Trustee From the Toolroom (22 page)

They walked round the head of the yacht basin and down the long tier of vessels to the immaculate schooner yacht at the end. As they approached her Keith's heart sank. She exuded wealth at every glance, from the polished bronze cap on the end of her bowsprit to the gilt emblem on the top of her ensign jackstaff at the stern. Her paintwork, her varnished brightwork, were spotless and brilliant; her halliards were of stainless steel wire rope running to hydraulic winches at the foot of each mast, her sheets of gleaming white nylon. A wireless aerial ran from the trunk of the mainmast to the mizzen and down to the wheelhouse and deck lounge at the stern, from which a television aerial and a direction-finding loop protruded. A deckhand in immaculate white overalls lounged by the varnished gangway leading to the deck. Keith would never have dreamed of setting foot on such a ship himself; he decided that negotiations here were his captain's responsibility.

No such qualms beset Jack Donelly. He marched down the gangway to the deck, Keith following behind. The lounging sailor stood erect. ' What can we do for you, brother ?' he asked.

Jack said, ' See the captain.'

'What do you want with him?'

'None o' your business. Just tell the captain I got sump'n to talk to him about.'

'You got to say what you want. The captain's busy.'

Jack flared into a quick anger that Keith had not seen before. He advanced a threatening step towards the man. 'You go tell him.'

The deckhand stepped back hurriedly.' Okay, Superman, " okay. But he won't see you till he's finished breakfast. Just wait up on the jetty.'

'We'll wait right here.'

The man hesitated, and then went towards the wheelhouse door. He almost collided with a woman who came flying out on deck. 'Who's that?' she asked him urgently.

'Coupla guys want to see the captain, lady,' he replied. 'They won't say what they want.'

She hesitated, and then brushed past him and walked quickly to Jack and Keith by the gangway. 'You haven't come from Manuel ?' she asked. She had bright auburn hair, almost red in the Honolulu sunlight, that probably owed something to art. Keith judged she might have been about thirty years of age.

Jack looked at Keith blankly; the situation was beyond him. Keith said, 'We've come to see the captain.'

'Oh.' She was plainly disappointed. 'I was expecting ... somebody else.'

'We just want to see the captain.'

She looked them up and down.' Want a job ?' She said to Jack, 'You're a sailor by the look of you. He might have one for you. I don't suppose he'd have one for your friend.'

'We don't want no job,' Jack Donelly replied. 'Just want to see the captain - ask him about the course down to the Islands.'

She stood in silence, her lips drooping. Keith had a queer feeling that at any moment she was likely to start crying. 'You're nothing to do with Manuel?' she asked dully.

Jack looked blank, and Keith shook his head. 'We've never met him, I don't think,' he told her. 'Who is he?'

'At the Royal Waikiki Hotel, with his orchestra,' she said. '
Music with Manuel,
every Thursday evening on CBS. You must have seen it. Everyone knows Manuel.'

Jack Donelly said, 'We just want to see the captain.'

She turned away from them and walked slowly to the deckhouse door, and vanished inside. They stood in the sun at the end of the gangway, waiting. Jack smiled thoughtfully. 'Like to see her with no clothes on,' he remarked. 'She'd peel off nice.'

Keith laughed. 'You're not likely to get the chance.'

The deckhand reappeared. 'Captain, he's at breakfast,' he told them.' He said to tell you to wait, or else come back again in half an hour.'

'Guess we'll wait,' said Jack patiently.

They waited for a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes. Then the captain came out of the deckhouse door and walked towards them, a tall, bronzed, efficient-looking man in naval whites and a white-topped naval cap. ' You want to see me about something ?' he asked.' I'm Captain Petersen.'

Jack said awkwardly,' I was wondering if we could check a course with you down to the Islands. I'm Jack Donelly, and this is Mr Keats, sailing with me.'

' Sure,' said the captain. ' There was a piece about you in the paper. You came from San Francisco single handed, didn't you?'

