MCRAFFERTY WAS sunk by now in despair, and the thought that he might never see his daughter again once Breakup Island was reached. It was a hundred pounds to a penny that the man would have ideas of using her in some fashion to cover his getaway from the Aysgarth Falls. And once away, he would have a fine start so long as Fiona remained the sanction against her father. It would not take the Aysgarth Falls long to reach Brisbane and lay the information, and McRafferty had intended to do this no matter how much trouble might come to him for his own part in the affair. But he would hesitate to speak if Fiona was with Jesson after the landing. Bullock, without being specific, had hinted that a hostage was in Jesson’s mind; and McRafferty hadn’t needed to be told that the first person to die if the net closed on Jesson would be the hostage and the incriminating knowledge in his or her mind.
He could find no way through his predicament; he was alone, and he was powerless, a shipmaster who had lost control of his ship through the chicanery, to use no harsher a word, of his own First Mate. Naturally, Bullock would be finished so far as ever getting another berth at sea was concerned; but this would not restore McRafferty’s loss. Bullock…disloyalty at sea was almost the worst of crimes on its own, in McRafferty’s view. What Bullock fancied he might be gaining by his behaviour was beyond all comprehension; but no doubt, like himself, he had got in beyond his depth in the first place.
McRafferty paced the poop, his face grim. If only he had Halfhyde with him; but it was useless to think about that. Probably Bullock had had a hand in that as well, seeing Halfhyde as someone who would upset his schemes for an illegal landing of the passenger.
As McRafferty turned at the after end of the poop, a figure emerged from the saloon hatch, and McRafferty called to him.
“Mr Bullock.”
“Aye, sir.” The niceties were still being observed; on the surface, all was well between Master and First Mate. Bullock made his way aft, long arms swinging.
McRafferty said, “A word in your ear.” He kept his voice low. “Do you imagine you’re going to get away with this?”
Bullock shifted his feet. He was clearly uneasy. McRafferty went on, “You told me you didn’t intend landing with Jesson. Tell me what you do mean to do with the rest of your life—that’s if you don’t swing for mutiny.”
“Mutiny…” Bullock rasped a hand over an unshaven chin. “That’s a strong word—”
“A right one, Bullock. Mutiny is what you did.”
“At the point of a gun. I had no option.”
McRafferty bristled. “You had every option! If you admit to cowardice—”
“Cowardice is no crime. No court will ever say it was. And there was your daughter.”
“I think you were of little help to my daughter, Bullock. And then you uttered threats to me. Be assured that all the facts will see the light of day as soon as we berth in Sydney. I imagine you never doubted that they would. I imagine also that you may have it in mind to kill me before I can make those facts known. Am I right?”
Bullock scowled but gave no answer. McRafferty nodded as though he had received confirmation. He said, “That’s one thing you’ll not risk, Bullock, dangerous to you as I may be. I believe Jesson won’t risk it either—”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I shall remain on deck from this moment until we finally enter our proper port of Sydney and make fast to the berth. It’s a long stretch…but I’ve been forty years a seaman, Bullock, and it’ll not be for the first time. There will always be some of the hands about, and I shall be in full view. Neither you nor Jesson can make a clean sweep of the whole of my crew.” McRafferty paused. “You have one chance, and one chance only.”
“And that is?”
McRafferty said, “You’re not under threat from Jesson’s revolver while you’re up here, and you have not been at any time since he entered my daughter’s cabin. That gives you freedom of movement—”
“You forget your daughter, Captain.”
“I do not. But I believe there is a way to resolve the matter without her coming to any harm. It’ll need your co-operation. That’s what I’m asking for. If you give it, and if together with the crew we succeed, then there are matters that I shall find it conceivable to forget—or make no mention of to the authorities. Well?”
Bullock seemed about to make some answer when there was an interruption, a shout from the foretopmast head.
“Land-ho! Land fine on the starboard bow!”
Bullock snatched McRafferty’s telescope from his hand and moved for’ard at the double, running for the foremast shrouds. He climbed nimbly, searched the distant shore-line, then came down. Moving aft, he approached McRafferty again. He said, “We’ve made a landfall a little south of Breakup Island. There’s no time to alter things now. What’s done must stay.”
AS DAWN came up, thin and watery to herald a dirty day, Halfhyde hailed the Tacoma still moving on slowly behind him.
“How far to go now, sir?”
Graves glanced at the chart, spread before him on the steamer’s bridge. “I make it a little more than six miles,” he called back.
Halfhyde groaned and went back to his task of taking soundings. In point of fact Disaster Passage hadn’t proved as bad as he had feared from the horrific account in the Sailing Directions; but it was utter desolation, almost terrifying in its loneliness, an excellent part of the coast to land a man on the run, so long as he could survive until he reached the outposts of civilization. Jesson, Halfhyde supposed, would equip himself with basic foodstuffs and fresh water from the Aysgarth Falls, but things could still go very wrong with him if he fell in with any hostile
