“You’ll have enough. All you have to do is head west and you’re bound to hit land pretty soon.”
Fletcher was not so sure about that; there was a lot more water than land and it would be rough navigation at best. But he preferred to take that risk rather than the risk of going with the guerrillas or trying to get away by the orthodox method; the police in Jamestown were likely to be very vigilant, and anyone who might have had any connection with the assassination of President Rodgers or the killing of Colonel Vincent was not going to find it easy to slip through their fingers.
The boat was in the place where it had been left and there was no indication that anyone had tampered with it. They had left the Ford some four miles back and Fletcher knew that he would never have found the way without King. There was a thin sliver of moon, but by the time they reached the boat it was low in the sky. There was just enough light to reveal where the controls were.
“You think you can handle it?” King asked.
“I think so,” Fletcher said. He had had some lessons from Joby in boat-handling and he had seen Lawrence working this one. It was simple enough.
“Okay then,” King said. “She’s all yours.”
He was referring to the boat, but Fletcher was looking at the girl. Leonora had not stepped on board; she was standing a few yards away with the duffle-bag slung over her right shoulder.
“Are you coming with me?” he asked.
She turned her head and looked at King, as though seeking his advice.
King said: “You please yourself. If you want to go with him, you go.”
“Don’t you want me to stay with you? Isn’t that what you really want?”
“Sure, that’s what I want. Nothing I want more. You know that. But it’s for you to choose.”
Fletcher waited, not saying anything. She took a step towards the boat and he thought she had decided to go with him, and his heart leaped. But then she stopped.
“You see how it is, John. I can’t leave him now. I owe him that much. You must understand.”
“I understand,” Fletcher said. “I love you, but I understand. You have to do what you have to do.”
He began tinkering with the controls. The engine came to life. King cast off the mooring-rope.
“Goodbye,” King said.
Fletcher had the boat moving then. He took it out into the middle of the creek and headed for the sea, not looking back. He had come to where the creek widened out when he slowed and turned the boat and went back. They were still standing where he had left them, almost as though they had expected him to return. He brought the boat in close to the bank and stopped the engine and threw the rope to King. He picked up his holdall and tossed it on to the bank and jumped after it.
“You changed your mind,” King said. He sounded unsurprised. He might have been anticipating it.
“Yes, I changed my mind. I’m coming with you.”
“Why?”
“I got to feeling lonely,” Fletcher said. “There’s an awful lot of sea out there and I’m no navigator. A man needs friends.”
King nodded. “That’s true.”
“Maybe more than friends,” Leonora said.
Her voice was husky and it sounded like a promise of some kind. Fletcher had a feeling she was glad he had come back, and he knew that he himself was.
“Maybe so,” he said. “Maybe so at that.”
They had been travelling for about an hour with King in the lead, followed by Leonora, and Fletcher bringing up the rear, when the girl slowed down to allow him to draw level with her.
“What was that you said just before you started the boat?” she asked. “I’ve been trying to remember.”
Fletcher cast his mind back a little. “I said you have to do what you have to do.”
“No, not that. There was something else. I’m sure there was something else.”
“I said I love you.”
“Yes, that’s it,” she said. “I thought that was what you said.”
She went on ahead again, but a little later she was back at his side. “If it’s of any interest to you,” she said, “I love you, too.”
“It is of interest,” Fletcher said.