Desmond Bagley - Night Of Error

I asked, 'What the hell can we do?'

'Well, whoever's in command over there – Ramirez or Hadley – will want to get free as much as we do. They're in danger just as we are. And I don't think they'll find it so easy to retake us now, or blow us up as they threatened. Knowing Ramirez he may be prepared to cut his losses.'

'And try another time?'

'Another time isn't our problem right now. Let's solve this one first.'

He was right, and we waited in silence, aware that a plan was forming in his mind. At last he said, 'I reckon we should call a truce. If we send a man up the mast they won't fire at him if they know why he's going up there.'

'What's the good of sending one man up? They've had a dozen men up there for an age and they haven't been able to achieve much.'

'I've got an idea about that,' Geordie said, and passed the word for Jim to join us. 'Got any more of that plastic explosive, Jim?' he asked.

Jim shook his head. 'No, I only had the bit I used on their engine.'

Geordie pointed to the masts. 'See that yardarm – where it's tangled with rigging? Could you blow it off if you fastened a hand grenade on each side of the spar?'

I stared at him, but Jim was already immersed in technicalities. 'It would be a bit tricky, skipper. Grenades aren't exactly meant for that sort of thing.' He peered at the spars doubtfully. 'It's steel tubing.'

'Of course,' said Geordie. 'If it was wood they'd have chopped it through by now. Steel halliards too.'

'I dunno,' said Jim honestly.

'It would weaken the spar though, wouldn't it?' Geordie persisted.

'It wouldn't do it any good, if that's what you want.'

'Hell, come down to brass tacks. Suppose I have the engine going and put a strain on the yardarm after the grenades are blown, do you think that would do the trick?'

'I reckon it might,' said Jim slowly. 'It would be a nice job to place the grenades right.'

Geordie had trapped him neatly.

'You'll have a go then? You're our expert.'

Jim grinned. 'I'll give it a bash – if they don't shoot me.'

'Good,' said Geordie briskly. 'We'll take care of that part of it. You gather together what you need and I'll get those grenades. I knew we'd find a use for them. Mike, you'll be the best man to negotiate. Try to settle terms for an armistice with that bunch of pirates.'

I wondered if Ramirez would realize that if he let us go he might never catch up with us again. We would forever be a threat to his freedom, and he might never agree to such terms. There seemed to be too many imponderables. And there was Falcon… We were very vulnerable – underarmed, undermanned, and in no position to dictate terms. And then I thought of Clare, and how precious she had become to me. Whatever else, I was determined that she should survive, and to hell with the rest.

I crawled into the wheelhouse, keeping below window level, and raised the loudhailer.

'Ahoy, Sirena!' I shouted. 'Ahoy, Ramirez-can you hear me?'

A shot was fired at the wheelhouse. I heard the smash of broken glass and a small shower of it fell near me. There was shouting and then silence. The only sound came from the ships as they creaked and groaned together and from the hissing of the volcano behind us.

'Sirena! Ramirez! I want to talk to you.'

My knuckles were white round the loudhailer. The silence was finally broken by a harsh voice. 'Well?'

'Is that you, Ramirez?'

'Yes. What do you want?'

That volcano – it's going to erupt at any moment. Hell, it's started.' 'I know.' He sounded frustrated and I almost smiled with relief. He'd cooperate.

'We have an idea.'

'What can you do?'

'We want to send a man up the foremast. We can clear that rigging.'

His voice was full of suspicion. 'How can you do that?'

I did not intend to tell him our plan. I called, 'We have an expert here. We want you to guarantee that he won't be shot at.'

There was an even longer silence this time. Someone tapped me on my shoulder and pushed a note into my hands. It was from Geordie and read, 'Got to slip the anchor. Quiet as possible. Good luck.'

The silence was broken by Ramirez. 'All right, Esmerelda. We don't shoot.'

I called, 'Ramirez, if our man is shot at you'll be dead within the hour. Every man here will make you his personal target.'

'You terrify me.' Was he laughing? 'You can send your man up the mast in five minutes. I will arrange things at this end.'

I crawled out of the wheelhouse and joined Geordie, who had Campbell beside him. Geordie said, 'We heard that. What do you think?'

'I think he'll hold off,' I said. 'He's in as big a jam as we are and he knows it. And he must accept that we do have more expertise aboard here than he has.'

'It's not your neck,' said Campbell sharply. He was right back on form. 'Jim will be an Aunt Sally if he goes up there.'

'It will be his decision,' Geordie said. 'I've got some lads up in the bows to slip the anchor. They've timed it in with that, to cover any noise.' He nodded towards Falcon.

I said, 'That makes this really urgent – it scares me to death.'

Jim had joined us and was listening gravely as Geordie explained. Then he said, 'All right, I know the odds. I'll have ago.'

I said, 'We've got three minutes left. At one minute I'll call Ramirez again.'

We waited, huddled in the corner of the wheelhouse. The minutes ticked by as we listened to the ominous rumbling and hissing from the sea. I turned to Geordie. 'We're only forty odd miles from Nuku'alofa – a fast boat could reach us in a couple of hours. Surely that would be some protection for us. What's the chance of getting off a radio message?'

Geordie's voice was bitter. 'The radio was the first thing they smashed. It's fated. Shorty's trying to whip up a spark transmitter out of the wreckage, but he says it'll take time.'

There was one other faint hope, the possibility of the pall of black smoke being seen and investigated. But we knew only too well how few ships there were in this locality. None of them would be very fast – and as soon as any sensible skipper came near enough to see what was happening the chances were that he would keep well clear. Every track of thought seemed to lead to a dead end.

I crawled into the wheelhouse again and took up the loudhailer.

'Ramirez!'

'I hear you.'

'Our man's going forward now. In the open. He has a bag of tools with him. No shooting!'

'No shooting,' he agreed. 'I have told my men.'

I watched through the window as Jim walked to the foremast, a satchel slung round his shoulder. He climbed the mast steadily. Almost all our crew were watching from various hidden vantage points, several with rifles or pistols handy. Jim reached the yardarm, paused, then swung the satchel in front of him and put his hand inside. He'd have to clip his way through some of the tangle first. On board Sirena there was no one in sight; like us, they were staying in cover.

There was a sudden lurch of the two ships as an eddy caught us. I was braced and swaying with the movement, hoping to God that Jim had a firm handhold and that he wouldn't drop a grenade. Suddenly from Sirena's wheelhouse came a babel of voices, and a second later Hadley came running on deck, into full view. He was laughing, and he carried a sub-machine-gun. Swiftly he raised it and fired a burst at the foremast.

Jim toppled from the yardarm, falling with limbs awry to slam with a dull thud across the starboard bulkhead. If the bullets hadn't killed him, then that fall would surely have done so.

There was an angry roar from Esmerelda and guns began firing. Hadley stepped back into the shadow, still laughing, and sprayed the rest of the magazine across our decks. Splinters flew on deck at the madman's feet but he seemed to dance away from the bullets and vanished into cover.