He could clearly hear the waves breaking on the beach. If they got caught in the surf without the engines, it would be over. ‘I know,’ he said. A wave broke over the front of the boat, barging it brutally closer to the shore. One more like that would see them in the surf and overturned.
Stratton rewound the starter head and yanked it hard again. The engine burst into life. He grabbed the throttle and twisted it fully, aware that such a violent increase in power when it was so cold might stall it. But he had no choice. Without a burst of power right then, it would all be over for them. The engine responded and revved loudly without the cowling to smother some of the sound. Smoke spewed from it. He slammed it into gear and the revs dropped as the prop shaft clunked heavily. The propeller engaged and spun in the water.
The boat lunged forward. Stratton turned it sharply to face the next oncoming wave, which was almost upon them. They rose up over it as it slammed into the bottom of the hull. The nose dropped down into the trough and the propeller came out of the water for a moment, screaming shrilly as its revs increased.
The boat levelled off and accelerated away from the beach. Stratton’s thoughts immediately went to the cargo ships and the beach. The Somalis had to have heard the noise. They would guess who it was. It was unlikely any fishermen were out at sea, certainly not at night in this weather. He could imagine fighters leaping up and sprinting down the beach.
‘Take it!’ Stratton shouted.
The girl dropped the paddle and hurried to obey. She grabbed hold of Stratton’s hand that was gripping the throttle and he released it to allow her to take over.
‘Straight out!’ he shouted as he went for the second engine. One would be enough to get them out to sea but they would need both to stand a chance of escaping any pursuit.
She craned ahead, having to stand to see around the cabin and beyond the side of the gunwales that went up in the bows. Straight out to sea was simple enough but she knew she had to be careful not to hit another boat or the toe of sand on the end of the spur that formed the northern mouth of the cove.
Stratton yanked the starter cable on the second engine and, as with the first, it refused to start. He cursed the machine but at least the return spring worked and the toggle shot back against the top of the engine. He pulled it hard again. Nothing.
He glanced behind to see their progress. She was keeping the nose in the right direction. It was hard to tell if there was any activity around the cargo ships.
A powerful searchlight suddenly shone from one of the bridge wings of the nearest bulker. The end of the beam darted over the surface of the water like a desperate effort to find them. On the beach, flashlights flickered in the hands of men running hard along it.
Stratton got back to the task in hand and yanked the starter cable. This time the engine gave a teaser of a cough.
The sound of gunfire came from somewhere. He wasn’t overly concerned though. The Somalis would have difficulty seeing the boat well enough to aim a shot. That was until the searchlight shot over them and came quickly back to illuminate the boat and the pair of them in it.
Stratton pulled the starter cord again and the engine came to life. He turned the throttle and the added thrust shunted the boat vigorously forward and out of the light.
Stratton stood beside the girl, a head taller than her. Together they looked ahead as they powered the boat over the heavy swell and out to sea. The light caught them again and since there was little or nothing Stratton could do about it, he ignored it. With the increasing distance and all the bobbing about it would be a lucky shot to hit them from either the vessels or the beach. And just as he finished that thought, a bullet slammed through the bridge breaking a window. Stratton and the girl ducked down a little automatically.
As they left the mouth of the cove and headed properly out to sea, Stratton looked back at the cargo vessels. His main concern at that point was any pursuit by the pirates. Their speedboats were much quicker than the little fishing boat. But the further Stratton could get into the darkness the more difficult it would be for the pirates to find them.
The firing appeared to have stopped although it was hard to tell being so close to a couple of screaming engines. He replaced the cowling to reduce the noise and fiddled with the simple throttle friction device to get them to hold the engine at high revs. The wooden pole lashed to both steering arms that acted as a coordinator worked fine and Stratton let go to allow the girl to steer both engines by controlling only the one.
He made a quick inspection of the fuel lines and containers and lashed down the ones that were loose using bits of the miles of fishing line scattered around the deck.
Then he went back to the lights to their rear. He looked at them for about a minute. They were growing increasingly distant. He held the side of the cabin to steady himself, the wind whipping at his clothes. He could see nothing that indicated any kind of follow-up. No other lights. The girl held the tiller firmly, her hair straight out behind her.
The boat cut through the swell nicely. Stratton looked ahead. The edge of the dark clouds that hung low above them wasn’t far away and he could see clearer sky beyond it.
He looked at the girl. She glanced at him and allowed herself a semblance of a smile. Like she was grateful but also vaguely apologetic.
‘I’ll take it,’ he said, crossing to her.
She was relieved to hand the tiller over to him. She felt exhausted. In the sea breeze, after the chilly swim, she could feel the cold working its way into her.
‘Go inside,’ he said.
She felt reluctant to take refuge by herself at first. But he was standing there, so strong and dominant. Like an automaton. A master in control. For a moment she felt like a girl, protected by her man, although he wasn’t hers. It was a momentary feeling of partnership and it felt good, despite everything else.
She opened the small cabin door and sat on the floor inside.
‘I saw some clothes bundled in there. You should find something to put on,’ he shouted.
He watched her find them, pull on a large sweater. She needed to take care of herself, that was for sure. In her state he knew she could quite easily go down with hypothermia. But something had started to bug him. The girl was tenacious, gutsy, but she was also naive, vastly inexperienced for what she was doing. He asked himself why the Chinese Secret Service had selected her. Because if he hadn’t been with her, he doubted she would have escaped. She would most likely already be dead. Whichever, she would certainly be in no state to continue the task she had been given.
He suspected the Chinese system probably had the same problems as his own, as many parallel Western ones. The so-called special operations organisations were never as good as they were cracked up to be. Too flawed, too many departments populated by fools. Too many mistakes, made all the time. Too much holding it together and hoping for the result in the end.
If they got out of this, she would return to her outfit a hugely more experienced operative. But he couldn’t help feeling critical of her basic planning. Her bosses had to be heartless bastards.
He glanced back once again. The ships and the town beyond had become a single glow, the individual lights hard to pick out.
13
The small fishing boat eventually emerged from beneath the dark clouds and the stars appeared above them. Stratton searched for a constellation he knew. Any one of Orion’s Belt, Cassiopeia or the Plough would lead him to the North Star, ultimately what he was looking for. He found the Plough, the end of it pointing directly at the North Star shining brightly in a space of its own. He hadn’t been far off course and made an adjustment to put the star above the point of the bows. The vastness of the night sky was always humbling, especially in the wild and far from civilisation. The stars seemed brighter and more abundant.
For a moment, as he stared up at them, he forgot all his troubles.
He looked behind them again and the glow from the pirate town and its cargo ships had disappeared completely beyond the horizon. He looked ahead at the black sea and a great absence. He couldn’t see a single light in any direction. Few ships would sail within a hundred miles of the Somali coast any more. And many of those that did preferred to scorn navigation lights in favour of remaining invisible to the evil eyes of the sea hunters.
