Angel's Ransom Read Online Free Page A

’s guests were already asleep. They slept soundly through the crash of a case of lubricating oil dropped down the engine-room by Michaud, Blake ’s engineer. Michaud was consistently an impediment to the Angel ’s sailings. He was a sullen, ill-tempered old Marseillais who bragged of voting the Communist ticket and hated people of wealth, particularly American millionaires. For all that, he was an excellent mechanic, and kept the shiny twin diesels running like clockwork. His contempt for the Angel ’s owner showed itself mainly in a refusal to hurry or be hurried about his duties in the engine-room. Blake, who was more concerned with the welfare of the Angel ’s machinery than with its engi neer ’s politics, deferred to Michaud ’s pride of caste and was grateful that the cruiser ’s Hyla nd installation gave the steers man direct contr ol of the motors from the pilot house without the need of bell communication through the engineer. M ichaud compensated for being by passed by taking an interminable time before each sailing to report the engine - room ready for sea.
    This time there was a delay not caused by Michaud, when Cesar got into an argument with an idler on the jetty over a matter of port protocol. Blake intervened to quiet the steward, who could not argue without shouting.
    Cesar ’s opponent was a round man with a face like a rabbit ’s . He wore better clothes than most quayside loiterers, and he spoke with an air of lofty authority that stung Cesar like a barb.
    ‘You will leave the port or you will not leave the port as you see fit,’ the rabbit-faced man announced from the jetty. ‘There is nothing to prevent your going. The ship will merely be fined the next time it returns, for each crew member who has failed to obtain a proper permis before leaving.’
    ‘Fine your grandmother!’ Cesar roared back from the rail. ‘I am a citizen of the Principality! Don’t tell me what is necessary to leave my own country!’
    The rabbit-faced man shrugged.
    ‘It is all one with me. As k Jules there. He lost a job be cause of the fine, last week.’
    Jules was a huge man with the weathered skin and muscular hands of a seafarer. He joined the argument at the rabbit-faced man ’s invitation, nodding confirmation of the lost job.
    ‘These Monegasque salauds and their regulations!’ He spoke in a bass voice with a Provencal twang. ‘In France, we would clip their ears for fouling a man ’s livelihood.’
    Cesar bristled.
    ‘You may depart for France at any moment, monster. I will personally pay all the fines that you incur for doing so.’
    ‘Be quiet, Cesar.’ Blake spoke to the big Provencal. ‘What is the permis for?’
    ‘I don’t know, Captain. I have never yet obtained one. It is why I lost my job.’
    ‘How long has it been necessary?’
    Jules did not know that either. Nor did the rabbit-faced man, although he thought that the regulation was a relatively new one. Both men were equally positive that crew members of vessels of foreign registry leaving the port of Monaco were requir ed to clear individually with Sû ret é Publique beforehand, under penalty of a fine assessed against the ship operator.
    Cesar said obstinately, ‘You may withhold from my wage ten francs for every one you pay on my account, Captain. If this hulk lost his job, it was a well-deserved loss, rest assured. Pay no attention to these foreigners.’
    Blake hesitated.
    He was scrupulous about observing port regulations, more so because Freddy ’s attitude towards regulations of any kind was one of casual indifference when he did not flout them deliberately. Freddy used his wealth like a club, buying the right to violate conventions that bound other people, and the Angel and the Angel ’s flag had a good name in the yacht harbor s of the Mediterranean only because of its master ’s rigid observance of the rules, however troublesome. Blake chose to keep that reputation. The only question in his mind was whether to send