The Kingdom of the Blind [83]
Granet scrambled down into a small dinghy which was tied to the side of the stone wall.
"We'd better be getting on board," he suggested.
Rowsell stared at him for a moment but acquiesced. They pulled across and boarded the Saucy Jane. A boy whom they found on the deck took the boat back. Rowsell set his sails slowly but with precision. The moment he stepped on board he seemed to become an altered man.
"Where might you be wanting to go?" he asked. "You'll need them oilskins, sure."
"I want to run out to the Bishop Lighthouse," Granet announced.
Rowsell shook his head.
It's no sort of a day to face the Atlantic, sir," he declared. "We'll try a spin round St. Mary and White Island, if you like."
Granet fastened his oilskins and stooped for a moment to alter one of the sails.
"Look here," he said, taking his seat at the tiller, "this is my show, Job Rowsell. There's a five pound note for you at the end of the day, if you go where I tell you and nowhere else."
The man eyed him sullenly. A few minutes later they were rushing out of the harbour.
"It's a poor job, sailing a pleasure boat," he muttered. "Not many of us as wouldn't sell his soul for five pounds."
They reached St. Agnes before they came round on the first tack. Then, with the spray beating in their faces, they swung around and made for the opening between the two islands. For a time the business of sailing kept them both occupied. In two hours' time they were standing out towards Bishop Lighthouse. Job Rowsell took a long breath and filled a pipe with tobacco. He was looking more himself now.
"I'll bring her round the point there," he said, "and we'll come up the Channel and home by Bryher."
"You'll do nothing of the sort," Granet ordered. "Keep her head out for the open sea till I tell you to swing round."
Rowsell looked at his passenger with troubled face.
"Are you another of 'em?" he asked abruptly.
"Don't you mind who I am," Granet answered. "I'm on a job I'm going to see through. If a fiver isn't enough for you, make it a tenner, but keep her going where I put her."
Rowsell obeyed but his face grew darker. He leaned towards his passenger.
"What's your game?" he demanded hoarsely. "There's some of them on the island'd have me by the throat if they only knew the things I could tell 'em. What's your game here, eh? Are you on the cross?"
"I am not," Granet replied, "or I shouldn't have needed to bring you to sea. I know all about you, Job Rowsell. You're doing very well and you may do a bit better by and by. Now sit tight and keep a still tongue in your head."
They were in a queer part of the broken, rocky island group. There was a great indenture in the rocks up which the sea came hissing; to the left, round the corner, the lighthouse. Granet drew what looked to be a large pocket-handkerchief from the inner pocket of his coat, pulled down their pennant with nimble fingers, tied on another and hauled it up. Job Rowsell stared at him.
"What's that?"
"It's the German flag, you fool," Granet answered.
"I'll have none of that on my boat," the man declared surlily. "An odd fiver for a kindness--"
"Shut up!" Granet snapped, drawing his revolver from his pocket. "You run the boat and mind your own business, Rowsell. I'm not out here to be fooled with. . . .My God!"
Almost at their side the periscope of a submarine had suddenly appeared. Slowly it rose to the surface. An officer in German naval uniform struggled up and called out. Granet spoke to him rapidly in German. Job Rowsell started at them both, then he drew a flask from his pocket and took a long pull. The submarine grew nearer and Granet tossed a small roll of paper across the chasm of waters. All that passed between the two men was to Job Rowsell unintelligible. The last few words, however, the German repeated in English.
"The Princess Hilda from Southampton, tomorrow at midnight," he repeated thoughtfully. "Well, it's a big business."
"It's worth it," Granet assured him. "They may call it