On the deck of the Tigress, Jason McGuire lounged in the waning sunlight. It wasn't so bad, 'working' for this rich old geezer Hargrove. And living on his oversized yacht was nice, too. Of course, when the time came, he and Willie would take the old coot for as much as they could get and clear out. But in the meantime, Jason intended to live it up.

At the moment, they were moored in San Diego Harbor, and the elderly George Hargrove having already retired below, Jason no longer needed to feign working on the deck. Sounds from above, though, told him Willie was still busy cleaning the bridge. The tinny strains of "I Wanna

Hold Your Hand" floated down to him from the transistor radio Willie'd picked up in L.A.

Scowling, Jason knocked back his beer, tossing the empty bottle overboard. Geez, he thought, the junk kids listened to these days. First Presley and now these long-haired weirdos from Liverpool.

"Willie!"

A blond head appeared at the railing above. "Yeah?"

"Turn off the noise, Willie boy. Our generous benefactor has retired for the night."

"Already? Willie frowned, then caught Jason's warning look. "Yeah, OK. I'll turn it off." He vanished Seconds later, so did the scratching sound of the radio.

Jason leaned back in the deck chair, closed his eyes and began fantasizing about hands full of beautiful jewels and crisp, green cash flowing from the wall safe in George Hargrove's cabin.

His dream was interrupted by the chuffing of a boat engine, and he opened his eyes to see a smaller, somewhat older yacht pulling into the slip beside them. The wake it had stirred made the Tigress rock gently in the water. It wasn't the newly-arrived yacht, however, that had drawn Jason's interest. There was a rather attractive young woman at the port side rail, waving and calling to him.

"Ahoy there, Tigress," she yelled. "Is your captain aboard?"

Jason rose, grinning. "Well now," he said to himself. "Just when I was beginning to get a wee bit bored with the good life, what should come along..."

Aloud, he shouted, "The captain's resting below decks, darlin'. Will I do?"

She laughed. "Sorry. Not a chance."

Jason laughed in turn, but he did not take her answer as final. Instead, he prepared to jump ship and make his way across the dock toward her.

Willie's voice came from above him just as he was about to leap. "Where you goin?"

"Fishing, Willie. Just never you mind."

Willie glanced over at the young woman who still stood at the rail of the neighboring yacht. Her deck crew was busy securing the moorings.

"You crazy?" he asked. "We ain't got time for that."

Jason grinned. "Oh, now Willie. I've always got time for a lady."

Willie's voice became dead serious. "You listen to me," he warned. "You get mixed up with a dame now you could wreck everything we got goin' here. You--"

"I don't need lectures," Jason interrupted him. "Especially not from the likes of you." He jumped to the dock, straightening the collar of his jacket as he walked away. "Don't expect me back," he said, "until late."

He found, when he'd reached the neighboring ship, that the young lady in question had also come ashore. She was supervising the final mooring operations.

"Good evening," Jason said, tipping his cap gallantly. "I'm Jason McGuire. A pleasure to meet you, Miss-?"

"Simon," she said, ignoring the hand he'd offered. "Beth Simon. You Mr. Hargrove's new deck hand?"

Jason tried putting on his most winning smile. "Yes, that's right. "One of Mr. Hargrove's two new deck hands. The only two, just at the moment. The other two fellas just up and quit on us in San Francisco last month."

She looked dubious. "Just like that? Rather sudden, wasn't it? Somehow I'd never have expected Dale and Ernie to be quite so abrupt."

"Oh, so you knew them did you?"

"We'd met. The last time the Tigress and Mi Tio were both anchored here in San Diego. Mr. Hargrove and I have been neighbors before."

"I see." A mercenary light had crept subtly into Jason's eyes. "You own this little darlin', do you?"

She laughed again, a pleasant, almost musical sound. "Not exactly. It's my uncle's yacht. He just lets me play with it now and then."

"Ah. He let you name it too, didn't he?"

"You speak Spanish, Mr. McGuire?"

"Oh please. Call me Jason. And no, but I've been around enough to know a word or two. Mi Tio means 'my uncle.' Isn't that right?"

Not waiting for her answer, he began strolling along the dock in the hope she would casually follow. To his delight, she did.

"I was wonderin', darlin'," he said, working even faster than was usual, for him, "if you might be interested..."

* * *

Aboard the Tigress, Willie finished his cleaning and came down on deck. The sun had set and San Diego's harbor was rapidly falling into darkness. Willie searched the shadowy lines of El Tio's deck, wondering if Jason were already below decks over there with the pretty girl who'd waved from the railing. He was still searching when he heard the loud splash of something -- or

someone -- falling into the water. In the gathering shadows, he saw a female figure marching angrily back down the docking planks toward El Tio, her footsteps echoing noisily across the short expanse of lapping water between the boats. Minutes later, a thrashing noise preceded the appearance of a very wet Jason McGuire just off Tigress' starboard bow. He struggled up the side ladder and dropped onto the deck, clothes dripping.

