"Nine — and a bit, shallowing."
I grinned at him. "Oddly enough, it's not shallowing just here. As we come opposite the point we'll get up to thirteen fathoms. I wish we would get a bit of sun, though."
Etosha tore on. John, I could see, was plainly nervous. So was I. Toying with a trick of the light for a reliable bearing on the Skeleton Coast is about as safe as playing Russian roulette.
The fog dripped, but it was lighter to the east. If I missed this bearing, I would, at best, have to fumble my way northwards to Palgrave Point and Cape Frio and beyond that, in the foul ground towards Curva dos Dunas — I felt myself sweating even at the thought.
I trained my glasses on a fixed bearing. At thirteen fathoms under Etosha, that should be just about right.
"How much water under her now?"
John's voice was surprised.
"By the deep twelve."
"Good. Take the helm, will you, John? We should pick it up in a moment. It'll be tricky. I don't want that Kroo boy spoiling things."
A flicker of light, like a halo, twitched across the landward side of the fog. Here it comes… I thought.
A bright shaft, almost like a searchlight, struck the outward opaque edge. The sun, as I had assumed, had glanced off the startling white surface of the great saltpan north of Sierra Point; along its beam I hoped to see the bald, eroded hill which stood out at the back of the two saltpans.
Like a revelation, the fog opened and my landmark was as clear as day.
"High hill bearing red oh-three-three," I grinned at John, enjoying the complicated problem in navigation.
But my professional pleasure was spoiled. Stein was on the back of the bridge with the woman.
"You see, my dear; what I mean when I say that Captain Peace knows the Skeleton Coast quite as well as they say in the bars at Walvis. Look! no charts, no references — it's all in his head. It looks so very simple, does it not? But do you realise that if he didn't know exactly what he was doing, he'd tear the bottom out of her in three minutes?"
The girl said nothing. I couldn't worry about them now.
"Steer three-four-oh," I said in a flat voice.
Etosha came round in a sweeping arc, blinking into broad sunlight for a minute as she cocked a snook at the dun coastline with its balding fringes of windswept weed here and there.
"Steady as she goes," I said to John. "Put the Kroo boy on now."
I had my fix and Etosha. was set for Cape Frio. Beyond that…
Fortunately it was just as suitable for dropping a boat off Cape Cross.
I turned to Stein.
"In half an hour," I said acidly, "I shall stop the engines and drop a boat over the side. This woman of yours is going ashore." I looked at the composed face under the duffle-coat hood.
"You've got about twenty minutes to get your things together."
Stein grinned his ray-like grin. This was the sort of situation he loved.
"May I introduce," he said calmly, "Dr. Anne Nielsen, of the National Zoological Museum in Stockholm."
I gazed at her in cold rage.
"You're losing time," I snapped. "If your things aren't ready, I'll throw them over the side after you."
"Dr. Nielsen," Stein continued, "is the only scientist in the world — at least in this generation — to have actually examined the species Onymacris in the flesh, or shall we say, in the shell?"
I still did not catch on.
"What all this mumbo-jumbo has to do with me, I am at a loss to know," I retorted. Etosha was cutting through the fog and it gave an eerie air of making everything a little larger — like her eyes.
"Shall I explain, that Dr. Nielsen is my principal assistant on this trip and she will accompany me in order to establish whether or not the Onymacris beetle lives on the Skeleton Coast. It will be a discovery of the first importance, both to science and the world. Captain Peace," he said and his voice hardened, "you will understand that there is no question of putting Dr. Nielsen ashore? She comes with me."
The thought gave me a jolt. If I did away with Stein, she'd have to be a victim too. I must have been pondering this deeply until suddenly I was aware that I was staring at her; the only sound on the bridge was the click of the ratchet on the helm.
I looked from her to him.
"Very well," I said, "but I hadn't bargained for a woman. On a ship like this there's not much room. You'll have to find a corner somewhere. Mister Garland will see to that. And — Stein — if you have any more surprises in your party, you'd better tell them to me quickly, or else…" I left the sentence unfinished.
Stein said smoothly. "My personal bodyguard and general factotum is, of course, Johann."
"Johann!" I gasped. "That mad U-boat rating! God's truth, Stein, what is this?"
"It's my expedition and you are going to put us ashore at a spot which — I hope sometime to-day you will be good enough to show me on a chart. My objective on land is slightly west of the Baynes Mountains."
I stared at him in open disbelief. The woman first, the mad German rating second, and the Baynes Mountains third.
"The Baynes Mountains!" I exclaimed. "You're crazy, Stein! No white man has ever set foot inside them."
"Except Baynes," retorted Stein.
"And do you really expect me to hang around the Skeleton- Coast while you traipse off to the Baynes Mountains ú — you'll take a month at least to get there."
"Depending," interrupted the girl, "where you put us ashore."
"That's fair enough," I replied. The freshening wind blew back the hood. Her hair was very lovely. "But when I undertook to convey you to the Skeleton Coast, I understood that you were making a quick run ashore — at the most two or three days. There was no mention of a specific objective."
"You will fetch us in a month's time, depending on where you are putting us ashore," said Stein. I didn't like the way he said "will."
This new development meant I must disclose the whereabouts of Curva dos Dunas — at least vaguely. Well, I ruminated grimly, they've all signed their own death warrant. Pretty girl or no pretty girl, Curva dos Dunas was mine. I salved my conscience quickly. I could perhaps arrange a "leak "through Mark and the police would round them up, but then I would be involved if Stein spoke — and I felt quite sure he wouldn't hesitate if he found I had turned the tables on him. I shelved the question for the moment.
Stein was speaking again.
"I think the best plan is if we go to the saloon and I shall indicate exactly where I am going."
I nodded. The girl went first.
I found myself alone in the saloon with her. She slipped off the unshapely duffle-coat and I was surprised at the slim figure underneath. She wore corduroy slacks and a tangerine shirt. It looked as if it had come straight from the laundry. Her breasts barely filled the curve of the shirt.
She caught my glance and smiled.
"Not exactly the rig for the Skeleton Coast, thinks Captain Peace?"
"I don't think this coast is any place for any woman at all," I said gruffly, half irritated at her close scrutiny of myself. I hadn't shaved as I had been on the bridge all night and I could feel the sticky mixture of salt air and fog moisture on the bristles. My eyes probably looked like a drunk's.
"Cigarette?" she asked, pulling out a packet of Peter Stuyvesant.
"I don't smoke," I said, "or practically never."
There was a reserved, mocking smile on her lips.
"Spoils the ability to smell where you are off the Skeleton Coast?" she asked lightly.
I looked at her, but there was no laughter in my reply.
"Stein didn't tell me he was bringing a woman along with him. Particularly an attractive woman. I just don't like the whole idea."
There was no laughter this time from her either.
"Your idea or his idea?" she asked penetratingly.
I fenced it off, but it gave me the measure of her intelligence.