Seven
The waves were higher than the boat. This was the first thing Tintin noticed as they rowed the longboat away from the Karaboudjan. They towered over, and tossed, the small rowboat mercilessly as Tintin and the Captain sat side by side and worked the oars. It took some time, but they got into a good rhythm and by the time dawn had broken their muscles were burning and the Karaboudjan had disappeared over the horizon. It was as good a time as any to take a break and try to figure out what to do next.
The Captain had sobered up considerably and was proving to be an able seaman. "Right," he said firmly, "we're out of immediate danger, but the Karaboudjan can catch us up if they turn."
"If?" Tintin asked anxiously. "Will they come after us?"
The Captain screwed up his face and thought about it for a moment. "I don't think so," he said at last. "Drugs or not, cargo is cargo and everything has to be delivered on time. Trying to find one boat in the ocean would be like searching for a needle in a haystack, and the reason they've been able to get away with this for so long is because the Karaboudjan is a legitimate cargo ship. It would be easier for them to make all the other deliveries and just dump the drugs if the police show up before they can pass them on."
"So we're free and clear then?"
"Not quite, lad: we're at least sixty miles from the Spanish coast and getting there will be a bit of a cu- er… a blistering hard time." He shot a quick look at Tintin. "What did you say your name was again?"
"Tintin."
"Right. And, er, how old are you?"
"Old enough to know what a 'cu-er' is."
"Fair enough. Look, we've got a bi- hell of a row ahead of us. You'd best get some rest now. Then I'll have a kip while you take the oars. Agreed?"
It seemed like the best plan they had and the only sensible way of preserving their energy, so Tintin readily agreed and hunkered down for a nap in the back of the longboat. Tucking himself into his coat, and with Snowy snuggled against his stomach, he was soon asleep and dreaming peacefully.
At the other end of the boat, the Captain kept rowing. It felt like an age had passed since he had last done something like this. Years ago, before he'd owned his own ship, he'd worked with a man named Chester and they'd thought nothing of rowing to land when their ship was anchored near a city, even if the ship wasn't in port. They used to do it every chance they got.
He missed the old days. Everything was simpler back then.
God, he was thirsty though. And cold. Even the lad looked cold.
Tintin. That's a strange name. And is it just me or does he look a bit young to be out here on his own? His poor parents: Tintin had radioed the police before they'd abandoned the Karaboudjan, but he hadn't thought to tell the police to contact his parents, or given them any information on how to contact them. They must be bloody worried.
He stopped rowing for half a minute to roll his shoulders. They were aching, but it was a good ache. Other than a few days here and there – mainly around Christmas – he'd spent the last two years sitting in his cabin, drinking.
Christ, that's a pitiful thought! Remind me never to tell anyone that, brain! How the hell did it get this bad, Archie? Used to be that nobody could get the drop on me. I was always half a step ahead of everyone. So how the hell did that cu – er… - he glanced quickly at the sleeping Tintin - …I suppose it's not really good manners to swear like a sailor around such a young kid. I'll have to keep an eye on that.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. How the heck did that… treacherous scourge, Allan, outsmart me? Yes, the man was intelligent: that's why I hired him on as my First Mate. But where did the slyness come from? When did the wanton cunning begin?
How long have they been using my boat to run drugs?
He stopped rowing again and tried to knead the back of his neck, to work the kinks out. He rolled his head from side to side a couple of times and saw, out of the corner of his eye –
"Eey! Provisions!" That's right: we stashed some food and stuff in here, in case of an emergency! Thank fu- er, fudge for that!
He bent down and retrieved the supplies from their snug box in the cubby: there were biscuits, a keg of fresh water, a flare gun, a first aid kit, and a bottle of rum.
"Oh, sweet, divine Mary I knew you hadn't given up on me!" He held the bottle aloft, as though a beam of heavenly light had exalted it, and examined it.
Not my favourite, but I won't complain! Ooh, wait a minute… His brow furrowed as he thought back to a previous conversation with Tintin. I swore never to drink again, and a Haddock keeps his word.
He made to throw the bottle into the ocean, but finally came to his senses.
"Good grief!" He shook his head. "A little drop to warm myself up won't kill me! That's why it's here."
So why does it sound like I'm trying to convince myself that it's ok to drink it?
"Quiet, you!" He necked half the bottle in one go, coming up for air and to burp. He was starting to feel a lot better now, so he took another small sip and was soon surprised to find the bottle empty.
Huh. Musht be a… a hole innit or something…
He threw the bottle into the ocean and grasped the oars again. From where he was sitting, he could clearly see Tintin. The teenager was curled around the small dog.
"Poor lil' bastard!" the Captain said sorrowfully. "He mushst be cold too. Ahh! Pffft!" He grinned and shook his head. "I'm an idiot! I know what to do…"
x
Tintin was dreaming. It started off as one of his usual, normal dreams – flying the T.A.R.D.I.S through a black hole before giving one to Amy Pond over the console – but then morphed into a nightmare as a drunken Dalek ran amok and the T.A.R.D.I.S burned around him. He was cut off from the door, and couldn't find the swimming pool…
He awoke with a start, coughing and spluttering as acrid black smoke choked him. He was roasting! He opened his eyes and sat up. For a few seconds all he could do was watch while his brain woke up and caught up.
