Stein saw the white death in front of him and blenched. His face turned a sickly green and he pulled out the Luger. "Get back " he screamed. "Astern, astern " He groped madly for the telegraph, pitching John, who was at the wheel, on the plating of the bridge. I was afraid of Stein, but I was scared to death of the sand-bars of the Curva dos Dunas. "You bloody fool " I shouted. As I spun the wheel back I hit Stein across the face with the back of my left hand and he went reeling to his knees...
"The reader reaches the last page panting." -Sunday Times
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