The Lonely Sea Read Free Page B

George needed any confirmation.
    â€˜Lock ahead, sir,’ sang out Eric in the bows. ‘And another boat.’
    George squinted ahead into the setting sun. The redhead was steering her barge skilfully alongside the canal bank and, even as he watched, she jumped nimbly ashore, rope in hand, and made fast. Just beyond hers, another and much more ancient barge was gradually disappearing behind the lock gate. One gate was already shut, the other was being slowly closed by a burly individual who was pushing the massive gate handle. This, George guessed, might very possibly be Black Bart. The situation had interesting possibilities.
    â€˜Take her alongside, Eric, and tie up,’ said George. ‘The presence of a man of tact is called for up there, or I’m much mistaken.’ With that, he leapt ashore and scrambled up the bank to the scene of conflict.
    Conflict there undoubtedly was, but it was very one-sided. The man who had been pushing the gate shut, a very large, swarthy, unshaven and ugly customer with the face of a retired prizefighter, continued to close it steadily, contemptuously fending off the redhead with one arm. Such blows as she landed had no effect at all. An elderly and obviously badly frightened lock-keeperhovered nervously in the background. He made no attempt to interfere.
    â€˜Now, now, Mary, me gal,’ the prize-fighter was saying. ‘Temper, temper. Assaulting a poor innocent feller like myself. Shockin’, so it is. A criminal offence.’
    â€˜Leave that dock gate open, Jamieson,’ she cried furiously. ‘There’s plenty of room for two barges, and you know it. Cutting people’s tiller ropes! It’ll cost me an hour if you go through alone. You—you villain.’ The redhead was becoming a trifle confused. She struggled fiercely but to no effect at all.
    â€˜Language, language, my dear.’ Bart grinned wickedly. ‘And tiller ropes’—he started in large surprise—‘I don’t know what you are talking about. As for letting your barge in…No-o-o.’ He shook his head regretfully. ‘I couldn’t risk my paint.’ He spat fondly in the direction of the battered hulk which lay in the dock below.
    â€˜Can I be of any assistance?’ interrupted George.
    â€˜Beat it, Fancypants,’ said Bart courteously.
    â€˜Oh, go away,’ snapped the redhead.
    â€˜I will not go away. This is my business. This is everybody’s business. An injustice is being done. Leave this to me.’
    Jamieson paused in his efforts and regarded George under lowered eyebrows. George ignored him and turned to the redhead.
    â€˜Mary, me gal—er—I mean, Miss—why won’t this ruffian let your barge into the lock?’ he asked.
    â€˜Because, don’t you see, it’ll give him an hour’s start on me. His barge is far older and slower. It’s sixty miles to the Granary yet. He’s determined to get there first, so he’ll use any method to stop me.’ Tears of rage welled up in her eyes.
    George turned and faced Black Bart.
    â€˜Open that gate,’ he commanded.
    Bart’s mouth fell open, just for a second, then tightened ominously.
    â€˜Run away, sonny,’ he scoffed, ‘I’m busy.’
    George removed his yachting cap and placed it carefully on the ground.
    â€˜You leave me no alternative,’ he stated. ‘I shall have to use force.’
    Mary clutched his arm. Her blue eyes were no longer hostile, but genuinely concerned.
    â€˜Please go away,’ she pleaded. ‘Please. You don’t know him.’
    â€˜That’s right. Oh please,’ Bart mocked. ‘Tell him what I did to your father.’
    â€˜Silence, woman,’ George ordered. ‘And hold these.’
    He thrust his spectacles into her reluctant hand and swung round. Unfortunately, without his glasses, George literally could not distinguish a tramcar from a haystack. But he