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Half an hour later they rounded the Punta Campanella and began the run North across the Bay of Naples. The only time that Ben had ceased to concentrate solely on the steering of the boat was when the helicopter had made a couple of low passes over them. However it had made no attempt to attack them or delay them in any way. After a few minutes it had flown off in the direction of Naples.
Now that the wind and sea were behind them, the motion of the boat became less violent and he could begin to ease the throttles forward again to make better speed. Naples was still more than twenty miles away and anything could happen in the time it took them to get there.
Francesca poked a rather grey face out of the cabin door. “There are the things here to make a cup of coffee,” she announced. “But you will have to take it black.”
Ben suddenly realised he was both thirsty and hungry. “I don’t mind what it is.”
“Also you must slow down or the kettle will not stay on the heater.”
Obediently Ben reduced the speed again. The need to have some food was greater than the urge to get back to Naples and a somewhat uncertain kind of safety. He checked his watch. It was now nearing eight o’clock. Time seemed to be passing very slowly. Away to his left he could see the twin mysterious peaks of Capri disappearing into the low cloud. It was less than twenty-four hours since he and Francesca had taken leave of her wise old grandfather there. A lot seemed to have happened in that time.
He wondered how Donna was getting on. He regretted now that he had left her. He ought to have insisted more strongly that she should come with them. But somehow her competence and her self-assurance made him feel like a small boy. He grinned to himself. He hadn’t noticed that he aroused any maternal instincts in her.
Whatever she was doing, she certainly seemed to be keeping the pursuit away from them. Ben again turned to search the sea and sky behind. There was absolutely no movement in sight. Most Italians had more sense than to be out on the sea on a miserable day like today. Even the regular steamers from Sorrento to Capri seemed to have been called off, unless of course it was too early for them.
Ben turned to study the shore which was about a mile away. It was wild and unpopulated here. He checked the chart which Francesca had found for him before she took to her bunk. From this he could see that there was a small town ahead called Massa Lubrense. He couldn’t yet see it in the misty, spray-filled atmosphere. He wondered whether this place might be where the Vitelli would try to intercept them. He couldn’t believe that their enemies would allow them to motor across the bay straight into Naples without some kind of delaying action.
He also checked for off-shore rocks and found there was a small islet somewhere to their right. He couldn’t see this either. But he decided to alter course a little more west of north to make sure he kept well clear of the area.
Francesca’s head appeared in the doorway. She had a smile of triumph on her face. “I have opened a tin of pasta in sauce,” she announced. “Are you feeling hungry?”
“You bet I am. Where did you find that?”
“There are some stores in the cupboard under the cooker. Here – put it somewhere safe and I will get your coffee. Then I will steer the boat while you have breakfast.”
A minute later she emerged with the steaming cup of black coffee. She had wrapped herself in a woollen blanket which she must have found in one of the lockers below. It made her look very small. Ben found himself feeling strong and protective again. However there was nothing weak in the way she took control of the cruiser while he sat on the spray-spattered seat and wolfed the pasta. It was one of the most delicious meals he had eaten in a long while.
From time to time Francesca cast a sideways glance at him as he ate. He tried to think of something witty or intelligent to entertain her with. She was used to the company of young Italians of high birth. She would expect to be kept amused by her companions. He had never considered himself to be quiet or introverted before. But somehow she seemed to tie up his tongue. He feared he must cut a very poor figure in her eyes.
Even now all he could think of saying was, “What about you? Have you had something to eat?”
She shook her head. “No. I do not much like that pasta. I have had a cup of coffee.”
“What about your father?”
“I am worried about him. He will not eat because he feels sea-sick.”
“Well, in something over an hour – two hours at the most – we will be in Naples. Then he will be able to rest and eat.”
“You haven’t told me yet about how you got away from the capofamiglia,” said Francesca.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you before.” Ben recounted the events in Vitelli’s office. It was the first time he had found the time to go over the shooting of Mancino Vitelli and Guido’s knifing of Alfredo since they had got out of the Villa Rafallo. The car chase and the escape from La Procida had driven the thoughts from his mind.
“I suppose you’ll think I should have stayed and tried to help Alfredo, but I didn’t see what good it would have done and it would have resulted in the imprisonment of all of us. I told Sylvia to take care of him. I hope she is still prepared to look after her husband.”
Francesca let out a sort of hiss. She seemed to be concentrating very hard on controlling the boat. Ben felt depressed again.
“I always seem to find myself in a position where I have to make decisions which have serious consequences for the people affected. Afterwards I wonder whether I made the right decision.”
Francesca shook her head. “I think you did right. How could you have done any different?”
“What would your father say about me abandoning his eldest son?”
“Papa would understand. He told me that Alfredo had gone over to the Vitelli. I think he is completely changed. He was never a strong man of action like Toni or you. But now he seems to have no interest at all in the Cimbrone family. I think that Sylvia has changed him. I am ashamed of him.”
“I think you’re being a bit harsh on him. I think that perhaps he has only just woken up to what is going on. Maybe you will be able to forgive him in the light of what occurred this morning. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t shot Vitelli. Guido’s attack was intended for me. I think he only knifed Alfredo as a kind of reflex action.”
Francesca was silent but Ben continued, “I don’t know how badly hurt he was. I hope they got him to hospital. If they did, I think he may be all right.”
“It is no good for you to feel sorry for him,” said Francesca firmly. “You have to accept what happens. If he is well then that is good. If he is not – it is not your fault.”
Ben looked down at his lap. Francesca had revealed another more fatalistic side of her personality which he wasn’t quite sure that he understood. However he supposed she was right. He noticed his forgotten, half-eaten meal. With less enthusiasm than he had started, he swallowed the rest of the coffee and pasta.
“The food was good, Francesca. Thank you.” He set the tin plate down and stood up, waiting to take over from her at the wheel.
She looked up at him meekly. “Please may I continue to drive for a little time? I am enjoying it.”
“All right. You can speed up a little if you like. It won’t make things much rougher for your father down below and it will get us there faster.”
He showed her how to gradually increase the throttle revs until the boat was planing smoothly across the surface but without jumping wildly from the wave-crests. Then he leaned against the bulkhead and searched the sea astern again for any sign of pursuit.
The Mafia Emblem Page 54