Slow Boat From Marseilles

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 70, Issue 241, 29 July 1950, Page 7

Slow Boat From Marseilles

S By Michael Hastings. Sj

2 Serial Story ■>* asm

S (Copyright) H "jsiiiiisJUisisinsimHSSiiinmsesaijJßjjassjr^? CHAPTER IV i ABDUL THE ALGERIAN The barman sighed, walked across to a curtain which covered an alcocve and said -softly, “Abdul!” A darkskinned giant emerged. He wore a loose tunic which did nothing to conceal the powerful muscles which rippled underneath. There was a whispered conversation between him and the barmqn. Then Abdul nodded and, like an outsize in cats, glided towards the table. He was too late to prevent an explosion. Johansen suddenly reached out and snatched at the girl, dragging her to her feet. The silken blouse slipped away, exposing the delicacy of a bare shoulder. One of the men jumped up, hand dropping to belt. The Scandinavian felled him with a solitary blow, so powerful that the falling body smashed into a chair and broke it. The table went over. The girl wriggled away. Another man Went town before a powerful driving fist. Then Abdul reached the scene. His arms were about Johansen and for a moment the two massive bodies were locked in dynamic tension. Lacoste was 1 reminded of two bulls, enraged, with horns entangled. Then the struggle began. Johansen was jerked from his feet; but he recovered swift- ' ly. He tried to get in a quick punch; but the Algerian slue-stepped and . closed- again. They swayed. Abdul’s grip was tightening. With a quick twist he had Johansen’s head under his arm. His muscles tightened : against the Scandinavian’s neck Johansen struck at the face above him, struck at the body which threatened to suffocate him. Then, as these < failed, he tried to drop down and j take Abdul by the legs. It seemed i that he would succeed. Abdul tottered, i Then the figure moved forward < swiftly.

There was a flash of steel. A croak came from Johansen’s tortured throat. He went limp, and his body dropped to the floor. The thin figure tried to move back. There was an ominous stain on the blade of the knife in his hand. Abdul reached out swiftly, silently. There was a sickening crack of something breaking, a cry of agony. Lacoste waited for no more. He fled up the steep flight of steps, emerged in the gloom of the dingy street, he raced away. Behind him the whistles started. Steps came running towards lijm, and he flattened himself against a wooden door which gave entrance to the office section of a warehouse. Two gendarmes ran past, going towards the low haunt from which he had fled only just in time. Lacoste stepped out with a sigh of relief . . . He knew he must go back. By this time the inevitable crowd would have {fathered. It would be reasonably safe, providing one remained on the fringe of it. He retraced his steps. Sure enough, there was a. crowd. The scene was providing free, sensational entertainment for a sordid collection of loafers. They trailed from the shadows to which in due course, they would return. Peering over the heads of those immediately in front of them, Lacoste could observe all that went on . . . He counted six gendarmes. “Parbleu,” he said softly. “ How many more?” The door of “Chez Margot” opened and the bar-tender emerged, followed by another gendarme, who was escorting the rat-like creature whose right arm hung limp and distorted. The crowd sprawled backwards as an ambulance arrived. The injured prisoner was helped inside, none too gently. Then, through the open door came the gigantic . Abdul carrying Johansen in his arms, as easily as if the Scandinavian had been a child. With more card, he was placed inside the ambulance. Lacoste did not wait for more. , A « * tt • Prinz looked from the worried Zakas to the sullen Lacoste. He made an effort to force down his anger. If only these two were in the army. Then he could have them shot. Zakas cringed, as he turned to him once more. Captain Zakas was round of face, a characterless roundness. His most noticeable feature was the ingratiating smile which was semi-permament and revealed two gold teeth. For the moment, this smile was not in evidence. Pie rubbed his plump, podgy hands together nervously. ‘'Biit, Dr. Prinz,” he protested, “this Johansen was a most difficult man to control. He insisted upon going ashore. I warned him that he must be careful.” His voice was rather soft. There was an accent; but by far the strongest impression given by his speech was that it came from a tongue smeared with oil. Prinz glared at him. “You are the captain,” he said curtly. “It is for you to control those who serve under you.” Zakas seemed to shrink. “This Johansen was a devil,” he mut - tered. “Too strong for an ordinary man.”

“So between you,” Prinz said, "we are landed in fine trouble. We may wish to sail at a moment’s notice. And we are without a first mate. You will hear more of this.”

