The man stopped and backed up in amazement. He was about to speak when something flickered in front of his face and he raised his hands to claw at his neck. Taffy expertly caught the falling mug.
The man seemed to be fighting nothing. He staggered two paces along the deck and then collapsed. I saw Jim crouch over him and then they both dragged him over to us, Taffy using only one hand.
'Anyone want some hot coffee?' he said. 'Not a drop spilled.'
'Stop playing the fool,' Geordie growled.
'What happened?' I asked.
'It'll keep. That's two – how many more do you reckon, Bill?'
There were five on deck when I was here before. But I dunno about below.'
Jim and Taffy were gagging and trussing up their victim. Geordie said, 'We'll finish that. You lot go aft and clear up the deck.'
They drifted away like wreathes of smoke and I helped Geordie finish the job. The man was flaccid and quite unconscious and I whispered, 'What the hell did Jim do to him?'
'A silk cloth with a weight in one corner. We learned that one from an Indian instructor, old thuggee trick. But at least Jim hasn't strangled this one – he'll recover okay.'
There was a muffled thump from aft and he clicked his tongue. 'Someone's being careless. Come on, I want to see if Bill's done his job properly.'
He rose and walked unconcernedly forward, not troubling to hide. He stopped at the forehatch and tested it with his hand. 'Bill's a good workman. No one can come from below this way.'
He then searched about until he found what he was looking for – the prone and unconscious body of the after watch. He rolled the limp body over and began to tie the hands. 'Not that I don't trust Bill's judgement,' he said. 'But it's nice to be safe and tidy. You take his feet – use his shoelaces.'
It was all a little bit dreamlike. Geordie was expertly tying the crewman's hands and conversing matter-of-factly as any good craftsman might as he worked on his bench. 'Sorry to keep you out of the fun, Mike. But you're dead inexperienced. You've only got to do the wrong thing once on a lark like this and the cat's out of the bag.'
I looked at Geordie's bulk in the semi-darkness and realized something I'd never thought of consciously before. He had been trained as a professional killer, and my father had had a hand in his training. He had been taught perhaps a couple of dozen ways of putting a man out of action, temporarily or permanently, and he had the professional's amused contempt for the dilettante. I thought for the first time that something of Mark's ruthless streak, albeit turned in a strange and distasteful manner, had been inherited from my father.
I said, 'That's all right, Geordie. You're doing fine. I'm content to look and learn.'
From the stern came the lowest, breathiest of whistles and Geordie cocked his head. 'They're finished. Let's go and see what the bag's like.'
We went forward, walking as though the ship belonged to us. As we went, Geordie said softly, 'Never dodge about when there's no need. Nothing looks more suspicious. I mean, suppose someone's watching the deck right now – we could be any pair of the crew.'
He slowed as he came to the deckhouse where a stream of light splashed on the deck from the door. He peered cautiously round the edge of the door, then snorted. 'I might have known,' he said resignedly. 'It's Taffy the gutser. What do you think you're doing, Taff?'
He stepped into the deckhouse and I followed to find that it led straight into the galley. Taffy was sawing at a loaf of bread. 'Making myself a sandwich, skipper,' he said.
'You bloody cormorant. How many did you get?'
'Three.'
'Kane? Hadley?'
'Not a sign. If they're aboard, they're below. But they'll be safe – we battened down the hatches.'
'Well, we'll unbatten them and clean up below,' said Geordie. 'It only needs one of 'em to decide he'd like a nice breath of sea air and find he can't get on deck. When you've finished your supper, Mr Morgan, we'd all be grateful if you got back on the job. And before you leave the galley clean up – and then find the flour bin and tip the salt into it.'
'Yes, sergeant,' said Taffy.
We went to the wheelhouse and found the others. Ian was unscrewing the central holding bolt of the wheel-bearing with an adjustable spanner. He looked up at Geordie and said solemnly, 'Might as well cause a bit of inconvenience while we're here.' He withdrew the bolt and casually tossed it overboard, then spun the wheel. 'They'll have a wee bit of trouble in their steering, I'm thinking.'
'Very nice, but a little premature,' said Geordie. 'Let's get the job finished first. Mike and I will take the forehatch and clean out the fo'c's'le. Ian and Bill, take this hatch here. Jim, you'll find Taffy stuffing his guts in the galley – you take amidships. Got your stuff?'
'I've got it, skipper.'
'Right. We'll all go down simultaneously. I'll give the signal – and try not to make too much noise. Come on, Mike.'
When we got to the forehatch Geordie paused. 'We'll give them a minute to get ready.' He shook his head sadly. That bloody Welshman.'
I looked aft along the deck. It was very quiet and there was nothing to be seen, and I thought how easy it had all been – so far. These ex-commandoes seemed to take it all as a joke, as I suppose it was to men who had tackled alert Germans. But I wasn't deceived; it was their very competence that made it seem easy.
Geordie startled me by uttering that same hollow whistle I'd heard before. 'Come on,' he said softly. 'Me first.'
He lifted up the hatch gently and went down the companionway. The forecastle was dimly lit by a single lamp and appeared full of shadowy shapes. When I got to the bottom of the steps I found Geordie fastening the door which led to the midships accommodation by means of a small wooden wedge which he took from his pocket. The door fastened, he turned to look round the forecastle. Tiers of bunks, three high, lined the triangular space formed by the bows of the ship. They pack the bastards in like sardines, I thought. There was a snoring noise and Geordie looked round quickly, put his fingers to his lips for my benefit and crept forward very gently, and then waved me forward. He was looking at a middle berth upon which was sleeping a villainously unshaven seaman. He put his lips close to my ear and said, 'Check the other bunks.'
I tiptoed round the forecastle, looking into every bunk, but found no one else. I got back to Geordie and shook my head.
He said loudly, 'All right, let's wake up the sleeping beauty.'
The man snored again, drawing back his upper lip.
Geordie shook him by the shoulder. 'Come on, chum. Prepare to meet thy doom.' The man opened his eyes and looked up uncomprehendingly and then Geordie hit him on the chin with a fist like a hammer.
He rubbed his knuckles and said, a little apologetically, 'I never like to hit a sleeping man. It seems a bit unfair somehow.'
I looked at the seaman. He was out cold.
Geordie looked round the forecastle again. 'Nine a side. They pack eighteen in here. The Board of Trade would never allow this back home. Right, let's see what else there is. The next one might be the lucky draw, Mike.'
He took the wedge out of the door and opened it carefully. We checked all the compartments we came across, even the toilets. 'Nothing like catching a man with his pants down,' Geordie chuckled.
We found nothing.
The ship rocked a little more heavily and we both stiffened but there was no hue and cry and we carried on slowly until suddenly there was a shadow at the end of the passage and Taffy came into sight. He was eating an apple.
Geordie sniffed. 'Look at that. You'd think he'd get fatter, wouldn't you? He was just the same in the army – holding the war up while he rammed himself full.' There were two cabins remaining between ourselves and Taffy and we each investigated one, with negative results.