' Piece about me in the paper ?' asked Jack vaguely.

' In the
Post-Journal,
nearly a column about you and your ship. One day last week. Didn't you see it?'

Jack shook his head.

'I'll get the steward to look through the papers in the cookhouse. Maybe we've got it still. That's your ship up at the end? The white sloop?'

'That's right.'

'Where are you bound for now, Captain?'

'Going south to this place Tahiti,' Jack Donelly said. ' Mr Keats's got business to do there.'

' Quite a way,' said the captain, ' but you should find a fair reaching wind, this season of the year. It might fall light and variable when you get down about five north. Then after the Equator it might steady up again, still from the east. You haven't got a motor?'

Jack shook his head.

' Oh well, I think you'll be all right. You may get a few days slamming about in the Doldrums. Come into the chart-house and we'll have a look at the course.'

They went with him towards the deckhouse door. Keith asked, 'Have you got a motor, sir?'

'Oh, sure. We've got a big main diesel and a smaller one for starting and battery charging. The engine room is quite a show place in this ship.'

' How many hands you carry ?' asked Jack.

'Nine deckhands,' said the captain, 'two engineers, one cook, two stewards, boatswain, mate, and me. Seventeen all told.'

They entered the wheelhouse and stood by the chart table. The captain pressed a bell-push and a buzzer sounded below; a steward appeared. 'Sam,' said the captain, 'chase around the ship and see if you can find a copy of the
Post-Journal
about the middle of last week, Wednesday or Thursday, with the column in it about Captain Donelly and the
Mary Belle.
If you find it, bring it here. And - hold it.' He turned to Jack and Keith. 'Cup of coffee? Right. Three cups, Sam.'

They turned to a consideration of the course. Keith was surprised and pleased by the consideration that the American captain of this very fine yacht gave to Jack Donelly's problems. A dumb fisherman from Oregon was clearly no novelty to him; moreover, he had probably been briefed by local gossip in the yacht harbour. He examined jack's smudged atlas page with interest and with care and turned to Keith's charts with tact, ran out the course for them, and curiously enough arrived at exactly the same magnetic course as Captain Davies had in the
Cathay Princess. '
Guess I needn't have troubled you,' said Jack at last. ' I thought maybe it would be something different, the tanker being an iron ship.'

The captain shook his head. 'That's compass deviation. You don't want to stow anything made of iron near your binnacle - an anchor, or anything like that. Take it up forward.' They went on to discuss the probable winds, two men of the same country talking the language of sail.

They went on talking for half an hour, sipping the cups of coffee, smoking as they stood over the charts. Keith showed his newspaper cutting about the loss of
Shearwater
and the death of Jo, and told this pleasant man the purpose of his journey. The red-headed woman came up from below dressed for the shore and passed them by, walked with quick steps up the gangway, got into a car upon the quay^and drove off.

'You won't have any trouble,' Captain Petersen said at last. 'A good, reaching wind most of the way, unless you're very unlucky. You should make better than a hundred miles a day, average. Add a week in the Doldrums. I'd say you'll be in' Papeete in thirty days." He paused, and then said, 'Wish I was coming with you.'

Keith asked, 'Have you been here long?'

'Too long,' the captain said. 'Nearly four weeks. We came here from LA bound for Tokio and then Manila with the owner, his daughter, and some friends. Four months' cruise, it was to be. But soon as we got here he was talking on the telephone to New York and then to Cincinnati where the plant is, and he left and flew back east. He'll be back again some time, but Lord knows when. In the meantime there's just the daughter living here on board, and she's doing no good.'

'That's the lady who went on shore just now?' Keith asked. 'She came and spoke to us while we were waiting.'

The captain nodded. 'Mrs Efstathios,' he said. 'At least -I always call her Mrs Efstathios. I don't think the decree's gone through yet.'