His partner stared at him, open-mouthed.

"Not a word, Willie." Jason sloshed toward the hatch leading below-decks, leaving large puddles of salt water in his wake. "Not a word!"

* * *

The sun had not been up long when Willie returned to the Tigress' deck, leaving Jason sleeping peacefully in the double bunk of their small shared cabin. He found George Hargrove already on deck, engaged in conversation with an attractive young woman. The same young woman, Willie realized, who'd sailed in on El Tio last night.

"Ah, Loomis," Hargrove said. "There you are. Where's McGuire this morning?"

"He, uh..." Willie glanced uncomfortably at the young woman. "He's not feelin' so good. I guess he'll be up in a little while."

"Better see that he is," Hargrove grumbled. "We're setting sail in two hours."

"We are?" Willie recovered from one surprise only to be met shortly with another. "Yes," the old man said. "And Beth here will be coming along. Just a short cruise. A few days out and back. Oh yes," he added on an afterthought. "Beth Simon, Willie Loomis, my new deck hand. Beth came in on El Tio last night. Her uncle's boat. He and I are... well, we're real old friends."

Willie nodded, still acutely uncomfortable. "Nice meetin' ya," he said.

"My other ship's mate," Hargrove went on, speaking to Beth, "Is a ne'er-do-well named Jason McGuire. He likes to sleep late."

Beth gave Willie a knowing look. "Yes," she said. "We've met."

George Hargrove seemed surprised. "Oh really? Well I guess that'll save me another introduction, won t it? Well Loomis, I suggest you go and wake your friend. The word is there's good fishing off the Coronado Islands today. I'm gonna pull in a few bass. So let's get to it."

"Sure," Willie agreed. "Right away."

With a final glance at Beth, he went below to rouse a partner he knew was not going to like the news that the Tigress was setting sail. Whether he'd be pleased or angry to know that Beth Simon was aboard would remain to be seen.

Once the Tigress had set out, Jason managed somehow to avoid contact with either Hargrove or Beth for most of the day. The old man and his pretty traveling companion spent the majority of their time on the bow with the mounted fishing reels.

The yacht was anchored off the Coronados when evening came again. George Hargrove had proudly carried the buckets of fish he and Beth had caught into the compact galley, cleaned and stowed them in the small freezer. Then, as was his habit nearly every evening not long after sunset, he'd retired.

Jason was lounging once again in a deck chair, watching Willie polish the railings not far away. He'd almost forgotten about Beth Simon, until a soft feminine voice said, "Hello again, Mr. McGuire."

He looked up at her, not bothering to stand.

"Well now. Little Beth. I do seem to recall having heard you were aboard. I guess I've just been a wee bit too busy to pay my respects."

She smiled wryly, and slipped into the chair beside his.

"I don't know what you're sore about," she said. "So you took a little bath. Fella with a mouth like that deserves one."

Surprised by her bold approach, Jason began to take a renewed interest in this lady. If there was one thing Jason McGuire could admire, it was pluck.

"Well perhaps I was a bit presumptuous," he admitted cagily "But not half so much as I am curious."

"Oh? About what?"

"About why a pretty young thing like you wants to spend her days fishing with an old man like George Hargrove."

"Oh that. Well you don't have to be curious, Mr. McGui re."

"Jason."

"Jason. George and I are old friends. He's known me, and my uncle, just about forever."

"Has he now?" Jason's tone was rife with unmasked suspicion. "And you spend your time fishing with the old boy just because he's known you and your uncle 'just about forever'?"

"Something like that."

"M-hm."

"Why Jason. You don't sound as though you believe me."

"I don' t."

"And why not?"

"Because I didn't fall off the apple truck yesterday, and neither did you."

"Meaning?"

"I know a con artist when I see one, darlin'. And I'm lookin' at one right now."

She got up and went to the rail, where he joined her to gaze at the dark, lapping water. "I'm right," he said. "Aren't I?"

"How does the old saying go, Jason? It takes one to know one?"

He grinned. "I thought so. I'm not usually wrong about these things."

"The old man's worth a lot of money. I guess you know that."

"Mm. What I still don't know, my dear, is what you're after. Seems to me you already have all the money you need, what with your uncle's yacht and all. Why go after old man Hargrove's meager fortune too?"

Her smile reminded Jason, uncomfortably, of his own.

"Let's just say," she told him, "that I have a thoroughly larcenous nature."

Laughing, Jason dared move closer to her, though he was careful to stand in such a way that pushing him over the side would be impossible.

"You know, darlin'," he said, and casually slipped his arm around her waist, "that offer I made yesterday is still open."

