mildly.
‘Any chance you’ll have some time off tomorrow night?’ he asked.
‘I might.’ She took her eyes off the road for a moment. ‘Does that mean you think you’ll still be here?’
‘It looks that way. Maybe for longer unless things settle.’
‘I see.’ She frowned slightly, letting the car coast to a halt near the start of the pier. Her pert face was serious in the glow of the panel lights. ‘Webb, a district nurse hears a lot. You’re right. Trouble is being stirred up – stories from the way Dave owes money to different people onward. There’s even been talk of the men from here going over and physically throwing the sharkmen off Camsha.’
‘That sounds like Alec MacBean at his best.’
She shook her head. ‘He may talk. But Fergie Lucas is the one who really has it in for Dave. Fergie is popular in the village – plenty of the younger fishermen would be right behind him if he started anything.’
‘Dave Rother is fairly good at taking care of himself,’ mused Carrick. ‘So are his men. Lucas and his friends could find themselves up against more than they reckoned.’
‘Perhaps.’ Sheila Francis rubbed a slim hand along the rim of the steering wheel. Then she smiled wryly. ‘I could be free about seven tomorrow, unless the telephone rings. When I get the chance I know a beach where there’s not as much as an old beer can on the sand and the water’s almost warm.’
‘Good.’ Carrick grinned, reached for the door handle, then stopped. ‘Should I ask if Dave will mind?’
‘No.’ She shook her head and smiled. ‘I’ll pick you up here. Good-night, Webb.’
He climbed out and the little Austin purred off, headlamps tracing its way through the sleeping village. Lighting a cigarette, he thought over what she’d said. If Fergie Lucas tried his crazy idea of taking over the sharking base there would be a few broken heads – or worse – on either side. But for a few days at least the salvage job on the Harvest Lass should keep Lucas fully occupied and that might be time enough for things to cool down.
Starting along the pier, he noticed Marlin had a few deck lights burning and grinned. Probably one or two of the crew still had to wander back – with a clutch of hangovers to share in the morning. Though they’d try to hide the fact. While Captain Shannon turned a blind eye on a man who merely looked grey he came down like the wrath of God on anyone who couldn’t disguise the rest.
Some small line-boats were clustered near the shore end of the pier. He passed them, came near to a row of three larger seine-netters tied side by side almost under Marlin ’s bow, then came to a sudden halt.
A shadowy figure was padding around the deck ofthe middle boat of the trio, working in silence near the shadowed wheelhouse in a way that held no ordinary purpose.
Dropping his cigarette and quickly grinding it out, Carrick peered into the darkness for a moment, heard a faint clink of metal on metal and then a soft gurgling. Moistening his lips, he took a few quiet steps nearer the boat.
As he did, the reek of kerosene reached his nostrils. Swearing under his breath, conscious the man below only had to glance up to see him silhouetted against the night sky, Carrick watched a moment longer. The figure on the middle boat moved again, setting down the fuel can he’d been holding, dragged something which rustled along the deck, then lifted the can and began pouring again.
Tight-lipped, Carrick reached the edge of the pier and dropped lightly to the deck of the nearest boat. He landed near the stern, hugged the shelter of her piled nets for an instant, and listened. Above the soft lapping of the water he heard a rustling, another clink of metal, then silence.
Rising, he took one look across then quit the shelter of the nets. The middle boat’s deck was deserted again. But the reek of kerosene was stronger than ever.
Abandoning stealth, Carrick swung himself over the narrow gap between the
‘Any chance you’ll have some time off tomorrow night?’ he asked.
‘I might.’ She took her eyes off the road for a moment. ‘Does that mean you think you’ll still be here?’
‘It looks that way. Maybe for longer unless things settle.’
‘I see.’ She frowned slightly, letting the car coast to a halt near the start of the pier. Her pert face was serious in the glow of the panel lights. ‘Webb, a district nurse hears a lot. You’re right. Trouble is being stirred up – stories from the way Dave owes money to different people onward. There’s even been talk of the men from here going over and physically throwing the sharkmen off Camsha.’
‘That sounds like Alec MacBean at his best.’
She shook her head. ‘He may talk. But Fergie Lucas is the one who really has it in for Dave. Fergie is popular in the village – plenty of the younger fishermen would be right behind him if he started anything.’
‘Dave Rother is fairly good at taking care of himself,’ mused Carrick. ‘So are his men. Lucas and his friends could find themselves up against more than they reckoned.’
‘Perhaps.’ Sheila Francis rubbed a slim hand along the rim of the steering wheel. Then she smiled wryly. ‘I could be free about seven tomorrow, unless the telephone rings. When I get the chance I know a beach where there’s not as much as an old beer can on the sand and the water’s almost warm.’
‘Good.’ Carrick grinned, reached for the door handle, then stopped. ‘Should I ask if Dave will mind?’
‘No.’ She shook her head and smiled. ‘I’ll pick you up here. Good-night, Webb.’
He climbed out and the little Austin purred off, headlamps tracing its way through the sleeping village. Lighting a cigarette, he thought over what she’d said. If Fergie Lucas tried his crazy idea of taking over the sharking base there would be a few broken heads – or worse – on either side. But for a few days at least the salvage job on the Harvest Lass should keep Lucas fully occupied and that might be time enough for things to cool down.
Starting along the pier, he noticed Marlin had a few deck lights burning and grinned. Probably one or two of the crew still had to wander back – with a clutch of hangovers to share in the morning. Though they’d try to hide the fact. While Captain Shannon turned a blind eye on a man who merely looked grey he came down like the wrath of God on anyone who couldn’t disguise the rest.
Some small line-boats were clustered near the shore end of the pier. He passed them, came near to a row of three larger seine-netters tied side by side almost under Marlin ’s bow, then came to a sudden halt.
A shadowy figure was padding around the deck ofthe middle boat of the trio, working in silence near the shadowed wheelhouse in a way that held no ordinary purpose.
Dropping his cigarette and quickly grinding it out, Carrick peered into the darkness for a moment, heard a faint clink of metal on metal and then a soft gurgling. Moistening his lips, he took a few quiet steps nearer the boat.
As he did, the reek of kerosene reached his nostrils. Swearing under his breath, conscious the man below only had to glance up to see him silhouetted against the night sky, Carrick watched a moment longer. The figure on the middle boat moved again, setting down the fuel can he’d been holding, dragged something which rustled along the deck, then lifted the can and began pouring again.
Tight-lipped, Carrick reached the edge of the pier and dropped lightly to the deck of the nearest boat. He landed near the stern, hugged the shelter of her piled nets for an instant, and listened. Above the soft lapping of the water he heard a rustling, another clink of metal, then silence.
Rising, he took one look across then quit the shelter of the nets. The middle boat’s deck was deserted again. But the reek of kerosene was stronger than ever.
Abandoning stealth, Carrick swung himself over the narrow gap between the
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