There was a fire in the middle of the boat.
Through the towering flames and black smoke, Tintin could see the Captain. He was just sitting there, eating what appeared to be a packet of Hob Nobs and warming his hands.
"Morning!" the Captain said cheerily.
"Are those our oars?" Tintin asked, astonished. "Are you.. Are you burning our oars? Great snakes, have you gone mental?" He couldn't believe what he was seeing: the Captain had actually set fire to the oars! "The hell with this!" Tintin rummaged in the locker beside him and came up with a bucket that was probably used to bail out water in case of a leak.
The Captain, seeing this, stood up and shook his fist at Tintin. "You ungrateful little vegetated troglodyte! If… if y-you p-put that out, y-you'll have to settle with me, boyo!"
Tintin ignored him and haled in a bucket of seawater. If they were lucky, he'd be able to put the fire out and salvage some of the oars. Enough to get them back to dry land, at least. Snowy started to bark as, behind Tintin, the Captain leaped through the smoke and tried to seize the bucket before Tintin could dump the water over the flames.
"Let go of that bucket, you meddlesome cabin-boy!" the Captain shouted. They struggled together, each trying to wrestle the bucket from the other, until Tintin's foot slipped and they went down. The boat rocked alarmingly, and as it tipped it went over, dousing the flames and knocking them both into the water.
Gasping at the coldness of the water, Tintin resurfaced and clung to the boat. It had capsized and was floating upside down, like a vast scarab beetle. The Captain surfaced a short distance away with the bucket on his head. As he swam over, Tintin boosted himself and Snowy onto the back of the boat and straddled it uncomfortably.
"I'm so, so sorry," the Captain said as he clambered on. "I don't know what came over me."
"I do," Tintin snapped. "You were drunk, weren't you? How did you manage that out here? Did we pass a floating pub or something?"
"No, there was a bottle of rum in the locker. I'm such a miserable bast-er… wretch." Hang-dog and soaking wet, the Captain looked truly miserable.
"I don't suppose there's any food?" Tintin asked hopefully. "I'm starving. I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday."
The Captain looked at the water around them. "There was," he said apologetically.
Tintin sighed and rolled his eyes tiredly.
"Look," said the Captain hastily, "if we get out of this alive – I mean, when we get back to shore, I'll" –
"Shh!" Tintin snapped. He frowned and cocked his head.
"There's no need to be pissy! I was just going to say" –
"Hush!" Tintin held up his hand. "Listen… Do you hear that?"
It was a faint, low rumble that was growing louder. Then, out of a bank of misty cloud to the west –
"A seaplane!" Tintin cried. "We're saved!"
"Glory be! Hey! Hey up there!" The Captain waved his arms wildly, making the boat wobble alarmingly. "Has it seen us yet? Oh, shit! Get down!"
"And get funky?" Tintin watched, bemused, as the Captain swung his leg over the boat and slipped back into the water. "What's the matter?"
"That's my seaplane!" the Captain cried. "It's from the Karaboudjan!"
"Oh, no!"
The plane swooped low and thundered towards them. Before he had time to act, they were firing at Tintin. He clung on desperately, flattening himself to the slick underside of the boat as the water splashed around him and bullets rained down. He held his breath as the plane flew right over his head, close enough that he could almost reach up and touch the fuselage. Then it swung to starboard and prepared to make another pass.
"Get down!" the Captain was shouting. Snowy was barking furiously, terrified and angry at the loud noise and the close proximity of the big-scary-sky-thing that was making it.
Before the plane had time to complete its turn, Tintin slid down from his perch, his gun in his hand. He pressed himself to the side of the boat as the plane passed over again, firing in a tight line along the waves. Their shooting was getting better; more controlled. If they made a third pass they would be on target.
He made up his mind.
It was hard to fire and swim at the same time so he heaved himself back up onto the boat, lying flat on his belly, and took aim. He loosed off two quick shots. One shot missed completely, but the second had been lucky, and as the plane attempted to turn again the engine started to splutter.
"What a shot!" the Captain shouted jubilantly.
"At least I hit him," Tintin said ruefully. He slipped out of his coat and slid back into the water. They watched as the engine turned over and the plane banked sharply. But the pilot was good, and managed to coast it down to land on the choppy water a fair distance from them. All they could see was the top of the plane, bright yellow against the coarse blue of the sea, as the waves rose and fell beneath it.
"The engine's stopped," the Captain said warily. "They must be getting out."
He was right: first one man, and then a second, appeared on the brown pontoons that kept the plane afloat.
Both men were on the same side of the plane. "Right," said Tintin, "this is our chance. Keep Snowy here."
"What are you going to do?" the Captain asked, alarmed.
"I'm going to swim out there. If I dive a bit, I can come out behind them and surprise them."
"That's insanity! You can't possibly" –
But Tintin was gone, swimming strongly towards the plane. The choppy waves kept him hidden for the most part, but when he got too close to the plane he simply went underwater. The Captain held his breath, panicking, as Tintin disappeared from sight.
Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews. It's nice to know I'm not talking to myself! This will stay as the main up-dated-weekly story. I'll keep working on the others and start putting them up as this winds down.