Dolly and the Singing Bird by Dorothy Dunnett Read Free Book Online Page B

was the galley and Lenny’s quarters, with a central passage leading through to the forward cabin which had its own hatchway, and thence to the fo’c’sle.
    The steering was done by wheel or by tiller from the cockpit, from which one could reach winches on either side deck for working the sheets. Round the wheel was a mass of dials to do with the big Mercedes Benz 60 B.H.P. 6-cylinder diesel engine (said Rupert), which was located under the cockpit. There were seats fitted on either side, and Victoria and I reclined there, until Rupert ceased demonstrating. Eventually, “Gear, eh?” he enquired.
    “Very,” said I. I had seen my four cases out of the corner of my eye. “By the way, I’ve brought you a little champagne. Where do you keep it?”
    “With the caviar,” said Rupert. “In the bilges. My God, have you really, Madame Rossi? It’s a privilege to sail with you. Here, quick, before the skipper louses it up. If
Symphonetta
beats us into Tobermory I’ll need it more than he does.”
    “Will she beat you?” I asked. I had seen
Symphonetta
not far away among three or four of her own kind. She was coloured black, tall and stately and shining with brasswork and paint. Three nimble figures in snowy white oilskins had just taken off her sail suit and were preparing to get her mainsail pulled up.
    “Poor bastards,” said Milligan. They were the first words he had spoken, but he made himself clear. “Would’ve bedded down on that boat last night with nothing but some crimpy crisps and a shandy between them if the Buchanans hadn’t stood them a beer or two each in the bar.”
    “They are Hennessy’s paid crew?” I enquired. It seemed an unfair advantage.
    Victoria shook her head. “In Scotland, he has students mostly. They’re loopy on sailing, and there aren’t many boats like
Symphonetta
up here. He leaves his paid hands at Cowes, and economises with a few bob and free smokes for the boys. Talking of which, what’s the current bit about some crazy, lush bet? Rupert, you’re bonkers. And a bit of a twit to expect Johnson to knock up
Dolly
winning the race against Hennessy for you.”
    “He won’t need to knock up
Dolly
,” Rupert was beginning in peeved astonishment when the snarl of an outboard interrupted him, and there was Johnson, eyebrows rampant and black hair sifted up by the gathering breeze. “Victoria, superchick, Cecil’s got a short in his starting motor and if you don’t get over fast, he’ll either be kippered or out of the race. Lenny, the engine. Madame Rossi, you’re going to be cold. Rupert, your troubles are solved. I’m going to lend you my worry-beads.”
    In ten minutes we were under way. To Kenneth, and Rum.

----
FOUR
    « ^ »
    I had never raced in a small boat before. I did not expect to be seasick. I did not expect, on the other hand, to enjoy it particularly. It could be said, in that way, to have exceeded all my expectations.
    To begin with, almost before I had changed, the mainsail was raised, causing a great many draughts, and we had cast off our mooring and were under way down the Clyde Estuary to Gourock, where the starting-gun was firing already, at half-hourly intervals, for the departure of each class in the race.
    Next there was a great rattling and the mizzen sail went up, causing me to arrive suddenly on the left wall of my cabin en suite with my four cases. It was clear now why Johnson appeared so unconcerned on finding them aboard after all. I was to play pontoon with them for the cruise.
    When I hooked back my door, Johnson was alone at the tiller, perched above my head with his feet on the cockpit cushions, the face glassed-in this time by polaroid bifocals, in black. He was whistling. The rattling, the flapping and the calling had all stopped and
Dolly
was sliding along on one glossy white flank, her sunny canvases masking the sea. Around us the hills were bright green, and the blue water was spiked with sails, coloured and white, tilting slightly at