The Savage Gorge

NINETEEN

For more than half the return journey to Seaward Cove, the sea was so calm that again the Tiger seemed to glide over the surface. In the stateroom, Paula sat reading a shipping manual. On the couch opposite alongside the port side Tweed appeared to be fast asleep, eyes closed, head sunk on his chest. Paula was not deceived. She knew he was wide awake, ranging his mind over all that had happened in Hobartshire, listing the whole cast of the characters he had met, assessing them.

Marler appeared suddenly. He had been handling the wheel on the bridge, now briefly handed over to Ben.

'Sorry to interrupt,' he began. 'Better take a peek to the west.'

As he returned to the bridge the ship began to rock and sway from side to side. Tweed stood up as Paula ran to peer through a window on the starboard side. They stood together for a moment, staring at the transformation. The moon cast a pale glow over the approaching violence. The ferocious storm was heading for them.

Paula grabbed her life jacket, slung from a hook, slipped it over her head, fastened the tie round her waist. Tweed already had donned his own kit. Ben appeared at the top of the steps.

'Big trouble,' he growled. 'Life jackets on.'

He stopped speaking when he saw they both were already equipped. The swaying movement was now so pronounced Ben had to hold on to hand-rails to haul himself back up to the bridge. At the top he yelled back at them over his shoulder.

'It's a monster! '

'That's right,' Paula yelled back, 'cheer us up…'

Standing next to Tweed and, like him, hanging on to a hand-rail above the couch, she had to admit Ben's description was hardly exaggerated. She gazed in awe as mountainous waves, reminding her of pictures she'd seen of the Himalayas, swept down a few hun dred yards away. Massive waves collided with each other, sending up a smokescreen of surf concealing what was coming up behind them.

'The bridge,' Tweed snapped. 'Get up there now. I'll be behind you.'

It was a struggle to mount the staircase. Paula held tightly on to the same hand-rail. It was fortunate she'd taken this precaution. A mighty whackl told them a wave had hit the hull. As they reached the bridge Ben screamed at Marler manoeuvring the wheel.

'Don't let a wave hit us broadside on. We'll broach to -'

'Just shut up!' Marler shouted back.

Paula had every confidence in Marler's seamanship. On the rare occasions when he had time off he liked to sail off the south coast even in choppy weather. She glanced westward, sucked in her breath.

'A big one is coming,' she warned him.

'Thank you,' he said with a smile. 'I've just seen the brute.'

He was already turning the wheel and she thought she understood his tactics. He was going to ride the crest, use it to take them at speed nearer to home base. It was an odd sensation – to be carried forward by the power of the sea. It became very quiet suddenly.

She heard the sound of a large engine, looked up, gazed with disbelief at the huge plane descending towards them at speed, like the plane she'd seen taking off from Noak. It looked like an attack.

Harry had earlier adopted his usual position, crouched cross-legged in a corner of the deck. Now he leapt to his feet with binoculars hanging from a strap round his neck. Throwing open a window, he pressed the glasses briefly to his eyes. Then he shouted.

'Plane has one window open. Thug with an auto matic weapon. He's going to spray this bridge with bullets!'

He ran, splay-legged to counter the deck tilt, across to Ben.

'Give me a Very light. Damn quick! Red if possible, if not, any colour. Move!'

Ben was already moving. Throwing open a cup board door, he bent down, shoved his large hand inside. It emerged holding a metal object Paula only had a glimpse of. At one end of the squat instrument was a handle, at the other end a muzzle several inches in diameter. He passed it to Harry.

'It's red and loaded.' He told Harry. 'Specially made for me and other favoured customers by an engineer pal down the coast. Costs a small fortune.'

He was now speaking to Marler. Harry only heard the first few words. Once he had the Very light in his hand he rushed to the open window. The huge plane seemed only yards above them but that was an optical illusion.

Resting both arms on the ledge of the open window – for stability – Harry aimed the Very light at the plane's port engine. He pressed the trigger. At that moment the Tiger rolled. The missile shot upwards, exploded in a blinding glare below the fuselage. Harry swore to himself but the explosion frightened the pilot. Had the Very been sucked inside the engine as it detonated the plane would have dived into the maelstrom.

Panicking, the pilot elevated his machine to a high altitude and flew off, heading for the coast. Paula sighed with relief. Tweed simply shrugged as he asked Ben the question.

