‘It’s that blasted kid from Cliff House, monkeying about with Mr Jim Kane’s Seamew!’ Paul replied. ‘He’ll capsize her for a certainty!’
Mr Fenwick smiled indulgently. ‘What, Mr Timothy? He’s all right, Mr Mansell. He won’t do no harm. He’s more like a fish than a boy, he is.’
‘He’s got no right to be in that boat. Anything might happen!’
‘Oh, you don’t need to worry your head over him, Mr Mansell! The way I always look at it is this: boys –’ He stopped short, staring across the bay. ‘Hullo, what’s up with her?’
The Seamew, which had been skimming across the water on a straight course for Portlaw, seemed to be losing speed. Paul rested his elbows on the wall to keep the glasses steady, and said in a voice sharpened with apprehension: ‘She’s keeling over… her bows are right out of the – Good God, she’s gone down!’
‘Lord-love-a-duck, what’s he done to her?’ exclaimed Mr Fenwick. ‘Can you see him, Mr Mansell? Is he all right?’
‘I can’t make out. There isn’t a sign – yes, there he is! He’s all right, if he can hold out till Roberts reaches him.’
‘He’ll do that easy enough,’ said Mr Fenwick, shading his eyes under one horny hand. ‘It beats me how he came to lose her like that. Wasn’t turning, was he?’
‘I couldn’t see. She just seemed to disappear. He’s making no headway against the current. What the devil possessed the little fool to do it?’
‘Ah, now you’re asking!’ said Mr Fenwick, his calm gaze upon the motor-boat, forging steadily through the water. ‘That’s a boy all over. Proper varmints they are. How’s he doing?’
‘He’s still there. He’s seen Roberts, I think…. Yes, it’s all right: Roberts has reached him. Gosh!’ He lowered the glasses, and wiped his forehead. ‘Bloody little fool!’ he said angrily. ‘I hope he gets it hot!’
Out in the middle of the bay Oscar Roberts, having hauled an exhausted boy into the motor-boat, was saying very much the same thing. Timothy lay on the floor of the boat gasping for breath, and spitting salt water. Roberts said: ‘Guess there’s a mighty big kick in the pants coming to you, son,’ and opened the throttle again, steering, not for Portlaw, but for the landing-stage on the farther side of the bay, under Cliff House.
Mr Harte was quite unable to speak for a minute or two, but as soon as he was able to catch his breath, he jerked out: ‘She simply sank! I didn’t do a thing!’
Roberts smiled a little, and said: ‘Don’t waste that one on me. You keep it for that brother of yours.’
‘But I didn’t!’ Timothy asseverated, sitting up. ‘She was going perfectly!’
‘Maybe you struck a rock, then.’
‘I did not!’ Timothy said indignantly. ‘Good lord, I should know if I’d hit anything!’
‘You should,’ agreed Roberts somewhat dryly. ‘But a boat doesn’t sink for no reason, sonny, does it?’
‘Of course not; but I swear it wasn’t anything I did! Oh, I say, I forgot! Thanks awfully for pulling me out. There’s a most frightful current. I couldn’t make any headway against it.’ He added gruffly: ‘As a matter of fact, I expect I’d have been drowned if you hadn’t come along. Thanks awfully, sir!’
‘That’s all right. It’s just lucky I happened to be around. How are you feeling?’
‘Oh, I’m O.K.! But I don’t understand about the Seamew. Honestly, I do know how to handle her! Well, you saw I could, didn’t you?’
Roberts laughed. ‘I can’t exactly say that, son. It didn’t look too good to me, which is why I’m here now. Maybe you’d best be half-drowned for a while: your brother’s on the landing-stage.’
Timothy glanced towards the shore. ‘Well, I don’t care. There was something wrong with the boat: one minute she was all right, and the next – I don’t know: I think the bottom was ripped off her. She – she just filled with water. But I swear she never hit anything!’
‘The fact of the matter is,’ said Roberts, putting the engine astern as they drew near to the landing-stage, ‘speed-boats weren’t meant to be handled by schoolboys.’
They came gently up to the landing-stage, where an extremely wrathful young man awaited them. ‘What the hell – ?’ exploded Mr James Kane.
