Free The Strode Venturer by Hammond Innes Page A

added, “Since it’s urgent the best thing for you to do is cable her.”
    But a cable wouldn’t be any use if he didn’t want anybody to know he was on board. “How long will the ship stay at Addu Atoll?” It was now 25th March and I was thinking that if I could get a flight to-morrow I might still catch up with him. Gan was the first stage on Transport Command’s Singapore-U.K. run.
    But he couldn’t tell me that. “You’d better ask Strode & Company. It depends how much cargo she’s got on board for Gan.”
    I thanked him and went out again into the torrid heat of Battery Road. The Strode offices were only a short distance away and I had to be certain before I committed myself to Transport Command, for I didn’t think they’d fly me back to Singapore. It would be Gan and on to the U.K. But at Strode & Company I came up against a blank wall. The manager, a man named Alexander who looked half Chinese, assured me that no passengers were carried on the Strode Venturer. He was far less helpful than Ferguson and when I suggested he telephoned the charterers he simply said, “The Strode Venturer is a cargo vessel.”
    “My information is that Legrand joined the ship on the morning of Sunday, 17th March—the day before she sailed,” I told him. But it was only after I’d informed him that I was acting on the direct instructions of Mr. George Strode that he reluctantly picked up the phone. The conversation was in Chinese and I sat in the worn leather chair facing the desk and waited. The office was a large panelled room hung with pictures of Strode Orient ships that had long since gone to the breaker’s yard. Models of two of them stood under glass cases in the window recesses. The room looked dusty and neglected. So did the frail, dried-up little man behind the desk. “I spoke with Mr. Chu Soong personally,” he said as he put the phone down. “He is manager of the Tai Wan Shipping Company. He assured me that Mr. Legrand is not a passenger on the ship. There are no passengers on board.”
    “He may be on board as a guest of the captain,” I suggested.
    The sallow face seemed to reflect a momentary glint of humour; it flickered for an instant in the brown eyes, touched the corners of his colourless lips, and then was gone. “Captain Deacon is not the sort of man to encourage guests,” he said, his voice expressionless.
    I hesitated. There was only one other possibility. “He may have shipped as a member of the crew.”
    The manager shook his head. “There is nobody of that name amongst the crew.”
    “May I see the list please?” I should have asked him for it in the first place. Although there was no change in the impassivity of his features I sensed his reluctance to produce it. Finally he got to his feet and went to the filing cabinet in the corner. The list he produced showed the vessel to be manned on the usual scale for a British ship with a Chinese crew. His name did not appear among the twelve Europeans. But then it was unlikely he’d be qualified to ship as an officer. I glanced at the names of the Chinese crew and nearly missed it because I was looking for the name Legrand. He was down as an ordinary sailor—Strode, Peter Charles. I looked up at the manager. “You knew Mr. Strode was on board?”
    He stared at me without any change of expression in his eyes. “One of my staff engaged the crew—in the presence of the Mercantile Marine Officer.”
    “Of course. But you know very well who he engages.” The list here on his files and the name Strode—he must have known it was one of the family. I got to my feet. “I understand the ship is sailing direct to Gan and that the voyage takes about a week. Is that correct?”
    He nodded.
    “Exactly when is she due to arrive?”
    “This evening.”
    “And she leaves when?”
    “That depends on the R.A.F.—how quickly they unload her.”
    I thanked him and he rose from his chair and gave a little bow as I made for the door. “If there’s