Jack said, 'She was asking sump'n about a guy called Manuel. Seemed to think we ought to know about him.'

The captain nodded. 'Manuel de Silva,' he said reflectively. '
Music with Manuel.
He was born Mike Simmons, but that was in Puerto Rico so I suppose he felt he'd got a right to a Spanish name. Looks like he's going to be Number Four if we stop here much longer.'

He stood in thought for a moment. 'Gee,' he said, 'I wish that I could jump 'this ship and come down to the Islands with you boys.'

They thanked this competent man and said goodbye, and went on shore, and started to walk back towards the
Mary Belle.
'Fine ship,' said Jack Donelly.

' She was beautiful,' Keith said.' I've never been on board a ship like that before. Do you know her name?'

'Flying Cloud.
Registered in Seattle.' He walked a few steps in thought. 'She costs somebody plenty.'

They walked back to the
Mary Belle
and went on board
'.
In the cabin Jack tucked the school atlas away under the mattress of his bunk, and Keith wedged the roll of charts behind the locker. Jack looked around the cabin. 'You think of anything we need we haven't got?' he asked.

Keith thought, and shook his head. 'We've got food, water, and kero,' he said. 'I don't know about the ship.'

Jack grunted. 'You ever been in a sailing craft like this before?'

Keith shook his head.

'Just keep out of my way, 'n don't do nothing 'less I tell you.'

He busied himself for the next half hour about the deck while Keith stood on the ladder in the hatch and watched. He set the jib in stops, made halliard and sheets ready, set up the main boom and removed the crutch, made fast the main sheet and removed all but two tie-ers from the sail. The wind was blowing from the east down the fairway of the yacht harbour towards the entrance. He took in the leeside bow and stern warps and led the doubled end of the bow warp from the weather bow pile to the stern. Then everything happened in a rush, so quickly that Keith had difficulty in appreciating what was going on. Jack cast off the weather stern warp and then he was everywhere at once, a big, nimble man stripped to the waist, hauling on ropes and casting them off. The
Mary Belle
moved forward smoothly from her berth into the fairway, turned as the jib broke out, and then she was sailing quietly down the middle of the rows of yachts towards the entrance, trailing a long rope in the water from her bow, Jack at the helm. 'Just gather that rope 'n put it on the deck beside the mast,' he said.

Keith did his best with this, and got it all on deck. They turned by the
Flying Cloud
and headed out to sea under jib alone, the wind a little aft of the beam. As they passed the schooner yacht Captain Petersen came out and waved to them from the deckhouse door.

They carried on southwards down the channel till Jack judged that they were well outside the reef. Then he told Keith to get down below out of the way. He loosened the main sheet, cast off the tie-ers from the main, put the ship up to the wind, and ran forward to hoist both peak and main halliards. The big tanned sail slammed and banged about as Keith crouched down below it in the hatch and Jack worked like a demon at the mast. Then suddenly it was over, and they were sailing quietly again, Jack at the helm, the big sail billowing above thejn. They were sailing much faster now, a little heeled to starboard, making about five knots.

Keith sat in the cabin hatch enjoying the smoothness of the motion in the lee of the land. As he looked around he saw a white launch come out of the harbour behind them. Presently he noticed it was closing up upon them fast, making about twenty knots, a white plume under the raised bow that grew and spluttered as she slammed each wave.

He said, 'There's a boat coming out behind us.'

Jack turned and' looked at it. 'Always sump'n/ he grumbled.

The launch ranged up alongside them and slowed to their speed. A uniformed man in the stern spoke through a megaphone. 'Say, Captain,' he said, 'you better heave to.'

Grumbling beneath his breath Jack Donelly pulled the foresheet up to weather, slacked the main, and put the helm down; the
Mary Belle
came up into the wind and lay quietly with little forward way. The launch ranged up beside her on the lee quarter only a few feet away. The uniformed man appeared by the coxswain. 'Where are you bound for?' he shouted.