she had said, and asked, “Where did you get the impression it was west of Scorpion Reef?”
“From her, naturally,” Barclay answered. “I hope we aren’t going to have any of that. She distinctly said north-northwest.”
“She was suffering from shock,” I said coldly. “I believe she had just seen her husband butchered in cold blood. And, anyway, it’s a cinch he wouldn’t have been to the westward of Scorpion Reef if he’d been heading for the Florida coast.”
“True enough,” he said. “But we’ll take the matter up after breakfast. And I would advise you both not to attempt any evasiveness or lying. Unfortunately, we are quite in earnest about this.”
I started to say something, but at that moment I heard voices in the cabin. She had started up.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Barfield’s voice growled.
“I—I feel nauseated,” she said. I could barely hear her. “—fresh air—”
“Hey, Joey,” Barfield called. “All right to let her up?”
I waited, holding my breath.
“No,” Barclay said. “Find her a pail and tell her to stay down there—”
If she was beyond him we had no chance at all, but it was now or never. I swung. My fist crashed into the blurred whiteness of Barclay’s face, and at the same time I yelled, “Run!”
Barclay fell back, clawing in his pocket for the gun. She came up through the hatch, moving fast, with Barfield shouting behind her. I could see her for a brief second, standing erect on the deck at the forward end of the cockpit with the bulky life preserver clutched to her breast. Then she was lunging and falling outward. I grabbed Barclay’s jacket and hauled, rolling him into the bottom of the cockpit. Barfield came lunging up out of the hatch. I heard her splash.
Barclay grabbed my left leg and was trying to pull me down. Barfield jumped into the cockpit. The Ballerina rolled, and he lost his balance and came slamming into me. I lashed out at his jaw and felt the jolt as I connected. He was trying to get his arms around me. I kicked loose from Barclay and knew he was going for the gun again. I lunged backward, onto the seat, put a foot in Barfield’s chest, and shoved. He peeled off. I kicked backward once more, slid over the rail, and water closed over me.
Even as I was going down I tried to keep myself oriented. I had to find her back there in the darkness with nothing to guide me except the spot I’d gone in and the direction I was facing. In a moment the Ballerina would come up into the wind, the continuity of its course shattered and all the angles gone. My head came out. I looked at her lights. She was swinging now.
I started swimming back. I was hampered by my shoes and clothing, but there wasn’t time to shed them until I’d found her. A sea lifted me and broke over my head. I angled up against the next one, afraid of drifting below her.
The sloop was 50 or 75 yards away now, broadside, as she came about. I could see only the port running light, glowing like a ruby in the darkness, swinging up and back as she rolled. I swung my head and looked about me. I should see the white of the life belt or the blond gleam of her head, but the whitecaps all around were too confusing.
I lifted my head and called out, not too loudly, “Shannon. Shannon!” There was no answer. I wondered if I had gone beyond her. I began to be afraid, and called out again.
This time I heard her. “Here,” she said. “Over this—” The voice cut off as if she had strangled, and I knew she had gone under. She was off to the left, downwind. I turned.
Another sea broke over me. Then I was floundering in the trough. The blond head broke surface right beside me. “Thank God,” I said silently, and grabbed her dress. She clasped her arms tightly about my neck and tried to pull herself up. We went under. I felt suddenly cold in water that was warm as tea. She had both arms about me.
Our heads came out. I shook water from my face. “Shannon! Where’s the life belt?”
She sputtered and fought for breath. “It—I—” she said, and gasped again. “I lost it.”
Twelve
Another sea broke over us. She clung to me, choking. “When I went under—” she said, “the water pulled it out of my hands.