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Show Al BKBPWTBRS ;M oBEN AMES WILLIAMS - heard Mr. Jenkins no throuuli (ho- cniiino room uud forward; heard his feel utmost ahovo their heads as ho slopped up into the pilothouse to speak to UiHihm there. A few drops of ram came through die open port. Kohin asked: "Where me we ;oln;'.' Where is he taUiiiK us?" "lle'il probably head straight off-shore, off-shore, soulh or southeast, to cross to Newfoundland. 1 don't think he's n navigator. We've no Instruments Instru-ments aboard oxeept lead and corn-bass, corn-bass, anyway." Annus was silent, thinking. Kobin lay looking up at hi in. standini! here close beside her. She watched the line of his Jaw tighten, watched the muscle at the angle of his jawbone knot, and his forehead furrow. She had never noticed how bis eyebrows bristled. They were, she realised, a little gray. Perhaps they were what made him seem gray; made her think of him as gray. His shoulder was lean and powerful, his neck straight and strong. She wanted to reach up and touch the curve of his head behind his ear. "He wouldn't go offshore," he said, half to himself and half to her. "He must be planning to meet the schooner in some sheltered bay along the Newfoundland coast; llir MHIIV Ml ( ; Mi'lou Dili-. A onns aiul. ROi' lo M.HM lt:v IO hfr n.in.r. Will M. I'lull J"nI alu-r lior IU Al, XX 111 U i'.'l.l'lll ll kllli il I Mlll-IIH Mlll-IIH Ih.u Will's hiolhcr. Aiiku, hhiuios hiT l.r hl ili'.uh. UeMil if I" il ! Ins i'iuirr lo wall for linn. Nho (.illi nIoi ami mi.tl.i-9 l lliul llio boat at mm. houiut for I atu.itlor. Auollur iTuImt CiMiK-s abrctNt ef Ihi'in Jil lens ruoiiKh lor lht"in lo roi-osiilii a man hametl J1"-Imiih. J1"-Imiih. aiul later Uifv soil a So oi niiienC ralrol (rail Jenkins. Shortly alter ttify ct lite nrt poi ( Ihe eiKlnt'S Miililcnly slop. Vhoy iliM-oior Chat Ji'iiklnt has taken oyer (he hoat. Jenkins has Just M, "I foisol a while aiio." Now eonllnne wllh the story. CHAT l'KK XI McPhail looked pu-.-led. "Forgot what. Jenkins'.'" "You'd figure it out, give you time; and when you figured it out. you wouldn't care what you'd promised prom-ised me. You'd be up for trouble, promise or no promise. Nothing doing do-ing on promises. McPhail." Angus said in a low tone: "If I understand you. you feel that I have some personal cause for disliking you." "Skip it." the other man said briefly. brief-ly. He said: "See here! Got a hammer ham-mer aboard, some nails'"' "There's a hammer in the tool box in the engine room. I think. Some nails in a tobacco tin in the galley." Jenkins spoke to Kobin. "Go get 'em." he directed. Kobin obeyed him. The nails were in a fiat tobacco can on the shelf above the little stove. The hammer was black with grease and oil. staining stain-ing her hands. It was comfortingly heavy. She tried it, hefting it in her hand: and she saw Jenkins watching watch-ing her from where he sat. a few-feet few-feet away. He grinned faintly. "All right." he assented. "No hard feelings. I would in your place. Come back and sit down where you were." When she was seated, he spoke to McPhail again. "Y'ou can like this or not, but here's what you'll do." He looked at Robin and chuckled and said to McPhail: "I'm giving you a break, at that. You and Miss Dale both go into the stateroom. state-room. I'll fix the door so you can't get out easy. Then I'll know where you are." Robin said simply: "I'd like that, please. Mr. McPhail." Angus met her eyes; and she saw in his the em- barrassed confusion of a boy. She i spoke to Mr. Jenkins. "I'm very sleepy, already, in spite of all the excitement. Maybe it's the sea air. : Hay I go to bed first? I can take the i upper berth, Mr. McPhail. Y'ou can sleep in the lower one." "That's sensible," Mr. Jenkins agreed. "Go ahead." She considered how to prepare for the night. It would be a long time -till tomorrow, and anything might happen. She' had in her packsack asperating and Intel inlnahlo hours of tlrJili'iiltm tension. , liohin wolm without knowing why, and felt Mnine one near her In the darkness; mid the cruiser lurched slclicnlngly, rolling roll-ing In the troui'.h of uront noas. Then she realized that the engine had slopped; and Angus, hearing her low exclamation, snapped on the light. She blinked against Ihe sudden sud-den glare of It. Then Jenkins spoke, outside their door. "McPhail, nro you awake'.'" "Yes." "Something's gone wrong with llio