that the vanished Sir James Marcus, or his hired captain, was also a meticulously careful seagoing genius.
“Description,” I said.
“What?” She looked at me over her glass. “Oh. Well, Harley was blond and good-looking, not very tall but well built, with blue eyes. Very sunburned, of course. He’d been months outdoors working on the boat in the yard in Connecticut where he’d been helping out in return for the use of their space and tools. He’d brought Star Trek down the Intracoastal Waterway and spent the last few weeks at the Faro Blanco Marina down in the Keys running the final tests before.... What’s the matter?”
“ What did you say?” I asked, staring at her.
“I said he’d spent the last few weeks in the Florida Keys making sure everything—”
“No,” I said. “That marina. What was the name of it?”
“Why,” she said, “it was called Faro Blanco, whatever that may mean....” She stopped, her voice trailing off into silence. I didn’t say anything. Lacey licked her lips. “Have I been stupid, Matt? Blanco means white, of course, but it never occurred to me.... Faro is a card game they used to play in the old Wild West, isn’t it? I... I figured it meant a white ace or joker or something. I guess I never really thought much about it.”
I said, “Faro is Spanish for lighthouse, Miss Rockwell.”
“Oh, dear,” she said softly. “Oh, dear! If I bend over will you kick me hard? Very hard? Right out into the middle of that canal, please? When I think of all the money I paid that pilot to fly me around looking at all those silly buoys and beacons—”
“Just exactly what did your brother say in that last phone call?”
She paused to think back. “Well, he’d called from Nassau to say goodbye,” she said at last. “He was finally shoving off on the first leg of the great adventure. Everything up to that had been just preparation and practice. Now he was going to head offshore for real. His first stop, he said, would be Charlotte Amalie, on St. Thomas, in the Virgin Islands. There are easier ways of getting there, like working down the Bahamas first, in relatively sheltered waters, with harbors handy in case of trouble, but he was going to head for open water and to hell with the prevailing winds; it would be a final test of the boat, not to mention his navigation.” She drew a long breath. “I didn’t really worry at first. I mean, it’s a thousand miles from Nassau down to the Virgins; and the breezes all blow the wrong way. Working a small boat to windward you could easily cover more than twice that distance and maybe not average fifty miles a day. At least... at least that was what I kept telling myself, Matt.”
“Your brother had no radio?” I said.
“He had a good transistorized receiving set working on flashlight batteries for weather reports and news and entertainment, but no transmitting equipment. I told you, he used a little outboard for auxiliary power; he had no way of keeping a storage-battery charged.... When it got into fall and the hurricane season, I began getting anxious. I knew he’d planned to be out of the Caribbean, heading for the Panama Canal, by that time. Finally.... Well, I just quit my job in New York and came down here. I had a little money saved up—”
“Let’s go back to that phone call,” I said. “He told you he’d call from this Charlotte Something-or-other place?”
“Charlotte Amalie, on the island of St. Thomas. Yes. He said he’d call if he could; if not, he’d certainly write. He was about to hang up; and then he hesitated and said....” She frowned, and went on after a moment: “I’m trying to remember just how he put it. I think he said that he’d run into something funny he’d better not talk about over the phone, but that if anything should happen to him, I might do a little checking around the white light—” She spread her hands helplessly. “He stopped right there, as if he’d changed his mind.
“Description,” I said.
“What?” She looked at me over her glass. “Oh. Well, Harley was blond and good-looking, not very tall but well built, with blue eyes. Very sunburned, of course. He’d been months outdoors working on the boat in the yard in Connecticut where he’d been helping out in return for the use of their space and tools. He’d brought Star Trek down the Intracoastal Waterway and spent the last few weeks at the Faro Blanco Marina down in the Keys running the final tests before.... What’s the matter?”
“ What did you say?” I asked, staring at her.
“I said he’d spent the last few weeks in the Florida Keys making sure everything—”
“No,” I said. “That marina. What was the name of it?”
“Why,” she said, “it was called Faro Blanco, whatever that may mean....” She stopped, her voice trailing off into silence. I didn’t say anything. Lacey licked her lips. “Have I been stupid, Matt? Blanco means white, of course, but it never occurred to me.... Faro is a card game they used to play in the old Wild West, isn’t it? I... I figured it meant a white ace or joker or something. I guess I never really thought much about it.”
I said, “Faro is Spanish for lighthouse, Miss Rockwell.”
“Oh, dear,” she said softly. “Oh, dear! If I bend over will you kick me hard? Very hard? Right out into the middle of that canal, please? When I think of all the money I paid that pilot to fly me around looking at all those silly buoys and beacons—”
“Just exactly what did your brother say in that last phone call?”
She paused to think back. “Well, he’d called from Nassau to say goodbye,” she said at last. “He was finally shoving off on the first leg of the great adventure. Everything up to that had been just preparation and practice. Now he was going to head offshore for real. His first stop, he said, would be Charlotte Amalie, on St. Thomas, in the Virgin Islands. There are easier ways of getting there, like working down the Bahamas first, in relatively sheltered waters, with harbors handy in case of trouble, but he was going to head for open water and to hell with the prevailing winds; it would be a final test of the boat, not to mention his navigation.” She drew a long breath. “I didn’t really worry at first. I mean, it’s a thousand miles from Nassau down to the Virgins; and the breezes all blow the wrong way. Working a small boat to windward you could easily cover more than twice that distance and maybe not average fifty miles a day. At least... at least that was what I kept telling myself, Matt.”
“Your brother had no radio?” I said.
“He had a good transistorized receiving set working on flashlight batteries for weather reports and news and entertainment, but no transmitting equipment. I told you, he used a little outboard for auxiliary power; he had no way of keeping a storage-battery charged.... When it got into fall and the hurricane season, I began getting anxious. I knew he’d planned to be out of the Caribbean, heading for the Panama Canal, by that time. Finally.... Well, I just quit my job in New York and came down here. I had a little money saved up—”
“Let’s go back to that phone call,” I said. “He told you he’d call from this Charlotte Something-or-other place?”
“Charlotte Amalie, on the island of St. Thomas. Yes. He said he’d call if he could; if not, he’d certainly write. He was about to hang up; and then he hesitated and said....” She frowned, and went on after a moment: “I’m trying to remember just how he put it. I think he said that he’d run into something funny he’d better not talk about over the phone, but that if anything should happen to him, I might do a little checking around the white light—” She spread her hands helplessly. “He stopped right there, as if he’d changed his mind.
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