“Seven thousand dollars a trip,” which was not as much as it sounds after Coker had clouted fifteen per cent, then Inspector Peter Daly had to be slipped the same again to dim his eyesight and cloud his hearing. On top of that Chubby and Angelo always earned a danger money bonus of five hundred each for a night run.
“Forget it, Mr. Coker,” I said unconvincingly. “You just fix a couple of fishing parties.” But he knew I couldn’t fight it.
“Just as soon as you fit enough to fish, we’ll fix that.
Meantime, when do you want to do the first night run? Shall I tell them ten days from today? That will be high spring tide and a good moon.”
“All right,” I agreed with resignation. “Ten days” time.” With a positive decision made, it seemed that my recovery from the wounds was hastened. I had been in peak physical condition which contributed, and the gaping holes in my arm and back began to shrink miraculously.
I reached a milestone in my convalescence on the sixth day.
Sister May was giving me a bed bath, with a basin of suds and a face cloth, when there was a monumental demonstration of my physical wellbeing. Even I, who was no stranger to the phenomenon, was impressed, while Sister May was so overcome that her voice became a husky little whisper.
“Lord!” she said. “You’ve sure got your strength back.”
“Sister May, do you think we should waste that?” I asked, and -she shook her head vehemently.
from then onwards I began to take a more cheerful view of my circumstances, and not surprisingly the Fcanvas-wrapped secret off Big Gull Island began to nag me. I felt my good resolutions weakening.
“I’ll just take a look,” I told myself. “When I am sure the dust has really settled.”
They were allowing me up for a few hours at a time now, and I felt restless and anxious to get on with it. Not even Sister May’s devoted efforts could blunt the edge of my awakening energy. Macnab was impressed.
“You heal well Harry old chap. Closing up nicely another week.” “A week, hell!” I told him determinedly. Seven days from now I was making the night run. Coker had set it up without trouble - and I was just about stony broke. I needed that run pretty badly.
My crew came up to visit me every evening, and to report progress on the repairs to Dancer. One evening Angelo arrived earlier than usual, he was dressed in his courting gear - rodeo boots and all - but he was strangely subdued and not alone.
The lass with him was the young nursery grade teacher from the goverriment school down near the fort. I knew her well enough to exchange smiles on the street. Missus Eddy had summed up her character for me once.
“She’s a good girl, that Judith. Not all flighty and flirty like some others. Going to make some lucky fellow a good wife.”
She was also good-looking with a tall willowy figure, neatly and conservatively dressed, and she greeted me shyly.
“How do, Mister Harry.”
“Hello, Judith. Good of you to come,” and I looked at Angelo, unable to hide my grin. He couldn’t meet my eye, colouring up as he hunted for words.
“Me and Judith planning to marry up,” he blurted at last. “Wanted you to know that, boss.”
“Think you can keep him under control, Judith?” I laughed delightedly.
“You just watch me,” she said with a flash of dark eyes that made the question superfluous.
“That’s great - I’ll make a speech at your wedding,” I assured them. “You going to let Angelo go on crewing for me?”
“Wouldn’t ever try to stop him,” she assured me. “It’s good work he’s got with you.”
They stayed for another hour and when they left I felt a small prickle of envy. It must be a good feeling to have someone - apart from yourself. I thought some day if I ever found the right person I might try it. Then I dismissed the thought, raising my guard again. There were a hell of a lot of women - and no guarantee you will pick right.
Macnab discharged me with two days to spare. My clothes hung on my bony frame, I had lost nearly two stone in weight and my tan had faded to a dirty yellow brown, there were big blue smears under my eyes and I still felt weak as a baby. The arm was in a sling and the wounds were still open, but I could change the dressing myself.
Angelo brought the pick-up to the hospital and waited while I said goodbye to Sister May on the steps.
Nice getting to know you, Mister Hairy.”
“Come out to the shack some time soon. I’ll grill you a mess of crayfish, and we’ll drink a little wine.”
“My contract ends next week. I’ll be going home to England then.”
“You be happy, hear,” I told her.
Angelo drove me down to Admiralty, and with Chubby we spent an hour going over Dancer’s repairs.
Her decks were snowy white, and they had replaced all the woodwork in the saloon bulkhead, a beautiful piece of joinery with which even I could find no fault.
We took her down the channel as far as Mutton Point and it was good to feel her riding lightly under my feet and hear the sweet burble of her engines. We came home in the dusk to tie up at moorings and sit out on the bridge in the dark, drinking beer out of the can and talking.
I told them that we had a run set for the following night, and they asked where to and what the cargo was. That was all - it was set, there was no argument.
“Time to go,” Angelo said at last. “Going to pick Judith up from night school,” and we rowed ashore in the dinghy. There was a police Land-Rover parked beside my old pick-up at the back of the pineapple sheds and Wally, the young constable, climbed out as we approached. He greeted his uncle, and then turned to me.
“Sorry to worry you, Mister Harry, but Inspector Daly wants to see you up at the fort. He says it’s urgent.”
“God,” I growled. “It can wait until tomorrow.” “He says it can’t, Mister Harry.” Wally was apologetic, and for his sake I went along.
“Okay, I’ll follow you in the pick-up - but we got to drop Chubby and Angelo off first.”
I thought it was probably that Daly wanted to haggle about his pay off. Usually Fred Coker fixed that, but I guessed that Daly was raising the price of his honour.
Driving onehanded and holding the steering wheel with a knee while I shifted gear with my good hand, I followed the red tail lights of Wally’s Land-Rover rattling over the drawbridge and parked beside it in the courtyard of the fort.
The massive stone walls had been built by slave labour in the mid-eighteenth century and from the wide ramparts the long thirty-six-pounder cannon ranged the channel and the entrance to Grand Harbour.
One wing was used as the island police headquarters, jail and armoury - the rest of it was government offices and the Presidential and State apartments.
We climbed the front steps to the charge office and Wally led me through a side door, and along a corridor, down steps, another corridor, more stone steps.
I had never been down here before and I was intrigued. The stone walls here must have been twenty feet thick, the old powder store probably. I half expected the Frankenstein monster to be lurking behind the thick oak door, iron studded and weathered, at the end of the last passage. We went through.
It wasn’t Frankenstein, but next best. Inspector Daly waited for us with another of his constables. I noticed immediately they both wore sidearms. The room was empty except for a wooden table and four PWD type chairs. The walls were unpainted stonework and the floor was paved.
At the back of the room an arched doorway led to a row of cells.
The lights were bare hundred-watt bulbs hanging on black electrical cable that ran exposed across the beamed roof. They cast hard black shadows in the angles of the irregularly shaped room.
On the table lay my FN carbine. I stared at it uncomprehendingly.
Behind me Wally closed the oak door. “Mr. Fletcher, is this your firearm?” “You know damn well it is,” I said angrily. “Just what the hell are you playing at, Daly?”
“Harold Delville Fletcher, I am placing you under arrest for the unlawful possession of Category A firearms. To wit, one unlicensed automatic rifle type Fabrique Nationale Serial No. 4163215.”
“You’re off your head,” I said, and laughed. He didn’t like that laugh. The weak little lips below his moustache
