The Dark Crusader

scuttled out of sight almost immediately.

'As-as big as that?' Marie Hopeman whispered.

'It's the copra and diesel oil,' Henry explained lugubriously. 'Their favourite food, except for D.D.T. We give them gallons of that. And them were only the small ones, their parents know better than to come out when there are people around.'

'That's enough,' Fleck said abruptly. He thrust the torch into my hand. 'Take this. You'll need it. See you in the morning.'

Henry waited till Fleck's head was clear of the hatch, then pushed back some of the sliding battens that bordered the central aisle. He nodded at the four foot high platform of cases exposed by this.

'Sleep here,' he said shortly. 'There's more than cockroaches down this hold. And keep that light on.'

'Why? What is there here that-'

'I don't know,' he interrupted. 'I've never spent the night here. There's not enough money to pay me to.' With that he was gone and moments later the hatch shut to behind him.

'Spreads sweetness and light wherever he goes, doesn't he?' I asked. 'I wonder what he does mean? But I'd take any money they're not hired assassins. Murderers don't-'

'Do you mind?' she interrupted. 'My suitcase. I'd like to change.'

'Sorry.' I passed it to her, along with the torch. 'Did you pack any slacks?' She nodded.

'Then wear them.' I rummaged in one of my own cases, brought out a couple of pairs of socks. 'Pull these over them. Anti-cockroach. You can change up in the cabin there.'

'You didn't think I was going to do it here,' she said coldly. No gratitude. I grinned at her, but no answering smile. She closed the cabin door behind her, not gently.

I'd finished changing by the faint glow of the overhead light and was tapping a cigarette out of its packet when a sudden scream of pure terror from the cabin froze me immobile for a second. But only for a second: four steps and I was at the cabin door just as it was torn violently open and Marie Hopeman came stumbling frantically out, struck her head a glancing blow against the low overhead doorway and literally fell into my arms. She grabbed me and clung on desperately, a young koala bear stranded on its first eucalyptus tree had nothing on Marie Hopeman at that moment. At any other time it would have been very pleasant but just then it wasn't getting us anywhere.

'What happened?' I demanded quickly. 'What on earth is it?'

'Take me away from here!' she sobbed. She twisted in my arms and looked over her shoulder with wide horror-filled eyes. 'Please. At once! Away.' Her eyes widened still further, she took that deep breath that is so often prelude to a scream, so I picked her up hurriedly, walked the ten feet to where Henry had pushed the battens aside and sat her there, her back propped up against the inner battens.

'What was it?' I asked urgently. 'Quickly.'

'It was horrible, horrible!' She didn't know what I was saying, her breath was coming in long quivering gasps and she was trembling violently. She felt me straightening and sunk her fingers deep into my arms. 'Don't leave me. Don't!'

'I'll only be a moment,' I said soothingly. I pointed to where a beam of light lay angled across the floor of the cabin. 'I want that torch.'

I broke away from her desperate grip and almost literally flung myself through the small cabin door. This wasn't courage, it was the lack of it, I didn't know what the fauna of the South Pacific was but it might have ranged from nests of cobras to colonies of black widow spiders and if I'd stopped to think of all the unpleasant possibilities it might have taken me a very long time indeed to cross that threshold.

I picked the blazing torch off the floor and swung it round in a complete circle, all in one movement. Nothing. Another, a much slower and more thorough inspection. Still nothing, nothing except a pile of damp clothes and a couple of my socks on the bed. I went out, taking the socks with me, and pulled the door tight shut behind me.

Her breathing had quietened but she was still trembling badly when I got back. The change from the cool, self-sufficient and rather aloof young lady who had flown out to Fiji with me to this panic-stricken defenceless girl was just within the limits of credibility and it gave me no pleasure at all. Her fair hair was in wild disorder. She was wearing a matched jumper and cardigan and a pair of light blue slacks. On her left foot she wore two of my socks: the right foot was bare.

I turned the torch on this bare foot, leaned forward suddenly and swore. On the outside of the foot, just behind the little toe, were two narrow deep punctures from which blood was slowly welling.

'Rat!' I said. 'You've been bitten by a rat.'

'Yes,' she said shakily. Her eyes darkened in remembered terror. 'It was horrible, horrible, horrible! A black rat, huge, as big as a cat. I tried to shake it off but it hung on and on and on-'

'It's all over now,' I said.sharply. The hysteria had been climbing back into her voice. 'Just a moment.'

'Where-where are you going?' she asked fearfully.

'First aid kit in my case.' I fetched it, squeezed out the wounds and soaked up all the blood with cotton- woof, used iodine liberally, applied a plaster dressing and pulled on the socks. 'You won't come to any harm from that.'

I lit and gave her a cigarette, ripped a spar off one of the wooden crates, used it as a lever to rip off a larger spar from another crate and finally used that to wrench off a three-foot long three by one from the biggest crate I could see: with three three-inch nails sticking out from the far end it made quite a weapon, more than a match for the fangs of any rat. As big as a cat, Marie Hopeman had said, but I took that with a pinch of salt-they might be as long as a cat but never as big-but for all that black ships' rats could be vicious, especially in numbers. I went into the cabin again, peered around cautiously for the enemy, found none, picked up the two pillows and blankets from the bunk, went out again, shook the blankets ostentatiously to demonstrate that there were no rats concealed in the folds, wrapped them tightly round her, put the pillows behind her back, dug out a spare jacket from one of my cases, made her put it on and stepped back to admire my handiwork.

'Not bad at all,' I admitted. 'I have the touch. Mirror and comb, perhaps? They tell me it does wonders for a woman's morale.'

'No.' She smiled shakily at me. 'As long as I can't see it, I don't worry. You know, I don't really think you're tough at all.'

I smiled back at her, very enigmatic I thought, then used my tie to hang the torch from a batten, close by the deck-head. I pulled back some battens across the aisle from her and hoisted myself up on a platform of wooden boxes, the three by one ready to hand.

'You can't sleep there,' she protested. 'It's too hard and- and you'll fall off.' This was something new, Marie Hopeman showing any concern for me.

'I've no intention of going to sleep,' I said. 'That's for you. Rat-catcher Bentall, that's me. Goodnight.'

We must have been well clear of the land by this time, for the schooner was beginning to roll, not much, but enough to be perceptible. The timbers creaked, the torch swung to and fro throwing huge black moving shadows and, all the time, now that our movements and voices had ceased, I could hear a constant sibilant rustle, either our rodent pals on safari or a cockroach battalion on the march. The combination of the creaking, the rustling and the black ominous shifting shadows was hardly calculated to induce a mood of soporific tranquillity, and I was hardly surprised when, after ten minutes, Marie Hopeman spoke.

'Are-are you asleep? Are you all right?'

'Sure I'm all right,' I said comfortably. 'Goodnight.'

Another five minutes then:

'John!' It was the first time she'd ever called me that except when company had made it necessary to keep up the fiction of our marriage.

'Hullo?'

'Oh, damn it!' There was vexation in her voice, a small reluctant anger at herself, but there was nervousness, too, and the nervousness had the upper hand. 'Come and sit beside me.'

'Right,' I said agreeably. I jumped down to the deck, swung myself up on the other side and seated myself as comfortably as I could with my feet propped against the outboard battens. She made no move or stir to acknowledge my arrival, she didn't even look at me. But I looked at her, I looked and I thought of the change a couple of short hours could make. On the four-stage hop from London airport to Suva she'd hardly acknowledged my existence as a human being, except in airport terminals and conspicuous seats in a plane, where she'd smiled at