His saturated relative clambered out of the boat, and said unhappily: ‘I’m frightfully sorry, Jim; but, honestly, it wasn’t my fault!’
‘Where’s the Seamew?’ demanded Jim.
‘Well, she – she sort of sank,’ said Mr Harte more unhappily than ever. ‘But –’
Jim interrupted him without ceremony. He spoke with admirable fluency for two blistering minutes. Mr Harte wilted perceptibly, and gave several watery sniffs. Roberts, having tied up the boat, stepped out of it, and suggested mildly that Timothy had better go and change his wet clothes. Jim, though expressing a savage hope that Timothy would contract pneumonia and die of it, agreed, and told him to get out before he was kicked out. Timothy fled.
Jim turned to Roberts. He still looked very angry, but the alarming note left his voice. ‘What happened, sir?’
‘That’s more than I can tell you,’ replied Roberts. ‘I was on the end of the jetty yonder, with young Mansell, when he saw the kid get into the Seamew, and cast off. Watched him through my field-glasses, which, now I come to think of it, I told Mansell to hold for me. It didn’t seem to me he was handling the boat any too well, so to be on the safe side I set out to meet him. What he did to the Seamew I can’t make out, but she went down within about thirty seconds of my first seeing her lose speed. It looked to me as though he must have hit something, and torn the bottom out of her.’
Jim said, frowning: ‘Damned little ass! He ought to know the bay well enough by now! He must have been steering an idiotic course if he hit the rocks!’
‘Maybe he had his hands too full to think much about his course,’ said Roberts, smiling a little. ‘He’s not precisely in the habit of taking speed-boats out, is he?’
‘No, certainly not. He did it to get back on me for not taking him this morning. I’ll larn him!’
‘Guess he’s had a bit of a fright already, Kane. There’s an almighty strong current out there.’
Jim gave a reluctant grin. ‘It would take more than that to put the wind up Timothy, sir. By the way, thanks very much for going to the rescue. You must come up and meet my mother. She arrived quite unexpectedly this morning.’
‘Is that so? I’d like to meet her very much; but I think I ought to take the boat back. Maybe the owner will be looking for it.’
‘Mansell’s sure to explain. Come on up to the house and have a drink,’ said Jim, leading the way to the path that zigzagged up the cliff face. He glanced back, grimacing. ‘You can imagine my feelings when I heard the Seamew start up! I was on the terrace at the time. I guessed it was that devilish brat, of course. The worst of it is, my mother will probably be rather bucked about it, so Timothy will get the idea he’s done something fairly clever.’
Lady Harte, still wearing the crumpled tweed coat and skirt, met them as they came across the lawn at the top of the cliff. She shook Oscar Roberts warmly by the hand, and said that it was very decent of him to have pulled Timothy out of the water. ‘Not but what he’s a good swimmer for his age,’ she added. ‘However, he tells me the current was a bit too much for him, so I’m very grateful to you. Darling, I’m so sorry about the Seamew, but you can buy another, can’t you?’
‘Yes, but for God’s sake don’t let Timothy think he’s a hero, mother! He deserves to be flayed.’
‘No, I can’t agree with you there, Jim,’ she said decidedly. ‘Of course he’d no business to take your boat out – I grant that – but you must admit it showed an adventurous spirit.’ She turned to Roberts. ‘I hate milksops, don’t you?’
He agreed smilingly, but Jim groaned. ‘I knew it!’ he said. ‘You’re rath
er pleased, mother!’
‘Well, I admit I didn’t think he had as much enterprise. However, he’s very upset at having lost your boat, so don’t be unkind to him, darling. After all, it might just as well have happened to you. Timothy says there was something wrong with the boat.’
‘There was nothing wrong with her whatsoever!’ said Jim. ‘What that loathsome whelp of yours did was to run her over the Pin rocks.’
They had by this time reached the terrace. Rosemary was seated there, becomingly dressed in floating black draperies. While Jim went into the house to fetch a cooling drink for his half-brother’s preserver, she informed Lady Harte and Oscar Roberts that she had had a premonition that something dreadful was going to happen, and added, somewhat unwisely, that fond as she was of Timothy, she could not help seeing that he was getting very out of hand. This led, not unnaturally, to a spirited defence of her son by Norma, and Jim, returning with beer and glasses, found both ladies engaged in a highly acrimonious argument. Though considerably annoyed with Timothy, he felt impelled to defend him against Rosemary’s attack, with the result that Rosemary, looking offended, withdrew into the house, saying that no one seemed to have the least consideration for her.
