Nicholas found himself brooding again on the mentality of anybody who
would do that; again he glanced upwards at the harbingers of the storm,
those delicate wisps of lacey cloud.
Nicholas had sailed through a hurricane once, twenty years ago, as a
junior officer on one of Christy Marine's small grain carriers, and he
shuddered now at the memory of it.
Duncan Alexander was a desperate man even to contemplate that risk, a
man gambling everything on one fall of the dice. Nicholas could
understand the forces that drove him, for he had been driven himself -
but he hated him now for the chances he was taking, Duncan Alexander was
risking Nicholas son, and he was risking the life of an ocean and of the
millions of people whose existence was tied to that ocean. Duncan
Alexander was gambling with stakes that were not his to place at hazard.
Nicholas wanted one thing only now, and that was to get alongside Golden
Dawn and take off his son. He would do that, even if it meant boarding
her like a buccaneer, In the Master's suite, there was a locked and
sealed arms cupboard with two riot guns, automatic 12 gauge shotguns and
six Walther PK-38 Pistols. Warlock had been equipped for every possible
emergency in any ocean of the world, and those emergencies could include
piracy or mutiny aboard a vessel under salvage. Now Nicholas was fully
prepared to take an armed party on board Golden Dawn, and to take his
chances in any court of law afterwards.
Warlock was racing into the chop of the Gulf Stre and scattering the
spray like startled white doves, but she was running too slowly for
Nicholas and he turned away impatiently and strode into the navigation
bridge.
David Allen looked up at him, a small frown of preoccupation marring the
smooth boyish features.
Wind is moderating and veering westerly/ he said, and Nicholas
remembered another line of doggerel: When the wind moves against the sun
Trust her not for back she'll run. He did not recite it, however, he
merely nodded and said: We are running into the extreme influence of
Lorna.
The wind will back again as we move closer to the centre. Nicholas went
on to the radio room and the Trog looked up at him. It was not
necessary for Nicholas to ask, the Trog shook his head. Since that long
exchange with the coastguard patrol early that morning, Golden Dawn had
kept her silence.
Nicholas crossed to the radarscope and studied the circular field for a
few minutes; this usually busy seaway was peculiarly empty. There were
some small craft crossing the main channel, probably fishing boats or
pleasure craft scuttling for protection from the coming storm. All
across the islands and on the mainland of Florida the elaborate
precautions against the hurricane assault would be coming into force.
Since the highway had been laid down on the spur of little islands that
formed the Florida Keys, more than three hundred thousand people had
crowded in there, in the process transforming those wild lovely islands
into the Tai Mahal of ticky-tacky. If the hurricane struck there, the
loss of life and property would be enormous, it was probably the most
vulnerable spot on a long exposed coastline. For a few minutes,
