Amy's Touch (30 page)

Danny watched Eddie’s features show momentary displeasure as he checked the cards he’d received. He glanced at his own hand: two pairs, queens and tens. Not a great hand but probably better than Eddie’s. His gaze swept to Wu, whose features were inscrutable. The Asian, from Hong Kong—so he’d learned during sporadic bursts of conversation around the table—was a canny player. And Croft. He obviously believed himself to be the supreme professional, and was seemingly unruffled by the fact that he’d dropped four cards and had Wu deal him four more. Was it a bold move or a stupid one, giving away the fact that he held nothing of note? Still, as Danny watched Croft rearrange his cards in a specific order there was always the chance that he’d picked up a winning hand.

Danny stared at the pot in the middle of the table. It was an untidy pile of notes, mostly British pounds. He tried to figure out how much was there—a couple of thousand, maybe. He needed more, but to win big he also needed a better hand, so he folded. Croft won the game and dragged the money towards himself. Danny tried to ignore the trickle of sweat running down his spine, a fact not entirely due to the steamy atmosphere in the bar. He concentrated on keeping his features impassive and downed the remains of his now disgustingly warm beer.

It was Croft’s turn to deal and Danny watched the man’s hands closely. He was very good and it
appeared
as if he dealt a fair hand to each player, but Danny still didn’t trust him. Eddie folded early in the
game but remained at the table to watch the game and the pot grow. Wu challenged boldly, forcing Croft and Danny to up the ante. Danny knew his wad of notes was getting smaller, but he resisted the temptation to wipe the sweat forming on his upper lip. Wu tapped for two cards, then discarded two, which Croft swept to the bottom of the pack. Danny studied the Asian’s features closely. Just a slight flicker of the eyelids, nothing more, which could mean anything. This time Croft pushed all the money he’d won previously to the middle of the table and challenged them to call him.

After a few seconds’ hesitation Wu shook his head, and put his cards face down on the table. Croft was determined to win the pot and was sweating profusely in the bar’s muggy atmosphere. He dealt himself two fresh cards and his mouth twisted in the semblance of a smile as he rearranged his hand.

Danny’s watchful gaze had seen the switch. Croft had dealt himself cards from the bottom of the deck, but no one else seemed aware of it. His mouth was so dry it was hard to swallow and his outrage at the man’s audaciousness made the blood pound heavily through his veins. He stared at his hand. Was it strong enough to win the pot? With a full house of three queens and two aces he had a bloody good hand, normally a winning hand. If only he knew what cards Croft had dealt himself! Danny knew this was
the
moment when he had to decide, to fold or to call…

D
anny pulled the remaining wad of notes out of his shirt pocket and added them to the pot. ‘I’ll see you and call you. Show me what you’ve got.’

‘Read it and weep, sailor boy,’ Croft said confidently. He turned his cards face up and placed them on the table.

Danny swallowed hard. A royal flush in spades. Awww…shit! But then instinct made him look at Wu and see, uncharacteristically, surprise on the Asian’s face. It only took a second or two to work out why. Croft had dealt himself the cards Wu had discarded from the bottom of the deck, which, luckily, had given him the royal flush. The man was, as Danny had suspected all along, a cheat!

Croft began dragging the pot of pound notes towards his side of the table until Danny’s large hand came down hard on the other man’s. ‘I don’t think so. You cheated, Croft.’ He glanced at Wu for corroboration. ‘Didn’t he?’

Wu was silent for perhaps five seconds or so, then he nodded. ‘Yes. I discarded a three and four of spades, and somehow they got into Croft’s hand when they should have remained at the bottom of the deck.’

Croft’s gaze narrowed on the Asian, and his skin colour, already pasty, paled. ‘You’re a liar, Wu. You and Danny are in this together. You’ve made a pact to share the pot, haven’t you?’

‘Not true.’ Wu’s reply was simple. ‘I never met Danny before tonight and his hand—a full house—is the winning hand. The pot belongs to him.’

