Read White Heat Online

Authors: Pamela Kent

White Heat (10 page)

Rolands, who had been examining the contents of a locker, and the water containers, suggested with an effort at chirpiness that they had some breakfast.

‘For it seems we’re adrift, sir and miss ... and I don’t know about either of you, but I’m powerful thirsty.’ And he was about to drain a beaker of water when his training took over, and he remembered what would normally be expected of him. He handed over the beaker to Karin. ‘You first, Miss Hammond, and then you, boss! I’ll wait for the champagne,’ and he grinned crookedly, but with a flash of real humour. ‘Bound to be the right vintage, but I don’t know about the ice!’

 

CHAPTER FIVE

It
was the end of the longest day in Karin’s life, and she didn’t know which part of her anatomy was the more sore from sunburn ... her exposed neck and arms, the back of her neck, her face, or her bare legs, which her short skirt did little to protect. To attempt to cover herself with the tarpaulin was unthinkable in such heat, and so she had cooked slowly all day, and by evening, despite the fact that she was already tanned, her skin was peeling.

Kent made her a bandanna out of his pocket-handkerchief, but it had proved inadequate. His own head with the fiery red in it had been beaten down upon cruelly all day, but it had apparently not affected him as much as the concentrated rays had affected both Karin and his manservant. Rolands was no longer as cheerful as he had been during the early hours of the morning, but at least he had exercised his ingenuity in order to provide them with a measure of relief. At one time the tarpaulin had been arranged like a tent in the ste
rn
, until it started to blister and crack and threatened to ignite in the heat. And he had unearthed a Primus stove and made them coffee, and opened tins of sardines which they had eaten on ship’s biscuits.

There was also a large supply of chocolate in the locker, but not one of them felt like chocolate with the
temperature sizzling.

By the end of the day their conversational efforts had dried up, too. Kent had made a real effort in the morning, when Karin was looking white and frightened; but by high noon, while she was asleep, curled up like an exhausted kitten on the tarpaulin, with one arm flung up to protect her face, and his handkerchief tucked inside her dress to protect the skin of her throat, his face looked grimmer than ever as he sat watching her almost broodingly, and the boat drifted on the broad bosom of the Indian Ocean.

There seemed little point in rowing, for, without a compass, they had no clear idea of the direction in which they should direct their efforts. The
Ariadne
had disappeared beyond their ken long since, and if order was once more restored aboard her radio messages might be sent out asking ships to look for them ... and possibly other passengers who had acted as unwisely as they had.

Kent blamed himself for being so precipitate, and not making absolutely certain that the fire was not out of control before ordering Rolands to secure a boat. But then he had never intended that Rolands should allow the boat to drift, and taking to the boat had merely been a precautionary measure which had seemed sensible enough at the height of the trouble and the conflagration which might, very easily, have got completely out of control. And if all the boats had been filled

or capsized, which seemed likely at one stage of the proceedings

their position aboard the
Ariadne
would have been even more hopeless than it was now ... in fact, far more hopeless.

For, of all the disasters at sea, fire is the worst.

No one can run away from fire at sea, unless there are boats to assist their escape.

Rolands, feeling very guilty

although it was not actually his fault that their craft was not properly equipped, and that they ran out of petrol almost immediately — also sat watching Karin as the day passed. He realized that his master was blaming him in his heart, and not without reason. They had a girl on their hands ... possibly one who could not endure a great deal, and who might even indulge in a fit of hysterics when she woke up and the appalling truth of the situation dawned on her. At the same time Rolands didn’t really think Miss Hammond was the kind of girl who went in for hysterics. She had the wrong chin for that, and her eyes were too clear and intelligent. She might, with every excuse, flinch at the possibility of a prolonged period of drifting in an open boat, but she wouldn’t add to their troubles by proving unmanageable. They wouldn’t have to hold her down, or tie her hands, or anything of that sort. And whatever her reaction they couldn’t be far off the main shipping lanes, and with this piece of intelligence he tried to rally his master.

It was only a matter of time before they would be picked up. In this
modern
day and age it couldn’t be more than a matter of
time...

‘How much time?’ Kent inquired, surveying him as if he had taken an acute dislike to him. ‘Time is endless, you know. It goes on and on!’

‘Yes, but ... Oh, well, you know what I mean!’ Rolands flung out his hands. He had been having another spell with the oars, but it didn’t seem to have got them anywhere. ‘It isn’t like the old days, when shipwrecked people were never seen or heard of again. This is the twentieth century
.
..

‘So you said before,’ Kent replied, in the same clipped voice. ‘Or rather, I gather that’s what you meant.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Rolands said more humbly.

‘However, I don’t believe in despairing too soon,
either...’ But
the curve of his lips was not precisely a smile. He moved forward and bent over Karin. ‘That sunburn of hers is going to be very painful tomorrow. Perhaps I’d better wake
her...’
He rested a hand on her shoulder, gently. ‘Karin!’

She opened her eyes. For a second or so she simply couldn’t comprehend where she was, or what he was doing with his dark skin burned to the hue of old oak by the sun, his shirt stained and soaked by perspiration, and his eyes red-rimmed with fatigue, so near
to her ...
and, apparently, in an open boat!

She sat up jerkily.

‘Surely we’re not
still...?’

He nodded grimly.

‘We are!’

She looked out over the endless miles of ocean

ocean wherever she looked

and the diamond-hard brilliance of it caused her to put both hands up over her eyes to protect them. The sun appeared to be near its setting, but, even so, its rays were still fierce.

‘I must have been dreaming,’ she said, in rather an odd voice. T thought we were back on the
Ariadne
,
and Mrs. Makepiece was wondering what she should wear for dinner
...’
She winced as her scorched flesh reminded her that it was a part of her general make-up. ‘I — I wonder what’s happening to her now ... where she is, I mean.’

