JESSON HAD a quiet word with Bullock next morning, on the poop, while McRafferty was below. He told the First Mate about Float.
Bullock’s jaw came forward and his mouth set hard. “That does it,” he said in a grating voice. “I’m going to—”
“Wait,” Jesson said. “You’ll do nothing. For now, he’s got us. See sense! It’s not for long. Keep it all to yourself—all of it. For one thing: Float’s not alone in this. Someone didn’t lock him up that night after all—”
“Althwaite! I have his—”
“You won’t, Bullock. You’ll do nothing.” Jesson’s voice was quiet but his stare into Bullock’s eyes was intense, and his grip on the First Mate’s shoulder was hard. “Nothing, I tell you. Except for just one thing.”
“And that is?”
“A word to McRafferty that I want to take Float with me when I leave the ship.”
“McRafferty’ll never agree to that,” Bullock said flatly, “so just cast it out of your reckoning.”
“It’s got to be done, don’t you understand?”
Bullock said, “It can’t be, you have my word on that. I know McRafferty well enough…and anyway, he’s never going to put his head in that particular noose! What do they call it—compounding a felony, letting a murderer escape?” He shook his head. “Best forget it. It won’t work.”
Jesson licked at his lips, his eyes glittering through the mass of hair. “I’m not blind to the difficulties, Bullock. They have to be overcome, that’s all. There are other ways and well you know it.”
Bullock looked up sharply, not liking the tone. “What are you getting at?”
“You know very well. Float.” Jesson drew a hand across his throat, lifting the bearded chin and staring down his nose at the First Mate. “Nothing so obvious as a knife, though. An accident.”
Bullock blew out his cheeks. “You’ll need to be careful.”
Jesson laughed. “Not me, my good Bullock! You!”
“Me?” Bullock looked shaken.
“When do you think I’d have the chance for God’s sake?” Jesson’s eyes still searched the First Mate’s face. “It’s got to be up to you. You’ve got the opportunities.” His voice hardened further. “Don’t forget you’re in this deep, my friend. If anyone turns me in, you go with me.”
Bullock’s face lost its colour. He said, “All I did was fix your passage.”
“Yes. For a consideration extra to the passage money—remember? In hot diamonds. And I took the precaution of lodging your receipt in Her Majesty’s mail, addressed to a good friend in Australia. Just bear it in mind.”
Jesson removed his hand from Bullock’s shoulder and went below to the saloon. Savagely Bullock paced the poop, fists clenching and unclenching. It was clear enough that he had to go along with Jesson; there could be no half measures now. In any case, it would be no more than a cheat upon the hangman, but the law wasn’t going to take that line of argument! Desperately Bullock cast about for another way, a safer way, but couldn’t see one. He would never persuade McRafferty; nor would he be able to get Float off the ship without McRafferty being aware when the time came. It was already going to be difficult enough to persuade McRafferty not to make his first landfall off Sydney Heads. Cantlow-Jesson—had left that to him as well; McRafferty, already worried about his passenger, certainly wasn’t going to like such of the truth as he would need to be told.
When the moment came, McRafferty didn’t. There was a row, and voices became raised in the apparent privacy of the saloon. The pressure was put on and McRafferty was forced to acquiesce. Working on the poop not far from the saloon skylight, Float was all ears…
Chapter 12
IF THAT overheard conversation was not proof enough that the First Mate was in with the passenger, Float, within the next day or so, found further evidence: Bullock was out to get him; not just to haze him, not just to make his life hell, but to do him in. Bullock was biding his time but seeking out every opportunity meanwhile. Working about the deck, Float felt Bullock’s eyes constantly following him. In fair weather he wouldn’t have much chance; but the moment a real blow came, Bullock’s time would come with it. Any man out along the footropes was in danger, and accidents not only could happen but did—all too frequently as this voyage had proved. And then there was the time spent in the sail locker. The First Mate naturally had access to the sail locker and might be crazy enough to do his killing during the night hours. Float didn’t believe he would since a fall from aloft could be much more easily contrived, but the fear stayed with him nevertheless. Without much hope, he began praying for a nice, safe landfall.
FROM THE Tacoma a watch was being kept for von Merkatz; but the seas astern remained empty of the German flag, much to Halfhyde’s relief. As the days passed it seemed more and more unlikely that von Merkatz would pick them up again; though the German might well have overtaken them had it not been for their engines, since the wind had largely fallen away now.
There was also no sign of the Aysgarth Falls; as Graves remarked, they could by this time have overhauled the windjammer and she might be to north or south of their course. He said, “One more week and I believe she’ll head up towards the Barrier Reef.”
Halfhyde nodded without commenting. He had not been entirely persuaded by Graves’ reasoning. McRafferty could put his passenger ashore literally anywhere in Australia, and the choice was in Halfhyde’s view much too wide. He was growing more and more certain that they would never pick up the windjammer and that McRafferty would be left to carry the affair off in ignorance of how far he was committing himself. He said as much to Graves.
“It’s up to him, after all,” Graves responded as they paced the deck outside the Master’s accommodation. “You’re under no obligation
