Free The Dark Crusader by Alistair MacLean

shoulder strap. There would be a battery inside that cylinder. I pressed the little switch on one of them and the lamp at once glowed a deep bright red, indication that the equipment, though obsolete, was not old and good augury for the operating efficiency of the gas and water-tightness of the inflated belts. But it wasn't a thing to be left to chance: I picked out four belts at random and struck the release knob on the first of them.
    The immediate hiss of compressed gas wasn't so terribly loud, I supposed, but inside that confined space it seemed as if everybody aboard the schooner must hear it. Certainly Marie heard it, for she jumped off her box and came quickly back into the pool of light cast by the suspended torch. "What's that?" she asked quickly. "What made the noise?"
    "No rats, no snakes, no fresh enemies," I assured her. The hissing had now stopped and I held up a round, stiff, fully-inflated lifebelt for her inspection. "Just testing. Seems O.K. I'll test one or two more, but I'll try to keep it quiet. Heard anything yet?"
    "Nothing. Plenty of talk, that is, Fleck and that Australian man. But it's mostly about charts, courses, islands, cargoes, things like that. And their girl friends in Suva."
    "That must be interesting."
    "Not the way they tell it," she snapped.
    "Dreadful," I agreed. "Just what you were saying last night. Men are all the same. Better get back before you miss anything."
    She gave me a long considering look but I was busy testing the other lifebelts, muffling the noise under the two blankets and the pillows. All four worked perfectly and when, after ten minutes, none showed any sign of deflation, the chances seemed high that all the others were at least as good. I picked out another four, hid them behind some boxes, deflated the four I'd tested and replaced them in the box with the others. A minute later I'd all the battens and boxes back in place.
    I looked at my watch. It lacked fifteen minutes to seven. There was little enough time left. I went aft again, inspected the water drums with my torch: heavy canvas carrying straps, the shell concave to fit the back, five-inch diameter spring-loaded lid at top, a spigot with tap at the bottom. They looked sound enough. I dragged two of them out of the corner, snapped open the lids and saw that they were nearly full. I closed the lids again and shook the drums as vigorously as possible. No water escaped, they were completely tight. I turned both the taps on full, let the water come gushing out on the deck-it wasn't my schooner-then, when they were as empty as I could get them, mopped their interiors dry with a shirt from my case and made my way for'ard to Marie.
    "Anything yet?" I whispered.
    "Nothing."
    "I'll take over .for a bit. Here's the torch. I don't know what things there are that go bump in the night in the Pacific Ocean, but it is possible that those lifebelts may get torn or just turn out to be perished through age. So I think we'll take along a couple of empty water drums. They have a very high degree of buoyancy, far more than we require, so I thought we might as well use them to take along some clothes inside, whatever you think you'll need. Don't spend all night deciding what to take. Incidentally, I believe many women carry cellophane bags in their cases for wrapping up this and that Got any?"
    "One or two."
    "Leave one out, please."
    "Right." She hesitated. "I don't know much about boats but I think this one has changed course once or twice in the past hour."
    "How do you figure that out?" Old sea-dog Bentall, very tolerant to the landlubbers.
    "We're not rolling any more, are we? The waves are passing under us from the stern. And it's the second or third change I've noticed."
    She was right, the swell had died down considerably but what little was left was from aft. But I paid small attention to this, I knew the trades died away at night and local currents could set up all kinds of cross-motions in the water. It didn't seem worth