A Hero for Leanda

sound. The lights in the Franklin bungalow were out now. So were all the lights in Kastella’s place, except his own . The signs looked good. Conway paddled the dinghy in with his hands, and waited tensely.
    Suddenly a twig cracked among the trees. A figure approached across the sand, moving with a heavy, stealthy tread. Kastella in a dressing gown! “Nice work!” Conway whispered, stepping out and holding the dinghy for him. “Easy, now!” Kastella got in, and Conway shoved off. They had only an inch or two of freeboard and he had to scull with care. The shore receded into the darkness. Very soon Conway caught the loom of Thalia against the stars, and a few strokes took him alongside. He held the rail while Kastella climbed into the cockpit. Then he made the dinghy’s painter fast to the bows, and passed the kedge to Leanda, and towed the ship out to the gap in the reef. As soon as he felt the swell he got Leanda to help him haul the dinghy in again, and started the engine. In a few moments they were through the gap, and heading westward at a steady eight knots.
    It had been, after all, a piece of cake!

3

    They continued to motor at full speed, without lights, putting the greatest possible distance between themselves and Heureuse. Conway stayed at the tiller, concentrating on the tricky passage through the islands. For a while, Leanda and Kastella sat with him in the cockpit, talking of the escape. Kastella was anxious to hear the whole story, and Leanda told him everything, starting with Conway ’s loss of Tara and finishing with their rewarding social activities on Heureuse. She had suddenly become much more voluble—whether from release of tension, or nervousness in the presence of the great man, Conway didn’t know. Kastella listened intently, putting a question from time to time in his soft, quick-speaking, authoritative voice. He was particularly interested in the arrangements for getting him into and out of Africa , and Leanda told him about Malindi, and the lagoon, and Ionides’ shack, and the agent’s certainty that he could smuggle him aboard a ship. The careful plan seemed to satisfy him.
    “Well, this has been quite an achievement, Conway ,” he said at last. “I congratulate you.”
    “It’s not me you should congratulate,” Conway said. “If Leanda hadn’t taken a chance and rushed back to speak to you on the beach, you’d still be on Heureuse.”
    “I appreciate that. A big risk for a big result ... Thank you, Leanda.” He paused. “Thank you for myself and Spyros. Who knows?—you may have changed history tonight.”
    “I still can’t quite believe it’s happened,” Leanda said. “We were terribly lucky to...”
    She broke off as Conway suddenly throttled the engine back and said, in a tense voice, “Listen!” They all listened. But everything seemed normal, and after a moment or two he relaxed. “I thought I heard surf,” he said. “Sorry—false alarm.”
    “Perhaps we’d better go below,” Leanda said. “I think our talk’s worrying you.”
    “It might be as well,” Conway agreed.
    Kastella got up, a dark bulk against the sky. As he steadied himself against the rail, Thalia rocked. “You’d better lead the way, Leanda,” he said. Leanda guided him into the unlit saloon. Conway could hear them talking and laughing as she fixed up a bunk for him. They were using their own language now. After they’d settled down in the bunks they started some new discussion. Kastella’s voice was scarcely audible above the beat of the engine but Leanda’s carried clearly. There was only one word that Conway understood, a word that constantly recurred— “Spyros.” Around three in the morning, as the talk still flowed, he called out, “You should get some sleep, Leanda —there’s work ahead.” After that there was silence, except for the engine. Alone at the tiller, Conway continued to watch and listen.
    Kastella was the first to emerge in the morning. He came up around seven, still wearing his dressing gown, and at last Conway was able to see what he looked like in daylight. His appearance was striking. He was a very tall man, well over six feet, with a powerful frame. He had a massive head, with a wide forehead running back on either side of a widow’s peak of thinning dark hair. His nose was large, his mouth tight and finely chiseled, his eyes commanding. He was no Adonis, Conway decided, but he was most distinguished-looking, with the bearing of a leader.