The Golden Reef (1969) Read Online Free Page A

floated down out of the air to settle with a brief flutter of wings on the truck of the foremast.
    Keeton rested his elbows on the edge of the gun-box and stared vacantly at the water. Behind him the barrel of the Oerlikon pointed at the empty sky, its metal gleaming darkly with oil.
    It was the second mate’s watch. Mr Jones was a round-shouldered young man with a perpetual worried expression. He seemed to have very little confidence in his own abilities and appeared to be in a permanent state of apprehension that something might go wrong.
    To Keeton it seemed that Captain Peterson was inclined toshare Mr Jones’s misgivings, since he would frequently appear on the bridge during the second mate’s watch, as though to keep an eye on the way things were going. Peterson, a small, thin man with the haggard look of a martyr to chronic ill health, had a talent for moving about the ship almost as silently as his own shadow. On this occasion Keeton was unaware of his presence until a sudden gasping cry made him swing round just in time to see the captain suddenly collapse like a man struck down by a blow.
    Keeton jumped out of the gun-box and bent over Peterson. He could hear a strange low whistling noise which after a moment he realized was the captain’s breathing. He put a hand on Peterson’s shoulder and could feel the bone under the drill shirt; there seemed to be very little flesh.
    ‘What’s wrong, sir? Are you ill?’ he asked; and felt immediately the stupidity of such questions.
    There was no one else on this side of the bridge. Keeton ran to the wheelhouse, shouting for Mr Jones.
    The second mate looked more worried than usual when he saw Peterson. He pulled nervously at his lower lip. ‘What happened to him?’
    ‘He just collapsed. Seemed to have some kind of attack.’
    Mr Jones knelt down and tugged at Peterson’s shoulder, rolling him over on to his back. Peterson’s face was ghastly; although his eyes were open they seemed to be unfocused.
    Mr Jones looked at Keeton. ‘You’d better fetch Mr Rains.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    Keeton left the bridge quickly and went in search of the mate, aware that Mr Jones wished to shift responsibility to the shoulders of his superior. He found Mr Rains in his cabin smoking a cigarette and entering figures in a notebook. The mate was heavily built with a short, thick neck, lank black hair, a dark chin, and cheeks pitted with pockholes. He had a blustering manner and was not popular with the crew. Keeton detested him.
    ‘Well, gunner, what do you want?’ he asked.
    ‘Captain Peterson’s been taken ill, sir. On the bridge. Mr Jones would like you to come at once.’
    Rains inhaled smoke from the cigarette and allowed it toescape slowly. He seemed to be in no hurry.
    ‘Would he now? And does Mr Jones think I’m a doctor?’
    ‘I don’t know what he thinks,’ Keeton said. ‘I’m only giving you his message.’
    The mate got up from his chair and crushed out the cigarette. ‘All right, all right. I’ll come. You run along now and tell him I’m on my way.’
    Mr Jones looked relieved when the mate arrived on the bridge. Rains stared down at Captain Peterson and made a low hissing noise with his lips. Then he said softly, almost as though speaking to himself: ‘He looks like a goner to me.’
    ‘Hadn’t we better get him to his cabin?’ Mr Jones suggested diffidently.
    ‘Well, of course we’d better get him to his cabin,’ the mate answered. ‘You could have done that without waiting for me.’ He walked to the after rail of the bridge and shouted to two seamen on the boat-deck: ‘Come up here. I’ve got a job for you.’
    When the men had carried Peterson away Keeton returned to his drowsy watching of the sea. He wondered whether Rains had been right in suggesting that the captain was a goner. Peterson certainly looked bad; and if he died then Rains would take over command of the ship. Somehow Keeton found it impossible to view that prospect with any feeling