High Water (1959) Read Online Free PDF

keep out of my way in future!’
    As he turned angrily to the chart rack, Cooper’s eyes seemed to expand, until they filled his whole face, and his loose lips quivered with the combined passion of hatred and humiliation.
    Vivian would not have felt quite so confident of the future, had he turned to see the livid, sadistic face of his passenger.

    With a short bow-wave creaming away from her sharp stem, the
Seafox
ploughed steadily into the busy approaches of the Thames Estuary, which, in the fine haze, shone like a dappled, pewter tray. With a practised eye Vivian noted, almost casually, the approaching coasters, and colliers, and the passing bulk of a Swedish timber-ship.
Seafox
rolled slightly in the criss-crossing wakes, but held her course, undeterred by the heavy shapes which surged past her.
    All the wheelhouse windows were wide open to catch the last breath of the sea breeze, but even so, the air was heavy and thick, like the forerunner of a thunderstorm, and Vivian repeatedly wiped his damp face with the back of his wrist, as he stood poised and watchful at the wheel.
    In his mind he had already decided to have it out with Lang, and find out what exactly was going on, and how exactly he was implicated.
    He eased the spokes of the wheel deftly, as a waterlogged mass of timber bobbed menacingly past. He cursed softly as he resumed his course, wondering why a country such as Britain should allow her one real waterway to become such an attraction for filth and neglect.
    A small, dark shape detached itself from behind a distant collier, and with a mounting wash, bore down towards him. As the fast launch drew near, he could clearly discern the uniformed figures, and the blue flag. Her Majesty’s Customs.
    He turned his head, but kept his keen eyes fixed on the other craft. ‘Cooper!’ he shouted, above the drone of the engines, ‘Customs coming!’
    Cooper scrambled up beside him, blinking in the hard gleam from the water. He bared his teeth, and nervously picked at his tie.
    ‘Hope it doesn’t mess things up,’ he complained. ‘I mean, I told everyone we were going back to Torquay.’
    ‘Mess things up? What the hell difference does it make?’
    The other man didn’t answer, so Vivian turned his attention to the Customs boat, which had suddenly turned gracefully to run parallel with him, making the water between them boil and plunge in trapped torment.
    Vivian eased the twin throttles, as the gap slowly narrowed. Closer and closer, while her crew lowered the rope fenders with a well-practised efficiency, and a stocky figure swung out of the wheelhouse in readiness for boarding. The name
Pursuit
glinted dully on her royal blue bows.
    With hardly a bump the two hulls touched, and as the boarding officer leapt easily aboard, the Customs boat swung away, and followed purposefully astern.
    Vivian waved cheerfully, his inside peculiarly uneasy. ‘Come in, sorry I can’t leave the wheel, I’ve no crew,’ he explained.
    The other man stepped down, nodding approvingly.
    ‘A very nice little boat you’ve got here, sir,’ he smiled. ‘When we saw your “Q” flag, I thought to myself, here’s a good chance to see what she’s like inside.’ His eye fell on Cooper, who stood framed in the saloon door.
    ‘This is Mr. Cooper, the boat’s under charter to him.’
    ‘Yes, very well, sir, then I’ll go and see what he’s brought back from Calais, eh?’
    The two men went below, their conversation drowned by the engines. The Customs officer was soon back at his side, his broad face as cheerful as before. Vivian was unable to control himself any longer.
    ‘Here, how did you know we had come from Calais?’ he demanded.
    ‘Did I say Calais, then?’ the other man’s face was blank. ‘I must have guessed that, mustn’t I? After all, most of the yachts seem to call in there on the way home.’
    He handed back the boat’s papers, and waved his cap from the wheelhouse door.
    ‘Sorry I can’t stop, but we’re