He went to the front and the heavy sea weights. He picked one up with an effort and swung it over the side. The others soon followed and he stood there panting while he searched for anything else he could dump.
He looked to the forward horizon again. He could see a faint light on the port side front quarter. If it was on the top of a large ship, it could be ten or twelve miles away.
He went back to the tiller and pushed it over to turn the boat towards the light. If they were lucky, it would be a navy ship.
If they were even luckier, it would be sailing towards them.
The turn caused the boat to rock a little and the girl rolled over and nudged the edge of the cabin’s door frame with her head, which woke her up. She sat up and looked at Stratton, watched him pick up a coil of chains and throw them overboard. She watched him pick up just about anything that wasn’t attached to the vessel and throw it overboard.
She got to her feet and stepped into the breeze. ‘Are you OK?’ she called out above the wind and the tinny sound of the engines.
‘I was about to wake you up,’ he said. ‘We need to throw the bridge house overboard.’
‘Is there something wrong?’ she said, concerned about the way he was attacking everything.
‘Well, we have some bad news and we have some good news,’ he said as he opened a box and rummaged through it, pulling out several old life jackets. ‘Which would you like first?’
‘I’ll have the good news first.’
Stratton lifted up a tarp to find a collection of angling rods and weights and several heavy-duty fishing reels and harnesses. ‘You see that light directly ahead?’
She found it and looked instantly uplifted and just as quickly her elation was tempered by the threat of the looming bad news. ‘Yes.’
‘That’s a ship we’re chasing. Look behind us and you’ll see one that’s chasing us.’
She turned to see the distant light, her heart sinking. ‘You sure it’s them?’
‘Well, I’m generally the optimistic type but I can’t see how it could possibly be anyone else,’ he said, inspecting a knife he had found.
Fear crept over the girl as she stared at the light. She looked towards the light in front and back at the one in pursuit trying to compare their distance. It was a pointless comparison. One could be larger or brighter than the other, which would completely distort any estimation.
‘Who do you think’s going to win the race?’ she asked. ‘Us or them?’
Stratton came back to the stern and looked at the light behind them. ‘That depends on the direction of the ship we’re chasing, how far away it is and how fast it’s going. And even then, what kind of boat it is. If it’s a regular cargo carrier, Lotto will probably want to hijack it anyway.’
‘And that’s our only option? Get to that boat or get caught by Lotto while trying?’
‘There are always other options. The trick is trying to find them in time.’
She looked at him. He had that same cold expression he usually seemed to have when there was little hope. He had no fear in his eyes, no panic. Just calculation. She could not even begin to imagine what other options they had. All she could think was how she was going to kill herself to prevent Lotto from getting his hands on her. Maybe that was the option Stratton meant.
Stratton walked back around the boat, looking at various pieces of equipment, inside boxes and on the deck. If he couldn’t possibly imagine a potential use for it, it went over the side.
‘What are you looking for?’ she asked.
‘Inspiration’ was his business-like answer.
Stratton paused once more to gauge the sizes of both distant lights and compare the relative gains and losses being made. The front light continued to move to the port side of their track, which meant it was heading west. Which wasn’t of any help to them.
Half an hour later another tight collection of lights appeared on their starboard side and Stratton took a moment to study them. The first light had grown very little since they first saw it but the pirate light had more than doubled in size. The new group of lights seemed to represent a much bigger vessel, that or it was much closer.
He elected to change direction and go for the new ship. After adjusting to the new track, he topped up the working fuel tanks and began to put the things he had selected into two piles.
The girl could hardly take her eyes off the following vessel, partly in the hope that it wasn’t the pirates, but mostly in fear that it was. Her nerves had begun to fray but she dealt with it. Coming to terms with everything helped her.
‘I’ve decided how I want to die,’ she said.
‘Oh?’ he answered matter-of-factly as he inspected a fishing reel harness.
‘The best way is to drown.’
‘Without a doubt,’ he said. ‘A friend of mine drowned once. He said it was the strangest experience. He was on a decompression stop after a deep dive off a barge somewhere in Africa. You know, hang around for ten or fifteen minutes at thirty feet to prevent the bends. One of the boat workers accidentally knocked a shackle off the edge of the barge. He was wearing a full-face mask and looking up at the time although he couldn’t really see anything. The shackle smashed his face mask. He started to climb as quickly as he could but he just couldn’t make it in time. He held his breath for as long as he could but the urge to take a breath, even when you know it’s going to be water, is too strong. And so he did. He breathed in the sea. He said he felt the panic grip him and he fought like hell. But it didn’t last very long at all. The stress and the gasping soon went away to be replaced by euphoria. He said it was ever so peaceful. There was even something pleasant about it. That lasted a few seconds and the lights went out. The next thing he remembered was lying on the deck of the barge coughing his guts up while someone heaved down on his ribcage. So, absolutely. Go for it. Has to be better than shoving one of these into your throat,’ he added, raising the knife in his hand.
‘Is that how you will go?’ she asked.
‘I haven’t gotten that far yet,’ he said, picking up a marlin fishing reel and inspecting the thick line. ‘Do you know what the breaking strain of this is?’
She looked at the line in his hand, thinking it to be a strange question to ask when she was talking about their suicides. ‘Around two thousand pounds,’ she decided.
‘That’s right. You do a bit of sea fishing then?’
‘My father. I was brought up in a small fishing village in northern China. Deep sea fishing was his favourite thing to do.’
‘That the Yellow Sea?’
‘Yes. Have you been there?’
‘No.’
‘He used to take me with him. When I was about twelve I caught a shark more than twice my size.’ She smiled at the memory.
‘So why are you thinking of killing yourself?’
The question snapped her out of her reverie. Her smile vanished.
‘Don’t you want to see him again?’ he asked.
She avoided his eyes. ‘I cannot see him again. He did not approve of my job.’
‘You can’t see him because you joined the Secret Service?’
‘It’s a little more complicated than that. He has very strong reasons for disliking what I do. I don’t blame him.’
She seemed to want to tell Stratton something but she was unable to get it out. Stratton chose not to dig. It sounded personal and he had a lot on his own mind anyway.
She watched him pick up another fishing reel harness and check the buckles to ensure they worked. ‘What are you doing?’