were at the level of Jake's eyes and her skirts had tucked up high. He
felt his heart stop as he glanced down the smooth length of her thigh.
Her skin had a lustre and sheen, as though made of some precious and
rare substance.
Vicky saw the direction of his gaze and brought her knees together
sharply, although a smile touched her lips. She jumped down lightly on
to the deck, steadying herself against the Hirondelle's rolling action
with a touch on the muscled hardness of his arm. Vicky thoroughly
enjoyed the admiration of an attractive male and Gareth had been
closeted in the Captain's cabin these last five days. She smiled up
at
Jake. He was tall but the bush of dark hair that curled around his
ears gave him the look of a small boy which was again quickly dispelled
by the strong jaw line and the fine networks of creases that radiated
from the outer corners of his eyes.
She realized suddenly that he was on the point of stooping to kiss her,
and she felt a delicious indecision the slightest encouragement would
set Jake on a violent collision course with Gareth and might seriously
endanger the whole expedition and the story she wanted so badly. At
that moment she noticed, as if for the first time, that
Jake's mouth was wide and rutI and his lips were delicately shaped for
the bigness and hairiness of him. His chin and cheeks were blued with
a day's growth of beard and she knew it would feel rough and electric
against her own peach-smooth cheeks. Suddenly she wanted to feel that,
and she lifted her chin slightly and knew that he would read that want
in the sparkle of her eyes.
The masthead shrieked like a startled gull and instantly the
Hirondelle was plunged into frantic activity. The Mohammedan mate
echoed his shrieks, but at a higher volume, and his grubby robes
flapped around him in the wind. His eyes rolled in his dark brown
skull and his toothless moutth opened so wide that Jake could see the
little pink glottis dangling in the back of his throat.
'What is it? 'Vicky demanded, her hand still on Jake's arm.
'Trouble,' he answered grimly, and they turned as the door of the poop
cabin flew open and Papadopoulos rushed out with his queue twitching
like the tail of a lioness and his single eye blinking rapidly. He
still clutched a fan of cards in his right hand.
'One more card and I make gin!' he howled bitterly, and threw the
cards into the wind and grabbed the mate by the front of his gown,
shouting into his open but now silent mouth.
The mate pointed aloft and Papadopoulos dropped him and hailed the
masthead in Arabic, and Jake listened to the swift exchange.
'A British destroyer sounds like 'Dauntless',' he muttered.
'You speak Arabic?' Vicky asked, and Jake stilled the question
irritably and listened again.
'The destroyer has seen us. She's altering course to intercept.'
Jake looked quickly at the smouldering globe of the sun, the crinkles
around his eyes puckering up thoughtfully as he listened to the heated
argument in Arabic taking place on the poop deck.
'Are you two having fun?' Gareth Swales asked, smiling but with a
