Gangway!

    "We're in the middle of the ocean. So what happens when we land again? Don't you think the police will be waiting to arrest you?"

    "No."

    "Well, you're probably right about that. Because we'll never get that far. Roscoe and his brother will probably feed us to the fishes first."

    "I'm glad the sea air makes you so cheerful."

    "When Roscoe throws your dead body overboard, don't say I didn't warn you."

    "I probably won't say a word."

    "And there's another thing. Isn't the ship wallowing kind of low in the water?"

    He shrugged. "Probably the gold."

    "We'll never get away with it," she said. "Not in a million years."

    "Yeah."

    "Did you see the headline in that paper last week when they hanged those murderers? JERKED TO JESUS. That's what they're going to do to us."

    He closed her in the circle of his arms. "Yeah."

    "Don't think you're going to shut me up by romancing me, Gabe Beauchamps." Then she gave a strangled little cry and stiffened in his arms.

    Gabe leaned back a bit to look at her and saw her staring forward. He turned his head, and here came Roscoe and his crew, fa

    Roscoe was armed with his two enormous pistols, and his men brandished huge knives and belaying pins.

    Gabe knew the answer to the question, but he asked it anyway: "What's up, Roscoe?"

    "Your time, buster," Roscoe said. He gestured with the guns. "We're taking over."

    Vangie, anger and frustration in her voice, said, "I told you!"

    "Easy," Gabe told her.

    Francis, coming up next to Gabe, frowned at the tough guys and said, "Roscoe, whatever is the meaning of this?"

    For once, Roscoe had no trouble meeting Francis' eye. "It means you're shark bait, pretty boy," he said. "You and all the rest of them."

    Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe saw Vangie drifting away to the right. Did she have something in mind, or was she just moving aimlessly, out of fear? To keep Roscoe's attention, just in case there was something afoot in Vangie's agile brain, Gabe said, "You can't run things without me, Roscoe, you ought to know that."

    Roscoe gri

    "Not a chance," Gabe said, and made himself grin just as easily and self-confidently as Roscoe. "You couldn't find your nose with your hand if you didn't have help."

    Roscoe's grin faded. The pistols in his hands leveled themselves more specifically at Gabe. His voice grating with mea

    "Oh, Roscoe," Francis said. "Do stop playing at being a big boy."

    "We'll see about that," Roscoe said. "You people just move yourselves over by that rail there."

    Francis was looking pale but clearly determined not to show any fear. "Why?" he asked.

    "We're about to find out," Roscoe said, "just how good you folks can swim."

    "Listen," Gabe said, but he never got to finish the sentence, because all at once Vangie made her play.

    The movement was just a blur; her years of pocket-picking experience came in very handy when it was her own pocket she was picking. Out came Gabe's knuckle-duster, moving so fast he could hardly make out himself what she had in her hand, and she fired the one bullet it contained.

    It was either a brilliant shot or a lucky one. It knocked one of Roscoe's guns right out of his hand.

    Gabe whipped the whisky flask from his hip pocket and leveled it at Roscoe. "Drop it, Roscoe," he said, "and don't make a move."

    Roscoe was already bending over his numbed hand. Now he dropped his second gun and clutched at his injury.

    His crew started to move forward, raising their clubs and knives, closing in on Gabe and Vangie and Francis, with Captain Flagway at the wheel just behind them.

    "No!" Roscoe cried, waving his men back with his good hand. "That thing's a…"

    "… gun," Gabe finished, and fired one shot into the air.

    The crew hesitated.

    Francis grabbed a handy marlin spike, and pointed it at the tough guys. "Yes," he said. "And this is a gun."

    Ittzy took the explosives book from his pocket. "And this is a gun."

    Captain Flagway unscrewed a spoke from the wheel and brandished it, not too steadily. "Yes, and this is a gun," he said.

    The tough guys looked at one another, at Roscoe, and at the array of objects being pointed at them. More bewildered than anything else, they dropped their arsenal of weapons and raised their hands into the air.

    "That's smart," Gabe told them. "Francis, get around behind and disarm them."

    "That'll be a pleasure," Francis said.

    "Then we'll tie them up and stow them below."

    Roscoe snarled. "Okay, okay," he said. "But you wait'll my brother gets his hands on you."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

    In the Pacific Ocean just outside the Golden Gate two San Francisco Police launches sliced through the water toward a distant fast-moving smudge of smoke. In the bow of the leading launch stood McCorkle, shading his eyes to scan the horizons. He pointed toward the smoke and the launches picked up speed to go charging after it. McCorkle took out his notebook and made a note.

    Elsewhere in the Pacific, Francis stood in the bow of the San Andreas and pointed toward a distant motionless smudge of smoke. "That's probably the Sea Wolf."

    Gabe said, "Okay, everybody knows what to do."

    "Get killed," Vangie said.

    Down in the hold Roscoe and his gang sat roped and gagged on the floor. Water was starting to slosh around on the floorboards.

    Roscoe grunted. His eyes went wide with alarm as he watched the water run across the decking. He began to thump his heels on the boards. The rest of the gang followed suit, and they got a pretty good drum chorus going, accompanied by strangled grunts. But it didn't seem to be doing any good. There was no sign anyone up on deck could hear them.

    Miles to the south, the police launches closed slowly with the fast-moving smudge of smoke.

    The motionless smudge of smoke to the north was coming into view of the San Andreas, close enough now to reveal the ship beneath it: Sea Wolf-rough, scaly, rusty, dark, grim, ominous.

    Vangie, watching it loom ahead of them, closed her eyes and leaned faintly against the foremast, shaking her head dismally.

    Slowly the two ships converged.

    Captain Flagway uttered slurred suggestions having to do with the placement of ropelines. Francis and Ittzy waited by the rails while Flagway guided the ship, lurching and heeling, into a position approximately broadside to Sea Wolf. Lines flew across to lash the ships together.

    Gabe had reloaded everything that passed for a gun and distributed them all among his crew. He stood now with one of Roscoe's huge revolvers in his belt and watched cautiously while mangy-looking sailors moved forward to Sea Wolf's rusty rail and tossed several planks across to make a bridge between the two ships' decks.