Arthur was first to rise the next morning. He had been down to the cove and back before Reuben pushed his head gingerly through the opening of his tent.
"Whassa time?" he blinked.
"About half past five!" came the cheerful retort. "Rise and Shine!"
"You're not serious!" Reuben complained. Nevertheless he pulled on his jeans and a jumper before staggering out to join Arthur at the fire. Arthur was fiddling with his video camera.
"What are you up to? I'm not a pretty sight at this hour of the morning!" Reuben grinned sleepily.
"I'm not filming. I'm playing back. Look at this." He passed the small camcorder to Reuben who put one eye to the viewfinder. Even in black and white the walls of the little cave where the camera had been installed very effectively framed the outline of the cove, with the sea birds basking on the rocks in the afternoon sun.
"Very pretty!" he said approvingly. He was about to pass the camera back when Arthur restrained him.
"Wait! Look in the sea just past the headland."
This time Reuben could see the focus of this previously puzzling early morning interest in the camera. He sat up, wide-awake. Moving briefly into the centre of the seascape on its way round the island was a medium sized, fibreglass hulled motor cruiser. The camera’s inbuilt monitor was far too small to be certain of any detail, but from what he could make out it appeared that there were two men on the upper deck where the boats steering wheel was situated. The boat was travelling at speed and disappeared abruptly past the headland.
"When was this taken?" Reuben was shaking with excitement.
"The camera films for two minutes every hour on the hour." Arthur replied. "This must have been at about five o'clock."
"It has to be them! It just has to be!" said Reuben. "Is there any way of getting a clearer picture?"
"There's a T.V. and video in the coastguard hut. We should be able to see a bit more if we play it through there. It can wait a little though. There's no need to rouse the slumberers just yet. I think it must be the first full night sleep she's had in quite a while."
Phil was the next to rise. Between them they coaxed the fire into a reasonable heat and soon the smell of bacon sizzling in a pan was weaving its way through the guy ropes and ridgepoles challenging anyone to stay asleep.
By the time Tracy appeared with tousled hair and half closed eyes at the entrance of her tent, four plates of bacon and eggs and a similar number of mugs of steaming hot tea stood ready by the fireside. These worked admirably to ward off the early morning chill, which was even now being chased away by the misty rays that were the vanguard of the rising sun.
Tracy listened with keen interest to the story of the camcorder. Looking through the view finder she was sure that Reuben had been right to link the boat with the men in her house.
"If we can get a clearer picture of the boat we should be able to pick up its registration." she added. "Then we may have more of an idea as to who these people really are."
It was decided that Arthur and Tracy would take the boat over to the Coastguard hut, leaving Phil and Reuben to keep an eye on things on the island. Arthur had replaced the camera in its emplacement with a fresh tape. Breakfast completed they set out over the hill for the beach and the cottage.
As they reached the top of the hill they crouched low and Tracy took out her field glasses. The cottage appeared to be deserted and there was no sign in its immediate surroundings of any intrusion. Nevertheless it was with a certain degree of trepidation that they wended their way warily towards the cottage. Their worst fears were unfounded. The room appeared as tidy as they had left it the previous evening with the boxes neatly stacked and the door with its smashed lock still closed. Moving on from the house they made their way with renewed confidence towards the beach.
As they emerged from the leafy tunnel they were relieved to see the boat was still where they had left it, protected by the bushes at the edge of the wide sandy strip. Phil removed the tarpaulin and between them they soon had the boat in the water.
"Take care of yourselves!" Phil called.
"Don't worry about us!" Arthur yelled back. "Keep your eyes peeled for any strange men and don't go talking to strangers!"
Reuben grinned and waved. "He's all right for an Art Student really!" he said to Phil.
The boat turned east to go around the island, moving towards the cliffs and out of sight. Phil and Arthur turned and walked slowly towards the house and the path up over the hill to the campsite.
It was the sound of the engines that first alerted them to their danger. The relaxed chug-chug of the vintage outboard had changed and now there was a whining undertone that seemed to grow into a heavy drone. Tracy looked curiously at the gleaming brass work. She throttled back so that the boat slowed, sinking deeper into the neat pattern of bow waves she had been delicately etching into the smooth surface of the sea.
Although the engine was now doing little more than idling the drone continued to increase in volume.
"Look out!" shouted Arthur, pointing wildly towards the stern.
The noise was not of their making. Approaching at speed from a position a little off the starboard side was a fibreglass hulled motor launch. It showed no sign of slowing down.
"Maniac!" Tracy pulled sharply back on the throttle and the sleek craft immediately responded, sending out a line of pure white foam on either side.
"We're not going to outrun it!" Arthur thought out loud. It was true. The wooden craft was making a valiant effort, cutting through the ripples and sending bursts of spray high into the air on either side. In comparison the launch was an elephant, charging through the watery jungle, pushing all before it. By sheer power it churned the sea that piled up against its bows and pushed through with gathering momentum.
The distance was rapidly diminishing between the hunter and its prey as Tracy had begun to steer the boat in a wide arc. Like a rabbit she was looking for a bolthole. The island was closer than the mainland and Arthur could see what she was planning. As they curved round the island came back into vision. He watched, horrified, as he realised that it was too far to reach. They would certainly be caught up.
Once heading for the island Tracy did not stop the curve. She steered as if to miss the island completely, heading for the open sea.
"Hold tight!" she shrieked above the thunder of what seemed their imminent destruction. In the same breath she cut the engine, throwing a lever to set the whirling blades momentarily into reverse. The result was effective. Arthur was spellbound as he watched the skilled seamanship with which Tracy turned the boat on a proverbial sixpence. There was a flash of white and chrome as the launch overshot, drenching them in a deluge of foam and spray. It must have travelled on at least fifty metres before turning to search desperately for its disappearing quarry.
The island, once more in plain view, grew closer with every second. Sea birds wheeled overhead disturbed by the sound and movement of the chase. Just as it seemed that they would make it to the cove Tracy once more turned the boat to the open sea, passing the towering and shadowy eastern cliffs. Again the launch altered course to follow, but this time it steered wide, attempting to anticipate any more surprise moves. Arthur realised they meant to come alongside. Once caught in its wash manoeuvrability would be as good as lost. Tracy held out until the launch was almost chewing at their heels, high above their little craft. Then again the boat appeared to stop dead in the water, spinning round and already picking up speed, heading straight for the looming cliffs.
Arthur prepared himself for the inevitable collision. The light was suddenly blocked out and the sound of the labouring engine grew into a mighty crescendo as the rocks picked up the sound and threw it back mockingly into the ears of the fugitives.
The crunch when it came sounded strangely distant. The engine stopped abruptly and an eerie silence fell like a cloak on the scene.