Passage by Night - Jack Higgins [25]
There was a slight sea mist lifting off the water and the Cretan Lover was kicking along at a tremendous pace. There was no moon, but the night sky was a jewel-studded delight and there was a strange luminosity to the water. He walked along the heaving deck, stepping over the three tuna they had caught on the previous afternoon, and went into the wheelhouse.
Papa Melos was standing at the wheel. He cut a fine, weird figure, his head apparently disembodied in the light from the compass.
'How are things going?' Manning said.
'Couldn't be better.'
He slipped to one side, allowing Manning to take over the wheel, and leaned against the door filling his pipe.
'What time will we make San Juan?'
The old man shrugged. 'If weather holds, just before noon tomorrow.'
'Will there be any restriction on how long we can stay?'
'There never used to be, but as I said before, things have changed.'
'Will we have much trouble finding a buyer for the fish?'
'I shouldn't think so, not with tuna as prime as those are.' Papa Melos applied a match to the bowl of his pipe. 'You're a handy man with a rod. As good as any I've seen. Come to think of it, photographer, you're a pretty good sailor.'
'I've been around small craft all my life and the Special Boat Service was a first-rate grounding.'
'But that was a long time ago,' Papa Melos said. 'Before the flood.'
There was a question in his voice, unspoken but still there. Manning ignored it and said easily, 'Some things a man never forgets how to do.'
'I suppose not.' The old man yawned. 'Think I'll get some sleep. I'll take over at seven.'
He moved away along the deck, humming to himself, and Manning lit a cigarette, pulled a hinged seat down from the wall and settled back comfortably, the wheel steady in his hands.
There was little point in worrying what might happen when they reached San Juan. He would have to play the cards as they fell. A slight, ironic quirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. Come to think of it, he seemed to have been doing just that for the greater part of his life.
Gradually his mind wandered back along forgotten paths and he thought of people and incidents long gone. This was a period he looked forward to at sea. To be alone with the night and the boat. It was as if the world had ceased to exist.
The door opened softly, coinciding with a spatter of rain against the windows. He smelt the aroma of coffee heavy on the morning air and there was another, more subtle fragrance.
'What's wrong with bed at this time in the morning?' he said.
'The best part of the day,' she told him and pulled down the other seat.
She handed him a mug of coffee and a sandwich and they ate in companionable silence, their knees touching. Afterwards, he gave her a cigarette and they sat there smoking as rain hammered forcefully against the window.
'You love the sea, don't you?' she said suddenly.
'I suppose I do,' he said, momentarily off guard. 'It's rather like a woman - capricious and not very reliable, but that doesn't mean you love her the less.'
She smiled. 'You're the strangest photographer I've ever met.'
As with the father, there was an unspoken question in her voice and he suddenly knew he was on dangerous ground.
'I had a salvage business in Havana with a sideline in underwater photography. When the revolution came, I hung on till the last minute like a hell of a lot of other people who didn't see which way the wind was blowing. Only got out by the skin of my teeth. Lost everything.'
He was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice and she leaned across impulsively and put a hand on his arm. When she spoke, her voice was warm and full of sympathy. 'I'm sorry.'
'No need to be. I was luckier than most of the poor devils who hang around Miami waiting for something unpleasant to happen to Castro. I knew the right people and that always helps. I've managed to make a steady living at this freelance game.'
'This trip to San Juan? It means a lot to you?'
'More than anything else in the world right now,' he said flatly.
'Then I'm glad we agreed to go.'
Suddenly,