‘Back on the
Ariadne
,
I expect,

Willoughby replied, directing a jaundiced look at his manservant. ‘Where we would be at this moment but for the nautical aspirations of someone I won’t actually mention.

Rolands tried not to look indignant.

‘It’ll be cooler in another half-hour, miss,

he encouraged her. ‘Then you’ll be wanting your coat. But before that I expect you could do with a drink.

He gave her a beaker of warm, lifeless water, and she drank it down greedily because her throat felt as if it was encrusted with salt. Her lips, when she ran her tongue over them, tasted of salt. She glanced up and met Willoughby’s rueful eyes watching her.

‘Believe me, I would improve conditions for you if I could, but I can’t,’ he said.

‘I know.’

‘I was half afraid you might have hysterics when you woke up and realized the situation.

She shifted slightly so that his shadow fell across her, and he assisted the illusion of coolness by fanning her with his pocket-book.

‘Rolands was quite certain you’re not the hysterical kind,’ he told her very quietly.

She looked up into his face.

‘There wouldn’t be much point in having hysterics in an open boat, would there?’ she said practically.

At that he laughed, and Rolands declared triumphantly:

‘There, what did I tell you, sir? “We shan’t have any trouble with Miss Hammond,” I said ... and I was right!’

Karin thanked him with a wan smile.

‘I wish you could feel as certain about what is going to happen to us next,’ she remarked. ‘I mean, can this kind of thing last indefinitely, or are we almost certain to be picked up soon?’ And once more she looked upwards

only more searchingly this time

into Kent Willoughby’s face.

With the same sort of protective move that he might have made if a small child had been seated near to him, he put his arm round her. He drew her a little towards him, so that she could rest her head against his shoulder if she wished.

‘We shall be picked up,’ he said, as if he was confident of it.

‘And if we’re not picked up?’

‘Then we’ll strike land. There must be a lot of land about somewhere in the Indian Ocean,’ smiling a little. ‘Islands, and that sort of thing ... upturned saucers that are constantly appearing and disappearing in this region.’

‘If we strike an island,’ Rolands remarked, sweating over the useless oars, ‘I hope it doesn’t disappear while we’re on it. Not until a passing ship has taken us off it, anyway!’

With this light quip the atmosphere also lightened a little, and as the sun was getting somewhere near the rim of the ocean, and the fierce golden ball that it represented was getting ready to plunge out of sight, the air was also promising to become cooler, and Karin actually felt quite comfortable as she lay with her head pillowed against Willoughby’s shoulder, and he smoked one of his few remaining cigarettes.

Earlier he had counted them, and decided that, whatever happened, he would reserve a
few ...
at least until they were liberated.

The night closed down, and it was like an unbelievably beautiful sable mantle dropping gently down over the sea. While they were still on the
Ariadne
it had seemed to Karin that the night in those latitudes was such a sudden affair that there was something almost terrifying about it. But now that she had nothing to do but lie and watch it, and the hot planks on which she lay grew blissfully cooler, she changed her mind. It wasn’t in the least terrifying. It was beneficent, and it was so welcome that it was like a friend hurrying to her relief.

As the stars shone forth, and the blackness increased, she did grow alarmed just for a moment or so. But the instant she began to feel alarm she also felt Kent’s arm about her, and perhaps because he sensed her shrinking he held her more tightly, and he even spoke to her soothingly.

‘It’s all right! One’s eyes soon become accustomed to darkness ... and in any case, the moon will soon be up. It will be as bright as day in another hour, without any of the discomforts of day. At least we won’t be roasted alive for the next few hours, and if it does turn very cold I promise I’ll do my best to keep you warm!’

‘Thank you.’ She turned her head slightly on his shoulder, and he thought he saw a tiny smile on her lips. ‘If it’s no worse than it was last night

or rather, early this morning

it won’t be too bad.’

Rolands discreetly averted his eyes.

‘I wonder whether I could see to make some coffee?’ he said musingly, while he contemplated the matter. ‘Or do you think I ought to wait until the moon’s up?’

‘Wait until the moon’s up,’ Kent replied. ‘There’ll be less danger then of you overturning the Primus stove.’

That night

perhaps because instead of being content with covering her with a tarpaulin and his coat Kent decided it was only common sense to keep Karin close to him, so that the combined warmth of their two bodies would help to overcome the searing cold

Karin slept almost peacefully, and she had no idea whether Kent slept as well, or whether the fixed position he was forced to maintain prevented him settling down as composedly as she had. Throughout the hours of darkness she hardly stirred, and the only occasion when she did remember vaguely where she was, and partly opened her eyes, she received the extraordinarily vivid impression that someone was watching her

and it wasn’t Rolands, because he was fast asleep at the opposite end of the boat

and she actually felt warm breath on her cheek, and there was a faint, masculine smell of pipe tobacco in her nostrils, and something that could have been a bristly chin scraped the smoothness of her forehead.

Just before dawn she woke again, and then the boat was rocking gently because a brisk wind appeared to have arisen. She lay thinking dreamily that if they had a sail, and they hoisted it now, it might carry them somewhere. But both of her two male companions were sleeping soundly; and Kent was sleeping so soundly that his arm, with which he had been maintaining her in a secure position throughout the night, was now lying limp and inert beside her. But he was breathing very, very quietly. She thought, in a lightheaded, ridiculous fashion that was all a part of the extraordinary situation in which she found herself, that a man like him

despite the fact that he was forced to wear a sweat-
s
tained shirt, and he liked to change his linen several times a day

would be unlikely to be guilty of such a very human failing as snoring.

It was Rolands who snored, lying flat on his back beside the inert motor that might have prevented this disaster, and staring sightlessly up at the star-spangled sky.

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