rampant beasts - probably lions - supporting a shield and a mailed head. It seemed vaguely familiar, and I wondered where I had seen it before.
I rocked back on my heels and looked at Sherry North. She was unable to meet my gaze.
“Funny thing,” I mused. “A jet aircraft with a bloody great brass bell hanging on its nose.”
“I don’t understand it,” she said.
“No more do I. I stood up and went to get a cheroot from the saloon. I lit it and sat back in the fighting chair. “Okay. Let’s hear your theory.”
“I don’t know, Harry. Truly I don’t.”
“Let’s try some guesses,” I suggested. “I’ll begin.” She turned away to the rail.
“The jet aircraft turned into a pumpkin,” I hazarded. “How about that one?”
She turned back to me. “Harry, I don’t feel well. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“So, what must I do?”
“Let’s go back now.”
“I was thinking of another dive - look around a bit more.” “No,” she said quickly. “Please, not now. I don’t feel up to it.
Let’s go. We can come back if we have to.”
I studied her face for evidence of her sickness: she looked like an advert for health food.
“All right,” I agreed; there was not really much point in another dive, but only I knew that. “Let’s go home and try and work it out.”
I stood up and began rewrapping the brass bell.
What are you going to do with that?” she asked anxiously.
“Redeposit it,” I told her. “I am certainly not going to take it back to St. Mary’s and display it in the market place. Like you said, we can always come back.”
“Yes,” she agreed immediately. “You are right, of course.”
I dropped the package over the side once more and went to haul the hook.
On the homeward run I found Sherry North’s presence on the bridge irritated me. There was a lot of hard thinking I had to do. I sent her down to make coffee.
“Strong,” I told her, “and with four spoons of sugar. It will be good for your seasickness.”
She reappeared on the bridge within two minutes. “The stove won’t light,“she complained.
“You have to open the main gas cylinders first.” I explained where to find the taps. “And don’t forget to close them when you finish, or you’ll turn the boat into a bomb.” She made lousy coffee.
It was late evening when I picked up moorings in Grand Harbour, and dark by the time I dropped Sherry at the entrance of the hotel. She didn’t even invite me in for a drink, but kissed me on the cheek and said, “Darling, let me be alone tonight. I am exhausted. I am going to bed now. Let me think about all this, and when I feel better we can plan more clearly.”
“I’ll pick you up here - what time?” “No,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the boat. Early. Eight o’clock. Wait for me there - we can talk in private. just the two of us, no one else - all right?”
“I’ll bring Dancer to the wharf at eight,” I promised her.
It had been a thirsty day, and on the way home I stopped off at the Lord Nelson.
Angelo and Judith were with a noisy party of their own age in one of the booths. They called me over and made room for me between two of the girls.
I brought them each a pint, and Angelo leaned over confidentially.
“Hey, skipper, are you using the pick-up tonight?” “Yes,” I said. “To get me home.” I knew what was coming, of course. Angelo acted. as though he had shares in the vehicle.
“There’s a big party down at South Point tonight, boss,” suddenly he was very free with the “boss” and “skipper’, “I thought if I run you out to Turtle Bay, then you’d let us have the truck. I’d pick you up early tomorrow, promise.”
I took a swallow at my tankard and they were all watching me with eager hopeful faces.
“It’s a big party, Mister Harry,” said Judith. “Please.”
“You pick me up seven o’clock sharp, Angelo, hear?” and there was a spontaneous burst of relieved laughter. They clubbed in to buy me another pint.
I had a disturbed night, with restless sleep interspersed with periods of wakefulness. I had the dream again, when I dived to the canvas package. Once more it contained a tiny Dresden mermaid, but this time she had Sherry North’s face and she offered me the model of a jet fighter aircraft that changed into a golden pumpkin as I reached for it. The pumpkin was etched with the letters: wnl It rained after midnight, solid sheets of water, that poured off the eaves, and the lightning silhouetted the palm fronds against the night sky.
It was still raining when I went down to the beach, and the heavy drops exploded in minute bomb bursts of spray upon my naked body. The sea was black in the bad light, and the rain squalls reached to the horizon. I swam alone, far out beyond the reef, but when I came back to the beach the excursion had not provided the usual lift to my spirits.
My body was blue and shivering with the cold, and a vague but pervading sense of trouble and depression pressed heavily upon me, I had finished breakfast when the pick-up came down the track through the palm plantation, splashing through the puddles, splattered with mud and with headlights still burning.
In the yard Angelo hooted and shouted, “You ready, Harry?” and I ran out with a souwester held over my head. Angelo smelled of beer and he was garrulous and slightly bleary of eye.
I’ll drive,” I told him, and as we crossed the island he gave me a blow-by-blow description of the great party from what he told me it seemed there might be an epidemic of births on St. Mary’s in nine months” time.
I was only half listening to him, for as we approached the town so my sense of disquiet mounted.
“Hey, Harry, the kids said to thank you for the loan of the pick-up.”
“That’s okay, Angelo!
“I sent Judith out to the boat - she’s going to tidy up, Harry, and get the coffee going for you.”
“She shouldn’t have worried,” I said.
“She wanted to do that specially - sort of thank you, you know.”
“She’s a good girl.”
“Sure is, Harry. I love that girl,” and Angelo burst into song, “Devil Woman” in the style of Mick Jagger.
When we crossed the ridge and started down into the valley I had a sudden impulse. Instead of continuing straight down Frobisher Street to the harbour, I swung left on to the circular drive above the fort and hospital and went up the avenue of banyan trees to the Hilton Hotel. I parked the pick-up under the canopy and went through to the reception lobby.
There was nobody behind the desk this early in the morning, but I leaned across the counter and peered into Marion’s cubicle. She was at her switchboard and when she saw me her face lit up in a wide grin and she lifted off her earphones.
“Hello, Mister Harry.”
“Hello, Marion, love,” I returned the grin. “Is Miss. North in her room?”
Her expression changed. “Oh no,” she said, “she left over an hour ago.”
“Left?” I stared at her.
“Yes. She went out to the airport with the hotel bus. She was catching the seven-thirty plane.” Marion glanced at the cheap Japanese watch on her wrist. “They would have taken off ten minutes ago.”
I was taken completely off-balance, of all things I had least expected this. It didn’t make sense for many seconds and then suddenly and sickeningly it did.
“Oh Jesus Christ,” I said. “Judith!” and I ran for the pickup.
Angelo saw my face as I came and he sat up straight in the seat and stopped singing.
I jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine, thrusting the pedal down hard and swinging in a roaring two-wheeled turn.
“What is it, Harry?” Angelo demanded.
“Judith?” I asked grimly. “You sent her down to the boat, when?”
“When I left to fetch you.”
“Did she go right away?”
“No, she’d have to bath and dress first.” He was telling it straight, not hiding the fact they had slept together.
