Until there was nothing left.
Then the paravane would be hoisted inboard and the yacht would plough gracefully on towards the distant Florida Keys, Cape Sable and the sun-soaked wharf in St. Petersburg Harbour.
And if the mine exploded while they were still in the water, only fifty yards away from the ship? What would be the effect of the shock-waves on their bodies? It might not be deadly. The hull of the ship should absorb most of it. The reef might protect them.
Bond could only guess and hope.
Above all they must stay alive to the last possible second. They must keep breathing as they were hauled, a living bundle, through the sea. Much depended on how they would be bound together. Mr. Big would want them to stay alive. He would not be interested hi dead bait.
If they were still alive when the first shark’s fin showed on the surface behind them Bond had coldly decided to drown Solitaire. Drown her by twisting her body under his and holding her there. Then he would try and drown himself by twisting her dead body back over his to keep him under.
There was nightmare at every turn of his thoughts, sickening horror in every grisly aspect of the monstrous torture and death this man had invented for them. But Bond knew he must remain cold and absolutely resolved to fight for their lives to the end. There was at least warmth in the knowledge that Mr. Big and most of his men would also die. And there was a glimmer of hope that he and Solitaire would survive. Unless the mine failed, there was no such hope for the enemy.
All this, and a hundred other details and plans went through Bond’s mind in the last hour before they were brought up the shaft to the surface. He shared all his hopes with Solitaire. None of his fears.
She had lain opposite him, her tired blue eyes fixed on him, obedient, trusting, drinking in his face and his words, pliant, loving.
‘Don’t worry about me, my darling,’ she had said when the men came for them. ‘I am happy to be with you again. My heart is full of it. For some reason I am not afraid although there is much death very close. Do you love me a little?’
‘Yes,’ said Bond. ‘And we shall have our love.’
‘Giddap,’ said one of the men.
And now, on the surface, it was getting lighter, and from below the cliff Bond heard the great twin Diesels stutter and roar. There was a light flutter of breeze to windward, but to leeward, where the ship lay, the bay was a gunmetal mirror.
Mr. Big appeared up the shaft, a businessman’s leather brief-case in his hand. He stood for a moment looking round, gaining his breath. He paid no attention to Bond and Solitaire nor to the two guards standing beside them with revolvers in their hands.
He looked up at the sky, and suddenly called out, in a loud clear voice, towards the rim of the sun:
‘Thank you, Sir Henry Morgan. Your treasure will be well spent. Give us a fair wind.’
The negro guards showed the whites of their eyes.
‘The Undertaker’s Wind it is,’ said Bond.
The Big Man looked at him.
‘All down?’ he asked the guards.
‘Yassuh, Boss,’ answered one of them.
‘Take them along,’ said The Big Man.
They went to the edge of the cliff and down the steep steps, one guard in front, one behind. Mr. Big followed.
The engines of the long graceful yacht were turning over quietly, the exhaust bubbling glutinously, a thread of blue vapour rising astern.
There were two men on the jetty at the guide ropes. There were only three men on deck besides the Captain and the navigator on the grey streamlined bridge. There was no room for more. All the available deckspace, save for a fishing chair rigged right aft, was covered with fish-tanks. The Red Ensign had been struck and only the Stars and Stripes hung motionless at the stern.
A few yards clear of the ship the red torpedo-shaped paravane, about six foot long, lay quietly on the water, now aquamarine in the early dawn. It was attached to a thick pile of wire cable, coiled up on the deck aft. To Bond there looked to be a good fifty yards of it. The water was crystal clear and there were no fish about.