Arthur Upfield - The Mystery of Swordfish Reef

Marion crossed to him, for the first time to hold out her hands for him to take.

“Tell us, Jack, what you and the others think,” she pleaded.

“We think that theDo-me ’s engine broke down when they were trolling along Swordfish Reef,” he answered frankly. “As the current’s been setting to the south’ard for more than twenty-four hours, theDo-me would have been taken south. We think she might have been taken past that trawler that’s been working off Bunga Head since yesterday morning, and by now she ought to be somewhere off Eden.”

“Oh! Then what had we better do?” urged Mrs Spinks, whose face was white and drawn and in whose eyes was a strange light.

“I was thinking of getting Constable Telfer to telephone the police at Eden to ask one of the launchmen there to make a special trip to sea to look for theDo-me. Remmings spoke the trawler early this morning, but they haven’t seen theDo-me. Still, she must be down south somewhere, and Joe says that as there’s been no wind the currents wouldn’t have taken her ashore.

“Anyhow, it’s no use you two worrying. I’m taking theMarlin to sea directly we can get her loaded with oil. We mightn’t be back tonight, because Joe is going to follow the currents down from Swordfish Reef till wedo find theDo-me. Excepting for a broken engine theDo-me must be all right. The sea’s like a pond. Haven’t seen it so calm for years. Some ship or other is bound to sight Bill and give him a tow to port, or at least wireless his position.”

“It’s good of you-and the others, Jack,” Marion said.

“It is that,” added Mrs Spinks. “We’ll never be able to repay you all, I’m sure.”

“Yes, you can,” Wilton told her, and then stared at Marion. “You can repay us by not worrying. And, remember, Bill would be the first to go out after any of us. Well, so long! And no worrying, understand.”

He stood for a moment regarding the girl’s haunted face with lifted eyebrows and a smile that was forced, Impulsively she squeezed his hands, and he felt himself rewarded for a night’s vigil. He wanted badly to draw her to him and kiss her, to wipe away from her blue eyes the expression of dread. He said to her:

“How do you feel now about Bill?”

“He’s in great danger, Jack. I know he’s in great danger.”

Wilton nodded. He said nothing more. He knew that Marion and Bill Spinks were twins.

No News Is Bad News

HAVING BEEN honorary secretary of the Bermagui Big Game Anglers’ Club from its inception, Mr Edward Blade had at his finger-tips a wide knowledge of game fishing in the waters off the south coast of New South Wales, and of men, launches and tackle. It is doubtful if anyone better could have been found for this position, for Blade was that rarity among men, a born club secretary combining a business education with charming social qualities. His life at Bermagui was of even tenor, due more to his personality and temperament than to outside influences such as the non-arrival of important gear or the difficulty in fitting an angler’s application for a launch into an extended busy period. This, of course, was prior to the disappearance of theDo-me.

It was first realized by Mr Blade that something most serious had happened to theDo-me when Constable Telfer entered his office at four o’clock in the afternoon following that night of vigil conducted by the two Spinks women. Constable Telfer, big and tough and red of face, accepted the chair offered by the club secretary who was shorter in stature, pink-complexioned and quick in movement.

“I don’t like thisDo-me business,” was Telfer’s announcement.

“It will probably be cleared up about sundown when theDo-me comes home with the other launches,” Blade said. “Spinks is a good boatman, a good seaman, and a good fisherman. He wouldn’t take risks with an angler aboard theDo-me. Likely enough, he’ll report that owing to trouble of some kind theDo-me had to spend the night in some cover or other.”

“Why?” bluntly asked Telfer.

“Engine trouble. Or exhausted petrol supply.”

The policeman removed his cap and set it down beside the typewriter on the paper-littered table. While his heavy fingers pressed tobacco into the bowl of an ancient pipe his prominent dark eyes noted the details of the room as though it were the first time he had been in it. He was acquainted with every picture on the wall-pictures of swordfish leaping high above water, of sharks being weighed at the head of the jetty, of world-famous anglers who had sat in the chair he now occupied. He knew the contents of heavy leather cases-huge ball-bearing, geared, still reels capable of taking nine hundred yards of number 36-cord, and that inside the long cylinders resting on wall hooks were heavy rods which even he found difficulty in bending against a knee. He had never once been out after the giants of the sea, being too fearful of sickness, but he was a fishing enthusiast on the river.

“Alf Remmings, of theGladious, tells me that Spinks yesterday morning took on board enough fuel to keep theDo-me ’s engine running for thirty hours,” he said deliberately. “TheDo-me left port yesterday morning at eight o’clock, and her petrol supply would have run out at two o’clock this afternoon. Spinks would know his petrol supply in hours, and he would have been back some time this morning, making sure to give himself a good margin-if he had agreed with his angler to stay out fishing all night.”

“Have you been in touch with the other stations up and down the coast?” asked Blade.

Yes. I’ve been in communication with all police stations within a hundred miles north and south of Bermagui. Not one can report anything concerning theDo-me.”

“I suppose you know that theGladious and theIvy were out at sea all last night, and theEdith part of the night, searching for theDo-me ?”

“Of course,” replied Telfer.

“And you know that Wilton, on hisMarlin, went out this morning to follow Swordfish Reef to the southward because yesterday’s current set to thesouth, and it is known that Spinks suggested to his angler trying for sharks over the reef?”

“Of course, I know it. Ain’t I a policeman? TheIvy has gone south today, hugging the coast, and theDorothea has made out towards Montague Island. I’ve just come down from the headland. The wind is freshening from the east’ard. I saw theGladious and theEdith both well out, heading for home. There’s no sail in sight to indicate theDo-me making to port with the wind.”

Constable Telfer produced his notebook.

“Mrs Spinks and the girl state that William Spinks took no extra clothes and no food other than what Mrs Spinks put into his lunch-basket,” he read in a monotone. “At seven-thirty yesterday morning the garage truck delivered six six-gallon drums of petrol to theDo-me, and the driver states that Spinks said he would then have a full load of fuel and wouldn’t require none for today’s fishing. At the hotel they state that Mr Ericson took only tucker and his thermos-flask for his lunch; and, further, that he left instructions that if Martin, the Cobargo solicitor, arrived at Bermagui before he got back he was to be entertained at his, Ericson’s, expense. It’s evident that Mr Ericson and his launchmen did not think they would not get back to port last evening. And they’re still not back, being twenty-two hours overdue.”

Blade offered a remark.

“That’s certainly not normal in the calm weather we’ve had.”

“No, it isn’t. If it had been blowing a nor’easter we could say that theDo-me was sheltering at Montague Island, with which there is only semaphore communication, and that possible only in clear weather. But, Blade, the sea has been calm, extra special calm.”