Stormtide Read Online Free PDF Page B

suddenly, he wound down his window.
    ‘If you want gossip, Chief Officer, there’s your best bet.’ Fraser thumbed out across the bay. Aunt Maggie’s small red and white launch was coming in again, heading towards the harbour from Camsha Island.
    The station wagon grated into gear and the policeman set it moving in an angry way that sent gravel spurting from the tyres.
       
    By the time the ferry launch nosed in, Carrick had positioned himself near her landing stage on the pier. He watched the spry, grey-haired woman who moved quickly along the boat from the tiller to tie a bow-line round an iron ring set in one of the massive timbers, then deliberately walked nearer as the ferry’s three passengers disembarked and came up the steps towards him.
    Big Yogi Dunlop, the gunner from Dave Rother’s Seapearl , was built like a barrel, had dark, shaggy hair, and dwarfed the girl by his side. She was the redhead who had appeared from the shark-catcher’s wheelhouse. Trailing a yard or so behind, their companion was a tall, thin youngster in an old jersey and slacks. His face badly swollen, one eye blackened and half-shut, he walked carefully as if every step hurt.
    ‘Hello, Chief – seeing you is a bit o’ luck,’ boomed Dunlop happily, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. ‘The boss gave me a message for you. He says you can buy him a drink at the White Cockade tonight.’
    ‘What time?’ asked Carrick. There were only two bars in Portcoig and the White Cockade was the more popular.
    He was looking at the girl. Seen close-up, her sweater and trousers outfit moulded a figure whichmight have been hand-carved for perfection. The tanned, lightly freckled face was strong on character, with calm grey eyes which were slightly amused as they met his own. She had a pert nose and a slightly dimpled chin and her copper-red hair, long and straight, was tied at the nape of the neck by a long white ribbon.
    ‘About nine, I suppose,’ answered Dunlop vaguely. ‘That’s his usual, right, Peter?’
    The boy with the damaged face shaped a sound of sullen agreement and shuffled his feet as if anxious to get away.
    ‘Yogi …’ Carrick glanced significantly towards the girl.
    ‘Hell, I forgot,’ declared the gunner cheerfully. ‘Sorry, Chief. This is Sheila Francis, the new district nurse here. And the lad is Peter Benson, who – uh – well, he’s been workin’ with us.’
    ‘Was working with you,’ said Benson in a bitter mumble. His normally thin features twisted with an effort. ‘Why bother to cover up? I don’t damned well care. Not now.’
    Dunlop sighed sympathetically. ‘You know how it is, boy. The boss gives the orders, not me.’ He switched his attention back to Carrick. ‘Do I tell the boss you’ll be there?’
    ‘Yes. But he can do the buying.’
    ‘Maybe.’ The gunner grinned, then beckoned to Benson. ‘Come on, then. Let’s get you fixed up like the boss said. An’ cheer up, for God’s sake. He’s doin’ you a favour.’
    Benson scowled, but followed the big man obediently along the pier towards the village, leaving Carrick with the girl.
    ‘Yogi wouldn’t win prizes for introductions,’ mused Carrick.
    ‘I’ve had better,’ she agreed wryly. ‘But at least I know who you are. Dave talked about you.’
    Carrick grinned. ‘Which makes a bad start. On your day off?’
    She nodded. ‘Dave promised me a trip and this was it.’ Her smile faded. ‘It – well, it didn’t turn out like I expected. We heard the radio messages. I knew John MacBean – not well, but I’d talked to him.’ Glancing past him along the pier, she frowned. ‘That boy with Yogi – Peter Benson. Dave said MacBean’s two crewmen attacked him last night. Then there was some kind of general battle. Was that why MacBean was alone out there?’
    ‘It seems that way.’ A gull swooped down, landed near them with a quick wing-flutter, then strutted fearlessly. Carrick shrugged. ‘He was a