Medusa

I didn’t answer that, simply got in beside her and we drove on. Now that I was on my way and committed to leaving Spanish soil without clearance, I was in a more sombre mood.

‘You’re sure this journey of yours is absolutely necessary?’ She said it lightly, still joking, but there was an undercurrent of concern in it that matched my own mood. I said nothing and we drove on in silence.

It was 22.57 when we turned north on to the Macaret road, 23.07 when we started down into Port d’Addaia. Soon we could see the water of the inlet, the islands at the entrance dark shapes, no moon, no stars. Thunderflash was already there, riding to her anchor just off the new quay, the semi-inflatable ready alongside. I flashed our lights, then switched them off and got my gear out of the boot.

The tender was on its way almost immediately, so there was only a brief moment of privacy to say goodbye. Perhaps that was as well. I don’t know what Soo was thinking as I kissed her, but my own thoughts were already on the voyage ahead and what it would be like to be back in Malta, this time without a passport. She didn’t cling to me. In fact, she showed remarkably little emotion. Perhaps she was thinking of Lloyd Jones, wondering if his frigate would put into Mahon while I was away.

It was Luis driving the tender and he cut the engine just right, sliding in to the concrete edge of the quay and throwing the painter to me as the little launch floated to a stop. ‘Good trip?’ I asked.

‘Si, bueno. We take five hours, speed reach sixteen knots. No motor.’ A flash of teeth in the dark face grinning up at me. He had enjoyed himself and I was glad. ‘Beeg sea, but everything very steady.’

‘What’s the forecast?’ I asked him.

‘Do’know. Carp attending it now. But we have nearly twenty knots, a levanter from Mahon to this place.’

I tossed my gear into the stern, gave Soo a final hug and jumped in. It might be blowing force five outside, but here, at the upper end of the long Macaret inlet, all was quiet, the water barely ruffled. By the time I got myself and my gear on board, Soo was already climbing the hill out of Addaia, the beam of the car’s headlights altering as she took the sharp bends.

Carp came up out of the saloon. He looked pleased with himself. The ship had behaved itself — he called it a ship — and there had been no problems, the helm very easy on all points of sailing. ‘We have a fast run to Malta — with luck.’ He gave a gap-toothed smile. ‘Wind twenty to twenty-five knots, backing north-east, possibly north, viz good.’

‘A tramontana then?’

He nodded. ‘But no rain. There’s a high to the west of us moving south. Seas two to three metres, so it could be bouncy.’

I glanced back at the quay and the loom of the land behind it. It was quite dark now, no sign of Soo. So this was it — the moment of departure. We hauled the tender up on to the stern, fixed the lashings, then went below. ‘Had any sleep on the way over?’ It was unlikely for they would have been too busy in the rising wind and sea.

Carp shook his head. ‘Would you like some coffee?’ he asked. ‘Something to eat?’

‘No thanks. We’ll get our heads down for a couple of hours. We need to be away about two, then we’ll be well clear of the island and in international waters by first light.’

I had the double bed in the port hull and had just drifted off when I felt a shake of the shoulder and opened my eyes to see Carp’s face leaning over me. ‘We got company.’

‘Coastal patrol?’ I had come fully awake in a flash, the duvet thrown back and my feet already feeling for the locker top beside the bunk.

‘No. Nothing official.’

‘Who then?’ I was thrusting my bare feet into my sea-boots.

But Carp was already climbing the steps that led up to the saloon. ‘Come and see for yourself.’

He was standing in the open, beside the helmsman’s seat, looking aft when I joined him, the rattle of a chain sounding loud in the quiet of the anchorage. No lights anywhere now, the houses all asleep, clouds low overhead. And there, a dim shape and barely fifty metres astern of us, was a fishing boat. ‘The Santa Maria?’ I asked him.

He nodded. ‘Thought you’d want to know.’ And he added, i was asleep on the settee just inside the saloon door when I was woken by the thump of a diesel close alongside. You reck’n they’ve come in for shelter?’

I didn’t say anything and we stood there watching as the chain was stopped with a clunk and they began to lower the dinghy, the Santa Maria gradually swinging bows-to-wind so that we lost sight of all that side of the vessel. Luis started to come up just as the dinghy came out from under the Santa Maria’s stern and I told him to go back. ‘Two of us,’ I said. ‘They must only see two of us.’ Carp nodded, the night glasses trained on the dinghy, which had swung towards us, one man in the stern handling the outboard, the other amidships, his head tucked into his shoulders as the spray began to fly. ‘Who is it?’ I asked.