages must have sheared through the rigging and brought down the main gaff. Struggling men lay pinned to the deck. Others were trying frantically to release them, but the fires were closing in, eating their way along the deck timbers.
Clare screamed, ‘Look – Ramirez!’
A man was staggering across the deck of Sirena. Oblivious to the cries and struggles of his crew he never took his eyes from Esmerelda. Through the smoke as it was lit by an occasional red glare I saw that he was carrying a rifle. His torn clothing appeared scorched and blood-stained, and his face was a mask of smoke, blood and fury. He had crawled like a deadly spider from its crevice to use its poison for the last time.
I don’t know if he had given up all hope of surviving and was bent only on revenge, or if his mind had given way. I didn’t believe that cold intellect, so unlike Hadley’s unreasoning savagery, would break as easily as that. But there was an implacable singleminded purpose about him that was terrifying.
He aimed the rifle across the water.
I flung myself down shielding Clare – I had no idea who he would choose for a target – and I heard the gun fire, sharp and crisp against the background bedlam. It was followed almost instantly by a terrible grinding roar, louder than anything we had heard before. We staggered to our feet in time to see Falcon play its most horrible trick.
It was Geordie, intent on his delicate steering, who first saw the danger. I don’t know if he’d even been aware of Ramirez. Esmerelda sheered off violently as he spun the wheel so that we turned in a half-arc as fast as the one in which the eddy tide had taken us. Then he pushed the throttle in until the engine was pounding at maximum speed, to carry us away from the arena.
Behind us I saw Sirena jar to a sudden halt and Ramirez flung across the deck. The ship rose grotesquely in the air and tipped over on her side, looking like a small sailing boat stranded by the tide. But this was no sandbank. It was a bed of writhing red-hot lava. The sea recoiled from it in a tempest of steam.
In that last fraction of a second Ramirez rolled back down the deck, his clothes a mass of flame. He was flung straight overboard into the raging lava bed and vanished instantly. Sirena went up like a funeral pyre, before banks of smoke and steam rolled across to blot her out of our sight.
IV
The rain of fire from Falcon continued. In all we were hit by four of those fiery bombs. An exhausted and shell-shocked crew was kept busy dousing fires, using the hoses for the biggest, buckets for the rest, and praying that we would not run out of fuel. The hoses worked only as long as the engine continued to run. And we knew that there wasn’t the slightest possibility of rigging sail.
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.’
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.
The Snow Tiger / Night of Error Page 61