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from behind, and Kane reached out a hand without turning round. Piroo passed him a large gin-sling in which ice tinkled, and said gently, 'Perhaps Captain Gonzalez will wish to search the boat, Sahib?'
     
     
Kane shrugged. 'That's what he's paid for.'
     
     
He sipped the drink slowly, savouring its coldness with conscious pleasure, and watched the boat approach. As it bumped against the side of the launch Gonzalez smiled up at him, his face shiny with sweat, a paper
     
     
Japanese fan fluttering in his right hand in a vain effort to keep the flies at bay.
     
     
Kane grinned down at him. 'Looks as if the heat's getting to you, Juan.'
     
     
Gonzalez shrugged, and replied in perfect English, 'Only duty compelled me to put in an appearance on the quay in my official capacity when the mail boat came in from Aden.' He mopped his face with a corner of his head-cloth. 'Where are you from this time?'
     
     
Kane finished his drink and handed the glass to Piroo, who was still standing at his elbow. 'Mukalla,' he said. 'I had some letters to deliver for Marie Ferret.'
     
     
Gonzalez kissed his fingers. 'Ah, the delightful Mademoiselle Ferret. We are privileged men. Here on earth a glimpse of Paradise. Are you carrying any cargo?'
     
     
Kane shook his head. 'We tried for a shark on the way back, but he took half my line as well as the hook.'
     
     
Gonzalez raised a hand and rolled his eyes. 'You Americans - so energetic, and for what?'
     
     
'Are you coming aboard to check?' Kane said.
     
     
Gonzalez shook his head. 'Would I insult a friend?' He waved to the oarsman to push off. 'I hurry home to a tall drink and the cool hand of my wife.'
     
     
Kane watched the boat disappear amongst the mass of moored fishing dhows that floated a few yards from the beach. After a while, he tossed his cigarette down into the water and turned from the rail. 'I think I'll go for a swim,' he said. 'Get the deck swabbed down, Piroo. Afterwards, you can go ashore to visit that girl of yours.'
     
     
He went below to the cabin and changed quickly. When he came back on deck, he was wearing an old pair of khaki shorts, and a cork-handled knife in leather sheath swung from the belt at his waist.
     
     
Piroo was standing by the rail, hauling vigorously on a rope, and a moment later a large canvas bucket appeared. He emptied its contents over the deck and threw it back into the water.
     
     
Kane didn't bother with a diving mask. He went past Piroo on the run and dived cleanly over the rail. At this point, the harbour was some twenty feet deep, and he swam down through the clear green water, revelling in its coolness. For a brief moment he hovered over the bottom, and then he kicked against the white sand and started up.
     
     
When he had almost reached the surface, he changed direction slightly until he was underneath the hull. The two-gallon oil can still hung suspended beneath the keel as he had left it.
     
     
He examined it and then quickly surfaced. Piroo was standing at the rail, the canvas bucket in his hands. Kane nodded briefly, took a deep breath, and dived again.
     
     
When he reached the oil can, he took out his knife and slashed the rope which secured it in place. At that moment the canvas bucket bumped against his back and he pulled it towards him with his free hand and pushed the oil can inside. He jerked twice on the rope and the bucket was hoisted smoothly to the surface.
     
     
He was in no hurry. He swam down to the white sand of the harbour bottom again and then floated lazily upwards in a stream of sparkling bubbles. When he surfaced and hauled himself over the rail, the deck was deserted. A towel was lying on top of the hatch, neatly folded and waiting for him. He quickly dried his body and, as he went below, he was rubbing his damp hair briskly.
     
     
Piroo was squatting on the floor of the cabin. The oil can was between his knees and he expertly prised open the lid with a chisel. His hand disappeared inside