Bahama Crisis

"I'm pretty tired, Tom. I've been pushing it. I haven't had what you'd call a proper sleep for forty-eight hours. I had 9' young Jim Glass with me but I didn't trust his navigation so all I got were catnaps."

"We'll go by air and see if he's still there, and you can sleep at Duncan Town. Okay?"

He nodded.

"All right, Tom, but you'll get no words from me on the way. I'll be asleep."

I had completely forgotten about Debbie.

I took the first plane and the first pilot handy, and we flew south-east to theJumentos, the pilot being Bill Pinder. I sat in the co-pilot's seat next to Bill, and Sam sat in the back. I think he was asleep before take-off. I had binoculars handy and a camera with a telephoto lens. I wanted firm identification for Perigord although how firm it would he was problematical because Kayles's boat changed colour like a bloody chameleon.

Although I use aircraft quite a lot, flying being the quickest way for a busy man to get around the islands, I find that it bores me. As we droned over the blue and green sea, leaving the long chain of the Exumas to port, my eyes grew heavier and I must have fallen asleep because it took a heavy dig in the ribs from Bill to rouse me.

"Man-o'-War Cay in ten minutes," he said.

I turned and woke Sam.

"Which side of the cay was he?"

Sam peered from a window.

"This side."

"We don't want to do anything unusual," I told Bill.

"Come down to your lowest permitted altitude and fly straight just off the west coast of the cay. Don't jink about or circle -just carry on."

We began to descend and presently Bill said, "That little one just ahead is Flamingo Cay; the bigger one beyond is Man-o'-War."

I passed the binoculars back to Sam.

"You know Kayles. Take a good look as we fly past and see if you can spot him. I'll use the camera."

"There's a boat," said Bill.

I cocked the camera and opened the side window, blinking as the air rushed in. The sloop was lying at anchor and I could see distinctly the catenary curve of the anchor cable under clear water.

"That's her," said Sam and I clicked the shutter. I recocked quickly and took another snapshot. Sam said, "And that's Kayles in the cockpit."

By then the sloop was disappearing behind us. I twisted my neck to see it but it was gone.

"Did he wave or anything?"

"No, just looked up."

"Okay," I said.

"On to Duncan Town."

Bill did a low pass with his landing gear down over the scattered houses of Duncan Town, and by the time we had landed on the air strip and taxied to the ramp a battered car was already bumping towards us.

We climbed out of the Navajo and Sam said, nodding towards the car, "I know that man."

"Then you can do the dickering," I said.

"We want a boat to go out to Man-o'-War the fastest you can find."

"That won't be too fast," he said.

"But I'll do my best."

We drove into Duncan Town and I stood by while Sam bargained for a boat. I had never been to Duncan Town and I looked around with interest. It was a neat and well- maintained place of the size Perigord had said less than 200 population, most of them fishermen to judge by the boats. There were signs of agriculture but no cash crops, so they probably grew just enough food for themselves. But there were evaporation pans for the manufacture of salt.

Sam called me, and then led me to a boat.

"That's it."

I winced at what I saw. It was an open boat about eighteen feet long and not very tidily kept. A tangled heap of nets was thrown over the engine casing and the thwarts were littered with fish-scales. It smelled of rotting fish, too, and would have broken Pete Albury's heart.

"Is this the best you can do?"

"Least it has an inboard engine," said Sam.

"I don't think it'll break down. I'll come with you, Tom. I know Kayles by sight, and I can get six hours sleep on the way."

"Six hours!"

"It's forty miles, and I don't reckon this tub will do more than seven knots at top speed." He looked up at the sun.

"It'll be about nightfall when we get there."

"All right," I said resignedly.

"Let's get a seven-knot move on."

Five minutes later we were on ^ur way with the owner and skipper, a black Bahamian called Bayliss, at the tiller. Sam made a smelly bed of fish nets and went to sleep, while I brooded. I was accustomed to zipping about the islands in a Navajo and this pace irked me. I judged the length of the boat and the bow wave and decided we were not even doing six knots. I was impatient to confront Kayles.

We came to Man-o'-War Cay just as the sun was setting and I woke Sam.

"We're coming to the cay from the other side. How wide is it?"

"Bout half a mile."

"What's the going like?"

"Not bad." He peered at me.

"What's all this about, Tom?"

"Personal business."

He shook his head.

"A year back when I asked why you were interested in Kayles you damn near bit my head off. And then you brought the police in Commissioner Perigord, no less. This is more than personal business. What are you getting me into?"