The Fish Kisser by James Hawkins Read Free Book Online

were dragged up and down the watery hillsides as he desperately searched for a way to clamber aboard; then fate took a hand and he found himself on the crest of a wave, the raft in the valley beneath, and he flopped effortlessly onto it. Exhausted, yet relieved, he dropped back into unconsciousness, totally unaware that the SS
Rotterdam
was less than half a mile away, with a hundred and forty-three pairs of eyes straining into the darkness, seeking any trace of the raft or him.
    â€œSomething off the port bow—about ten o’clock,” cried a female officer, catching a fleeting glimpse of lightness. Tension on the bridge instantly turned to excitement, men frantically adjusted binoculars and swung them from starboard to port, all eyes focussed in Roger’s direction, but the huge waves conspired to keep him hidden. He and his ghostly chariot, wallowing from trough to trough, trapped under one breaking wave after another, would have been invisible even in broad daylight.
    â€œNothing,” sighed the officer a few moments later, her disappointed whisper easily heard in the tension filled darkness of the bridge. “Sorry—my mistake.”
    â€œNo problem,” replied the captain. “We’re well beyond maximum range anyway. He couldn’t have drifted this far in thirty minutes.”
    The officers wandered back to their stations on the bridge, some taking the opportunity for a quick slurp of cocoa and a bite of doughnut. A couple made a dash for the washroom. The suspense was dissipating and everyone was grateful for the excuse to take a break, falsely justified by the apparent sighting.
    â€œCaptain, I’ve got a police inspector outside who reckons he knows the victim,” the deck officer was saying to the captain’s shadow in the gloom.
    â€œThat’s interesting—must be some sort of outing,” he chortled, “I’ve already got three in my office.” He snapped the last thread of tension as he raised his voice, “Anyone else got a policeman? We’ve got four and want to make up a set … Take over, Chief,” he continued, stifling a few sniggers, “I’ll be in my office if anything happens. Try to keep her head in the waves, bos’n, or we’ll be up to our necks in vomit.”
    Sergeant Jones, together with his fellow drinkers, had fetched up in the captain’s office in search of salvation, but had found little. Every lurch of the ship pulled his face into another grimace; the alcohol was wearing thin, just hazy vision, bad breath, and the persistent reek of vomit remained. He should have been hovering, contentedly, but the searing pain in his wrist and strong coffee had brought him down to earth. No doctor had come forward and the captain, dealing with lost sleep, a missing passenger, and an approaching storm, had kept the lock on the medicine cabinet. “No time forself-inflicted wounds,” he’d muttered to the chief officer with a wry smile, thinking: A little suffering is good for my soul.
    â€œAfter you, Inspector.” said the captain, ushering Bliss into his office. “Do you lot know each other by any chance?”
    Sergeant Jones looked up sheepishly and, with his good hand, pointed to his broken wrist, now in a sling. “Had a bit of an accident, Guv. Fell down some ruddy stairps.” He should have said steps or stairs, but the words coalesced somewhere in the great void between his brain and mouth. The other two sat hunched, silently counting carpet squares.
    â€œCaptain, I wonder if I could speak to you outside. Would you mind?” requested Bliss, without acknowledging his sergeant.
    â€œBliss, old chap …” pleaded the sergeant, but Bliss was already in the corridor.
    â€œThere’s some cocoa and doughnuts in the Officer’s mess if you’re interested,” said the captain, sliding the door shut behind him and cutting Jones off.
    â€œThank you, Sir. A cup