Night of Terror by Desmond Bagley

We’ll lose the dinghy and Bill both if we start shifting.” I heard the

anchor cable rattle out of the hawse pipe almost as he spoke,

tethering

Esmerelda to the shallow bottom. I could guess how reluctant Geordie

would be to sacrifice his precious mobility at that moment, but it was

of course essential to keep station. The dinghy rocked heavily and I

saw a line being thrown to her, presumably to keep her in contact with

us.

Campbell’s body lurched into mine as we swung round the anchor cable,

and Geordie called, “Not enough – she’ll swing into the dinghy!

We’ll have to get Bill up fast!” But he had gone down free-style,

without a line, and there didn’t seem to be any way to do it. I saw

that some of the crew were swinging out the motor launch, and guessed

that Geordie would use it to take up the dinghy crew into a more

seaworthy craft, leaving the smaller boat in tow.

“How long will he stay down?”I asked, staring over the side.

The whole surface of the water was rippling and beginning to chop.

“Not long at all,” Geordie said tensely. “The moment he breaks surface

we’ll have him up out of there. With any luck there’ll be enough

disturbance down below to get him UP quickly. Thank God it’s shallow

at least he won’t have a decompression problem.” “What’s happening?”

Campbell’s voice sounded as if he’d asked that question several times

already.

I said, “Wait a moment – I’ll explain later.” I was staring at the

column rising from the sea as if mesmerized. There was hardly any

noise but the column blackened steadily, with a white nimbus around it,

almost like the smoke of an oily fire, and I knew without a doubt that

if there was no underwater disturbance to bring Bill to the surface,

there was another phenomenon that would work as well – the sea would be

rising in temperature, not to boiling point, at least not here, but

several degrees above its normal state. I knew that I was looking at

the beginning of an underwater volcanic eruption, and my heart was

thudding as if my chest would burst open.

Geordie guessed it too, and a ripple of awareness ran through the

crew.

Campbell’s mouth hung open and his hand fell away from my arm.

Eyes were scanning the water near us, looking anxiously for our diver’s

reappearance, and glances over our shoulders kept us in touch with the

increasing activity away on the horizon. Esmerelda was still rocking a

little roughly but there was no feeling of instability about her.

Something broke surface not far from the dinghy.

“There he is!” called Danny, pointing.

We saw the two men still in the dinghy pulling Bill in over the

thwarts, the motor launch waiting off to take I tow back to the ship,

when there was a totally unexpected interruption.

Taffy Morgan shouted, “Ship on the starboard beam!” I spun round

incredulously and pounded across the deck, colliding with someone on

the way. Out of the smoke and steam that drifted across the sea ahead

of us, half shielding her until the last possible moment, the bulk of

Sirena came bearing down upon us.

Her yards were bare and she was pounding towards us full tilt under

power. I could see figures on deck, many of them, and the lift of her

bow wave as she approached.

“Goddam it! We’re trussed up here for the slaughter,” Campbell said in

vicious unbelief.

Geordie ran up the deck. “Slip that flaming cable!” he bawled.

But there wasn’t enough time. Sirena was on us, slewing and with her

speed falling off at the last possible moment to lay alongside us with

a minimum of seamanship, relying totally on surprise to aid her

terrible attack. She didn’t quite make the turn and her bowsprit

stabbed at us like a monstrous rapier.

There was an almighty crash and Esmerelda shuddered violently and moved

bodily sideways in the water.

I was thrown against Geordie and we both went down in a tangle of arms

and legs. I . scrambled to my feet, all the breath knocked out of my

body, and saw hazily that Esmerelda’s yardarm was locked in Sirena’s

shrouds.

Ramirez had rammed us. The chaos was indescribable.

There was a roar of angry voices and a flood of men poured across the

deck from Sirena, and I saw the flash of knives in the enveloping glow

of that fantastic yellow light.

Chapter Eight

It was a short fight and a bitter one.

In the fraction of a second before they were on to us I saw Campbell’s

incredulous face, his mouth open in surprise.

Then Geordie roared, “Stand together, lads!” and I was grappling with

a hefty brute who wielded a long and wickedly gleaming knife.

If he had come at me from underneath I might have been disembowelled ‘

but he used the basically unsound overarm stab. I saw the knife coming

down, grasped his wrist and pulled. This unexpected assistance sent

him off balance. I did a neat sidestep, more suited to the dancefloor

than the battlefield, twisted his arm and pushed. He reeled into the

scuppers and his knife clattered on the deck.

I looked around and all was confusion. I scarcely had time to

distinguish friend from enemy before I was attacked again.

I felt a cold burn sear along my ribs as the knife struck, and in

desperation I hit out slantwise with the edge of my hand at the bluffed

figure before me. There was a choked gurgle and the blur vanished – I

hoped I’d smashed his larynx.

I staggered up, clutching at a stay for support, and as I wavered about

the deck I saw Campbell go down under a vicious smashing blow from a

belaying pin – and then I saw the unmistakable bulk of Jim Hadley.

He had got hold of Clare and was twisting her arm behind her back and

she was screaming in pain. I couldn’t hear her because of the tumult

around me but I saw her wi mouth and the glaze of terror in her eyes.

I was about to plunge across the deck when there was a staccato rattle

of shots and everything seemed to pause momentarily.

I took the opportunity to yell, “Stop fighting!

For God’s sake, stop fighting!” The roar began again only to be halted

by another fusillade of shots . . A voice called, “Very wise, Mr

Trevelyan.” Then came a rapid spate of Spanish, which I was too dazed

to follow.

I called out, “Hold it, lads! They have Clare!” We had been defeated

in less than three minutes.

Everything stopped as suddenly as it had begun. I felt the burning

ache along my rib-case as only the most minor of distractions as I

looked hastily around the deck. There seemed to be Spaniards

everywhere, far more of them than of us, and three men lay on the deck

without moving.

Ramirez stepped delicately across the deck with two armed men at his

back. I had time to wonder where he’d got a fresh load of weapons

from, and then he faced me. “We meet under different circumstances, Mr

Trevelyan,” he observed with a mocking smile.

I ignored him. “Everyone all right?” There was a low murmur and then

Taffy looked up from one of the prone figures, white-faced under his

tan. “They’ve killed Danny,” he said in a level tone.

Over a rising growl I yelled, “Cut it out – look at Hadley!” There was

a dead silence. Hadley had forced Clare to her knees; he had her right

arm up behind her back and in his other hand he held a heavy pistol

trained on the nape of her neck. Ramirez stood in front of me, nodding

appreciatively.

“You have sense, Mr Trevelyan. You’ve lost and you know “Tell him to

let her go.” “In a moment.” He passed along the deck and came to

Geordie, who stare ‘ d at him impassively. “Ah, the brave Mr

Wilkins.

I told you that you would regret what you did, one day.” He lifted his

hand and struck Geordie across the face with a back-handed blow. A

ring cut deep and blood started to drip from Geordie’s mouth. He spat

on the deck in silence.

Campbell moaned and tried to lift himself from the deck, and Ramirez

strolled over to look down at him with an odd expression on his face.

It was almost as if he contemplated the defeat of an old adversary with

less than satisfaction. “Come on, old one. Get up,” he said

brusquely.

Campbell got halfway up, then collapsed again.

Ramirez made an impatient noise. He pointed to Taffy, still crouched

over Danny’s body. “You carry the old man into the saloon.”

Taffy and Ian, between them got Campbell up. There seemed to be

something wrong with his side, as if his leg was paralysed. As he

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