Send a Gunboat (1960) (27 page)

Her eyes swam in the pale oval of her face. “I thought—I thought,” she faltered, “we were never going to get away!”

He knew what she really meant, and he reached out to squeeze her shoulder with understanding. As his hand touched the bare skin she quivered and almost pulled away, the torture of her recent experience making her reaction automatic and fearful. Then with a sound like a quiet sob, she leaned weakly against his leg, her hair spilling over his bent knee.

He cut the lights and allowed the jeep to idle quietly down the last slope towards the harbour entrance.

The whole area was repeatedly illuminated by the bright flashes of gunfire from the fort and the surrounding hills, and in the short, savage flashes, Rolfe saw that the market place and harbour approach were littered with dull, black shapes, some of which still moaned with the torment of their abandoned agony.

“Give me the rifle,” he whispered, and as he pushed the others behind him, “follow me along the jetty and keep close!”

Chao, his huge revolver waving from side to side, brought up the rear, while Felton helped his sister to step over the dark twisted shapes and staring, distorted faces.

There was one extra loud bang, and a searing red flash from the cliffs made them look back. The front of the distant fort was completely ablaze, and a hoard of fantastic shadows flitted and ran from side to side in front of the glow as they waited for the signal to rush the main gates of the General’s stronghold.

In the bright, flickering reflection of light in the still water of the harbour, Rolfe easily picked out the neat grey shape of the motor-boat as it drifted aimlessly amongst the abandoned hulks of the fishing boats. He seized Judith’s hand and waved the rifle at the others. “Come on! We must get to the boat as soon as we can! They’ll be after us any second now!”

They stumbled along the jetty, sliding across the congealing blood of the littered bodies and watching for any sign of a sentry. But, as Rolfe had guessed, the Communist soldiers were too busy and too confident to bother with ground already won in battle.

He helped the girl down on to the deck of the nearest fishing
boat, ignoring the upturned white eyes of a mangled soldier and fuming with impatience as Felton hesitated on the top of the wall.

He was staring back at the town and watching his hopes burning in the flames.

“Come on, Brian,” he called, as gently as he could. “It’s too late now to do anything about it!”

The little motor-boat was unharmed, apart from a few bullet holes in the roof of the canopy, and Rolfe bent over the engine remembering what Fallow had told him about its irregular behaviour in the past.

With a series of coughing grunts it started, and as he sighed, it suddenly cut out again. He cursed and felt his way clumsily along the battery leads. “Damn! Don’t you let me down now!”

“Soldiers coming, Captain-sir! ‘Long the end of the jetty!”

As Rolfe glanced up to the warning, a bullet whined viciously overhead and hissed into the water beyond.

“Shove the boat away, Chao!” he barked, and the boy seized a boathook to thrust off from the fishing boat, so that they began to drift out into the harbour.

Judith ducked down with a gasp as another shot shattered the glass in the small cabin canopy, and the splinters tinkled into the bottom of the boat.

“Here, give me that rifle!” Felton sounded strange. As he took the gun, he stood up calmly in the rocking boat and aimed carefully along the wall. Rolfe paused in his fumbling with the engine to watch the twisted face pressed against the rifle stock. There was something terrible about it, something unearthly.

The rifle cracked and they heard the bullet snicker along the stone jetty in a shower of sparks. Then as the running soldiers appeared on the top of the wall, Felton moved the rifle catch to the automatic position and fired a short burst into the weaving shadows. There were sounds of muffled cries and for a moment there was no more firing from their direction.

“That’s for Chu!” shouted Felton wildly, his good eye peering watchfully along the sights. “Come on! What are you afraid of?”

“Please, Brian,” Judith called out anxiously, “get down!”

But he shrugged angrily and moved the rifle to a more comfortable position.

Rolfe drew a deep breath and pressed the starter button again. The engine whined, picked up shakily, and then burst into an unexpected roar. Without waiting for further developments, Rolfe slammed the gear lever ahead and opened the throttle slowly, feeling the boat begin to gather way beneath him. With a quick grin at Judith, he opened the throttle wide, and as he kicked over the tiller with his foot, the boat swung throatily away from the other craft and steered for the harbour entrance.

Another burst of shots splashed into the water from a new direction and from a higher angle.