Eddie, who’d watched the drama unfold, took charge. He stared coldly at Croft and said with quiet menace, ‘You know what we do to cheats.’ He pulled a mother-of-pearl-handled flick-knife out of his trouser pocket and placed it on the table. ‘You’ve got about twenty seconds to get out of here in one piece.’

Croft’s expression showed that he took Eddie’s threat seriously. Glaring furiously at Danny, he said in a low voice, ‘You’ll keep.’ Then he got up hastily from the table and threaded his way out of the smoke-filled bar.

Eddie watched Danny gather the money and begin to stuff it into his shirt and trouser pockets. ‘If I were you I’d get out of here. With those winnings you’re a target for several unscrupulous types who hang around the bar looking for ways to make easy money.’

‘I understand.’ Danny put his hand out and shook hands with Eddie and then Wu. ‘Thank you for your honesty, Wu. This is a night I won’t forget.’

Eddie laughed. ‘Neither will Croft. Watch out for him. I’ve heard that he doesn’t like to lose.’

Danny stood and gave Eddie a casual salute. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ Then he walked quickly from the bar.

Aboard the
Geraldine
Danny counted his winnings and hid them under the bunk. He still wasn’t sure whether the money was enough to satisfy Abe, but he’d call at the cottage in the morning and make an offer on the lugger. And then, mentally and physically exhausted from the tension of the game, Danny lay on the bunk and fell asleep…

Danny woke to a warm dawn with morning light streaming through the porthole. He had a wash, changed his clothes and made himself a quick breakfast in the galley—not that there was much to eat there—Ming was a good cook and almost all the provisions had been used during the voyage.

From under his bunk Danny took the bulging drawstring bag that held his money, strapped it under his belt for safekeeping and made his way off the lugger and towards Abe’s cottage, which wasn’t far from the port. Lots of people—tradesmen, merchants and natives—were out and about, attempting to beat the coming heat by getting their work done early. He stopped to buy two bananas from a vendor to fill the empty space in his stomach, and munched on them as he walked. He felt pretty happy with himself. Last night’s win had been nothing short of miraculous; things could have ended quite differently
if he hadn’t challenged Croft. For once, luck had gone his way, and he was going to take advantage of it. An image of Randall suddenly danced into his mind. He reckoned his brother would be impressed with his ability to forge a place for himself in the world. Danny was also feeling a little more confident than last night that what he had in his bag would be enough to satisfy Abe.

Abe Hennin’s cottage was different from most of the other dwellings in the street. Dutch by birth, Abe had built the whitewashed stone cottage, with its stained timber windows and grass-thatched roof, to resemble the cottage he’d grown up in north of Rotterdam. He had joked to Danny that the only differences were his parents’ white picket fence and the tulips growing in their window boxes. Free-roaming hens from a neighbour’s yard and two or three piglets scuttled out of Danny’s way as he walked up the path and knocked on the glass-panelled door.

It took a while for the door to open, and when it did Danny’s eyes widened in surprise at the young girl who stood there. She was tall, had a nice figure, and was fair-skinned with a mop of ginger curls. Her features were set in serious lines.

‘Yah?’

‘Good morning.’ Danny recovered from his shock. ‘I’m Danny McLean, Abe’s first mate on the
Geraldine
. I’ve come to see how he is.’

‘Ahhh!’ the girl smiled at him. ‘You are
the
Danny. Grandfather has been speaking of you quite a lot,’ she said in accented English. ‘Come in, come in. He is not very well and is still in bed. I am sure he will want to see you.’

Grandfather?
Abe? Danny searched his memory and recalled that Abe had spoken about a son he’d had when he was eighteen, to a young wife back in Holland. The marriage had been a disaster from the start and he had continued his career at sea, settling eventually in the South Pacific. He’d happily supported Hans financially until he’d become an adult.

The girl introduced herself. ‘I am Gretel Hennin. I have come from Holland to visit Grandfather, and because he is sick, to look after him. I called Grandfather’s doctor, Dr Singh, yesterday because Grandfather was not well. The doctor said if Grandfather’s condition is to improve, he must rest.’