engine. Hoineo's tlxlng It. Tnko It easy." Angus looked quickly at ltobln. "Pat can tlx it," he told Jenkins. "Komeo doesn't know anything about engines." Jenkins did not answer; an-swer; and Angus leaned close to whisper In her ear: "He'll have to let Pat do It. Ilomeo's thumb-handed. Pat can make an engine sing; but lfe can cripple one as easily." "Would that do any good',1" "Delay. Delay us till someone finds us. They won't follow Jenkins' boat clear up to the Straits. They'll stop it, sooner or later; and us soon as they find out he's not aboard her, they'll guess what happened." "The plane couldn't llnd us In tho rain." This was true. He did not d.'iiy lt They could hear the sounds of Romeo's Ro-meo's activity in the engine room, and a grumbling of voices; and then Mr. Jenkins spoke to Uiem again. "You're right. McPhail," he said. "Romeo doesn't know which end of a screw driver is which. I'm going to make the Irishman do the job. He might start trouble, and you don't want that. Y'ou call to him. He'll hear you." McPhail shouted. "Pat!" From the forecastle, divided from their stateroom by the longitudinal bulkhead. bulk-head. Pat answered in a great voice: "Aye, sorr!" "Do whatever they tell you, Pat. We're all right as long as we don't make trouble." "Aye, sorr!" Pat assented, almost cheerfully. "I'll have us under way in no time at all." He added: "There's dirt in the gas. I'm thinking, think-ing, by the way it sounded." They heard him ask Mr. Jenkins: "Did ye strain the gas when ye filled the tanks a while back?" Robin Rob-in remembered the tins of spare gasoline in the after cockpit. Mr. Jenkins murmured something; and Pat said cheerfully: "That's it. then. A dirty lot of gas it was. I'll be having to take the carbureter apart, like as not." Mr. Jenkins must have been releasing re-leasing him while he talked; for now the two in the stateroom heard Pat come into the engine room; heard him say. "Y'e're a nervous man, Mr. Jenkins." There was a chuckle in his tones. "I never could do a good turn on an engine without, with-out, a piece of eating tobacco in my check. There's a twist in my hip pocket and I want mightily to reach for it. Think ye your nerves would stand the strain of seeing me reach for my hip?" Mr. Jenkins said: "Go ahead, man. Maybe it will stop your talk." In the stateroom Angus looked at Robin, and she saw a deep excitement excite-ment in his eyes, and wished to ask some questions; but he made a sign of silence, shook his head. Dawn grayed the narrow port before be-fore at last the motor caught and ran again. When theyuere under way, Pat at McPhail's order once more submitted to his bonds. Then McPhail called: "Now, Jenkins, let us out of here." "You'll do all right where you are," Jenkins decided. "Man, I don't want any trouble; but I'm coming out. Will you pull the nails or shall I break the !-. . : '. , -' v II - ' ' ; , , '-;v ' ,.ssv Av - !' Afj heavy whipcord riding breeches, ankle an-kle length, which she sometimes wore for tramping through meadows mead-ows or along the shore to find a vantage point from which to make her sketches; and she changed into them, and a flannel shirt and a sweater. The air pouring through the port was sweet and fine; but it -was astonishingly cold. The weather, weath-er, she decided, must be changing. She drew on wool stockings, and climbed into the upper berth, and reached the latch from where she lay and thrust the door open. "I'm abed," she said. She could see Mr. Jenkins across the cabin; saw him look with surprise at her sweater, and she explained: "I'm sleeping in my clothes. I'm cold." Angus came into the stateroom. His cheek was congested with rage. He closed the door behind him and backed away from it, watching it, standing beside the narrow bunk. Robin felt him like an animal crouched to spring. She gripped his arm. "I'll get my hands on him, somehow." some-how." some place where there's no town, no port authorities. Plenty of good places, from Bay St. George clear up to the Straits. Probably he'll just run till he sights land and locates lo-cates himself, and then work up or down the coast to the place he's looking for. It will take us anywhere any-where from eight to fifteen hours to cross, depending on his compass course." She did not speak. Compasses were nothing to her now. Angus was the center of her world, the focus of all her thoughts. He would Always Al-ways be.' "Our compass isn't too