sailors. They certainly looked out of place on a boat, in their double-breasted suits, holding their fedoras on their heads in the wind. The guy in the wheelhouse, presumably the skipper of the launch, was busy with his controls, trying to keep the boat steady relative to the plane. At last one of the men made a gesture of acknowledgment and picked up a rope.
He was no good at throwing it, and it took four tries before Eddie was able to catch it.
He secured it to the capstan. The men on the launch hauled their craft closer to the plane. The boat, being so much lighter, rose and fell more on the swell. Tying the launch to the plane was going to be difficult and dangerous.
Suddenly he heard Mickey Finn’s voice behind him, saying: “Eddie, what the hell are you doing?”
He turned around. Mickey was in the bow compartment, looking up at him with a concerned expression on his open, freckled face. Eddie yelled: “Stay right out of this, Mickey! I’m warning you—if you interfere, people are going to get hurt!”
Mickey looked scared. “Okay, okay, whatever you say.” He retreated toward the flight deck, his face showing that he thought Eddie had gone mad.
Eddie turned back to face the launch. It was quite close now. He looked at the three men. One was very young, no more than eighteen. Another was older but short and thin, with a cigarette dangling from a corner of his mouth. The third, wearing a black suit with a chalk stripe, looked like he was in charge.
They were going to need two ropes, Eddie decided, to hold the launch steady enough. He put his hands to his mouth to make a megaphone and shouted: “Throw another rope!”
The man in the striped suit picked up a rope in the bow, next to the one they were already using. That was no good: they needed one at each end of the launch, to make a triangle. “No, not that one,” Eddie called. “Throw me a stem rope.”
The man got the message.
This time Eddie caught the rope the first time. He took it inside the plane and tied it to a strut.
With a man hauling on each rope, the launch came rapidly closer. Suddenly its engines were cut and a man in overalls came out of the wheelhouse and took over the rope work. This guy was obviously a seaman.
Eddie heard another voice from behind him, coming from within the bow compartment. This time it was Captain Baker. He said: “Deakin, you’re disobeying a direct order!”
Eddie ignored him and prayed that he would keep out of the way for a few moments more. The launch was as close as it could come. The skipper wound the ropes around the deck stanchions, leaving just enough slack to allow the boat to rise and fall with the waves. To board the Clipper, the men would have to wait until the swell brought the deck level with the platform, then jump from one to the other. To steady themselves, they could hold on to the rope that ran from the stern of the launch to the inside of the bow compartment.
Baker barked: “Deakin! Get back in here!”
The seaman opened a gate in the rail and the gangster in the striped suit stood ready to jump across. Eddie felt Captain Baker’s hand clutch at his jacket from behind. The gangster saw what was happening and reached inside his coat.
Eddie’s worst nightmare was that one of his crewmates would decide to be a hero and get himself killed. He wished he could tell them about the navy cutter that Steve Appleby had sent—but he was afraid that if he did, one of them might accidentally forewarn the gangsters. So he just had to try to keep the situation under control.
He turned to Baker and yelled: “Captain! Get out of the way! These bastards have guns!”
Baker looked shocked. He stared at the gangster, then ducked out of sight. Eddie turned around to see the man in the striped suit stuffing a pistol back into his coat pocket. Jesus, I hope I can stop these guys from shooting people, he thought fearfully. If someone dies it will be my fault.
The boat was on the crest of a wave, its deck a little above the level of the platform. The gangster grabbed the rope, hesitated, then jumped onto the platform. Eddie caught him, steadying him.
“You Eddie?” the man said.
Eddie recognized the voice: he had heard it over the phone. He recalled the man’s name: Vincini. Eddie had insulted him: now he regretted it, for he needed his cooperation. “I want to work with you, Vincini,” he said. “If you want things to go smoothly, with no snags, let me help you.”
Vincini gave him a hard look. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “But make one false move and you’re dead.” His tone was brisk and business-like. He showed no sign of resentment: no doubt he had too much on his mind to think about past slights.
“Step inside and wait right there while I bring the others over.”
“Okay.” Vincini turned to the launch. “Joe—you next. Then Kid. The girl comes last.” He stepped down into the bow compartment.
Looking inside, Eddie saw Captain Baker climbing the ladder that led to the flight deck. Vincini pulled out his gun and said: “Stay there, you.”
Eddie said: “Do what he says, Captain. For God’s sake, these guys are serious.”
Baker stepped off the ladder and raised his hands in the air.
Eddie turned back. The runty man called Joe was standing at the rail of the launch looking scared to death. “I can’t swim!” he said in a rasping voice.
“You won’t have to,” Eddie said. He reached out a hand.
Joe jumped, caught his hand, and half stepped, half fell into the bow compartment.
The young one was last. Having seen the other two make the transfer safely, he was overconfident. “I can’t swim, either,” he said with a grin. He jumped too soon, landed on the very edge of the platform, lost his balance and tipped backward. Eddie leaned out, holding the rope with his left hand, and grabbed the boy by the waistband of his pants. He pulled him onto the platform.
“Gee, thanks!” the boy said, as if Eddie had merely given him a hand, instead of saving his life.
Now Carol-Ann was standing on the deck of the launch, looking across at the platform with fear on her face. She was not normally timid, but Eddie could tell that Kid’s near-disaster had unnerved her. He smiled at her and said: “Just do what they did, honey. You can make it.”
She nodded and took hold of the rope.
Eddie waited with his heart in his mouth. The swell brought the launch up level with the platform. Carol-Ann hesitated, missed her chance and looked more fearful. “Take your time,” Eddie called, making his voice calm to hide his own fear. “Whenever you’re ready.”
The launch went down and rose again. Carol-Ann’s face wore an expression of forced resolution, her lips pressed together, her forehead creased in a frown. The launch drifted a foot or two away from the platform, making the gap rather too wide. Eddie called: “Maybe not this time—” But he was too late. She was so determined to be brave that she had already jumped.
She missed the platform completely.
She let out a scream of terror and swung from the rope, her feet scrabbling in midair. Eddie could do nothing as the launch slipped down the slope of the wave and Carol-Ann fell away from the platform. “Hold tight!” he yelled frantically. “You’ll come up!” He got ready to jump into the sea to save her if she should let go.
But she clung fiercely to the rope as the swell took her down, then brought her up again. When she drew up level she stretched out one leg toward the platform, but it did not reach. Eddie went down on one knee and made a grab for her. He almost overbalanced and fell in the water, but he could not quite touch her leg. The swell took her down again, and she gave a cry of despair.
“Swing!” Eddie yelled. “Swing to and fro as you come up!”
She heard. He could see her gritting her teeth against the pain in her arms, but she managed to swing backward and forward as the swell lifted the launch. Eddie knelt down, reaching out. She came level and swung with all her might. Eddie grabbed and caught her ankle. She had no stockings on. He pulled her closer and got hold of the other ankle, but her feet still did not reach the platform. The launch crested the wave and began to fall. Carol-Ann screamed as she felt herself going down. Eddie still held on to her ankles. Then she let go of the rope.
He held on like grim death. As she fell, he was pulled forward by her weight and almost toppled into the sea; but he was able to flop onto his belly and stay on the platform. Carol-Ann swung upside down from his hands. In this position he could not lift her, but the sea did the job. The next wave submerged her head but lifted her toward him. He let go of one ankle, freeing his right hand, and got his arm around her waist.
