Pirate - Duncan Falconer [44]
‘He cannot travel.’
Stratton understood. The information was too important and the man was too badly injured.
‘You will leave your friend too?’ she asked.
Stratton would have considered it only if there was a good chance Hopper could survive on his own. But he would most certainly die. ‘No. I have to get him.’
She looked disappointed. Stratton suspected she saw it as a weakness.
‘We would have a better chance together, you and I,’ she said.
Stratton suddenly wondered if she had more useful information. But he wouldn’t leave Hopper behind, no matter what she had to offer. ‘Where are the other missiles?’ he said.
‘I’ll tell you if you help me get away from here.’
It was a fair enough exchange. She was tough and might not be such a liability. She might even be helpful if they could find a boat. ‘OK,’ he said, stepping out from behind the brace to look up towards the hatch.
He made his way to the bottom of the ladder. He couldn’t see any movement above and all was silent. The girl joined him.
‘What’s your name?’ he said.
‘Immy.’
‘I’ll go up first.’
‘Or I can.’
‘Get one thing straight. This isn’t a partnership. You do everything I say, as soon as I say it, and without any chat. Got that?’
She shrugged.
He reached for a high rung and pulled himself up the ladder.
7
Stratton emerged from the bosun’s locker hatch. He crouched, scanning the deck and the superstructure. Then he moved to the familiar cover of the anchor chain machinery. The girl paused at the hatch opening to look around for herself before following.
‘Did you come up the anchor chain?’ Stratton asked.
‘Yes.’
‘We’ll go back the same way,’ he said.
‘I found something better,’ Immy said. ‘Follow me.’
Before he could stop her, she had stepped away to the other side of the deck. His jaw tightened with irritation, but there was little he could do in their exposed position. Keeping low, he followed the girl.
On the port side, a few metres down from the sharp end of the boat, a thick rope looped over a bollard and reached down to the water.
‘Less exposed than the anchor chain,’ she said.
He had to agree. ‘Would you like to go first?’ he asked.
Without hesitation she climbed over the solid perimeter, grabbed hold of the rope and let her legs swing below her. She was strong and shimmied down fearlessly.
Stratton didn’t wait for her to reach the water before starting down. ‘Follow me,’ he said as he slid into the water and swam away at an angle towards the beach.
She swam close behind him.
He scanned the beach as they closed on it, in particular the fire. He could see the Somalis still gathered there, smoking as they sat around the flames. They didn’t look like they had recently found a throttled buddy.
The waves had got bigger in the short time they had been aboard the Oasis. The wind had picked up. Clouds had gathered like a storm was on the way. Stratton was content enough with that. The darker and rougher the better.
The waves crashed heavily on to the beach. Stratton swam hard to pull himself through the surf. With metres to go, he lowered his feet and touched the sand. A swell raised him up and he floated in on it. The sea dumped him on to the sand and he crawled further up the incline on his belly. The water receded, leaving him high and dry. The next wave deposited the girl, who rolled on past him.
He looked at the men, and then he got up. ‘Come on,’ he said, grabbing her shoulder and dragging her to her feet.
They ran through the flood of ship lights up the beach until they reached darkness. They dropped on their knees to the sand and looked about them again. Then they moved stealthily towards the beachfront homes. A few had wood fires going inside or kerosene lamps. Several bright electrical lights shone somewhere in the town. They could hear the buzz of small petrol-driven generators.
Stratton saw movement between some houses and went to ground. Several people, a family perhaps, hanging around in the street. The wind toyed with their wet clothes as they knelt to watch and listen.