‘You’re not coming with us, Valerie,’ Keeton said. He started to walk down the beach. ‘All right, Ben; let’s be on our way.’
The dinghy was drawn up on the sand. Dring put the aqualung gear in it and he and Keeton pushed it into the water. The girl waded through the surf and without asking permission stepped into the boat and sat down.
‘Hey,’ Keeton said. ‘I told you. There isn’t room in that dinghy for more than two. It’s overloaded even then.’
She gave him a disarming smile, ‘That’s all right, Charlie. You can take me to the yacht first and then come back for Ben. It’s only a hundred yards.’
Keeton looked at Dring in exasperation. ‘Tell her to get out.’
Dring grinned. ‘I’d be wasting my breath. I gave up trying to exert my authority over that young lady years ago. When she’s set her heart on something she usually gets it.’
Keeton hesitated. He thought of ejecting the girl from the boat by force, but decided against such drastic measures. After all, what difference did it make?
‘All right,’ he said ungraciously. ‘You win.’
He stepped over the gunwale and sat down, facing the girl. He picked up the oars and began to row.
‘You don’t have to be so grumpy,’ she said. ‘I won’t get in your way.’
He could see the contours of her young, firm breasts under the shirt and the small projections that were the nipples pressing against the fabric. Half-guiltily he lifted his gaze and met the impact of her candid sea-blue eyes watching him, faintly amused.
‘What are you thinking about, Charlie?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing.’
Her presence disturbed him; it was a distraction, and he wanted no distractions.
The girl looked at the sinews in his arms as he rowed, then up at his bony, unsmiling face.
‘What made you come here?’ she asked.
‘What makes a man go anywhere?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t need to know.’
‘You’re telling me to mind my own business, aren’t you?’
Keeton said nothing.
When they came to the yawl Valerie climbed on board and Keeton handed her the diving gear.
‘I’ll be back soon. Behave yourself.’
She laughed. ‘How could I do anything else?’
When he returned with Dring she was standing in the bows looking at the bowsprit with one hand resting on the forestay. She came back to the mainmast and helped to haul the dinghy aboard.
‘Your ship is an old one,’ she said.
‘Of course it is,’ Keeton answered. ‘If it hadn’t been old I’d never have got it for fifty pounds.’
‘Fifty pounds! As little as that!’
‘It came to a lot more by the time I’d refitted her. And even if she is old, she’s got strength. That’s what I wanted.’
He took the yawl out of the bay under power; there was no wind. A few other small craft were lying at anchor in the harbour and round the curve of the shore were scattered a variety of wooden houses, some brightly painted, some in a state of neglect. In one of the better kept houses lived Miss Rebecca Dring, a woman of sixty or so with whom Valerie lived, and Ben too when he happened to be in town. Aunt Beckie had looked after the younger Drings ever since their parents had been drowned when their boat capsized in a sudden squall two miles off shore. Keeton had had two meetings with Rebecca and had been more impressed than charmed; there was a fair amount of iron in the aunt’s makeup, and she had a disconcertingly acid tongue. It was evident that she looked upon all young men with suspicion, especially when they came sailing in from nowhere in particular and had no apparent aim or purpose in life.
‘How do you manage all by yourself?’ Valerie asked. ‘I should have thought you needed a crew.’
‘I haven’t noticed the need.’
‘What happens to the tiller when you’re sleeping or eating?’
‘George takes over.’
‘George?’
‘The self-steering gear. Anything else you’d like to know?’
‘Oh yes, lots of things. I have an inquisitive nature.’
Dring looked amused. ‘That means she’s plain nosy.’
‘Don’t be rude. I’m not at all plain, am I, Charlie?’
‘Now she’s fishing for a compliment,’ Dring said. ‘Don’t let her hook you.’
‘I’m not easily hooked,’ Keeton said. But he could not help thinking that it would have been easier to concentrate on other things if Valerie Dring had been a shade less attractive.
Following Dring’s directions Keeton took the yawl about a mile out and then turned northward. After another couple of miles Dring said: ‘This will do. It’s deep enough and there’s some interesting rock formation.’
Keeton stopped the engine and Dring let the anchor go. Then he came back aft.
Valerie said: ‘You should have brought another aqualung. What am I going to do?’
‘If you want to swim you’ll just have to stay on the surface.’
‘There’s a nice accommodating brother.’ She turned to Keeton. ‘Where can I change?’
‘In the for’ard cabin. It’s just used for stowage. I’ll show you.’
He went to the hatch and slid it back to reveal the companionway. ‘Down there.’
Keeton and Dring went into the main cabin and put on swimming trunks. Out again on deck Dring showed Keeton how to fix the rubber fins on his feet, how to strap an air cylinder to his back and how to adjust the glass-fronted mask.
‘You’re a swimmer anyway, so you should find this easy. There’s really nothing to it.’
Keeton found that Dring was right. Once he got used to the fins it was simple; there was no need to use the arms for propulsion. He experienced a feeling of weightlessness, of ease, of pleasurable excitement. And below the surface of the water he found a new world waiting for him, a world of strange rocky structures, of unimaginably beautiful marine growths, of extraordinary shades of liquid colour and myriads of wide-eyed fishes gliding in utter silence through the warm, translucent medium in which they lived. There were caves hung about with dark green curtains waving seductively as though in invitation, and sudden milky clouds that were nothing but stirred-up sand. Through the glass window of the mask he could see quite clearly; he had never realized that there was so much light under the sea.
And he felt exultant; for here was the answer to his problem; here most certainly was the key to the treasure of the Valparaiso.
Once more on deck with the water dripping from him, he said to Dring: ‘It’ s like you said; there’s nothing to it. Those fins make all the difference.’
‘A few more days’ practice,’ Dring said, ‘and you’ll be ready for anything.’
Valerie came up the short Jacob’s ladder that dangled from the stern, shaking water from her hair. The drops glistened like pearls on her smooth skin.
‘When you and Ben go on that trip,’ she said to Keeton, ‘I want to go with you.’
‘It’s out of the question. We may be away for weeks, even months.’
‘That’s fine. I’m free. And Aunt Beckie can get along without me.’
‘So can we,’ Dring said.
‘I could be useful. I’m a good cook.’
‘I can cook well enough myself,’ Keeton said.
‘I could help with the pearls.’
He had told Dring that he was interested in pearl-fishing. He knew that Dring thought it a crazy idea for getting rich, but the Australian was willing to take part in any adventure if he was paid for his trouble.
‘You don’t know what it’s like at sea in a ship this size,’ Keeton told her. ‘Believe me, it’s no pleasure cruise.’