“The end of the jetty! They’re up there now!” warned Rolfe, as the deck vibrated to the thud of bullets.

Damn them, he thought furiously, we shall have to pass right under them! We’ll never make it!

Felton squinted up at the slimy wall as it coasted past. He rested the rifle on the cabin top and took careful aim. “Not too many shots left,” he observed calmly, “but I think we can keep their heads down!”

Chao had also poked the revolver through the shattered window, and as the rifle began to snap, he squeezed the stiff trigger again and again, the heavy thud of the weapon sounding far more dangerous than its accuracy at that range.

They swept under the arm of the jetty, where Laker’s car still perched forlornly, and then, as the boat turned towards the darkened sea, Felton gave a sharp cry and dropped the rifle on the deck.

Judith sprang from her shelter and helped him to lower himself across the lifejackets.

“In the back!” Felton spoke jerkily between his teeth. “Singularly appropriate—er, don’t you think?” Then, as he twisted violently under her hands, “Christ, Christ!” his voice raised to a sudden scream, died away in a low moan.

“Chao, grab the tiller! Steer due south for a bit, till we’re past the headland, and watch out for breakers!”

Rolfe slid down beside the girl. “Here, let me have a look,” he said quietly, and gently they turned him on his side, bolstering up the twisting body with the padded lifejackets. By the light of the dim compass lamp, Rolfe tore open the back of Felton’s soaking shirt. The bullet had struck him just above the waist,
to the left of his spine. Rolfe fumbled for the boat’s first-aid box, trying to estimate the extent of the wound. Fired from above and behind, the bullet must have burrowed deep into his pelvis, or perhaps still high enough for his stomach. He managed to extract a phial of morphia, and as he glanced at Felton’s disfigured face he saw the blood coursing down his chin.

“God, must be a stomach wound!” he breathed.

Judith tore off a strip of her tattered skirt and dabbed the blood away. She shook her head quietly, her eyes sad but steady. “No, Justin, he’s bitten through his lip!”

Rolfe dug the phial into Felton’s arm, and after a while his movements became easier, but as his bloodied lips opened in a deep sigh, he whispered, “My legs have gone. No feeling.” Then he fainted into a drugged sleep.

Their eyes met across his body. “We must try and make him comfortable,” Judith said. “I’ll look after him while you look after the boat!”

Rolfe nodded, knowing that she was more experienced than he at such work. He’ll never live until morning, he thought bitterly, even if he wanted to.

Once clear of the rocks around the harbour reaches, and sheltered from the roadway by the dark cliffs, Rolfe swung the boat on to a new bearing and tried to memorize the island’s coastline, and watched for the vague outlines of the rocky slopes along the shore, which were his only guide.

“D’you know the little island at the southern end of Santu, Judith?” He kept his voice low. “That’s where I’m making for. I think we’ll be able to hide there until the
Wagtail
arrives!”

He saw her head nod in the shadows. “Yes. It’s just a pile of bare rock, really. The natives avoid it, and think it’s an evil place!” She smoothed her brother’s hair, “You must be careful, there is no beach, just a sort of rocky shelf around the bottom, by the water’s edge.”

“We’ll manage,” he smiled. He peered ahead, knowing that it would be hard enough to get alongside the rocks without smashing the boat, but with a badly injured man it would be doubly dangerous.

The engine coughed and faded, and then spluttered into renewed life. Rolfe ground his teeth. The petrol, it must be just
about dry by now! The little boat dipped and curtsied over the sullen swell, the loose gear and broken glass making the only sounds, apart from the labouring engine.

Chao saw the island first, as he crouched in the dipping bows, still holding the empty pistol. It rose, stark and menacing out of the sea like a huge decayed tooth, its sheer rocky sides black against the oily waters which surged and creamed into an angry froth at its base.

Rolfe knew that it was only about two miles from the main island, and that it was merely a crude formation of rock thrust up defiantly from the sea bed, with neither vegetation nor shelter. But he also realized that the rock’s flat surface, once they reached it, would provide a good vantage point for watching for the gunboat, and it was unlikely that any search party would come their way. The search would either move across Santu to the other side, or they might think that they had tried for freedom in the motor-boat itself.

