Part 7 (1/2)
He wondered momentarily why she chose to sleep in the nude, but even in mid-surprise his first impression was of the perfect round firmness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She glared up at him and Joe became acutely aware that his skivvy drawers were not designed for modesty. Why did he have to be caught in these ungainly garments?
Better to be honestly naked. He dropped the flash; its soft reflected light bathed her profile in a boudoir-like glow. She saw Joe's face for the first time.
The glare left her eyes, fading slowly into another emotion. Her lips were beginning to pout where he had elbowed. There were teethmarks in his forearm and a trickle of blood soaked his eyebrow.
Raquel no longer struggled. Joe realized abruptly what was expected of him. The sight of her was playing hob with his glandular system, but while he hesitated he sensed that the moment had pa.s.sed.
Neither of them moved. Over their heads a sheep
stamped and baa'd irrelevantly. Joe took his gaze from her and saw the knife. Stretching across her to reach for it, he was conscious of flesh sliding over flesh, but then Raquel had wormed her way out from under him and was scrambling into one of the dresses she had used to floor the compartment.
He realized with sudden horror that someone could awaken at any minute. Or the deck watch could come below. This situation was bound to contribute little to- ward his dignity as master of the Alice. Still, there would be something definitely chicken-hearted about retreat.
He put on his most severe face and pointed down at the rope and chain which floored the compartment, then up at the eye where it threaded through the deck. ”If someone dropped anchor,” he said, ”you'd come up through that hole one shred at a time.”
Raquel did not understand the Twentieth Century word.
”Ancla?” she asked.
”Ancora,” Joe hissed. He hoped the Latin would get through to her. ”It goes down; you go up!” He made slicing motions and pointed at the chain. Suddenly Raquel understood and her eyes grew larger.
Joe remembered why he'd crawled into this hole. He s.h.i.+ned the light around, looking for sprung seams. To- morrow he'd have the chain tailed out so he could check the lower half of the locker. Meanwhile, he'd explored enough for honor's sake. Any moment now someone would wake up and peer through the open crawl hole.
”Don't let me catch you in here again,” he said severe- ly, ”or I'll turn you into a pumpkin.” He tossed the knife into her lap and backed through the hole. He'd been in bed several minutes before he realized that he'd locked his door. He got up and unlocked with silent thanks that no one had come to wake him. Things like
locked doors got men to shaking their heads whenever the Old Man's back was turned. He went back to bed again and, naturally, couldn't sleep.
He realized he'd been taking a lot about the girl for granted. With a knife and a disposition like that per- haps even the Vikings had respected her privacy. But if she was such a sc.r.a.pper, what had been going on up in the bow last night?
III.
LIGHT GLOWED down the crack of his door. Joe looked out and saw Freedy at the fathometer. ”Sixty fathoms,”
the radioman said. ”Cut yourself?”
”b.u.mped a stanchion,” Joe said. He touched the scab on his forehead and went on deck. McGrath was at the wheel.
”Day, Mr. Rate,” he asked, ”are you sure this's only nine hundred and something?”
Joe shrugged and admitted to himself that he'd only half believed it up till now. Holy Neptune, what a thesis I could write on the Vikings! ”I'm afraid it's true,” he said.
McGrath muttered something about G.o.d. Joe looked at him. ”I don't believe He would let it happen,” Mc- Grath said.
Joe didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing.
After a minute or two McGrath said, ”Funny-if it were true I'd be the only Christian in the world.”
”It's only a thousand A.D.,” Joe protested. ”Not B.C.”
”I know,” Howie sighed. ”But Martin Luther wouldn't
be born yet.”
Joe turned to hide his grin from the faint glow of the