Gently Floating by Alan Hunter Page B

windows with sliding panes and faded rep curtains. The bulkheads and lockers were of panelled mahogany and the coamings were of plain mahogany. The roof and its beams were white-enamelled. Brass oil lamps were gimballed over the lockers. A drop-leaf mahogany table furnished the cabin sole which was covered with buff lino protected by brass strip. Gently sat on the settee-berth opposite to John French. It was very warm in the saloon of the
Kiama.
    ‘What – why do you want to talk to me?’ John French said.
    ‘I’ve read your statement,’ Gently said.
    John French looked at the book, which he’d closed up. ‘What about my statement?’ he said.
    ‘It’s not too convincing,’ Gently said. ‘And it leaves out one or two matters that interest us. Like how you managed to sail so far after the wind died on Tuesday. And what your conversation with your father was about over breakfast on that day. Perhaps some other small points.’
    ‘There was plenty of wind on Tuesday,’John French said.
    ‘Not according to Mr Willard,’ Gently said. ‘He’s your county meteorologist. He recorded a light variable southerly airstream until the early afternoon, then a similar north-easterly sea breeze which faded out during the evening.’
    ‘You can’t go on that stiff,’John French said.
    ‘It seems reasonably authentic,’ Gently said.
    ‘You wouldn’t sail at all if you depended on that,’John French said. ‘There was some wind. I had enough.’
    ‘Was it north-easterly?’ Gently said.
    ‘Well, I suppose so,’ John French said. ‘If they say that’s where it came from I shan’t call them liars.’
    ‘Right,’ Gently said. ‘So you’d be tacking. Tacking over the tide to Hickstead Staithe. Against a fading variable breeze. A distance of five and a half miles. You say you started out at six-thirty. What was the time when you got to Hickstead?’
    ‘I didn’t go to Hickstead,’John French said.
    ‘But you said you did in your statement,’ Gently said.
    ‘Not to Hickstead Staithe,’ John French said. ‘I didn’t say that in my statement. I know what I said. I said nearly to Hickstead Staithe. Actually, I turned round at the bottom of the broad. I didn’t want to go down to that hole.’
    ‘That would make it five and a quarter miles,’ Gently said. ‘Are you sure you didn’t turn at the top of the broad?’
    ‘I’ve just said the bottom,’John French said.
    ‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘So what was the time?’
    John French twisted the book over.
    ‘Were you wearing your watch?’ Gently said.
    John French hesitated. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I was wearing my watch all right.’
    ‘Then surely you looked at it?’ Gently said. ‘People out sailing usually check their times. Especially when they’ve reached where they intend to go and want to estimate how long it will take them to get back.’
    ‘So what?’ John French said. ‘I didn’t look at mine.’
    ‘Perhaps you were watching the other boats,’ Gently said.
    ‘What other boats?’ John French said.
    ‘That very noisy red-and-cream speedboat,’ Gently said. ‘I understand it was making a nuisance of itself all the evening.’
    John French twisted the book. ‘I didn’t notice,’ he said. ‘They’re a lot of morons who have speedboats. I don’t pay any attention to them.’
    ‘But this one you’d have noticed,’ Gently said. ‘On a quiet broad you couldn’t help it. Bellowing around like a stung cow. Chivvying other boats. Getting shouted at. Perhaps you shouted at it yourself?’
    ‘I don’t pay any attention to them,’John French said.
    ‘And you sailed slowly down the broad and back without noticing it?’
    ‘I,’ John French said. ‘Yes. I didn’t notice it.’
    ‘Whether it was there or wasn’t there?’ Gently said.
    ‘Yes. It wasn’t there,’ John French said.
    ‘I see,’ Gently said. ‘But you guessed wrongly. I didn’t make that boat up. The driver’s name was Oswald Blifil. He’s being summonsed.