Night Judgement at Sinos (1970) by Higgins Jack

Author:Higgins, Jack [Higgins, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-03-16T14:26:13+00:00

A couple of minutes spent looking at that was all that flesh and blood could stand. I tiptoed out, taking my clothes with me and went on deck. It was going to be a hot one. I stood at the rail for a moment, the warmth of the sun pleasant on my skin and was aware that I was hungry and there was only one answer to that.

I checked the two aqualungs. One was empty and the other was about as low as it could be, which was a pity because I suddenly remembered that our portable compressor had packed up the previous day and Morgan simply hadn't had the time or opportunity to put his mechanical genius to work. Still, one good fish was all I needed and that shouldn't take long in a spot like this where they weren't used to spearfishmen.

I went over the side quietly clutching a harpoon gun, adjusted my air supply and went to work. Within ten minutes I found exactly what I was looking for, a fine sea bass weighing a good five pounds from the look of him. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he found me, for he came in to meet the harpoon as if greeting a long-lost friend.

When I surfaced at the boat, I caught the wood smoke scent at once and swimming round to the land side, found the fire burning well on the beach and Sara a few yards away gathering driftwood.

She saw me as I waded from the water, dropped her wood beside the fire and came to meet me. She wasn't wearing her denim skirt. Just the white sweater and black nylon briefs.

"The longest legs I've ever seen," I told her.

"Like me to cover them up?"

In a pig's eye, you will." I got an arm around her, wet as I was, and kissed her good and hard.

"There's passion for you at this time in the morning." She prodded the bass. "What do we do with him?"

"We eat him," I said, "for breakfast, or would you prefer lemon tea and three fingers of toast?"

But she didn't, because at least half the bass disappeared into the lovely mouth just as fast as I could get the steaks out of the pan. She sat cross-legged on the blanket, licking her fingers and looking very satisfied with herself.

"You know, Savage, you're something special. You can cook as well."

"As well as what?"

I ducked to avoid the plate she threw and any idea of retaliation was foiled by her quickness with the coffee pot. I was clutching a full cup before I knew it.

"Beachcombing has a lot to be said for it," she remarked.

I nodded. "Who needs people?"

She lay back on the blanket, hands behind her head, one knee raised, presenting a disturbingly erotic picture. I was filled with a strange sadness but also a perverse desire to bring her back to reality.

"All right in dreams," I said, "but the present is rather different. Maybe five minutes of air left in my aqualung and enough fuel in the tank for forty or fifty miles at the most.

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