‘I’ve been telling him that for months, but he’s a stubborn old salt,’ Danny confided, and as they walked over the darkly stained timber
floorboards to the main bedroom the sound of their footsteps echoed along the hallway.

Gretel nodded gravely. ‘I am finding that out, quite quickly. He is…difficult.’ She opened the bedroom door and motioned Danny to go in. ‘I will make you both coffee. Yah?’

Danny smiled. ‘Yes please.’ Until he’d boarded the
Geraldine
he’d been strictly a tea or beer man. Then Abe and Ming had introduced him to the delights of percolated coffee and he’d become addicted to the taste.

Abe was awake and sitting up in bed with four pillows piled behind him. The boredom left his weathered features as he saw Danny. ‘Come in, lad. The damned doctor and my granddaughter won’t let me get out of bed. Gretel’s taken my clothes and hidden them so I can’t get dressed.’

Danny chuckled at the girl’s ingenuity. ‘You could go out in your nightshirt; the natives would probably find that amusing.’

‘I wouldn’t.’ Abe didn’t smile. ‘I’m glad you’ve come, Danny. There’re several things I want you to do regarding the cargo for our next trip.’

‘Sure. We’ll get to that. First, though, I want to make you a proposition concerning the
Geraldine…
I want to buy her and take over your trading routes.’

Abe frowned and then he gave the younger man a shrewd look. ‘I admire your ambition, but,’ he glanced slyly at Danny, ‘even if I were of a mind to sell, you don’t have the money to buy me out.’

‘Name your price.’

Abe’s bushy grey eyebrows lifted in surprise as he recognised that Danny was serious. ‘All right. Say, three thousand pounds for the lugger and another thousand for the goodwill I’ve established.’

Danny’s features looked troubled. He was quiet for a minute or two. ‘I see. Sounds like a fair price. Are you willing to sell if I can put my hands on that much money?’

It was Abe’s turn to be quiet. His expression changed several times as he pondered the matter, his hands all the while moving restlessly over the sheet. When he finally spoke his tone was subdued. ‘Fate has deemed that I don’t have much option. Singh believes that if I go to sea again the voyage might kill me. But if I learn to take things easy, and look after myself better, I might have a few more good years in me.’ His chest heaved in a long-drawn-out sigh. ‘So, I guess, yes. I am willing to sell and I’d rather sell it to you than anyone else, but…’

Danny untied the cord of the drawstring bag from around the inside of his trousers belt and tipped the contents out onto the bed. He delighted in seeing Abe’s expression change as he saw the pile of money, from melancholic to amazed.

‘There must be more than five thousand pounds there. Where…? How…? Did you rob a bank?’

Danny chuckled as he shook his head and then he told Abe how he’d tried to get a loan, and then about the poker game at Lee Fong’s Bar, how he’d won the pot and added it to the money he had saved. ‘So, is it a deal?’ He held out his hand to shake Abe’s.

‘For four thousand pounds it’s a deal. You’ll need the rest for fuel and to buy cargo and pay the crew’s wages.’

Gretel bustled in with a tray, carrying two cups of coffee, sugar and a plate of shortbread biscuits. ‘All that money!’ she exclaimed. ‘Mr McLean—Danny—you must be a very rich man.’

Abe laughed heartily. ‘He was for a little while. Danny’s just bought the
Geraldine
,’ he told his granddaughter. ‘And you, young lady, will give me back my clothes so Danny and I can go to the bank, and to my solicitor, to make the sale legal.’

Gretel’s expression was firm and showed that she was unimpressed by her grandfather’s authoritative tone. ‘The doctor has charged me to care for you. He said you were to rest.’

‘We’ll take a taxi there and back, Gretel, so Abe won’t overtax himself. Is that acceptable?’ Danny asked. Waiting for her answer he sipped the near-scalding coffee, his nostrils dilating as he inhaled its aroma. It was interesting to watch Gretel’s expressive features change from determined to uncertain. She was young, he reminded himself, probably no more than seventeen, and as yet hadn’t learnt to mask her emotions. Gretel would be good for Abe, he decided. The man, and even the cottage, spartan in its lack of furniture and knick-knacks, could do with a woman’s touch. She would make him eat properly, rest and exercise, and be company for him.

