The Golden Keel - Desmond Bagley

DESMOND BAGLEY

The Golden Keel

COPYRIGHT

HARPER

an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by Collins 1963

Copyright © Brockhurst Publications 1963

Desmond Bagley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008211134

Ebook Edition © January 2016 ISBN 9780008211417

Version: 2016-11-21

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

The Golden Keel

Dedication

Book One: The Men

Chapter One: Walker

Chapter Two: Coertze

Book Two: The Gold

Chapter Three: Tangier

Chapter Four: Francesca

Chapter Five: The Tunnel

Chapter Six: Metcalfe

Chapter Seven: The Golden Keel

Book Three: The Sea

Chapter Eight: Calm and Storm

Chapter Nine: Sanford

About the Author

By the Same Author

About the Publisher

DEDICATION

For Joan who else?

ONE: WALKER

My name is Peter Halloran, but everyone calls me Hal excepting my wife, Jean, who always called me Peter. Women seem to dislike nicknames for their menfolk. Like a lot of others I emigrated to the colonies after the war, and I travelled from England to South Africa by road, across the Sahara and through the Congo. It was a pretty rough trip, but thats another story; its enough to say that I arrived in Cape Town in 1948 with no job and precious little money.

During my first week in Cape Town I answered several of the Sit. Vac. advertisements which appeared in the Cape Times and while waiting for answers I explored my environment. On this particular morning I had visited the docks and finally found myself near the yacht basin.

I was leaning over the rail looking at the boats when a voice behind me said, If you had your choice, which would it be?

I turned and encountered the twinkling eyes of an elderly man, tall, with stooped shoulders and grey hair. He had a brown, weather-beaten face and gnarled hands, and I estimated his age at about sixty.

I pointed to one of the boats. I think Id pick that one, I said. Shes big enough to be of use, but not too big for single-handed sailing.

He seemed pleased. Thats Gracia, he said. I built her.

She looks a good boat, I said. Shes got nice lines.

We talked for a while about boats. He said that he had a boatyard a little way outside Cape Town towards Milnerton, and that he specialized in building the fishing boats used by the Malay fishermen. Id noticed these already; sturdy unlovely craft with high bows and a wheelhouse stuck on top like a chicken-coop, but they looked very seaworthy. Gracia was only the second yacht he had built.

Therell be a boom now the wars over, he predicted. People will have money in their pockets, and theyll go in for yachting. Id like to expand my activities in that direction.

Presently he looked at his watch and nodded towards the yacht club. Lets go in and have a coffee, he suggested.

I hesitated. Im not a member.

I am, he said. Be my guest.

So we went into the club house and sat in the lounge overlooking the yacht basin and he ordered coffee. By the way, my names Tom Sanford.

Im Peter Halloran.

Youre English, he said. Been out here long?

I smiled. Three days.

Ive been out just a bit longer since 1910. He sipped his coffee and regarded me thoughtfully. You seem to know a bit about boats.

Ive been around them all my life, I said. My father had a boatyard on the east coast, quite close to Hull. We built fishing boats, too, until the war.

And then?

Then the yard went on to contract work for the Admiralty, I said. We built harbour defence launches and things like that we werent geared to handle anything bigger. I shrugged. Then there was an air-raid.

Thats bad, said Tom. Was everything destroyed?

Everything, I said flatly. My people had a house next to the yard that went, too. My parents and my elder brother were killed.

Christ! said Tom gently. Thats very bad. How old were you?

Seventeen, I said. I went to live with an aunt in Hatfield; thats when I started to work for de Havilland building Mosquitos. Its a wooden aeroplane and they wanted people who could work in wood. All I was doing, as far as I was concerned, was filling in time until I could join the Army.

His interest sharpened. You know, thats the coming thing the new methods developed by de Havilland. That hot-moulding process of theirs dyou think it could be used in boat-building?

I thought about it. I dont see why not its very strong. We did repair work at Hatfield, as well as new construction, and I saw what happens to that type of fabric when its been hit very hard. It would be more expensive than the traditional methods, though, unless you were mass-producing.

I was thinking about yachts, said Tom slowly. You must tell me more about it sometime. He smiled. What else do you know about boats?

I grinned. I once thought Id like to be a designer, I said. When I was a kid about fifteen I designed and built my own racing dinghy.

Win any races?

My brother and I had em all licked, I said. She was a fast boat. After the war, when I was cooling my heels waiting for my discharge, I had another go at it designing, I mean. I designed half a dozen boats it helped to pass the time.

