Faintley Speaking

turn up there, too.’

Chapter Thirteen

OPERATION DREDGER

‘… but the entrance demands only ordinary caution.’

e. keble chatterton – The Yachtsman’s Pilot

« ^ »

‘Where are we making for, child?’ asked Mrs Bradley, later.

‘Well, I’m not going to put in to Lymington if I can help it,’ said Laura, ‘with those British Railway steamers bucketing past and the stream of the Solent acting horrid, as it’s bound to do after a day like this, I should think. What about making for the Beaulieu River, and then creeping back on the trail?’

‘It is your cruiser,’ said Mrs Bradley, ‘and I should think that would do very nicely, except that we mustn’t let them get away from us, and we don’t want to meet any liners coming out from Southampton.’

‘They’re mostly away by five on this tide, I think, and probably the railway steamers have finished for the day. What about Keyhaven? By the time we’re behind Hurst Castle they won’t be able to pick us out, and it will look as though we’re going to find moorings there for the night. Then, when we like, we can cross towards the Isle of Wight and pick up the trail again from there. We’ll have to moor until dusk, and then we’re not likely to be recognized if we have to go fairly close to them.’

Keyhaven was small, and a number of yachts and cruisers had permanent moorings there. The tide was sufficient, and Laura knew enough to keep clear of eddies. She picked up the leading marks, and went in.

The mud-flats on either side of the anchorage were covered with marshy grass and, except for Hurst Fort, to the south-east, there was no eminence on the low-lying shores. They remained stationary long enough for Laura to row the dinghy to the steps near the inn, where she purchased a quart of beer and made inquiries about moorings.

By the time she got back to Canto Five it was becoming dark, so she suggested to Mrs Bradley that they might as well have a quick meal and then move off. They put on their lights and chugged steadily and slowly past a single line of moored craft until they gained the entrance and were off Old Pier but some distance from it. The High Light was already functioning, and they soon left it almost directly behind them as they crossed the narrowest part of the Solent and made for the shore of the Isle of Wight near Sconce Point. Here Laura steered north-east, and crawled round the coast to the little bay for which the dredger had made. It was still just sufficiently light for them to recognize her unmistakable silhouette with the erection to take the bucket-chain, and the buckets themselves slanting stiffly from amidships towards and under the crane in her bows. She was squat, utilitarian and ugly, almost a repulsive sight except for her funnel, which had the comical effect of having been borrowed from the Rocket and stuck on like a clown’s hat in a pantomime.

‘Something frightfully squamous about dredgers,’ muttered Laura. ‘Where do we go from here?’

‘Anchor at the farther end of the bay. Then we’ll row off in the dinghy, beach her, and stroll along the shore to see what can be seen. The moon is up, so the darker it gets now the better. We should be able to find some vantage-point from which we can observe without ourselves being noticed.’

This proved easy enough. The beach was sandy on an outgoing tide, and behind it rose cliffs which offered shadowed nooks in any one of which it was possible to hide. They strolled by the edge of the water for a time, and, as they approached the anchorage of the dredger, they altered course to gain the shadow of the cliffs. In the first alcove they tried, Laura almost fell over a courting couple, but except for these, and three girls who were taking a stroll by the edge of the water, there seemed to be nobody about. They found a suitable spot and sat down on the rubble which at some time had fallen from the cliff.

The dredger was correctly lighted, but not a sound came from her, although they sat there for over an hour.

‘I’m going to paddle the dinghy out to her and have a look-see,’ said Laura. ‘I don’t believe there’s anybody on board.’

‘Then I’m coming, too, dear child.’

They returned to the dinghy, now exposed by the moonlight, pushed off, and stepped aboard, wet, but (in Laura’s case), happy to be doing something active. It did not take long to reach the dredger, for the tide did most of the work. They reached her to find a rope-ladder trailing over the side.

They shipped their oars and Laura caught hold of the anchor-chain and pulled the dinghy close in to the side of the dredger. The manoeuvres, although they had been carried out with caution, had not been soundless, so, whilst the dinghy gently eased herself up and down, Laura and her employer listened intently. There was nothing to be heard, however, except the lazy slap of the outgoing tide against the shoreward side of the dredger, so, after a while, Laura muttered:

‘Unship your right-hand oar, and, when I say Now, pull us round a bit so that we’re stem-on to this anchor-chain. I’m going aboard.’

Mrs Bradley felt for the small revolver which she had carried all day in her skirt-pocket. She was almost certain that there was nobody on board, but she did not intend to take chances.

‘Right,’ she said. Laura shifted her grip on the anchor-chain.

‘Now!’ she said, and as the dinghy came round she stood up and made a cat-jump. The anchor-chain slackened suddenly, and Laura, afraid of smashing herself against the hull, let go and fell into the sea. She came up, spitting, and swam round to where they had seen the rope-ladder dangling over the side. Up this she went hand over hand, and climbed aboard. Mrs Bradley, who had heard the splash and guessed not only what had happened but what Laura would do, appeared on the seaward side of the dredger again and caught Laura’s softly-muttered ‘O.K. I’m aboard’.

It was soon certain that she was alone on the ship. She had never been on a dredger before and at any other time would have been interested in its machinery and gear; but, for one thing, below deck everything was dark, and, for another, there might be no time to lose. By the time she had groped her way down a slippery iron companion-ladder to the cabin she had made so much noise that she must, she thought, have awakened even the