Keeton’s face was expressionless, but inside him anger was burning. Until this day he had given Rains and Smith scarcely a thought. He had made his own plans and everything had been going smoothly. But now these two had broken in like thieves. He knew what they wanted, but he would see them in hell before letting them have it. The gold was his, all his.
‘We been making a few inquiries,’ Smith said. ‘We heard you’d bought a boat, a yacht or something. We heard you got it cheap because it was old, and you done it up fine and dandy and fixed an engine and all. We heard you do a lot of sailing on your own. No shipmates; no crew; just yourself like.’
Keeton said in a hard, low-pitched voice: ‘If you go poking your nose into other people’s business, one day you’re going to have it spread all over your face.’
‘Is that a threat?’
‘You can take it for one if you like.’
Smith was cool. ‘That’s beside the point. The point is, what’s all this sailing in aid of?’
‘I like sailing. It’s not such an uncommon pastime.’
Keeton had taken a long time to find just the craft he wanted. It was a yawl, with plenty of freeboard and fairly broad in the beam; not a fast ship, but eminently seaworthy. He had got hold of a second-hand engine and had fitted this into the yawl as an auxiliary. He had put in extra tanks for fuel and water, making ready for a long voyage; and all this he had done in his spare time without haste. There was no need to hurry; he could not set out until he had put together enough money. He worked all hours, and his employer liked that.
‘You’re the kind of worker for me,’ Mr Robson said. ‘I wish there were more like you.’
Robson had helped him to find the yawl and had given him advice and instruction. In his younger days the boat-builder had been a cruising yachtsman himself and had made some notable voyages. He gave Keeton a sextant and helped him to brush up on his navigation.
‘If you’re going to sail that yawl single-handed you’ll need to be tough.’
‘I am tough,’ Keeton said.
‘Have you read Slocum’s book?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you know what to expect.’
Keeton had studied Slocum’s method of self-steering and had tried a modification of it in his own yawl. After much trial and error he had got it working satisfactorily in all weather. He was confident now that he could sail anywhere in the world.
Smith was looking at him shrewdly. ‘Not many people go sailing alone. Most people take friends. You don’t have friends, I hear. A sort of lone wolf. I suppose you wouldn’t be planning a long voyage all on your ownsome. To the Pacific, say.’
‘Why should I?’
‘That’s where the Valparaiso is.’
‘On the bottom.’
‘Well, that’s what we don’t know, isn’t it? That’s what we think you could tell us about.’
Keeton stared back coldly at Smith. ‘Even if I knew anything I wouldn’t be telling you.’
‘No?’ There was a vicious twist to Smith’s mouth and he seemed to be losing some of his self-control. ‘Maybe we could make you alter your mind about that. Me and the big feller here, we’re no kids, and we don’t always use the velvet glove, savvy? You want to ask some characters down in Venezuela; they’ll tell you—’
‘Stow it,’ Rains said sharply. ‘We don’t want any of that, Smithie. No threats.’ He turned to Keeton and his voice was persuasive. ‘We’re all friends here and I’m sure we can arrange this matter like gentlemen. Now look, Keeton, we know you want the lot for yourself; that’s only natural. I’d feel the same way in your shoes. But you’ve got to be realistic. You can’t grab that loot single handed; it’s too big a job. But if there were three of us it’d be a different kettle of fish; things would be ten times easier. Besides, there’s plenty for all, enough to make each one of us rich for life. And if it comes to the push, we’re prepared to be generous; we’ll take half between us and you can have the other half. So what do you say to that? Is it a deal?’
‘You’re wasting your time,’ Keeton said. ‘Like I told you before, I know no more about the Valparaiso than you do.’
He saw the other man’s face darken. Rains shot out a thick hairy hand and seized Keeton’s arm in a fierce grip.
‘Now see here, Keeton, we’ve had enough stalling. You play it the way we want it or you may get hurt, see? You may never have any use for that gold, never.’
‘Who’s threatening now?’ Smith said.
Keeton pulled his arm away and brushed the sleeve, as though brushing off the contamination of Rains’s fingers. He kept his voice low, but there was an edge to it.
‘If you’re thinking to scare me, Mr Rains, you’ve got the wrong man. I don’t scare that easy. And if you want my advice, it’s this — clear out now. You’ll get nothing from me, not now or ever.’
He got up and walked out of the public house, leaving Rains choking and Smith with a look of venom on his face. He had no illusions about those two; they were poison. He would need to take care. But of one thing he was certain: nothing on earth would make him agree to share the gold with them. He would have it all or he would have nothing. There would be no half-measures.
Chapter Two
The Watchers
If Keeton had had any hope that Rains and Smith might easily be shaken off, that hope would have been dispelled by their behaviour in the weeks that followed. They took up residence not far from his own lodgings and he was constantly encountering one or other of them as he went in or out. And whenever he took his yawl Roamer out for a sail they were down at the harbour to watch him. It was as though they could scent his movements, so that wherever he went there they were keeping an eye on him.
The very fact of their presence irked Keeton. He tried to ignore them but could not rid himself of the feeling of being spied upon. Even his plan no longer seemed secure. Previously there had been no one to suspect what he intended doing; now there were two men with sharp eyes, nimble brains and a lust for gold; men without scruples; men it was impossible to shake off.
Once they even tried to board the yawl.
‘How about taking two old shipmates for a sail?’ Rains suggested. He was standing on the quay dressed in old flannel trousers and a blue seaman’s jersey. Rains seemed to blot out the sky with his bulk. Beside him Smith looked shrunken.
‘You can keep your feet off my boat,’ Keeton said. ‘I don’t take passengers.’
‘Not nice,’ Rains said. ‘You should be more friendly — for old time’s sake.’
‘I’d as soon be friendly with a cobra.’
Rains ignored the remark. His gaze travelled over the yawl. He seemed to be making a mental note of all its characteristics — its roomy build, the new rigging and fresh paint, the small dinghy lashed bottom upwards amidships.
The yawl had two cabins with a bulkhead separating them. Keeton had removed the bunks from the for’ard cabin so that it could be used solely for stowage. The galley was part of the main cabin, but there was a light partition between it and the saloon. From the saloon a short companionway led up to the cockpit.
‘Looks to me as if you might be fitting out for a long voyage,’ Rains said. ‘Would I be right?’
Keeton did not answer. He waited for Rains to go.
‘Let us know when you intend to push off for the South Seas. We’d like to come and wish you bon voyage. Isn’t that so, Smithie?’