Chapter 81
‘Rob, got a sec?’
Robin opened his eyes. The steady hum of the harbour master’s engine had been surprisingly soporific, lulling him into a state that was more asleep than awake.
Tug, who’d summoned him, was at the front of the boat, one arm wrapped around the furled sail. Around his neck hung a set of binoculars and another instrument Robin didn’t recognise.
Climbing onto the side deck, he grabbed the guard rail with one hand. The boat might be upright now, thank the lord and his host of blessed angels, but it was still dancing around like a dervish.
‘Harness, please, Robin.’
Tara, who he’d decided he liked a lot, might even have fancied had there been room in his head for any woman other than Jax, seemed to have appointed herself safety officer, not letting any of them leave the cockpit without being fastened to the boat.
Even Tug went along with it. Humouring her, and because the last few hours had given him a new respect for personal safety, Robin wrapped his lifeline around the jackstay, the unbreakable strip of webbing that ran the length of each deck.
It was another nautical term he’d learned in the last few hours. Secured, he made his way towards Tug.
‘What’s up, mate?’ he asked.
‘I don’t want to worry the girls.’ Tug’s voice was just loud enough to carry above the harbour master’s engine.
Robin glanced back. Sabri was on the helm, her face screwed up with concentration as she battled to stay directly behind the harbour master.
Neither Cheryl nor Tara could be seen; both were tucked beneath the spray hood, one on each side of the boat.
Holly sat next to Cheryl, staring out at the ocean.
‘OK, well, you’ve worried me,’ Robin said.
‘I’ve been trying to attract their attention for a good fifteen minutes.’ Tug indicated the vessel in front, where neither harbour master nor his first mate were visible.
‘When you’re towing, someone on board keeps a constant lookout to make sure nothing’s going wrong,’ Tug went on. ‘No one has looked at us once. A harbour master should know better.’
Robin thought he’d have stayed in the cabin too, given the choice. The wind was biting and, while the storm had subsided, it had left behind some big waves. A flurry of water, droplets hard and biting as hail, flew at his face.
‘Have you tried yelling?’ he asked, after he’d spat the salt from his mouth.
‘They won’t hear us. I’ve got the ship’s foghorn in my pocket but, like I said, I don’t want to worry the girls.’
The big guy was bothered, though, it was obvious from the grim set of his face, and the way he didn’t take his eyes from the vessel in front.
Given what they’d been through the last few hours, and the fact that Tug’s seamanship alone had prevented disaster, he should be celebrating their rescue with a bottle of naval rum and a few sea shanties. Not stressing out like this.
Knowing there was worse to come, Robin said, ‘So, what’s the problem? Why do you need to talk to them?’
‘I’ve been trying to work out where we are,’ Tug replied.
‘Bloody difficult with no instruments and no charts, but if there was a plan to sabotage us last night, they forgot to take the binoculars and the hand-held compass. Maybe they didn’t realise we had someone on board who knew how to use them. ’
Tug pointed over the starboard side of the boat, to where Robin could just about make out breaking surf and something low-lying in the sea. ‘I think those are the Western Rocks.’ He handed over the binoculars.
‘The Gilstone is distinctive,’ Tug went on, as Robin didn’t like to admit he couldn’t see a thing. ‘And the Bishop Rock lighthouse is directly ahead.’
Adjust the focus. These round twisty things might do it. Robin tried moving one and the sea became visible.
‘There are six lighthouses around Scilly and no two are the same,’ Tug was saying, as Robin found a cluster of low, wet rocks.
‘Bishop marks the most westerly edge of the islands. They built it after a storm when nearly two thousand men were lost. This isn’t a good place to be in a yacht with a deep keel. ’
Great, more good news. Having found the Gilstone, Robin refocused on a white tower built onto a low-lying rock. It was maybe a half-mile away but the sea, he’d learned, was deceptive when it came to distances.
‘Plus, the sun’s almost directly behind us,’ Tug said.
Robin lowered the binoculars, a new sense of unease creeping over him. ‘So, what does all that mean?’
Tug took a moment before replying. ‘It means they’re not taking us to St Mary’s.’