Sad Wind From the Sea - Jack Higgins [65]
He grinned. 'That's about it, I think. A quiet country place near the sea will suit me, and the world can go on without me. I've had enough of the worst of it to last me for the rest of my life.'
She nodded slowly and said: 'Yes, I don't blame you. It's a nice dream.'
A wave of tenderness ran through him. He turned and looked at her and the sadness that showed in her face went to his heart. 'Come with me, angel,' he said urgently. 'We can make it together. It doesn't have to stay a dream.'
She shook her head. 'No, Mark! No, it can't be.' She turned away from him and gripped the handle of the door convulsively.
'But why not?' he said. 'I can't leave you flat in Macao. You'd always be on my mind.'
'So you feel responsible for me?' she said. 'Why should you?'
'It isn't only that.' He felt suddenly awkward. 'There's more to it than that.'
He reached out a hand and touched her shoulder and she pulled away sharply. 'No, it's no good, Mark. You see, I love you. I thought that was enough but it isn't. I now find that I need to respect you as well, and as things stand I can't.' She wrenched open the door before he could reply and was gone.
For a little while he leaned heavily on the wheel and stared with blind eyes into the rain and thought about her. It wasn't pretty but then he'd known in his heart from the beginning that he was playing her a dirty trick. He straightened up and shrugged the thoughts away. To hell with it. It was done and that was that. He'd offered her a share and she would get it whether she wanted it or not. After that she would have to look out for herself. He turned to check the time and the engines spluttered, coughed asthmatically, and died.
There was a sudden, terrible silence and for a moment Hagen stood gripping the wheel, the only sound the drumming of the rain on the roof of the wheelhouse, and then he cursed and went on deck.
As he passed the cabin door Rose poked her head out, alarm on her face. 'What's up?' she demanded.
He waved a hand. 'How the hell would I know?' he said and dropped down the ladder into the engine-room.
O'Hara was on his knees in one corner and when Hagen knelt beside him he turned a glum face. 'One of the fuel pipes, lad,' he said.
Hagen had a look. 'Bloody hell, that's all we needed,' he said. The pipe had a crack several inches long in it.
'That's what comes of trusting wog traders,' O'Hara told him. 'I remember you getting that pipe from an Indian in Hong Kong and it was half the usual price.'
Hagen snorted. 'Who the hell cares about that now. For God's sake get moving. Try binding it with tape. It only has to hold for another half an hour or so.' He got to his feet and scrambled up the ladder on to the deck.
Rose wiped rain away from her face with the back of a hand and said, 'Is it bad?'
'Bad enough,' Hagen told her. 'My own fault. I put a cheap pipe in a few months back when I was a bit short. The damned thing was faulty. It's cracked.'
'Can it be fixed?'
He nodded. 'O'Hara's having a go at it now. He might fix it enough to get us where we're going.'
She gazed over his shoulder and gave a cry of alarm. 'Quick, Mark. We're running aground.'
He whirled round and saw the long, low back of a sandbank stretching towards them from the mist. He ran to the wheelhouse and turned the wheel and the current pushed them gently towards the bank. There was a slight shudder and they came to a standstill. He went back on deck and reassured the girl. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'The engines will pull us off with no trouble. We're better off here than drifting.'
He turned towards the engine-room hatch and as he put a foot on the ladder Rose cried, 'Stop!' He turned in surprise and she said, 'I thought I heard something.'
They stood at the rail, listening together, and gradually Hagen became aware, through the mist and rain, of the unmistakable sound of an engine that drew closer every second. Rose turned to speak and he motioned her to silence. Gradually the noise increased until it seemed to be almost on top of them and