The Wreck Of The Mary Deare

I nodded and I could see him working it out for himself. Sea Witch heeled to a gust of wind and I felt the drag of the prop. Spray splashed my face. And then Mike was back. ‘How did you know it was Griselda he asked me.

‘I was right, was I?’

‘Yes — it’s either Griselda or a sister ship. Fifty-foot over all. Built by Parkhurst in 1931.’

‘And her top speed?’

‘Hard to say. She’s got two six-cylinder Parkhurst engines. But they’re the original engines and it depends how they’ve been maintained. Flat out, I’d say she might do a little over eight knots.’

Sea Witch was heeling farther now and the Wave-tops were lopping over on to the foredeck. ‘In calm water.’

‘Yes, in calm water.’

The wind was rising and already the seas were beginning to break. I was thinking that in a little over two hours the tide would turn. It would be west-going then and the freshening wind would kick up a short, steep sea. It would reduce Griselda’s speed by at least a knot. ‘I’m standing on,’ I told Mike. ‘We’ll try and shake them off during the night.’ And then I explained about the yacht broker I had met with Hal and how Higgins had warned me. ‘Higgins even guessed you’d come down to Lulworth,’ I said to Patch.

‘Higgins!’ He turned and stared aft. The spotlight was on his face and there was something in the way his eyes shone — it might have been anger or fear or exultation; I couldn’t tell. And then the spotlight was switched off and he was just a black shape standing there beside me.

‘Well, if it’s only the Dellimare Company-’ Mike’s voice sounded relieved. ‘They can’t do anything, can they?’

Patch swung round on him. ‘You don’t seem to realise…’ His voice came hard and abrupt out of the darkness, the sentence bitten off short. But I had caught his mood and I looked back over my shoulder. Was it my imagination or was the motor boat nearer now? I found myself looking all round, searching for the lights of another ship. But there was nothing — only the blackness of the night and the white of the breaking wave-tops rushing at us out of the darkness.

‘Well, we go on. Is that right?’ I wasn’t sure what I ought to do.

‘You’ve no alternative,’ Patch said.

‘Haven’t we?’ Mike stepped down into the cockpit. ‘We could run for Poole. That boat’s following us and… Well, I think we should turn the whole thing over to the authorities.’ His voice sounded nervous.

A wave broke against the weather bow, showering spray aft, and we heeled to a gust so that our lee decks were awash. The sea was shallower here. There were overfalls and Sea Witch pitched violently with a short, uncomfortable motion, the screw juddering under the stern and the bows slamming into the waves so that water was sluicing across the foredeck. ‘For God’s sake cut that engine!’ Patch shouted at me. ‘Can’t you feel the drag of the prop?’

Mike swung round on him. ‘You don’t run this boat.’

‘It’s stopping our speed,’ Patch said.

He was right. I had been conscious of it for some time. ‘Switch it off, will you, Mike?’ I asked.

He hesitated and then dived into the charthouse. The noise of the engine died, leaving a stillness in which the sound of the sea seemed unnaturally loud. Under sail alone, the boat merged with the elements for which she had been designed, fitting herself to the pattern of wind and wave. The movement was easier. Waves ceased to break over the foredeck.

But though Patch had been right, Mike came back out of the charthouse in a mood of blazing anger.

‘You seem bloody certain we’re going to try and race that boat for you,’ he said. And then, turning to me, he added, Take my advice, John. Turn downwind and head for Poole.’

‘Downwind,’ Patch said, ‘the motor boat will be faster than you.’

‘Well, head up-wind then and make for Weymouth.’

‘It’s a dead beat,’ I said.

And Patch added, ‘Either way she’ll overhaul you.’

‘What’s that matter?’ Mike demanded. They can’t do anything. They’ve got the law on their side. That’s all. They can’t do anything.’

‘God Almighty!’ Patch said. ‘Don’t you understand yet?’ He leaned forward, his face thrust close to mine. ‘You tell him, Sands. You’ve met Gundersen. You know the set-up now.’ He stared at me, and then he swung round to face Mike again. ‘Listen!’ he said. ‘Here was a plan to clean up over a quarter of a million pounds. The cargo was switched and sold to the Chinks. That part of it went all right. But all the rest went wrong. The captain refused to play his part. They tried to sink her in a gale and they failed. Higgins was left to do the job on his own and he botched it.’ His voice was pitched high in the urgency of his effort to communicate what he believed. ‘Can’t you see it from their point of view… twelve men drowned, an old man dead, possibly murdered, and the ship herself lying out there on the Minkies. They daren’t let me reach the Mary Deare. And they daren’t let you reach her either. They daren’t even let you get into port now — not until they’ve disposed of the Mary Deare.’

Mike stared at him. ‘But that’s fantastic,’ he breathed.