‘The Jerries converted her in the war and used her at Crete,’ he shouted at me. ‘Dad bought her as a wreck, and brought her back from the dead.’
Why? I wanted to ask, but contented myself with, ‘Where are we going?’ instead.
‘Morphou Bay.’
This time I did use the word.
‘Why?’
‘I want to show you something. Don’t worry, we’ll be out of the wind once we’ve rounded Kormakiti Point. Plain sailing after that.’ Something told me that his definition of plain sailing might not be the same as mine. Still, after another ten minutes of assaulting the waves we did round a sort of point, and as soon as he turned south into a wide bay the water flattened into a long slow swell. My diaphragm muscles actually ached from the effort of holding myself upright. In the calmer water of the wide bay the thudding of the engine sounded as loud as Thor’s hammer. Wrong ocean, I thought – wrong period. The sky was still an eggshell blue, and the sea flashed like blue sapphires in the sun. Seabirds glided in our wake. Warboys, I decided, had gone over the top far too often, and needed a rest: he was as mad as a monkey.
The deeper into the bay he took us, the smoother the swell became. He had me take the wheel, and follow his directions as he sighted on two landmarks using a makeshift triangle of three small pieces of wood, just as the Dam Busters’ bomb aimers did: a row of three high trees, skinny affairs with dense flat canopies, and a distant brick-built church tower. When he was satisfied that they aligned correctly he abruptly cut the engine, and dropped the stern anchor, and as we swung round it to face the making tide, scampered along the deck to drop the bow anchor as well. Then we had a cup of water each, as he told me he was going to turn me into a skin diver.
We sat on the deck with our backs against the bulwark, our clothes drying on our bodies. As soon as I took a sip of water I realized how salty my lips tasted: it wasn’t altogether an unpleasant sensation.
‘Does it matter that I can’t swim?’
‘At all?’
‘About six feet in any one direction, but I’m better at down than any other. After about six feet I roll over on one side and begin to sink, usually head first. The woman who tried to teach me thought that unusual – she always sank feet first.’
‘Mm. You know what they say about women with big feet.’
‘We were talking of swimming – and I can’t.’
‘You won’t have to. I’ve done this with several people – that’s what the stones are for.’ I had noticed a couple of open boxes of large stones on either side of the well deck – each stone more or less the same size, a foot or so across, and weighing a good few pounds. ‘I’ve invented what I call unscientific plunge diving. Most people who try it, love it, and get better at it each time they dive.’
‘Tell me how you get better at it.’
‘You hold your breath, longer and longer each time. Look, it’s easy – you put on one of the Mae Wests, flippers and a face mask. Then you drop over the side holding one of the stones against your belly. The stone overcomes the buoyancy of the life jacket and pulls you slowly down to the bottom. When you run out of breath you let go of the stone, and the jacket bungs you back up to the surface – like a cork out of a champagne bottle. Smashing feeling. Then I fish you out.’
‘Don’t divers get the bends or something, if they surface too fast?’
‘Yes, but you’re only in twenty-five feet of water out here – safe as houses.’
‘Is your idea of as safe as houses the same as mine?’
It was hard to resist Warboys when he grinned: he looked about sixteen years old and unsullied.
‘Probably not. But someone told me you make a habit of throwing yourself out of high-flying aircraft, and I’m buggered if I’d do that for fun – no head for heights. I only bring the people I like out here, and show them my private treasures – we’re moored halfway between two of them right now. One is about twenty-five yards in that direction.’ He pointed over the stern, at the shoreline: a narrow beach and scrub dunes. ‘The other one is the same distance to starboard.’ I glanced involuntarily to our right. Why is it that when someone says right or left you tend to glance immediately in that direction? ‘You’ll never forgive yourself if you turn this one down, Charlie. I’ll find you a mask. All you need to do is decide which one you’ll drop in on first.’
He needed my help to manhandle the aluminium skiff over the side. It was very light, but awkward to manoeuvre. Then he found us each a threadbare pair of KD shorts. Mine were two sizes too big and stiff with salt. I climbed down into the rowing boat and he passed a few of the stones down to me – they were heavier than they looked, some sort of marble, I think. He showed me how to place the face mask and adjust the strap to cinch it in tight to my face and under