good, either," ei-ther," he murmured, his lips near her ear. "And we've no log. Unless Un-less he's good at dead reckoning, with this wind, and the tide, no telling where he'll hit Newfoundland." Newfound-land." She whispered: "Will the plane "No," she whispered. Another nail, and then another, pinned the door to the frame. A dozen of them were driven home. Then there was a curious dragging sound in the cabin. She whispered, "What's that?" She was lying propped on one elbow on the upper bunk. "He's nailing the salmon trap over the door, the way poachers spread a net over a rabbit's burrow bur-row after they've put the ferret in." His voice was low, his lips near her ar; Mr. Jenkins was busy just outside the door. .Angus said through tight teeth: "I'll get my hands on him, somehow. I know now what he meant." "Meant by what?" "By saying I'd figure it out. Will was drunk on alcohol Jenkins had brought into Moose Bay. He means I'll blame him for Will's death." "Oh!" Robin had forgotten Will. It was strange to think how completely com-pletely he was gone out of her heart and mind. Her cheek burned, and she lay down, hoping the dim light from the single bulb in the stateroom was not enough to let Angus see. Jenkins spoke to them through the door. "Now be sensible, McPhail. Mc-Phail. I've fixed it so you can't get out quick enough, or quiet enough, to do yourself any good." They heard his chuckle. "You ought to like the spot you're in. Most men would change places with you in a minute. Relax, McPhail. Relax and -enjoy it." Angus stared at the panels of the door with deep burning eyes. They be hunting us.' He shook his head. "Not unless they've stopped his. boat and found out he's not aboard. That's their job, till it's done; to follow his boat, see where it goes." Something like fine shot spilled through the port upon her blankets; something that stung coldly on her hand. She said: "Oh, sleet!" He closed the port. "We'll be cold enough before morning. Think you can sleep?" "I'm sure I can." "We're all right, I'm sure. This will straighten out. He only wants to get away." "I know." She smiled up at him, said softly: "I'm all right. Don't worry about me. I can reach the switch. I'll turn out the light after you're in bed. Good night, Angus." He nodded in a brusque embarrassment. embar-rassment. "Good night. Miss Dale." When he was in the bunk below her, she snapped off the light; but she did not sleep for a while. She thought, smiling a little, of what old Jeff Plaisted used to say about apple ap-ple trees, and about people. She wondered whether it was because they were in danger together that she loved Angus now. He was there, three feet below her. Probably he too was awake, so near. She wondered won-dered if he, was as conscious of her nearness as she was of his. Sleet lashed the closed port, spattered along the roof of the stateroom close above her head. The cruiser rolled lazily, plowing through the rising seas. The next day began with a minor mishap and continued through ex- door?" "Have I got to put a bullet through your head?" "You'd be a fool to." Robin, tense and still, lay watching Angus, watching the play of his features as he spoke, amused to see that his expression was at once good-natured, persuasive and determined. She thought he was like a person arguing over a telephone, whose facial fa-cial play matches his tones even though the listener cannot see his countenance; yet also he was white with the strain of keeping his voice steady. 'T11 play along with you, Jenkins; but I'll not stay penned in here." After a long moment Mr. Jenkins said doubtfully: "Okay. I'll get a pair of pliers or something, pull those nails." They heard him presently pres-ently begin. Robin cooked breakfast that morning morn-ing for them all. When she fed Pat, the Irishman winked at her so elaborately elab-orately that she guessed he sought to convey some message; but she had no clue to what it was till an hour later the motor failed again. It was the first of half a dozen such occasions. That day they spent more time drifting helplessly in the trough of the waves than under way. Each time the engine stopped, Angus and Robin were ordered into the stale-room, stale-room, while Mr. Jenkins from the cabin, Romeo from the forecastle, kept their weapons on Pat as he labored with the carbureter. Each time, the engine ran sweetly enough lor a while, then coughed and died, i (TO BE mWlNVED) |