‘That young woman,’ said Lady Harte, accepting a glass of beer from her son, ‘badly wants an object in life.’
‘She’s got one. You wait till you see him,’ said Jim involuntarily. Recollecting the presence of a stranger, he added hastily: ‘Beer, or a gimlet, Roberts?’
‘I’ll have beer, thanks. But don’t mind me,’ replied Roberts, twinkling. ‘I’ve seen him too.’
Jim laughed. ‘Awfully Nordic, isn’t he? He’s bunked to town, I understand. My own feeling is that he’s too Nordic to be a murderer. Hullo, Adrian! Have some beer?’
Sir Adrian, who had come out on to the terrace from the drawing-room, declined this offer, but desired his stepson to tell him what had been happening. He appeared to be quite unmoved at the thought of the danger Timothy had been in, merely remarking that he hoped Jim did not expect him to enact the rôle of avenging parent.
Timothy presently joined the party on the terrace, chastened, but anxious to justify himself. Failing, however, to induce Oscar Roberts to support his statement that he had been steering a course well outside the line of Pin rocks, or win from his half-brother any sign of belief in his story or forgiveness for his crime, he went away to nurse his sorrows in solitude.
He bore himself with unaccustomed lowliness throughout the rest of the day, and retired early to bed. He bade Jim good night in a painstakingly off-hand voice, received in reply the curtest of valedictions, and flushed to the ears. This quite melted Miss Allison’s heart, and she presently slipped out of the drawing-room and went upstairs to tap on his door. After a slight pause she was told gruffly to come in, and entered to find Timothy reading in bed. He lowered his book, and said in a goaded voice: ‘What is it?’
Miss Allison went to sit on the edge of the bed. ‘I know you’re sick to death of the whole subject,’ she said; ‘but do you mind telling me just what happened?’
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I did,’ he replied bitterly.
‘Well, you might give me a chance, anyway.’
‘I don’t care whether anyone believes me or not!’ said Timothy.
Miss Allison removed the book from his grasp. ‘Come off the roof! You know as well as Jim does where the rocks are. If you say you were beyond them, I believe you.’
‘Well, I was.’
‘Cross your heart, Timothy?’
‘Yes, I swear I was. Besides, if I’d hit anything, I’d have felt it.’
‘And absolutely between ourselves, you didn’t muck something up in the engine?’
‘Course not. She wouldn’t have sunk if I had.’
Miss Allison twined her fingers together, and said: ‘Timothy, what do you think was wrong?’
Something in her voice made him look at her sharply. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Just exactly what happened?’
‘Well, nothing at first. She was running perfectly. I opened her up awfully gradually, too. As a matter of fact, I didn’t mean to take her at full speed at all, but she was going so well, and it was such a grand day for it, that I simply couldn’t help letting her out. I was steering an absolutely straight course, and the engine was running as sweetly as anything, when suddenly I felt her check a bit, and then I saw the water rising up in the boat, and she heeled right over. It happened so quickly I don’t really know what did happen, except that I was chucked clean out of the boat. I can tell you, it was a pretty ghastly feeling.’
‘It must have been awful!’ Miss Allison said, her face quite pale.
‘Well, it was, because for one thing it took me completely by surprise, and for another the current got me. Gosh, I was glad to see that motor-boat chugging along!’
‘If Mr Roberts hadn’t been there you’d have been drowned.’
‘I expect I should, really.’
Her fingers gripped together in her lap. ‘It might have been Jim.’
‘Yes, I know; that’s what I keep on telling him, but he doesn’t believe a word I say. He thinks I capsized the rotten boat, or ran her on the rocks. But he knows I can handle her, because he’s often let me when I’ve been out with him. I’m frightfully sorry I took her out and – and lost her, but it’s no use going on saying it. He simply doesn’t listen. He said –’ Timothy’s voice shook suddenly. He found himself quite unable to repeat what Jim had said, and instead announced that he was tired, and wished to be left alone.
