The Golden Rendezvous Read Online Free PDF Page A

accepted carreras' outstretched hand and took a good look at him. The steady dark eyes, the courteous smile couldn't obscure the fact that there were many more lines about his eyes and mouth at two feet than at fifty; but it also couldn't obscure the compensatory fact that the air of authority and command was
    now redoubled in force, and I put out of my mind any idea that this air originated in phoneyness; it was the genuine article, and that was that.
    "Mr. Carter? my pleasure." the hand was firm, the bow more than a perfunctory nod, the cultured english the product of some stateside ivy league college. "I have some interest in the cargo being loaded, and if you would permit "but certainly, senor carreras." Carter, that rough-hewn anglo-saxon diamond, not to be outdone in latin courtesy. I waved towards the hatch. "If you would be so kind as to keep to the starboard-the right hand of the hatch "'starboard' will do, Mr. Carter."
    he smiled. "I have commanded vessels of my own. It was not a life that ever appealed to me." he stood there for a moment, watching macdonald tightening the sling, while I turned to dexter, who had made no move to go. Dexter was seldom in a hurry to do anything; he had a remarkably thick skin. "What are you on now, fourth?" I enquired. "Assisting Mr." that meant he was unemployed. Cummings, the purser, was an extraordinarily competent officer who never required help. He had only one fault, brought on by years of dealing with passengers-he was far too polite. Especially with dexter. I said, "those charts we picked up in Kingston. You might get on with the corrections, will you?" which meant that he would probably land us on a reef off the great bahamas in a couple of days' time. "But Mr. cummings is expecting "the charts, dexter." he looked at me for a long moment, his face slowly darkening, then spun on his heel and left. I let him go three paces, then said, not loudly, "dexter." he stopped, then turned slowly. "The charts, dexter," I repeated. He stood there for maybe five seconds, eyes locked
    on mine, then broke his gaze. "Aye, aye, sir." the accent on the "sir"
    was faint but unmistakable. He turned again and walked away, and now the flush was round to the back of his neck, his back ramrod stiff.
    Little I cared; by the time he sat in the chairman's seat i'd have long since quit. I watched him go, then turned to see carreras looking at me with a slow, still speculation in the steady eyes. He was putting chief officer Carter in the balance and weighing him, but whatever figures he came up with he kept to himself, for he turned away without any haste and made his way to the starboard side of number four hold. As he turned, I noticed for the First time the very thin ribbon of black silk stitched across the left lapel of his grey tropical suit. It didn't seem to go any too well with the white rose he wore in his buttonhole, but maybe the two of them together were recognised as a sign of mourning
    in those parts. And it seemed very likely, for he stood there perfectly straight, almost at attention, his hands loosely by his sides, as the three crated coffins were hoisted inboard. When the third crate came swinging in over the rail he removed his hat casually, as if to get the benefit of the light breeze that had just sprung up from the north, the direction of the open sea, and then, looking round him almost furtively, lifted his right hand under the cover of the hat held in his left hand and made a quick abbreviated sign of the cross. Even in that heat I could feel the cold cat's-paw of a shiver brush lightly across my shoulders. I don't know why; not even by the furthest stretch of imagination could I visualise that prosaic hatchway giving on number four hold as an open grave. One of my grandmothers was Scots; maybe I was psychic or had the second sight or whatever it was they called it up in the highlands, or maybe I had just lunched too well. Whatever might have upset me, it didn't seem to have upset