Десмонд Бэгли - Bahama Crisis

‘Still trying to make up their minds.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ I said. ‘You go out there and give them a pacifier — $50 each for immediate necessities. I’ll ring the airport to tell them I’ll be sending them the bill. And make it a public relations service on the part of the hotel. Let them know clearly that we don’t have to do it, but we’re full of the milk of human kindness. We have to make some profit out of this mess.’

He nodded and left, and I rang the airport. There followed a short but tempestuous conversation in which threats of legal action were issued. As I put down the telephone it rang under my hand. Jessie said, ‘Sam Ford wants to see you. By the way he’s acting the matter is urgent.’

‘I’ll be along.’ I went back to my office via the lobby, testing the atmosphere as I went. Fletcher had made an announcement and the tension had eased. A queue had already formed at the cashier’s desk to receive their dole. I walked through Jessie’s office, beckoning to Sam as I went, and sat behind my desk. ‘I thought you were down by Ragged Island.’

The Ragged Island project was something I had developed by listening to Deputy-Commissioner Perigord. What he had said about the Ragged Island Range and the Jumento Cays had remained with me. My idea was to buy a couple of the cays and set up camps for those tourists who preferred to rough it for a few days on a genuine desert island. It was my intention to cater for all tastes and, being in the low tourist season, I had sent Sam Ford down in a boat to scout a few locations.

‘I was,’ said Sam. ‘But something came up. You remember that fellow you wanted to know about?

‘Who?’

‘Kayles. Jack Kayles.’

I jerked. ‘What about him? Have you seen him?’ It had been over a year and I had almost forgotten.

‘No, but I’ve seen his boat.’

‘Where?’

‘In the Jumentos — lying off Man-o’-War Cay. Now called My Fair Lady and her hull is blue.’

I said, ‘Sam, how in hell can you be sure it’s the same boat?’

‘Easy.’ Sam laughed. ‘About a year and a half ago Kayles wanted a new masthead shackle for his forestay. Well, it’s a British boat and I only had American fittings, so I had to make an adaptor. It’s still there.’

‘You got that close to her?’

‘’Bout a cable.’ That was 200 yards. ‘And I put the glasses on her. I don’t think Kayles was on board or he’d have come out on deck. They usually do in those waters because there are not that many boats about and folks get curious. He must have been ashore but I didn’t see him.’ He looked at me seriously. ‘I thought of boarding her but I remembered what you said about not wanting him scared off, so I just passed by without changing course and came back here.’

‘You did right. When was this?’

‘Yesterday. Say, thirty hours ago. I came back real fast.’

He had indeed; it was over 300 miles to the Jumentos. I pondered for a while. To get there quickly I could fly, but the only place to land was at Duncan Town and that was quite a long way from Man-o’-War Cay and I would have to hire a boat, always supposing there was one to be hired with a skipper willing to make a 100-mile round trip. For the first time I wished we had a seaplane or amphibian.

I said, ‘Are you willing to go back now?’

‘I’m pretty tired, Tom. I’ve been pushing it. I haven’t had what you’d call a proper sleep for forty-eight hours. I had young Jim Glass with me but I didn’t trust his navigation so all I got were catnaps.’

‘We’ll go by air and see if he’s still there, and you can sleep at Duncan Town. Okay?’

He nodded. ‘All right, Tom, but you’ll get no words from me on the way. I’ll be asleep.’

I had completely forgotten about Debbie.

I took the first plane and the first pilot handy, and we flew south-east to the Jumentos, the pilot being Bill Pinder. I sat in the co-pilot’s seat next to Bill, and Sam sat in the back. I think he was asleep before take-off. I had binoculars handy and a camera with a telephoto lens. I wanted firm identification for Perigord although how firm it would be was problematical because Kayles’s boat changed colour like a bloody chameleon.

Although I use aircraft quite a lot, flying being the quickest way for a busy man to get around the islands, I find that it bores me. As we droned over the blue and green sea, leaving the long chain of the Exumas to port, my eyes grew heavier and I must have fallen asleep because it took a heavy dig in the ribs from Bill to rouse me. ‘Man-o’-War Cay in ten minutes,’ he said.

I turned and woke Sam. ‘Which side of the cay was he?’

Sam peered from a window. ‘This side.’

‘We don’t want to do anything unusual,’ I told Bill. ‘Come down to your lowest permitted altitude and fly straight just off the west coast of the cay. Don’t jink about or circle — just carry on.’

We began to descend and presently Bill said, ‘That little one just ahead is Flamingo Cay; the bigger one beyond is Man-o’-War.’

I passed the binoculars back to Sam. ‘You know Kayles. Take a good look as we fly past and see if you can spot him. I’ll use the camera.’

‘There’s a boat,’ said Bill.

I cocked the camera and opened the side window, blinking as the air rushed in. The sloop was lying at anchor and I could see distinctly the catenary curve of the anchor cable under clear water. ‘That’s her,’ said Sam and I clicked the shutter. I recocked quickly and took another snapshot. Sam said, ‘And that’s Kayles in the cockpit.’

By then the sloop was disappearing behind us. I twisted my neck to see it but it was gone. ‘Did he wave or anything?’

‘No, just looked up.’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘On to Duncan Town.’

Bill did a low pass with his landing gear down over the scattered houses of Duncan Town, and by the time we had landed on the air strip and taxied to the ramp a battered car was already bumping towards us. We climbed out of the Navajo and Sam said, nodding towards the car, ‘I know that man.’

‘Then you can do the dickering,’ I said. ‘We want a boat to go out to Man-o’-War — the fastest you can find.’

‘That won’t be too fast,’ he said. ‘But I’ll do my best.’

We drove into Duncan Town and I stood by while Sam bargained for a boat. I had never been to Duncan Town and I looked around with interest. It was a neat and well-maintained place of the size Perigord had said — less than 200 population, most of them fishermen to judge by the boats. There were signs of agriculture but no cash crops, so they probably grew just enough food for themselves. But there were evaporation pans for the manufacture of salt.

Sam called me, and then led me to a boat. ‘That’s it.’

I winced at what I saw. It was an open boat about eighteen feet long and not very tidily kept. A tangled heap of nets was thrown over the engine casing and the thwarts were littered with fish-scales. It smelled of rotting fish, too, and would have broken Pete Albury’s heart. ‘Is this the best you can do?’

‘Least it has an inboard engine,’ said Sam. ‘I don’t think it’ll break down. I’ll come with you, Tom. I know Kayles by sight, and I can get six hours sleep on the way.’

‘Six hours!’

‘It’s forty miles, and I don’t reckon this tub will do more than seven knots at top speed.’ He looked up at the sun. ‘It’ll be about nightfall when we get there.’

‘All right,’ I said resignedly. ‘Let’s get a seven-knot move on.’

Five minutes later we were on our way with the owner and skipper, a black Bahamian called Bayliss, at the tiller. Sam made a smelly bed of fish nets and went to sleep, while I brooded. I was accustomed to zipping about the islands in a Navajo and this pace irked me. I judged the length of the boat and the bow wave and decided we were not even doing six knots. I was impatient to confront Kayles.