Devil's Rock - Chris Speyer [29]
Sure enough, the footsteps went quiet for a moment and were followed by the sound of ropes being tossed from the shore on to the deck.
‘She’s casting off!’ hissed Zaki.
‘So, what now?’
‘Maybe she’s not going far. It’s a bit late to be setting out to sea and she’s towing the dinghy. Could just be going to anchor in deeper water down the estuary.’
‘Great! So we’ll be stuck in the middle of the harbour!’
‘I think she left someone in Salcombe. She might stop at the ferry wharf to pick them up.’
‘And if she doesn’t?’
Zaki shrugged.
There was a soft thud as the girl landed back onboard and they could feel the boat heel gently to the wind as it swung away from the dockside.
Zaki pictured what was happening above him: the girl pushing off and hurrying back to the helm. There was the splash of a rope dropping into the water and the sound of it being hauled aboard. She’d have her hands full right now, managing the sail and steering through the moored boats.
‘Can you swim?’ asked Zaki.
‘Oh my God! You’re not serious?’ Anusha saw that he was. So she said, ‘Yes,’ and then added, ‘if I have to.’
‘Sorry,’ said Zaki. ‘Sorry I got you into this.’
Anusha gave a little toss of her head that seemed to say, ‘I must have been mad.’
The wind was light. Curlew was running down the estuary in almost total silence, the only sound the lap of little ripples against her bow. Zaki and Anusha no longer dared risk even whispered conversation. Minutes passed slowly and the boat continued steadily on. Zaki’s faith in his theory that the girl would stop when she reached Salcombe began to fade. He gathered his courage and got to his feet. He would go and speak to her, try to explain. But before he could open the door the boat tipped suddenly and he was thrown across the cabin, jarring his injured shoulder.
‘What’s happening?’ Anusha’s eyes were wide.
‘She’s turned into the wind. Shhh! If she’s going to anchor, she’ll have to come on to the foredeck.’
Now the boat was full of noise: sails flapped, shaking the rigging, blocks rattled, ropes beat against the deck, every sound amplified down in the cabin. Footsteps overhead were followed by the splash of the anchor and the clatter of the anchor chain. The beating sails quietened as they were lowered and furled. The footsteps retreated back to the stern and then Zaki heard the girl descend into the cabin. His eyes met Anusha’s and they both held their breaths. Zaki willed Anusha not to move; her knuckles were white as she gripped a sailbag. They could hear the girl moving about in the saloon. What was she doing? Would she come forward? At last, she went back on deck and closed the main hatch. There was a pause and then the distinctive rattle of oars in rowlocks followed by the splash . . . splash . . . splash of the girl rowing steadily away in the dinghy.
‘She’s gone,’ breathed Zaki.
‘Ohhh! Thank goodness!’ groaned Anusha, slowly unfolding herself from her cramped seat on the sailbag.
Zaki eased the forehatch open, enough to see out. Curlew was anchored amongst the local moorings on the East Portlemouth side of the harbour. Zaki could see the girl rowing across to the quayside.
‘She’s either going ashore, or to pick someone up. Either way, we’ve got at least quarter of an hour,’ said Zaki.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ urged Anusha, stepping into the saloon.
‘Wait! There’s her logbooks. I’ve read bits of them already. They’ll maybe tell us where’s she’s been, what she’s been doing.’
‘Are you crazy? We can’t hang about reading stuff! Anyway, she’s not going to have written “I just killed so-and-so, and stuck the body in this cave”, is she? Not unless she’s completely bonkers!’
Anusha was already sliding back the cover of the main hatch. Zaki hesitated then opened the port-side locker. There were the logbooks. He already knew, or thought he knew that she wasn’t their author. He took down the one that looked the oldest and flipped through it quickly. The handwriting was still the same, although a little less regular; there were crossings out and corrections, notes written in the margins. Then