Zakas muttered apologies and excuses. Prinz ignored them. s “What of other things?” he demanded. “Has anything else gone wrong?” The captain regained a little confidence. He assured the doctor that all the necessary stores had been taken on board. The fuel had been replenished. There were only the water tanks. As for the passengers—all was prepared for them. “And what of the harbour authorities?” Zakas gave a greasy smile. “So many of them are dissatisfied,” he explained. “The cost of living has been rising. Their pay is not as good as they could wish. When men are not satisfied their sense of duty suffers. I have found a great willingness to be blind—at a price.” Prinz nodded. “That is satisfactory,” he said. “1 warn you both to take care that there are not any more regrettable incidents.” Lacoste thought of the two seamen still ashore, and felt apprehensive. But he answered, boldly enough: “There will be no more incidents, doctor.” “We will attend to everything, doctor,” said Zakas.. “I hope you will—for your own sakes.” And with that veiled threat Prinz left the cabin. He made his way to the square opening in the side

of the ship and went slowly down the g‘angway. Once on the quay he stopped to light a cheroot. He wanted to be alone, and to think without fear of interruption. There were some wooden crates gathered by derricks and lowered into the vastnesses of some cargo ship’s hold. Against one of these he leaned. Somewhere a first mate must bo discovered. A man with the necessary navigational qualifications, and with some strength of character. Perhaps not quite as strong as Johansen, but definitely strong enough to master Lacoste, who would most certainly resent him.

Prinz stood up. He had no very clear plan of action. »As a beginning he contemplated visiting one or two of the haunts- in the vicinity of the docks. Seamen gathered there, and there was always the chance that fortune would be kind to him. He left the docks, plunged into the labyrinth of narrow streets, and began his search.

“Le Renard” was the fourth place that Prinz visited. He entered it in a gloomy mood. So far he had not seen anybody who was even worth approaching. There were plenty of seafaring men, but not one who looked like an officer, or who might be made into an officer. “Le Renard” j seemed more promising. Some of the men drinking at, the small tables were obviously of the officer class. He began to recover his spirits. He crossed to the long bar and ordered a drink. It cheered him even more to discover that they had prunelle, from Alsace. At the other places he had been forced to drink abominable rubbish—fiery water that seemed to peel the lining off his stomach. As soon as he obtained his drink and lit the inevitable , cheroot, he looked around him. ' There was a hotchpotch of nationalities gathered at the table and near the bar. Some French, of course. One or two English; no Americans. A few Greeks. Greeks were everywhere. He was definite about that.' He did not want a Greek. One was enough. Confound Zakas. If the man had been more of a captain this task would not have been necessary. Pie promised himself that Zakas should suffer. So should Lacoste. Wait until the voyage began! Drink in hand, he moved along the bar looking from one man to another. In the end, he approached a Norwegian, whose English proved inadequate. With a mixture of German, French and English, Prinz managed to convey his meaning. The Norwegian gave a broad smile and shook his head. He had a ship. It was a perfectly good ship. Furthermore, •it was going in the right direction to suit him. His wife had just got a baby. He could hardly wait. Tonight he was drinking to his small son. He was going to be very drunk indeed. Perhaps the American gentleman would drink with him? It was impossible to refuse without giving offence, so Prinz drank. “She will call him Thor, after me, ja?” “To Thor, then Skoal “Skoal!” said Prinz obediently. Then Prinz lost what little interest he had in the Norwegian. A man obviously a seaman, equally obviously an officer, came in. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and held himself Well. He Was clean-shaven, with dancing grey eyes which indicated good humour. But there was something else in them which hinted that it would not be ahealthy thing to annoy their owner. The man boro himself with that peculiar assurance which stamps the Englishman. He’d walk up to the devil himself like that, thought Prinz with grudging admiration. The man would have gone past them, but Thor reached out and grabbed at his sleeve. “To my small son we drink,” he explained slowly, getting each word out with difficulty. “You drink, too?” Even his accent did not cover his anxiety. A row of even teeth showed in a laxily good-humoured smile. “Of course we’ll drink to him. “We’ll drink to him being an even bigger and better man than his father.” It took the Norwegian a few seconds to follow this; then he burst into vigorous, delighted laughter. “By God! A good wish that is!” he declared. The three of them drank, Prinz and the Englishman exchanging conventional nods. “I’m an American,” said Prinz, “and I have a small converted tramp which is sailing for South America. I’ve lost my first mate. I asked the Norwegian if he would take on the job. But he is too eager to sail north to see his son.” The Englishman looked serious. “First mate,” he said thoufhtfully. Then he shook his head. “Too" bad. Now had you wanted a second . . .” “Just a minute,” said Prinz. “Are you looking for a ship?” CTo be Continued.)

The characters in this story are entirely imaginary, and no reference to living persons is intended.