'Ben, I presume that plane is flying off to land at Heathrow or London's City Airport?'

'Don't think so. My guess is it will land at the pri vate airfield about three miles east of the ridge overlooking Seaward Cove.'

'Not far away, then. Can you see this airfield from the ridge summit?'

'No,' Ben told him. 'It's hidden behind another ridge. Below my ridge there's a road to London and a turning off to this airfield. Funny thing. My ridge this side is as solid as Everest – but on the other side the surface is loose shale. One day it will break loose; send an avalanche down onto that road.'

'Tell me,' Tweed persisted, 'who owns the airfield?'

It was Marler who answered. He'd had a quiet stretch across a peculiar area of uncannily quiet water. More like a lake than the sea.

'It's owned,' he explained, 'by an obscure com pany with a strange name.' He looked at Paula. 'Excuse my Latin, which will make you wince. Name of company is Veni, Vidi, Vici…'

'You pronounced that very well,' said Paula, who had been good at Latin at school.

'What does it mean?' Tweed asked.

'It's the opening sentence of Julius Caesar's Gallic Wars,' she told him. Translated it means "I came. I saw. I conquered.'"

'Known for short as the VW Corp,' Marler added.

'Sounds like a good motto for our Mr Neville Guile,' Tweed commented.

'While you lot have been chattering,' Ben said in his fiercest growl, 'y ou might look at what's coming for us to starboard. Marler, like me to take over from you? Had a long stint.'

'It's OK, Ben,' Marler assured him. 'I'll take her into the cove.'

Secretly, Ben was relieved. Marler was the younger man. He had great strength in his arms and a quick reflex in turning the wheel. Knowing what was coming, Ben was doubly thankful as he joined Tweed and Paula, their hands gripping the handrail.

'The Devil comes in after the quiet stretch of water we've just crossed,' he said quietly.

Paula was staring, fixated, to the west. She had never seen anything like it. About half a mile wide, the immense wave appeared to be moving slowly, but this was an illusion. Already higher than the top of the ship's funnel, it was sucking up smaller waves, swelling itself to even greater size as it rolled closer and closer. Paula became aware Marler was turning their ship through a hundred and eighty degrees.

He was going to try and ride the crest of this giant. Could he possibly make it? It would be a miracle if he managed it. She turned to Tweed.

'How much further to Seaward Cove?'

'Not much,' he replied cheerfully. 'You can see the red light perched above the prawn workshop.'

She looked ahead, clenched her fists inside her pockets. The red light which came on at intervals for five minutes was no more than a distant pinpoint. The foredeck of the ship was climbing now. The deadly self-inflating wave had reached them. She tensed for the steep drop deep down into the ocean which would precede its mounting of the side beyond. She had a premonition that once the Tiger started descending it would continue plunging until the forepart was smashed to pulp as the entire vessel settled deep down in its watery grave.

'Marler is a master seaman,' Tweed said casually.

'What?'

'He is riding the crest of that giant wave, has reduced speed to coincide with it. It's carrying us home.'

Paula looked again at the red light above Seaward Cove. The light above the prawn workshop was much larger. They were so close now to the coast. Her only doubt was what would happen when the wave reached the narrow harbour. Ben, watching her, must have sensed her anxiety.

'We are now entering one of those strange lakes of calm we saw earlier. The wave is vanishing.'

'It is?' she called back, trying to sound confident.

Then, peering out of a window across the foredeck, she saw – felt – Tiger descending gently but steadily. The wave was subsiding. Soon its surface was on a level with the harbour wall.

She climbed down the steps into the stateroom. Officially, if asked, she was clearing up the state room. The truth was she had had enough. She didn't want to watch them passing through the snake-like entrance, evading the brutal spars of rock by two feet or less. The ship stopped suddenly and she knew they were mooring to the jetty. She ran up the steps.

Harry, onshore, had just completed tying the rope to the stern bollard. She joined Tweed and the others on the jetty. The weird and sombre light of dawn was illuminating the summit of the eastern ridge. Ben, standing close to his house, cupped both hands and bellowed.

' I’ll be gettin' breakfast. A large omelette and crispy bacon.'

'A two-egg omelette for me,' Harry bellowed back.

'So now we can have a quiet day,' Paula mused aloud.

'I wouldn't count on that,' Tweed warned. 'No, I wouldn't…'