“You — you will not laugh again… listen.” The man’s voice was mad-sounding now. “The New South Wales, she is going to blow up, and she will vanish somewhere between Sydney Heads and the jetty where she was to berth. And that girl will go up too — because of your stupid interference!”
Shaw shook his aching head, cleared it a little. There was a singing noise in his ears and again he felt horribly sick; he couldn’t speak at that moment, but his mind was full of deadly thoughts… he heard Karstad’s maddened laugh and then saw the foot swinging for him again. He tried to squirm out of the way, but the boot took him in his side and he gave a low groan. He wasn’t conscious of being seized and bundled back into the cupboard, nor of the panel being slid across again, or of the boat, a little later, turning laboriously back to the north.
Dimly, as he struggled back to life some while after, he felt the terrible, frightening labouring of the motor-boat as she headed back for the Franklin Channel, with those roaring seas dead behind her now, giving her headlong speed, or overtaking her at times, lifting her high and throwing her down again with a backbreaking jerk, or rushing along her sides and filling her cockpits with boiling foam and green water. He knew now that she wasn’t going to last much longer, and in fact quite soon after that he heard a coughing splutter from the engine and then sounds of panic from the cabin. There was the crash of the for’ard door being flung back and then Karstad’s voice yelled on a high, screaming note:
“Tien, the engine’s packed up!”
After that, it could only be a matter of time.
As a big roller came down Shaw felt the whole boat lift right up, then smack down in a nasty twisting motion which made his ears sing and brought the terrible sickness into his throat again. Then there were more cries, and a desperate scream which seemed to be torn off short by the gale. Shaw’s prison sagged heavily to one side, sagged until he was almost lying on his back. He knew then, his seamanship sense told him unmistakably, that the end was near; she had broached-to and she was nearly on her beam ends now. It would be— could be — only minutes before she turned over and went down, sank into that boiling sea and vanished.
Once again Shaw sent up a prayer.
As he did so, he felt a trickle of water down the fan aperture, water which was soon coming in a steady stream, slopping around his body, slowly filling the little space.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Just for a moment, listening to the pounding of the seas and feeling the terrible shaking of the vessel as the water dropped aboard, Shaw felt that it was hopeless to go on. He was caught like a rat to drown in what he had always regarded as his own element, locked up and helpless and unable to take a sailor’s fighting revenge on the eternal sea.
But — he was the only person who could give the word that the New South Wales was herself in danger, and so he knew he had to hit back now in whatever way he could. It was only seconds before his spirit came back and took charge. He wriggled over on to his side and with difficulty in the narrow space, brought his knees up to his chin.
He thrust out with all his strength at the sliding panel.
It held firm. There was just a slight straining sound and that was all.
Fresh beads of sweat started out on his bloodied face and body, ran down his hair; the steadily rising water soaked coldly in to him and still he sweated. The small vessel sagged, lurched down into a trough; he heard the roar and rattle of the movable gear crashing in the cabin beyond… God, but she must go now, surely she must… but no — not quite yet. She righted a little but she wasn’t coming back quite so far after each roll now, as the weight of water swilled about her interior and held her down into the seas. Shaw strained away, giving everything he’d got, every last ounce of strength. Veins stood out like thick, throbbing ropes in his temples and his neck. His heart pounded away, his head felt full to bursting, the sinews of his legs were cracking.
And then it happened.
One moment his legs were pressing like that and the next they were free, jerking into space, and he saw the daylight, grey and weak and filtering through ports which were half under the racing seas. A voice, a voice shaken with the throb of panic, said:
“Come on out. And quickly.”
Shaw lifted his head, looked into Karstad’s eyes. The man was quivering with sheer fright, was clinging on to the centre stanchion. He held a gun pointing towards the cupboard, but his hand was shaking badly. He said wildly, “You are a sailor. You must save us.”
Shaw fell out into the cabin, lay there for a moment getting the strength back into his limbs, feeling the pain from Karstad’s boot still in his face and mouth. He knew he needn’t worry about the man any more now. He said, “I can’t do anything with my hands tied.” Karstad came across, undid the rope. Shaw rubbed at his chafed flesh. Then he remembered the panel of the deck hatch, and he rolled towards it through slopping water, pushed it open; the sea spilled in. Shaw staggered upright, held on to the edge of the settee, lashed out with a foot, jabbed it time and time again into Lubin’s transmitter, smashing dials and connexions, splashing up the sea-water filling the cavity.
Looking up, he caught Karstad’s eye. The man’s mouth hung open; saliva drooled down. Shaw asked, “You aren’t going to shoot, then?”
“You must save us.”
Shaw looked at him sardonically. “You may as well give me that, then.” He reached out and took the revolver. Karstad didn’t resist, didn’t seem to care.
Shaw asked, “Where’re the others?”
Karstad gestured towards the row of ports along the cabin’s starboard side, ports which looked as straight up into scudding cloud as those on the other side looked into turbulent green sea. He said fearfully, “They tried to swim… they did not get far. They drowned, Lubin and Tien, they went under—”
“You’re certain of that?”
“I saw them go.” Karstad was shaking violently. “Now it is up to you, that is why I have let you free. You know about these things, about boats and the sea. I do not. You must save us both.”
“Whatever I do,” Shaw said grimly, “I can’t save the boat. We’re going, you and I, the way the others went. Swim. We’re not so far off the shore now, and it’s the only way. She’s going any time.” He stood over Karstad threateningly. “First, you’re going to tell me what the danger to the New South Wales is. Exactly what, Karstad, so I can stop it happening.”
The man looked at him, white-faced and scared. He said,
“I dare not do that—”
“You’ll dare anything now.” Shaw’s eyes were slits; his long jaw came out and he breathed fast. His face showed murder in that moment. He said, “You’ll tell me the whole thing or you go into that rat-trap where Tien put me, Karstad.”
“You… would leave me to drown?” Karstad licked his lips.
Shaw said deliberately, “You give me just one good reason why I shouldn’t, you bastard.” He took the man by the throat, shook him savagely. “I’ll give you thirty seconds.”
He began pushing Karstad to the cupboard. The Norwegian swallowed, whimpered. Then he said, “Very well, I will tell you. But you must promise to give me protection afterwards.”
“You’ll get protection all right — from your friends! I’ll guarantee that, Karstad. Now tell me. And hurry. Remember if you help to save life it may count in your favour.”
Shaw’s face went paler as the boat lurched. Karstad said almost in a whisper, “I told you, the liner will blow up between the Heads and Pyrmont, in Sydney harbour. There is a charge… it is set for one o’clock to-morrow afternoon, as near as we could do it.”