The golden rendezvous by MacLean, Alistair

sun-weathered face, bespoke a confidence, a certainty, an unshakeable

belief that was most impressive. There now, I thought, was a man who

would have made a great salesman.

“I don’t think, miss beresford.” again the grave smile. “I know.

Our troubles are almost at their end. Do what I do put your last cent

on mr. carter here.”

he even had me convinced. I, too, knew that everything was going

to turn out just fine, until I remembered who he was depending on. Me.

I gave susan a handkerchief and said, “go and tell archie about that

job.”

“You’re not going to trust your life to that thing?” there was

horror in susan’s face, panic in her voice as she watched me tie a

bowline round my waist. “Why, it’s no thicker than my little finger.”

I could hardly blame her: that thin three stranded rope, no bigger than

an ordinary clothesline, was hardly calculated to inspire confidence in

anyone. It didn’t inspire much in me, even although I did know its

properties.

“It’s nylon, miss,” macdonald explained soothingly. “The very rope

mountaineers use in the himalayas-and you don’t think they’d trust their

lives to anything they weren’t dead sure of? you could hang a big

motorcar on the end of this and it still wouldn’t break.” susan gave

him her it’s -all-right for you to talk when it’snot your life that’s

depending on-it look, bit her lip, and said nothing. The time was

exactly midnight. If i’d read the clock dial settings on the twister

properly, six hours was the maximum delayed action that could be

obtained. Assuming carreras rendezvoused exactly on time at 5 a.m., it

would be at least another hour before he could get clear; so the twister

wouldn’t be armed until after midnight. Everything was ready. The

sick-bay door had been cautiously locked on the inside with the key i’d

taken from tony carreras so that neither of the two guards could burst

in unexpectedly in the middle of things. And even if they did get

suspicious and force an entrance, macdonald had a gun.

macdonald himself was now sitting at the top of my bed, beside the

window. Marston and I had half carried him there from his own bed. His

left leg was quite useless like myself, he’d been given an injection by

doc marston to deaden the pain, mine being twice as powerful as the

previous night’s dose but then macdonald was not going to be called upon

to use his leg that night, only his arms and shoulders, and there was

nothing wrong with macdonald’s arms and shoulders. They were the

strongest on the campari. I had the feeling I was going to need all

their strength. Only macdonald knew the purpose I had in mind. Only

macdonald knew that I intended returning the way I went. The others

believed in my suicidal plan for an attack on the bridge, believed if I

were successful I would be returning via the sick-bay door. But they

didn’t believe I would return at all. The atmosphere was less than

festive.

bullen was awake now, lying flat on his back, his face silent and

grim.

I was dressed in the same dinner suit as i’d worn the previous

night. It was still damp, still crusted with blood. I’d no shoes on.

The clasp knife was in one pocket, oil skin wrapped torch in the other,

the mask round my face, hood over my head. My leg ached, I felt as a

man feels after a long bout of flu, and the fever still burned in my

blood, but I was as ready as I was ever going to be. “Lights,” I said

to marston.

a switch clicked and the sick bay was as dark as the tomb. I drew

back the curtains, pulled open the window, and secured it on the latch.

I stuck my head outside.

it was raining steadily, heavily, a cold driving rain out of the

northwest, slanting straight in through the window on to the bed. The

sky was black with no star above. The campari still pitched a little,

rolled a little, but it was nothing compared to the previous night. She

was doing about twelve knots. I twisted my neck and peered upwards. No

one there. I leaned out as far as possible and looked fore and aft. If

there was a light showing on the campari that night, I couldn’t see it.

I came inside, stooped, picked up a coil of nylon rope, checked

that it was the one secured to the iron bedstead, and flung it out into

the rain and the darkness. I made a last check of the rope knotted

round my waist-this was the one the bo’sun held in his hands-and said,

“i’m off.” as a farewell speech it could perhaps have been improved

upon, but it was all I could think of at the time. Captain bullen said,

“good luck, my boy.” he’d have said an awful lot more if he knew what I

really had in mind. Marston said something I couldn’t catch. Susan

said nothing at all. I wriggled my way through the window, favouring my

wounded leg, and then was fully outside, suspended from the sill by my

elbows. I could sense rather than see the bo’sun by the window, ready

to pay out the rope round my waist.

“Archie,” I said softly, “give me that spiel again. The one about

how everything is going to turn out all right.”

“You’ll be here again before we know you’re gone,” he said

cheerfully. “See and bring my knife back.”

I felt for the rope attached to the bed, got it in both hands,

eased my elbows off the sill, and dropped quickly, hand over hand, as

macdonald played out my life line. Five seconds later I was in the

water.

the water was dark and cold and it took my breath away. After the

warmth of the sick bay the shock of the almost immediate transition, the

abrupt drop in temperature, was literally paralysing. Momentarily,

involuntarily, I lost my grip on the rope, panicked when I realised what

had happened, floundered about desperately, and caught it again. The

bo’sun was doing a good job above: the sudden increase in weight as i’d

lost my life line must have had him halfway out of the window.

but the cold wasn’t the worst. If you can survive the initial

shock you can tolerate the cold to a limited degree, accustomed but not

reconciled; what you can’t tolerate, what you can’t become accustomed to

is the involuntary swallowing of large mouthfuls of salt water every few

seconds. And that was what was happening to me.

I had known that being towed alongside a ship doing twelve knots

wasn’t going to be any too pleasant, but I had never thought it was

going to be as bad as this. The factor I hadn’t taken into the

reckoning was the waves. One moment I was being towed, face down and

planing, up the side of a wave; the next, as the wave swept by under me,

I was almost completely out of the water, then falling forwards and down

wards to smash into the rising shoulder of the next wave with a jarring

violence that knocked all the breath from my body. And when all the

breath has been driven from you the body’s demands that you immediately

gulp in air are insistent, imperative, and not to be denied. But with

my face buried in the sea I wasn’t gulping in air, I was gulping down

large quantities of salt water. It was like having water under high

pressure forced down my throat by a hose. I was floundering,

porpoising, twisting and spinning exactly like a hooked fish being

pulled in on the surface through the wake of a fast-trolling motorboat.

Slowly, but very surely, I was drowning.

I was beaten before I started. I knew I had to get back, and at

once. I was gasping and choking on sea water; my nostrils were on fire

with it; my stomach was full of it; my throat burned with it, and I knew

that at least some of it had already reached my lungs.

a system of signals had been arranged, and now I began to tug

frantically on the rope round my waist, hanging on to the other rope

with my left hand. I tugged half a dozen times, slowly, in some sort of

order at first, then, as no response came, frantically, despairingly. I

was porpoising up and down so violently that all macdonald could be

feeling anyway was a constant and irregular series of alternate

tightenings and slackenings of the line; he had no means of

distinguishing between one type of tug and another.

I tried to pull myself back on my own line, but against the

onrushing pressure of the water as the campari ploughed through that

stormy sea it was quite impossible. When the tension came off the line

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