Three quarters of a million dollars was the prize. Brutality was their profession. I thought of it and felt chill along the back.
I was still looking at the chart when the idea began to come to me. I hurriedly slid the parallel rulers over on our course and looked at my watch. It was just a little less than two hours since we’d cleared the sea buoy. Guessing our speed at five knots would put us ten miles down that line. Growing excited now, I marked the estimated position and spanned the distance to the beach westward of us with the dividers. I measured it off against the edge of the chart. It was a little less than nine miles.
Hope surged up in me. We could do it. There was still enough glow in the sky over Sanport to guide us, and if there wasn’t, all we had to do was keep the sea behind us and go downwind. The water was warm. You could stay in it all day without losing too much body heat.
Sure, the police would get me, and her, too. We wouldn’t have a chance, half clothed and with no money. But that was nothing compared to what lay ahead for us here. She might go free. If we could sell them the story soon enough, the Coast Guard might pick up the sloop and take them. There was a chance it would clear her. I’d go to prison, but that was better than going crazy out there when they started getting rough with her.
But we had to have a life belt. She probably couldn’t swim anything like that distance, and it was just a tossup whether I could or not. But how to get one out there on deck without their seeing it? They were big and bulky, and even down here in the cabin Barfield would notice it as she went by. I looked swiftly around the cabin and had an idea that might work. Taking one of the big, cork-slab belts from under the starboard settee, I put it on top of the icebox, which was right beside the companionway.
I hurried back through the curtain and knelt beside her again. Leaning close, I whispered, “Can you swim?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, but when she replied her voice was low. “Just a little,” she said.
“Good,” I whispered. “Listen. We’ve got to get off here. Now. There’s not a chance in the world of finding that plane with the information you’ve got, and when they begin to find it out it’s going to be murder. And even if we could locate it, they’d probably kill us anyway. So we’ve got to swim for it. Maybe we make it, maybe we drown; but it’s better than this. How about it?”
“How far?” she asked quietly.
“About nine miles.”
“I can swim about a hundred yards, in calm water.”
“That’s all right. I’m pretty good at it, and we’ll have a life belt. It’s our only chance.”
The big eyes looked at me gravely, without fear. “All right,” she whispered.
“Fine,” I said. “Now, I’m going back on deck. As soon as I’m up there, Barfield will probably come back down here and turn in. Wait about five minutes, and then come on deck yourself. If he tries to stop you, make a gagging sound and pretend to be seasick. Say you’ve got to have fresh air. Now look—” I pulled the curtain back a little so she could see straight through to the companionway. “There’s the life belt, on top of the icebox. He won’t see it, because I’ll turn the light out before I go back up. When you’re on the step, grab it fast and hug it to you and come on up in a hurry. Don’t try to put it on. Just hold it. The minute you step out onto the bridge deck, head for the rail, and go right over the side. By the time Barclay sees you’ve got a life belt it’ll be too late. Got it?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Good,” I whispered. “See you in the water. Better take your shoes off before you start up. And go for the lee rail.”
“Which one is that?”
I grinned. “The one downhill.”
She nodded. “Thank you for everything,” she said softly. She thought we were going to drown.
I put my hand against her cheek. “We’ll make it,” I said. Just touching her brought back that intense longing to take her in my arms. I stood up abruptly and turned away.
I went back on deck after turning out the lamp over the chart table. It was very dark at first. Barfield growled something and I heard him going below. I sat down in the cockpit, on Barclay’s right and as near him as I dared.
“Have a nice conference?” he asked with urbane humor.
“Very nice,” I answered.
“She really didn’t know what he was doing, did she?”
“No.”
“Curiously enough, I rather believe her. The possibility didn’t occur to me, however, until I was telling you about it. Macaulay was an odd one, and there was a good chance he didn’t want her to know about it. Or anyone else. Came from a rather prominent family.”
“She did?”
“No. Macaulay. She was a show girl. Danced in a cabaret.”
My eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness now. I looked astern and could still see the faint glow over the city. Involuntarily, I shuddered. There was a lot of dark water between here and the shore.
But we could make it. One life belt will support two people if they don’t try to stand on it or fight the water. We’d each hold an end of it and I could tow her, resting when I was tired. The sky was clear; even if we couldn’t see the glow of the city from down there in the water, we’d have Polaris to orient us until dawn and after that the sun. All we had to do, anyway, was go with the sea and wind and we’d hit the beach eventually.
“You’d best stretch out and get some sleep,” Barclay said. “I should like to be relieved at six.”
I had to be careful not to arouse suspicion. “All right,” I said. “In a minute.” If he got an inkling of what we were up to they wouldn’t let her on deck until we were a hundred miles at sea.
I thought of the hours we’d be in the water and wished longingly for one last cigarette, but did not light it because it would momentarily destroy night vision. Things were going to happen fast, and I had to find her there in the water before she could become frightened and cry out. I waited, trying not to tense up. She should be coming up any moment now. Suppose Barfield stopped her?
“Did she tell you where the plane was?” Barclay asked.
“Yes,” I said. I repeated what she had said, and asked, “Where did you get the impression it was west of Scorpion Reef?”
“From her, naturally,” Barclay answered. “I hope we aren’t going to have any of that. She distinctly said north-northwest.”
“She was suffering from shock,” I said coldly. “I believe she had just seen her husband butchered in cold blood. And, anyway, it’s a cinch he wouldn’t have been to the westward of Scorpion Reef if he’d been heading for the Florida coast.”
“True enough,” he said. “But we’ll take the matter up after breakfast. And I would advise you both not to attempt any evasiveness or lying. Unfortunately, we are quite in earnest about this.”
I started to say something, but at that moment I heard voices in the cabin. She had started up.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Barfield’s voice growled.
“I—I feel nauseated,” she said. I could barely hear her. “—fresh air—”
“Hey, Joey,” Barfield called. “All right to let her up?”
I waited, holding my breath.
“No,” Barclay said. “Find her a pail and tell her to stay down there—”
If she was beyond him we had no chance at all, but it was now or never. I swung. My fist crashed into the blurred whiteness of Barclay’s face, and at the same time I yelled, “Run!”
Barclay fell back, clawing in his pocket for the gun. She came up through the hatch, moving fast, with Barfield shouting behind her. I could see her for a brief second, standing erect on the deck at the forward end of the cockpit with the bulky life preserver clutched to her breast. Then she was lunging and falling outward. I grabbed Barclay’s jacket and hauled, rolling him into the bottom of the cockpit. Barfield came lunging up out of the hatch. I heard her splash.