Miss Allison got up. ‘Don’t go to sleep yet. I’m going to fetch Jim.’
Mr Harte sat up with a jerk. ‘You jolly well aren’t! I don’t want to see him!’
‘I don’t care a damn what you want. I mean to get to the bottom of this.’
‘I’ll lock my door! It doesn’t matter a hoot to me what Jim says or thinks, and if you make him come here, I won’t ever speak to you again as long as I live!’ declared Mr Harte, anguished.
‘Don’t be an idiot! Can’t you see that this may be important?’ said Patricia fiercely. ‘If you didn’t run her on the rocks, why did she sink?’
Timothy stared at her. ‘Do you mean, she was tampered with?’ he demanded. ‘But – but – why?’
‘To get rid of Jim,’ said Patricia, but in a low voice, as though she were afraid of her own words.
‘Gosh!’ ejaculated Timothy, round-eyed.
She left the room and went downstairs to find Jim. He was just coming out of the drawing-room as she reached the hall, and said: ‘Oh, there you are! I was coming to look for you. Do you feel like going out?’
‘No, not a bit. I want you to come up to Timothy’s room, if you don’t mind.’
‘But I do mind. I haven’t the least desire to see Timothy, and I have got a most burning desire to have you to myself for a bit.’
‘Don’t be vindictive, Jim. It’s mean.’
‘I’m not. I haven’t done a thing to him.’
‘Yes, you are. You know perfectly well he thinks the world of you. I think he’s rather upset by what you said to him. So do make it up with him. Besides, I want you to listen to his story carefully, because I think he’s speaking the truth. Do come, Jim!’
‘All right, but why have I got to listen to his story all over again?’ he asked, allowing himself to be led upstairs.
‘Never mind. I’ll tell you why when you’ve heard it. You haven’t really listened to him yet, you know.’
Timothy was still sitting up in bed when they reached his room. His manner towards his half-brother would not have led the uninitiated to suspect that he desired a reconciliation. He said: ‘You needn’t think I wanted her to fetch you, because I didn’t. I’ve told you I was sorry about half a million times already, and if you don’t wan
t to listen, you jolly well needn’t!’
‘If you give me any lip I’ll wring your neck,’ said Jim. ‘You meddlesome, cock-sure, little beast.’
Mr Harte’s countenance lightened at this form of address. ‘Oh, Jim, honestly I’m most frightfully sorry about it!’ he said thickly.
‘All right, put a sock in it. Pat says I’ve got to listen to your utterly unconvincing narrative,’ replied Jim, sitting down on the side of the bed.
‘Well, I wish you would,’ said Timothy; ‘because when Mr Roberts says I ran on the rocks, he simply doesn’t know what he’s talking about! I didn’t.’
‘What did you do, then?’
‘Tell him exactly what you told me, Timothy!’ commanded Miss Allison. ‘And do listen with an open mind, Jim! It’s important.’
‘I can’t for the life of me see why, but carry on!’ said Jim.
Timothy drew his knees up, and hugged them, and repeated the story he had told Miss Allison. Jim heard him out in silence, but at the end said: ‘Look here, my child, you may think you didn’t hit anything, but a boat doesn’t go down in thirty seconds for no reason. You must obviously have ripped one of the bottom strakes clean off her. I don’t say you crashed bang into a rock, but according to you you were going all out. At that speed it would be enough if you merely grazed a rock.’
‘Jim, if I’d done that, wouldn’t I have felt it?’
‘I should have thought so. Never having piled her up myself I can’t say for certain.’
‘Give me a piece of paper and a pencil!’ ordered Timothy. ‘I’ll draw you a diagram.’
‘What on earth does it matter? The thing’s done now. Forget it!’
‘No, let him show you!’ said Patricia.
Jim sighed, produced a pencil from his pocket, and handed it over. Timothy directed Miss Allison to give him the note-book that lay on his dressing-table, licked the pencil, and began to sketch. ‘Well, that’s the bay, roughly. Here is Portlaw, and here is the landing-stage below our cliff. Now the Pin rocks run like this, don’t they?’