He was prepared this time to block any violent reaction she might have. But to his surprise, there was none. Instead, she looked him in the eye and said bluntly, "I never doubted it would be."

"Didn't you?"

For the first time in his life, Jason was almost at a loss for words. He'd never met a woman like this one. Not anywhere, in all his travels, in the whole wide world.

"Would it surprise you," she said, "to know my 'services' come with a price tag?"

Jason recovered in record time from a case of dropped jaw.

"You can't be serious," he breathed.

"Oh, but I am. In this case, though, a very small price tag."

He took his hand from her waist, suspicion narrowing his eyes. "And what might that be?"

"It's very simple, really," she replied. "I want to know what scheme you and your partner

have in mind for putting hands on the old man's money. My approach doesn't seem to be working, so I'm willing to try yours. I want in."

Jason's hardy laugh drew a curious stare from partner Willie, still polishing brass down the way.

"Beth, darlin', you and I are goin' to get along just splendidly!"

Hugging her close to him with renewed confidence, Jason told her how they'd signed aboard in San Francisco, how they'd paid Dale Spencer and Ernie Koverton to 'jump ship' in order to be the only remaining deck hands, and how they'd planned, when the time was right, to add a little sleeping draught to old man Hargrove's evening tea, empty the wall safe and jump ship themselves. A delightfully simple plan of action. He was surprised Beth hadn't thought of it herself.

"So am I," she told him, laughing. "So am I. Now, as for my part of the bargain..."

To Jason's very pleasant surprise, she reached for his hand, and guided him quietly t6ward the hatch that would take them below.

Willie watched them disappear below decks, and shook his head in consternation. That Jason was going to ruin everything. Picking up one dame after another like that.

When he went below, much later, to retire, Willie found the cabin door locked. Not exactly surprised, he brought out the small guest berth that would have been Beth Simon's, and spent the night there. Bone tired, exhausted from his long day's work, he knew nothing more until rough hands shook him awake not long after dawn the next morning.

"Willie? Willie! Wake up!"

"Wha--? Jason?" Willie sat up, groggily blinking sleep from his eyes. "Whatsa matter?"

Jason didn't look completely awake himself.

"Where are they?" he demanded. "Where're the old man and Beth Simon?"

Utterly confused, Willie shook his head. "Whadda ya mean, where are they? I saw you and the girl go into... I mean I thought... I thought she was with..."

"That was last night," Jason growled at him. "This is now, this morning, and they're not anywhere aboard this yacht."

Willie crawled out of the cramped cabin bunk, fully awake now, and ran a hand through his unkempt thatch of blond hair. He still had on the same rumpled clothing he'd worn to bed.the night before.

"They gotta be aboard, he said. "Where could they go? We're sittin' in the middle of nowhere."

"I tell you I've been through this floating tub from top to bottom. There's no one aboard but the two of us. And the safe, Willie. The safe is empty. Cleaned out!"

"What?"

"We've been had, Willie boy. And by an expert."

Willie pushed past him out the tiny door, making his way forward to Hargrove's cabin. Jason had been right. The porthole-shaped wall safe stood open, the shadowed corners of its empty interior mocking them.

"She was a con?" Willie marveled. "You mean a pretty young slip of a thing actually managed to con the great Jason McGuire?" The irony of it all made him chuckle in spite of Jason's angry glare. "I don't believe it. I just don't believe it."

Jason stormed out of the cabin, uttering a string of four-letter obscenities. Willie followed him doggedly to the Tigress' bridge.

"What're you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna get us out of here," Jason snapped. "Go haul up the anchor."

Willie started to obey, but stopped when Jason's effort to start the engines sent a sickening grinding noise shuddering through the decks.

"What the--?"

Willie came back to his partner's side, wincing when Jason tried the starter again and evoked the same hideous sound.

"Damn!"

"Well what is it?" Willie asked him. "Why won't it start?"

Jason slapped an angry hand at the fuel gauge. "It's out of gas, that's why. They've drained it."

"Now why would they wanna do that?"

Jason's answer was cut short when he spied something taped to the small message board on the bridge's aft bulkhead. He walked to it, snatched it down, and unfolded it to read:

Dear Jason,

Many thanks for the ride. Would have loved to hang around, but Uncle George and I had to take a little side trip to Coronado in the dinghy. Bet he's glad now he named the Tigress after me -- if I hadn't come along he never would have known what you really were, and what you were up to, let alone how to go about pressing charges against you. Oh yes -- the Coast Guard will be by in a little while to give you a nice, friendly tow. They'll also be providing you both with a few weeks free lodging in the San Diego Municipal Jail.

Bon Voyage, Beth

Willie, reading the note over his partner's shoulder, gave Jason a thoroughly disgusted look.

Somewhere not far away in the morning fog, the engines of a Coast Guard cutter rumbled steadily toward them.
 

THE END