The voyage to Apia was uneventful enough.
Sue Darling plugged along at a steady twelve knots, through conditions of the kind that the average seaman describes as “the sort of weather we sign on for”. She was a smooth running little ship in most ways — the one fly in the ointment being the Chief Engineer, Curley Green. Frankly, I just couldn’t see how Captain West tolerated him. An efficient engineer he may have been — an efficient engineer he most certainly was — but in a small vessel, where men have to live in close proximity to one another, there are qualities more desirable, even, than efficiency. He despised poor Petherick for his mixed blood and made no secret of it. He made no attempt to curb his language in the presence of Sally Brent and, furthermore, looked at her in a frankly lustful manner.
More than once I talked about him to the Old Man.
“I’m just a passenger, sir,” I would say, “but I think that your Mr. Green is rather hard to put up with. If this were my ship …”
“But she’s not, Petey boy. She’s not. (Have some more gin.) If you want the honest truth, I hate Curley’s guts myself. But beggars can’t be choosers. The only engineers I can get for this packet are those who’ve been fired from the big companies. I could have a Chief Engineer who was emptied out for drunkenness, or for incompetence. I consider myself lucky to have one whose only crime is a lack of the social airs and graces.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“And when it comes to being a good shipmate,” he went on, “your Sally Brent leaves a lot to be desired. She certainly keeps herself to herself.”
“When the voyage started,” I said, “I thought that the pair of you were getting along famously.”
“Well, she was a pal of Frank Clancy’s, and any pal of Frank’s is a pal of mine. But I don’t think she liked my taking sides …”
“Taking sides, Captain?”
“Yeah. Over the small ship vanishings. Backing you up when you said that they were due to rotten gear, fool-hardiness and sheer incompetence.”
“But it’s so bloody obvious.”
“To a seaman, yes. But it’s not newsworthy. Even you must realise that.”
“I do. But that’s no excuse for hinting at all sorts of utterly fantastic explanations for the disappearances.”
“I suppose not, Petey.”
“Well, I may as well start earning the quite nice salary that the Clarion is paying me. Have you any idea what ships have gone missing in the general area? Take it from Joyita …”
“Well, there was Arafura. Suva registry. A handful of general cargo. Bound from Suva to Apia …”
“And the date?”
“Sorry, but I can’t tell you exactly. But the Harbourmaster in Apia will probably be able to oblige.”
“And the condition of the ship?”
“Rotten. I wouldn’t have dared sail her across a mill-pond.”
“Any more?”
“William Price. Lautoka to Apia.”
“Details?”
“Same as for Arafura.”
“Go on.”
“Then there were a couple of fishing boats out of Nuku a’lofa. I forget their names.”
“And their general condition?”
“There I can’t help you. Probably rotten. The average Tongan would sooner pray than work.”
“When I was on the island trade myself,” I said, “I always found that the Fijians make the best labour. But we’re getting away from the subject. Any more missing ships?”
“Sea Spray, Barracuda and Kestrel. Barracuda, as a matter of fact, wasn’t in bad nick. Ken Willis, her Captain, looked after her well. But in her case it was probably weather.”
“Any more?”
“Yes. There were one or two strangers. A Frenchman wandering in from the New Hebrides. Hirondelle. And an American yacht. I forget her name.”
“Quite a long list.”
“Yes, Pete. But don’t forget that they were all little ships. The smaller the ship, the smaller the margin of safety. You were in overseas vessels before you came out to the Australian Coast. Tell me, how did you feel when you first started putting to sea in converted washtubs with sewing machines for engines?”
“Not at all happy.”
There was a tap at the door. We looked up, saw Sally Brent standing there. Her attire — brief shorts and a halter — made it obvious that she was not, as I had first thought, skinny. She was delightfully slender. We regarded her appreciatively.
She asked coldly, “May I interrupt the technical experts?”
“You may, Sally,” said West jovially. “Come in. Have a drink.”
“Thank you.”
She hesitated before sitting down on the settee, hesitated again before accepting the proffered glass.
She said, “Captain West, I believe that tomorrow we arrive at Apia.”
“We do.”
“Shall we be there long?”
“About two days.”
“Two days? But you were two weeks in Sydney.”
“Annual Survey,” West told her. “And after Apia?”
“I have a charter,” said West. “Stores and equipment to the New Zealand government oceanographic and met. station on MacKinnon Island. And deck passengers.”
“Deck passengers?”
“Yes. A couple of Samoan fishermen and their wives. I believe that their job will be to catch various specimens for the scientists.”
“Would there be any objection if I stayed in the ship?”
“None whatsoever — as long as the Clarion is prepared to pay your passage money.”
“I suppose that they’ll pay mine as well,” I said.
“I suppose so,” she agreed, without much interest.
“And may I ask,” he said, “why you wish to stay with us?”
“It should be obvious,” she told him. “Whatever it is that’s knocking off the little ships doesn’t do it in Apia harbour. Or any other harbour …”
“A blinding glimpse of the obvious,” I contributed.
“So,” she went on, favouring me with a venomous glare, “our best policy will be to stay at sea, preferably in this ship, as long as she remains within the general area.”
“And if we find out by first hand experience what’s doing it,” I said happily, “we shan’t be able to send any reports in, anyhow.”
“I have the utmost confidence,” she told me sweetly, “in Captain West’s seamanship.”
“What about swopping jobs, Pete?” asked West. “You can take charge of this little bitch, and I’ll be the technical expert.”
“As a technical expert,” said Miss Brent, “Mr. Hallows can do less damage.”
“This MacKinnon Islaad,” I asked, changing the subject, “what’s there?”
“Damn all. It’s just a typical atoll. No population, apart from the eggheads …”
“It’s what happens between Apia and MacKinnon Island that we’re interested in,” said the girl.
“As far as I’m concerned,” I told her, “I hope that nothing does happen. As this is a very well found ship, I’m quite convinced that nothing will.”
“As master of this vessel,” said West, “I hope you’re right.”
Sally Brent finished her drink, thanked West briefly and then left us.