The riding lights of the launch could have been stars very low in the sky. They did not appear to be receding at all.
‘We’re not moving‚’ Valerie whispered. ‘We can’t be.’
‘We are‚’ Keeton assured her. ‘But it’s slow work. You have to be patient.’
He could sense the sluggishness of the yawl; she was so weighed down with her precious cargo that all the life seemed to have departed from her and she moved like a dead thing.
Suddenly a voice broke the silence of the night, a voice made faint by distance. ‘Ahoy there! Ahoy!’
‘It’s Rains‚’ Keeton said. ‘So he was awake.’
‘Roomer ahoy!’ Rains shouted. ‘Where away?’
‘Down sail‚’ Keeton said sharply. ‘It’s the engine now. We may lose them yet.’
They acted quickly. The sails came down with a rush; the engine burst into life and the yawl began to move through the water with a firmer purpose.
‘We’re away now‚’ Dring said, and he began to furl the sails.
But Keeton, glancing over the stern, could see the lights of the launch dancing, and he could imagine the activity taking place on board. In a moment the pursuit would be on, and what chance had the low-powered, overladen yawl against the speedy launch?
When Dring came back aft Keeton said: ‘It’s going to be a fight, Ben. Are you still game?’
‘What do you think?’ Dring said. ‘With all that gold at stake.’
From the start it was no race at all. The launch overhauled them as though they had been hove to. Keeton accepted the inevitable. He stopped the engine and let the yawl’s speed fade to nothing.
The launch approached rapidly and they could hear the heavy beat of its engines. Then another sound broke in, a sharp staccato sound, followed by the whine of a bullet ricochetting off the water.
‘Get down‚’ Keeton said. ‘They’ve got a rifle.’
He pulled the girl down with him and crouched in the shelter of the cockpit. He heard the rifle crack again, and then a much closer report, almost in his ear. It was Dring firing his Luger.
‘Get down, you fool!’ Keeton shouted. ‘You’ll do no good with that.’
Dring took no notice. He fired again.
Keeton got a grip on Dring’s legs and tried to pull him down into the cockpit. He heard the rifle fire again, and Dring gave a yell and the Luger fell from his hand and clattered on the deck. Dring sat down suddenly, clutching at his right arm and cursing.
‘You fool!’ Keeton said again. ‘You asked for it.’
‘Where’s my gun?’ Dring muttered. ‘Gimme my gun.’
His right arm hung limply and he was groping for the automatic with his left hand. Keeton grabbed the pistol before Dring could get his fingers on it. The launch was very close now. He fired three shots at it and felt the Luger kick in his hand.
Suddenly he was blinded by a powerful beam of light shining directly in his face. He heard Smith’s high-pitched voice as the beat of the launch’s engine died down.
‘Drop the gun, Charles. Drop it before I blast your head off.’
Keeton realized that Smith must be standing behind the light with the rifle in his hands. He knew that if he did not obey Smith would not hesitate to put a bullet in his brain. He dropped the Luger.
A moment later the launch bumped heavily against the side of the yawl. It was Ferguson who made the two fast with the rope.
Smith was standing with his back to the cabin top, and the rifle was pointing at the yawl. ‘I’m keeping you boys covered‚’ he said. ‘So don’t try any more tricks.’
Rains stepped across to the deck of the yawl. He was carrying a short-barrelled revolver in his right hand. It looked deadly.
‘Get into the cabin — all of you.’ He gestured with the revolver. ‘Put a snap in it.’
There was no point in arguing. Dring stumbled down the companionway and Keeton and the girl followed.
Rains halted at the top of the companionway. The cabin was in darkness.
‘Light the lamp.’
Keeton was cursing himself for leaving his revolver in the cockpit. If it had been in the cabin he might have grabbed it and shot Rains. He struck a match and lit the lamp. The glass misted and then cleared; the yellow light reached into the corners of the cabin.
The right sleeve of Dring’s gaberdine jacket was soaked with blood. Rains came heavily down into the cabin and glanced at the blood with a satisfied grin.
‘That was good shooting. Smithie’s quite a boy with a rifle.’
Dring sat down on the port settee as though his legs had suddenly given way. The girl went quickly to him and helped him off with the gaberdine. Dring’s face was twisted with pain and his shirt was drenched with blood. The bullet had gone in above the elbow and it looked as though the bone was shattered. Valerie cut away the sleeve, fetched a bowl of water and the first-aid kit, and went to work on the arm.
Rains turned and yelled up the companionway: ‘Come here, Smithie.’
He advanced further into the cabin, keeping the revolver ready. Smith appeared, carrying the rifle. Rains pointed at Dring’s arm.
‘See what you did with your gun.’
Smith grinned. ‘I told you I could shoot. Now maybe you’ll believe me.’
‘Damn you!’ Dring said.
‘Why damn me?’ Smith asked. ‘You’d have shot me if you could of done. I got in first, that’s all.’ He looked at Rains. ‘What’s next on the agenda?’
Rains had noticed the sea-stained wooden cases cluttering the cabin. ‘Do you see what I see?’
The ex-steward made a delighted smacking noise with his mouth. ‘The goods!’
‘Get one and bring it here.’
Smith stood his rifle against the chart table, pushed past Keeton and grabbed one of the boxes. He carried it back to where Rains was standing.
‘Want me to rip the lid off?’
‘Just that‚’ Rains said.
‘I’ll get something.’
Smith left the cabin and came back with an iron marlinespike. Ferguson came with him. Ferguson gave a scared glance at Dring’s arm, which the girl was bandaging, and then looked away.
Rains sneered. ‘It’s only a bullet wound. No need to puke. What’s wrong with you?’
Smith was already working on the box. In a moment he had the lid off and the gold was revealed.
‘If you don’t like blood‚’ Rains said, ‘take a gander at that. There’s something to bring the colour back to your cheeks.’
Keeton took a step towards him, and Rains made a warning gesture with the revolver. ‘Don’t try it, boy. You’ve lost. Better make the best of a bad job.’
He spoke again to Smith and Ferguson: ‘Get this stuff on board the launch. Take a look for’ard too. There’ll be more than this lot.’
Keeton said: ‘Do you think you can get away with this?’
Rains laughed. ‘What’s to stop me? Not you, boy. Nor our wounded hero over there. I reckon I ought to thank you really. You’ve done the donkey work. Maybe I’ll leave you one bar of gold as a token of my appreciation.’ His chin shook as the laughter vibrated in him, but his eyes were watchful. ‘And again, maybe I won’t. You might put it to bad uses. What you say, Smithie?’
‘You talk too much‚’ Smith said. ‘Hey, Ferg; gimme a hand, can’t you?’
Ferguson gave a hand, and between them they carried the first case of gold up the companionway. Keeton could hear them hauling it across to the launch, and the yawl rolled slightly.
Rains sat down near the chart table with the revolver resting on his lap.
‘And don’t think of jumping me, Keeton‚’ he said. ‘At this range I’m deadly.’
‘He’s right, Charlie‚’ Valerie said. ‘One broken arm is enough.’ She seemed anxious about what Keeton might do.
Rains grinned. ‘Now there’s a young lady with sense. Pretty too. How would you like to come with the gold, kiddo? Come with me and live like a queen. Nothing too good for my judy.’