He reached out and began stuffing a few useful pieces of the boat’s gear into one of the cabin cushion covers. “Put on those lifebelts!” he called. “We may need them if we strike!”

Even as the boat moved uneasily towards the shining rock shelf at the foot of the sheer, cheerless wall, the engine gave a last cough and died. Rolfe snatched up a small emergency paddle and shouted to Chao, “Quick, boy! Try to keep her head round to the rock!”

Playfully the heavy swell lifted the boat and banged it against the half-submerged shelf, and the shock threw them off their feet. In a flash Chao was up again and leaping ashore, the boat’s painter trailing behind him. Rolfe hurled his makeshift bag after him, and as Chao dug himself behind a slippery crag, the rope curled round his body, the boat struck once more with a splintering crash. Rolfe staggered to the girl’s aid, the water already gushing through the timbers, and swilling around his ankles. Felton moaned faintly as Rolfe slung him hastily across his shoulder and swung his legs across the tilting gunwale.

“Hold on, Judith!” he gasped, as he strained his leg muscles to control the heaving boat. “Feel your way past me!”

She scrambled over the widening gap, her bare feet slipping on the smooth rocks and her breath panting painfully.

The boat shuddered, and Chao called out anxiously, “Can’t hold it! Too big pull!”

Rolfe tumbled on to the shelf, pulling Felton after him. Before he had time to steady the man’s body in a more comfortable position, the boat groaned against the rocks and rolled over on its side, the shattered planks gaping at the sky. Then she was gone, and the loose painter snaked over the edge of the shelf, following the boat to the bottom.

Another surge of water splashed over their legs, and Rolfe stared up at the high cliff. “Come on,” he muttered. “Chao, get that heaving-line out of the bag!”

Judith watched silently, her brother’s head pillowed in her lap and her long hair sleek with spray, as Rolfe knotted the end of the strong line round the boy’s waist.

“Can you manage it?” he asked, as he untwisted the slender line.

Chao grinned. “You an’ me old hands at this game, Captain-sir!” And with a quick leap he was creeping up the rock face like a monkey.

They waited in silence, Rolfe tensed to catch the boy’s body. But Chao suddenly called out, “O.K.! Line fixed!”

Rolfe smiled. “You go up first, Judith. Then I’ll make one journey with Brian.”

He watched her anxiously as she laid Felton’s head on her discarded lifejacket. She’ll not make it, he realized, she’s still shocked, and he gripped her arm tightly to prevent her from swaying over the edge. She started up the rock, gripping the rope desperately, and feeling for holds with her feet. With a quick glance at Felton, Rolfe followed her, praying that the line would hold both of them. Each time she faltered, he heaved his shoulder up the cliff to act as a prop beneath her body, and when he thought that his muscles would crack, he saw Chao’s thin arms reaching out for the girl, and he knew that she was safe. He slithered down the rope, heedless of the burning pain in his palms, and with all the care he could muster, he began to drag Felton’s limp form to the end of the rope. He tied a bowline under his arms and padded it away from his body with the lifejacket. That should do, he thought, and then, with a final deep breath, he hauled himself up the cliff.

With Chao and the girl behind him, he heaved cautiously on
the rope, listening to Felton’s agonized groans getting nearer and nearer. He heard the lifejacket scrape the lip of rock and breathlessly they pulled him up over the edge.

As far as he could see in the darkness the rock island was about fifty yards long, and hollowed out in the centre by the constant wear of time and weather. Once in the rough crater, the sounds of the sea were muffled, and as the moon bathed their refuge in pale light, they made Felton comfortable on a flat piece of ground and gave him some more of the precious morphia.

Rolfe sat wearily on his haunches and looked across at the girl. Her clinging rags had fallen practically to her waist, and her skin gleamed in the light like pale gold.

Rolfe jerked off his shirt, feeling the cool air on his sweating body. “Here,” he called softly, “slip this on. It’s better than nothing!”

She took it hesitantly and moved away to the edge of the crater. Chao was already lying down, his eyes closed, and as Rolfe lay back gingerly on the hard surface, he caught a brief glimpse of the pale, shimmering figure, poised like a statue against the moon, before she pulled the shirt over her head.

She crossed shyly to his side, the remains of her dress in her hand. “This will do for bandages,” she said. “Thank you for giving me the shirt,” she added gravely.