The tall man was up and about. Phil had lent him one of his tracksuits, which left a significant gap in his midriff but was adequate whilst his own clothes dried. The second man still sat, wrapped in a blanket, near the fire that Reuben had successfully relit. Colour was slowly returning to his cheeks helped by the warmth of a second cup of tea.
Reuben cast a glance at Phil who was busily hanging damp clothes out on a makeshift clothesline that extended between the poles of two of their tents. It seemed an age since first they had arrived on the island. He had come for a little fishing, a little bird watching, peace and companionship, the simple life in the fresh air away from the hustle and bustle of the college and the town. Things now seemed far from simple. He had hardly known Tracy for more than a day and yet already he found himself ready to defend her, to trust her. Which meant that in the company of the two men he would have to be very careful about what he said. Looking out to sea he wondered how long it would be until she returned with Arthur.
Phil had finished his task and came over to stand with his friend. The almost submerged hulk of the motor launch was still visible in the water a little distance from the cove and they stared dazedly at it. They hardly noticed when the tall man started to speak. "So what's the game then?” the tall man was asking. "I beg your pardon?" Reuben replied absent-mindedly. "We know the girl was here and we saw the other fellow with her. What is it you're up to? Why are you here?"
Reuben pulled himself together. They had seen Arthur and Tracy together. They must have seen the boat, but where? Had they managed to get to the mainland? "What if I said I didn't know what you were talking about?" He spoke slowly and calmly.
"Oh, you know all right. We saw the boy in the camp yesterday. You realise this is a private island don't you?"
"There's no need for the high horse. The three of us are on a camping trip. I'm Phil. This is Reuben. Arthur makes up the team. He's an art student but we don't hold that against him. The 'girl' we met here." Phil tried hard to be his usual cheerful self, but there was an edge of irritation in his voice.
"So where did they get to?" the man asked.
"They've gone over to the mainland." Reuben replied. "You see, someone turned over Tracy's cottage yesterday, left it in rather a mess, so I expect she's got a few things to replace." His voice was loaded with accusation as he remembered the scene.
"Did you say 'Tracy's cottage'?" From the fireplace the second man spoke for the first time. He had a slight American lilt to his voice. His face was a picture of incredulity. "Are you telling us that that girl is Tracy?"
Reuben cursed himself for his stupidity. He had assumed that the men had known whom they were dealing with when they searched the cottage. Now it appeared they had had no idea. But the name meant something to them that was sure.
"What's it to you?” Phil shrugged.
"What's it to us? Why we've only been living in her house for the best part of a week now." The American seemed to have perked up suddenly. "What a welcome! We had to break a window to get in and no one's been near us. We assumed the family had gone off on holiday and forgotten us." He chuckled. "To think they've been here all the time, having a great laugh at our expense I suppose."
"Some joke!" The tall man obviously didn't see the funny side. "We're stuck here, and in case it had escaped your attention, the boat is lost."
Reuben was having great difficulty seeing any side at all to this new situation. It was all just too much. His head was spinning. Nothing made sense. "All right!” he practically shouted, surprised at his own boldness. "That's enough! So you know a bit about us, now who are you?"
The American had stood up and now walked over to the other three, holding the towel around his shoulders. "I think I can explain." he said.
Phil and Reuben listened to the tale. Harry, which was his name, had, it appeared, been a colleague of Tracy's father back at Oxford, a member of the same rowing club. ".. but strictly a socialite! You wouldn't catch me in one of those top heavy tubs!" They had been in contact via the 'mail' ever since those student days and had arranged to visit this summer. He had also arranged for another mutual friend, Gregory, to provide transport from London and share in the reunion. Duly Greg had taken time off work and they had arrived to find the place deserted.
"Well I wasn't coming all this way just to turn round and go back. We fetched some tools and let ourselves in. We repaired the damage of course."
"You didn't think Tracy's parents would mind their house being broken into like that?" Reuben was still very sceptical of the whole situation.
"Gracious no! We've been friends for well over twenty years now. We know each other too well to let a little bit of absent-mindedness get the better of us. They would have been far more upset to find that we had been and left again without waiting for them to return." The American faltered. A flash of uneasiness interrupted his smile. "I guess this doesn't sound very convincing, does it."
There was silence in the camp for a full minute. Phil continued to follow the progress of the submerged motorboat, which had drifted in to the mouth of the cove. He turned to the two men.
"To be quite honest with you I'm not at all sure whether to believe you or not.” he stated in a matter of fact voice. "You might be a couple of crooks, or you might be who you say you are. As you haven't tried mugging us yet I think we should be prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt at least until the others get back." He gave Reuben a questioning look. "O.K. with you?"
Reuben nodded doubtfully. There were still several important questions unanswered, not least the plundering of the cottage, but there seemed little sense in turning the situation in to a great confrontation. The men, after all, were a lot bigger than they.
"In the mean time,” Phil continued "there is a way of rescuing that boat of yours if you are interested. Once it's up on dry land we'll see if we can't manage a temporary repair."
The tall man, now known as Gregory, followed Phil's gaze to the stricken craft. "How do you intend to get it out of the sea? There's several tons of water in there, in case it had escaped your attention.” he commented sarcastically. "Do you happen to have a tractor parked round the corner ready to pull it out or something?"
"Nothing like that. We let nature do that for us." Phil replied, deliberately ignoring the gibe. "Is there an anchor chain on board?"
"Yes." Gregory seemed a little more interested.
"Good. And plenty of mooring rope?"
"If it hasn't floated away, yes. What's the plan?"
"It's approaching high tide now. We are fortunate in that the boat is now about as close to the land as it could be. If we can pull it in a little closer to the shore and make it fast then as the tide goes out it should settle on the sand. Most of the water should then leave through the same hole by which it entered. There is a risk that the ropes may snap before the hull sticks to the beach, but the anchors should help to hold it. We'll have to move fast though. Once the tide has turned there'll be no way we can fight against the current."
"Come on Greg. It's worth a try. What have you got to lose?” Harry said encouragingly. "It beats doing nothing!"
Phil was soon back in his canoe, making his way to the prow of the reluctant submarine with a length of rope from the campsite. At the boat the front mooring rope had been neatly coiled on the fore deck, over the small cabin, and luckily it was still tied by one end to a cleat. It took a short while to untangle the rest of the line but he was soon on his way back to the shore, having joined his own rope to it with the best reef knot he could manage.
Reuben took the end, and with the help of a half naked Harry and his tall companion started to pull steadily from the rocks. At first it seemed they were fighting a losing battle but then little by little the craft turned its head into the shore and began to inch towards them. After what seemed an age there was a soft thud as the hull came into contact with the sand. Phil at this point got out of his canoe and swam over to the wreck, climbing into the water filled cockpit.
"The anchor's in the rear locker, right in the stern." Gregory called out.
Phil ducked under the water, returning with the anchor and its chain, which was surprisingly long, designed for offshore fishing. Returning to the shore he wound the chain around a large rock, wedging the anchor into a convenient crevice. This done they made fast the end of the rope in a similar fashion.
"Now it's all up to the tide. There's nothing more we can do except wait. Anyone for a spot of lunch?" Phil was clearly breathless from his exertions as he led the way back to the camp. Reuben followed, puzzled. Was it all just a big misunderstanding? Were these men who they said they were? Why the mess in the cottage and what was it they were looking for? The questions chased their own tails in rings around his aching head.