'But he let you go,' I said. 'That's what you told me, sitting right here at your desk. You said he dropped you overboard up-tide of the buoy, so you'd drift down on it. And you promised you wouldn't tell anyone who he was.'
He nodded, standing in the centre of the cabin, a silhouette against the light so that I couldn't see the expression on his face. 'Yes.' His voice was toneless. 'He gave me my life, and I made a promise.'
'Why? The blood tie? The fact that you share the same father. Is that why he saved your life?'
'No.' And after a moment he went on slowly, 'No, I don't think it was that, more a matter of putting me in his debt. I've never been a part of Pat's world, so I can't be sure, but I have an idea that, besides the ruthlessness, there's a primitive sense of loyalty. You do somebody a good turn, then you're in credit with him and some day you can make a claim on him.' He glanced at his watch. 'I'll find out about that soon enough. Won't be long now.'
'You're expecting him?'
'Yes.'
'So what are you going to do?'
He sat down opposite me again and I thought for a moment he had reached a decision. But all he said was, 'Have you any idea of the average age of this ship's company?' He was interrupted again. More messages. He flicked through them, nodded briefly to Stanway, turning back to me and saying, 'Well, have you? The average age.' He slapped his hand on the table. 'You won't believe this, but it's not quite twenty-three and a half. That's the averageage of everybody, officers, senior rates, the lot. They're kids, most of them, with mothers and fathers, girlfriends, quite a few of them married, and I'm responsible. Not just for them, for their lives, but to all those people I've never met.'
'All right,' I said. 'So what areyou going to do?'
'What can I do?' He got suddenly to his feet. 'You don't seem to realise — this potty little island is the centre of the world. Just for the moment. For the next few hours.' He started to pace up and down. 'There are warships converging on it, the whole apparatus of military confrontation beginning to be put in motion. The heads of half a dozen of the world's most powerful countries will be consulting their advisers, despatching envoys with cautionary notes, even talking to each other direct, and all because of a little jumped-up peasant farmer called Ismail Fuxa, a bunch of disaffected locals and a couple of hundred highly trained professional soldiers, commandos probably, and almost certainly from an Arab country. In these circumstances, speed and ruthlessness, a willingness to take chances — hit the other fellow before he knows what's happening. God! I've had plenty of instruction on this. If you strike fast enough and hard enough you can change the face of the world. And you're asking me..'
The loudspeaker interrupted him. "There's a boat coming out from Gala Llonga, sir. The speedboat again, I think.'
He picked up the mike. 'Very well. It should be a man named Evans. Have him met at the ladder and if it is bring him straight to my cabin.'
'Very good, sir.'
He turned back to me. 'You're worried about your wife, and so am I. But just try to get this clear in your mind — you, me, Soo, all the boys on this ship, we're just pawns in a game that is being played on a world board.' He turned away, staring out to the lights of the waterfront. 'It will all depend now on whether I can persuade Pat.' He gave a little shrug. 'Frankly I doubt it. This must surely be the biggest thing he's ever been involved in.' He looked at his watch. 'Cape Spartivento is about two-forty miles from here — eight hours' steaming, something like that, and it's nearly nine already. Five hours gone. By midnight a whole fleet of ships could be gathering off the entrance here. An hour after that they could be steaming in past Villa Carlos, and if they were able to do that unopposed.. Then it would be a case of possession being nine-tenths of the law. International law, that is, and Fuxa has appealed to Moscow for help. Belatedly Spain has called upon her EEC partners to assist in maintaining her sovereignty here.'
He was running over it again for his own benefit, not mine. 'And on our side — ' He was at the port hole. 'Mahonnaise!That's what Richelieu's chef called his version of the local allioli.You know what that was for?' He was talking for the sake of talking. 'For the banquet. The French were holding a banquet here at Mahon after their victory over Byng. We'd held the islands for almost fifty years, from 1708 till 1756. Mahonnaise!'he said again. 'Poor Byng!' His voice had dropped to a whisper. 'We were here for another nineteen years, from 1763, and then yet again for four very important years during the Napoleonic Wars. That was when Nelson was supposed to have stayed up there at Golden Farm.'
He turned back to me, smiling sardonically. 'You see, I've been well briefed on the naval background. Grand Harbour, Marion, Gibraltar, a string of naval strongholds stretching across the Western Mediterranean. We've held them all, and I wouldn't be surprised if there aren't quite a number of people back home, people who are in a position to influence events, who still hanker after them. So you see — ' He hesitated. 'What I'm trying to make you understand, Mike, is that we're all just pawns — all of us who are here on the spot where it's happening. Pat included. I don't know what he gets out of it, but there's nothing you or I could offer him — ' He swung round at the sound of the loudspeaker again. 'Yes?'
'It is Mr Evans, sir. I'll send him up, shall I?'
'Is he on his own?' Gareth's voice sounded suddenly nervous.
'There's three of them altogether, but he's the only one who's come aboard and he's asking to see you personally.'
'Then have him sent up right away.'
'Very good, sir.'
The loudspeaker clicked off, Gareth standing by his desk fiddling with a ruler. Was he scared of the man? The spate of words he had been pouring out to me was in itself a sign of nerves. 'Better let me do the talking.' He was on edge and I Wondered how much of a hold this half-brother of his had on him. The years at Ganges,then on that houseboat in the mud gut at Felixstowe Ferry. And Evans — he must be very sure of himself, to come on board this ship.
The knock came sooner than I had expected. Gareth sat himself down abruptly at his desk. 'Come in.'
It was Davison. 'Mr Evans, sir.'
'Show him in. Then draw the curtain and wait outside.'
He seemed taller, the face more craggy, and the neck solid as a stone column. He wore no hat, his dark hair rumpled, and his shirt and the camouflage jacket were open at the neck. He was smiling, but no warmth in it, just an indication that he was prepared to be reasonable — or was he nervous, too, was there a certain insecurity under that tough exterior?
'Come in, Pat.' Gareth had risen to his feet. 'Sit down.' He waved him to a chair. 'Mike Steele you know.'
'Yeah, we've met before.' He sat down, smiling at me, his voice low key. 'How's the boat behaving?' But he didn't expect an answer for he turned to Gareth, the smile gone from his face. 'Well, when do you leave?' And he added, 'It better be soon. Very soon.'
Gareth sat down opposite him. 'Didn't they tell you, about the engines?'
'Don't give me that crap.'
'We have condenser trouble.'
'I said, don't give me that crap.' The voice had hardened. 'The oldest gimmick there is — can't move because the engines don't work.' He laughed, his voice a sneering mockery. 'Considering why you're here, it's hardly likely their fucking Lordships would have let you to sea with engines that were on the blink. So you get your fancy marine engineer on the blower and tell him to start up.'
'Unfortunately, you're wrong about the engines.' The trembling of his lower lip somehow made the statement unconvincing. 'You should know how mean things can be in the Royal Navy. This is an old ship and she was fitted out in a hurry.'
'So that you, and the rest of them on board, could be blown to hell. You always were a soft option, boy. You sit here for another two or three hours… Look, the bastards who give the orders, they aren't going to be here to hold your hand when Fuxa gets the support he's asked for and all hell breaks loose.' He leaned suddenly forward, his voice softer, more urgent. 'Don't be a sucker. You're expendable, the whole lot of you. Nobody cares about you. So be sensible. And if you want to stick to that fiction about the engines, then there's a tug and two other ships waiting out there to give you a tow.'