Barbara MacNeil sat in her kitchen, drinking tea as she listened to Caitrin. It was dusk, and they had sent Duncan off to the ruined cottage to keep an eye on the Island Star. A glow from the peat fire and an oil lamp burning on the mantelpiece made the room golden and cast satin shadows. Except for a clock ticking in a far corner, it was quiet as Caitrin finished speaking.
Barbara thought for a moment before replying. “So you believe the Island Star and the Irish freighter are connected?”
“This is a well-organized operation, but I could not understand why the Island Star would come to Castlebay. There was no logical reason, until the Celtic Twilight turned up.”
“They are going to meet up with the Celtic Twilight and transfer the, the . . . ?”
Caitrin shrugged. “I’m sorry. I really cannot tell you.”
“Let’s call them the important objects.”
“Yes. A bigger ship could take the important objects farther. And I don’t believe for one second the Celtic Twilight was driven here by the storm.”
“Why not?”
“Supposedly, it was going to Oban. It’s an Irish-registered vessel, so it probably left from Dublin, or maybe Liverpool, and was traveling north up along the west coast, until the storm hit. But the storm came from the northwest. Regardless of the phony steering problem, a northwest wind would have driven the ship east, toward the mainland, not west out to the Atlantic side of the Hebrides. The nonexistent diver just adds more suspicion.”
“So you believe she’s here for a definite reason?”
“Yes, but it’s too dangerous for her to remain on the weather side of the island. And if she stays too long, the Royal Navy or Coastal Command will get suspicious.” Caitrin sat back and sipped at her tea.
“And what is your plan?”
“If the Island Star does offload the important objects onto the freighter, which will have to be soon, I need to be on board that ship when she sails.”
“How will you manage to do that?”
“I need your help and Duncan’s too. But it’s all up to the Island Star. When it moves, so will I.”
They both heard the clatter of Duncan’s bicycle outside as he skidded to a halt and raced into the house. The kitchen door flew open, and he charged in, filling the room and blurting out, “The Island Star! She’s leaving!”
* * *
The moon was new and the night black as the Island Star slipped its moorings and glided out of the bay. Soon after, another fishing boat, the Ben Lui, cleared its moorings and followed. It showed no lights. In its wheelhouse, with Barbara at the helm, Caitrin and Duncan stared hard into the darkness.
“The Ben Lui is my brother Andrew’s boat,” Barbara said. “He’s been away in Edinburgh for a while seeing his son, Ian.”
“Ian came back from Dunkirk,” Duncan said.
“Not all of him,” Barbara said and shook her head to erase the thought. “Caitrin, you haven’t said how you intend to get on board the Celtic Twilight.”
“You stand off some distance, on the ocean side so your silhouette doesn’t show against the village. Duncan and I will row to the stern on the opposite side from where they’re loading. Their attention will be focused on getting the important objects aboard, and I’ll climb up the diver’s air-supply line.”
“And if the line is not there?”
There was the briefest of pauses. “I know,” Duncan said. He went on deck and returned with a coil of rope. He held up one end and tied it to a three-pronged grapnel. “Sometimes, when the lobster pots drift in the spring, I drag for them with this.”
“You’re a savior, Watson,” Caitrin said, and he beamed with pride.
“Naturally, Holmes.”
“As soon as I start climbing, Duncan rows back to you,” Caitrin said. “Once he’s on board, you do not wait around but go back into Castlebay. I don’t want to chance them seeing you.”
Barbara hove to some distance from the freighter, idled the engine, and handed down Caitrin’s knapsack as she settled in the stern of the rowing boat. “I put some haggis slices in there. You never know.”
“I’ve grown to love it,” Caitrin said.
“And as soon as the pigeons come back from the mainland, I’ll send your message to Mr. Churchill.”
“Thank you,” Caitrin said. “Thank you for everything, Barbara.”
“We all have important objects in our lives.” Barbara smiled and squeezed her hand. “Some old, some new. Be careful.”
Duncan pushed away from the boat and turned toward the starboard side of the ship, Caitrin whispering guidance as they got closer. There were few lights, but much noise from winches and tackle as the Jewels cases were offloaded from the Island Star on the port side of the freighter.
The freighter was some distance off, then loomed over them as the rowing boat bumped against the hull. Caitrin found the air-supply line and gave it an exploratory tug. It held firm. She slipped on her knapsack.
“There’ll be quite a few men up there. Going alone is dangerous. I should come with you,” Duncan whispered.
“No.” Caitrin took his face in both her hands and kissed his forehead. “You are a wonderful young man, Duncan MacNeil, and the most important of important objects.”
She gripped the air line, wrapped her legs around it, and inched her way up the side of the ship. Duncan watched her for a moment before he turned and rowed away.
* * *
On the Ben Lui, Barbara took binoculars from the wheelhouse and stepped out on deck. Her eyes had grown used to the darkness, and she could now see shapes and edges. Sound carries over water, and she heard voices calling commands. Behind her, Duncan tied off the rowing boat and climbed aboard. She raised a hand to silence him.
The rumble of winches died, bells rang, and the derricks were secured.
