Deep Six (Dirk Pitt 7)

"Thank you," she said softly.

He looked at her in mild surprise. "Thank me, for what?"

"For your concern." She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "It's been a long time since anyone worried about me."

He nodded and winked. "That's what ship captains are for."

Then he turned to the other officers. "Gentlemen, may I present Miss Estelle Wallace, who is gracing us with her lovely presence until we dock in Auckland."

The introductions were made. She was amused by the fact that most of the men were numbered. The first officer, the second officer-even a fourth. They all shook her hand as if it were made of delicate china-all except the engineering officer, a short ox-shouldered man with a Slavic accent. He stiffly bent over and kissed the tips of her fingers.

The first officer motioned at the mess boy, who was standing behind a small mahogany bar. "Miss Wallace, what's your pleasure?"

"Would it be possible to have a daiquiri? I'm in the mood for something sweet."

"Absolutely," the first officer replied. "The San Marino may not be a luxurious cruise liner, but we do run the finest cocktail bar in this latitude of the Pacific."

"Be honest," the captain admonished good-naturedly. "You neglected to mention we're probably the only ship in this latitude."

"A mere detail." The first officer shrugged. "Lee, one of your famous daiquiris for the young lady."

Estelle watched with interest as the mess boy expertly squeezed the lime and poured the ingredients. Every movement came with a flourish. The frothy drink tasted good, and she had to fight a desire to down it all at once.

"Lee," she said, "you're a marvel."

"He is that," said Masters. "We were lucky to sign him on."

Estelle took another sip of her drink. "You seem to have a number of Orientals in your crew."

"Replacements," Masters explained. "Ten of the crew jumped ship after we docked in San Francisco. Fortunately, Lee and nine of his fellow Koreans arrived from the maritime hiring hall before sailing time."

"All damned queer, if you ask me," the second officer grunted.

Masters shrugged. "Crew members jumping ship in port has been going on since Cro-Magnon man built the first raft. Nothing queer about it."

The second officer shook his head doubtfully. "One or two maybe, but not ten! The San Marino is a tight ship, and the captain here is a fair skipper. There was no reason for a mass exodus."

"The way of the sea." Masters sighed. "The Koreans are clean, hardworking seamen. I wouldn't trade them for half the cargo in our holds."

"That's a pretty stiff price," muttered the engineering officer.

"Is it improper," Estelle ventured, to ask what cargo you're carrying?"

"Not at all," the very young fourth officer offered eagerly. "In San Francisco our holds were loaded with-"

"Titanium ingots," Captain Masters cut in.

"Eight million dollars worth," Handed the first officer, eyeing the fourth sternly.

"Once again, please," Estelle said, handing her empty glass to the mess boy. She turned back to Masters. "I've heard of titanium, but I have no idea what it's used for."

"When properly processed in pure form, titanium becomes stronger and lighter than steel, an asset that puts it in great demand by builders of jet aircraft engines. It's also widely used in the manufacture of paints, rayon and plastics. I suspect you even have traces of it in your cosmetics."

The cook, an anemic-looking Oriental with a sparkling white apron leaned through a side door and nodded at Lee, who in turn tapped a glass with a mixing spoon.

"Dinner ready to be served," he said in his heavily accented English, while flashing his gap-toothed smile.

it was a fabulous meal, one Estelle promised herself never to forget. To be surrounded by six handsomely uniformed-ned and attentive men was all that her female vanity could endure in one evening.