Got the drawings with you?

Theyre somewhere at the bottom of my trunk, I said. I havent looked at them for a long time.

Id like to see them, said Tom. Look, laddie; how would you like to work for me? I told you Im thinking of expanding into the yacht business, and I could use a smart young fellow.

And thats how I started working for Tom Sanford. The following day I went to the boatyard with my drawings and showed them to Tom. On the whole he liked them, but pointed out several ways in which economies could be made in the building. Youre a fair designer, he said. But youve a lot to learn about the practical side. Never mind, well see about that. When can you start?

Going to work for old Tom was one of the best things I ever did in my life.

II

A lot of things happened in the next ten years whether I deserved them or not is another matter. The skills I had learned from my father had not deserted me, and although I was a bit rusty to begin with, soon I was as good as any man in the yard, and maybe a bit better. Tom encouraged me to design, ruthlessly correcting my errors.

Youve got a good eye for line, he said. Your boats would be sweet sailers, but theyd be damned expensive. Youve got to spend more time on detail; you must cut down costs to make an economical boat.

Four years after I joined the firm Tom made me yard foreman, and just after that, I had my first bit of luck in designing. I submitted a design to a local yachting magazine, winning second prize and fifty pounds. But better still, a local yachtsman liked the design and wanted a boat built. So Tom built it for him and I got the designers fee which went to swell my growing bank balance.

Tom was pleased about that and asked if I could design a class boat as a standard line for the yard, so I designed a six-tonner which turned out very well. We called it the Penguin Class and Tom built and sold a dozen in the first year at £2000 each. I liked the boat so much that I asked Tom if he would build one for me, which he did, charging a rock-bottom price and letting me pay it off over a couple of years.

Having a design office gave the business a fillip. The news got around and people started to come to me instead of using British and American designs. That way they could argue with their designer. Tom was pleased because most of the boats to my design were built in the yard.

In 1954 he made me yard manager, and in 1955 offered me a partnership.

Ive got no one to leave it to, he said bluntly. My wifes dead and Ive got no sons. And Im getting old.

I said, Youll be building boats when youre a hundred, Tom.

He shook his head. No, Im beginning to feel it now. He wrinkled his brow. Ive been going over the books and I find that youre bringing more business into the firm than I am, so Ill go easy on the money for the partnership. Itll cost you five thousand pounds.

Five thousand was ridiculously cheap for a half-share in such a flourishing business, but I hadnt got anywhere near that amount. He saw my expression and his eyes crinkled. I know you havent got it but youve been doing pretty well on the design side lately. My guess is that youve got about two thousand salted away.

Tom, shrewd as always, was right. I had a couple of hundred over the two thousand. Thats about it, I said.

All right. Throw in the two thousand and borrow another three from the bank. Theyll lend it to you when they see the books. Youll be able to pay it back out of profits in under three years, especially if you carry out your plans for that racing dinghy. What about it?

O.K., Tom, I said. Its a deal.

The racing dinghy Tom had mentioned was an idea I had got by watching the do-it-yourself developments in England. There are plenty of little lakes on the South African highveld and I thought I could sell small boats away from the sea if I could produce them cheaply enough and I would sell either the finished boat or a do-it-yourself kit for the impoverished enthusiast.

We set up another woodworking shop and I designed the boat which was the first of the Falcon Class. A young fellow, Harry Marshall, was promoted to run the project and he did very well. This wasnt Toms cup of tea and he stayed clear of the whole affair, referring to it as that confounded factory of yours. But it made us a lot of money.

It was about this time that I met Jean and we got married. My marriage to Jean is not really a part of this story and I wouldnt mention it except for what happened later. We were very happy and very much in love. The business was doing well I had a wife and a home what more could a man wish for?

Towards the end of 1956 Tom died quite suddenly of a heart attack. I think he must have known that his heart wasnt in good shape although he didnt mention it to anyone. He left his share of the business to his wifes sister. She knew nothing about business and less about boat-building, so we got the lawyers on to it and she agreed to sell me her share. I paid a damn sight more than the five thousand I had paid Tom, but it was a fair sale although it gave me financiers fright and left me heavily in debt to the bank.

I was sorry that Tom had gone. He had given me a chance that fell to few young fellows and I felt grateful. The yard seemed emptier without him pottering about the slips.

The yard prospered and it seemed that my reputation as a designer was firm, because I got lots of commissions. Jean took over the management of the office, and as I was tied to the drawing board for a large proportion of my time I promoted Harry Marshall to yard manager and he handled it very capably.