Finally she gave in. ‘I suppose it will be all right. Danny, you are responsible for bringing him home safely.’

‘I will, Gretel.’

Danny spent a good percentage of the remaining shore leave at Abe’s cottage, keeping the older man company, asking myriad questions about how he ran his business, and enjoying Gretel’s Dutch cooking, as well as her company—not since Amy had he engaged in
pleasantries and conversation with a member of the opposite sex. It wasn’t the same, of course, never would be, but it was pleasant to while away a few hours until the time came to supervise the loading of cargo onto the lugger.

Ming’s job was to see that the provisions were correctly stored in and near the galley, while Danny, Jamie Ngairo, Quincey Smith—who also kept the engine running smoothly—and the new hand, Englishman Verne Dennison, saw to the proper loading and stowing of cargo in the hold. When that was full, what was left was securely tied down on deck. Darkness had fallen by the time the cargo’s manifest was completed, and because Danny intended to leave at first light, he gave the crew the opportunity for a final drink, with the proviso that they be back on board no later than ten p.m.

In the wheelhouse, as he studied the charts to become more familiar with the route he intended to take to Tonga and several outlying islands, Danny heard stumbling footsteps along the deck. Then came a growling curse. He checked the clock above the wheelhouse window: a quarter to nine. He hadn’t expected the crew to come back so early.

The port-side wheelhouse door opened with a bang and two broad-shouldered natives, bare-chested with heavy tattoos on their upper bodies, strode in. Behind them came someone Danny had hoped never to see again: Croft, rubbing the side of his head where he’d bumped into something.

‘Took me a while to find you, Danny boy, you son of a bitch,’ Croft said softly. ‘Had to lie low for a couple of days because of your accusation about cheating. I had a good thing going at Fong’s and you ruined it.’ He moved his head to one side and the natives grabbed Danny’s arms, imprisoning him. ‘I want my money back.’

Danny shook his head. ‘I don’t have it. It’s gone.’

‘What!’ An unpleasant expression flickered in Croft’s eyes. ‘You couldn’t have spent all of it in just a few days. Give me what you’ve got. It’ll do for a stake somewhere else.’

Danny shook his head again. ‘You’re not entitled to a penny ’cause you cheated, and besides, I don’t have it. I used the money to buy this boat. The money’s with the previous owner in his bank account.’

‘You bloody shit!’ Furious, Croft bunched his fingers into a fist and punched Danny in the stomach. Then his expression turned cunning. ‘You can sign this tub’s ownership papers over to me.’

‘No can do. I don’t have the bill of sale yet.’ Which was more or less true. It was in a safety-deposit box at the bank. Danny began to
fabricate a story, hoping to fob Croft off. ‘It takes several days for the legalities to be processed.’

‘Well, you’re going to pay, one way or another.’ Croft gestured for the natives to hold Danny tight and proceeded to rain a series of punches to his midriff and to his face, making Danny’s nose bleed and one of his eyes puff up. Danny struggled against his captors but they were too strong; however, when the opportunity came his way, he kicked out at Croft and caught him on the thigh. The kick sent the gambler onto his backside heavily, and knocked the breath out of him.

‘Fools! Hold him properly!’ Croft screamed. He got up and rubbed his thigh. ‘I’m going to beat the living daylights out of you.’ He took a flick-knife out of his trouser pocket and waved it menacingly at Danny. ‘And cut you up a bit before the boys throw you overboard for the sharks to finish off.’

Danny knew that Croft was a mean enough so-and-so to do just that. He began to sweat profusely and a knot of fear tightened his stomach muscles. He had to find a way out of this. But how? He tried to take a deep breath and couldn’t, because of the pain in his side. Croft’s blows had fractured one or two of his ribs. The bastard.