Seas of South Africa by Philip Roy Read Free Book Online Page B

into the sea. I was certain it was the body, even though I couldn’t see it clearly. Then, they started searching the dinghy. They were looking for something, but couldn’t find it. They argued. I saw one man push another into the water. Eventually, they all climbed back onto the sailboat and went inside the cabin. I waited. A little while later, they came charging out of the cabin as if they had discovered something. They pulled the dinghy right out of the water and turned it upside down. They shone a flashlight on it. There was something attached to the bottom. It looked like a black garbage bag. I saw them get excited when they pulled it free. One man held it up in the air and I heard them cheer from quarter of a mile away.
    The pirates headed back towards Mozambique Island. They must have thought they were safe now that they had destroyed the evidence of their crime. They turned off their lamps, motored around the north of the island, and back down the mainland side in the fog. I followed them. I couldn’t help it. I just couldn’t let them get away with it. It wasn’t right. I didn’t know what I could do, but I couldn’t leave without doing something.
    I had to surface to round the island again, but kept our distance. Through the binoculars, I watched them drop anchor down by the bridge. Five of them climbed into the dinghyand paddled to the beach, leaving one pirate behind to keep watch. I heard them laugh and shout. But the man on the boat was shouting with frustration and anger. He wasn’t happy being left behind. I motored a little closer to see him better. He was carrying a small machine gun over his shoulder, the kind I’ve seen harbour police use in other countries. He was standing on the stern of the boat, watching his companions leave, no doubt to go to the café to celebrate having found whatever it was they had found.
    I watched for half an hour. I could tell by his movements that the man on the boat was unhappy. He was hitting and kicking things. Finally, one of the other pirates yelled to him from the beach. I swung the binoculars over and saw him wave his arm. There was another man there, a small old man. I wondered if it was the man who had kept watch over the dinghy. It sure looked like him. The pirate on the boat put down his gun, jumped into the water, and swam to the beach. He greeted his companion happily, and they disappeared in the dark. The old man sat down on the sand and stared at the boat. I was sure it was him. This was my chance.
    I wanted to get onto their boat and have a look. What was it they had taken from the man they had killed? Money? Treasure? I wanted to know. Maybe I could find it and take it. And then I could sabotage their boat so that they couldn’t follow me. They were probably planning to spend hours at the café, drinking and celebrating. I would have time.
    Switching to battery power, I snuck up behind their boatfrom the mainland side, so that the old man wouldn’t see or hear the sub. I doubted he could spot it in the dark anyway. I climbed out onto the hull, then jumped onto the bow of the sailboat. My heart was racing. The sailboat stank like rotten cheese. I crouched down and crept along the deck until I reached the door to the cabin. Not surprisingly, it was locked. So, I went back to the sub and grabbed a small crowbar and a flashlight. I took a peek through the binoculars to make sure the old man was still sitting on the beach. He was. I jumped back onto the sailboat.
    The cabin door made some noise but gave way easily with the crowbar. I took a few steps down into the cabin, held the flashlight against my middle to make only a small light, turned it on, and took a look around.
    I couldn’t believe what I saw. The cabin was filled with guns, of every size. They were leaning against the walls and lying on the floor. There were handguns and machine guns and rifles. On a counter, where the sink, stove and fridge were,