Don't Forget the Diver
I watched the little Cockney diver as he sipped a second glass of cognac and I was certain he was hiding something. The others had the same idea. They were watching him, too. He glanced quickly in our direction and edged away towards the station manager. Jill gripped my arm. 'Bill!' she whispered, 'do you think he could have picked Schreuder up this morning?' Her voice was tense and strained.
'I don't know,' I answered. 'It's possible. What do you think?'
'I felt-' She hesitated and then looked up at me. 'Bill, I felt close to him this morning — terribly, strangely close. It was as though-' She stopped and then said, 'I don't know. I just felt as though I were close to him, that's all.'
To Farnell?'
She nodded.
I looked across at the dark-haired little diver. He was talking to Kielland. He was talking fast as though he had to keep on talking. I caught snatches of his conversation. It was about depth of water and oxy-acetylene cutting. 'He's nervous,' I told Jill quietly. 'I'll get him alone as soon as I can and see what I can find out.'
But I didn't get him alone before lunch and at lunch something happened that made me even more anxious to talk to the man privately. The meal was laid in a long, low room branching off from the steward's big kitchen. Windows looked out across ridges of bare rock to a black cutting where the sea lay still in the hot sunshine like a piece of glass. The meal — middag they called it — was a colossal affair. It began with big steaks of whale meat served with tomatoes and potatoes. This was followed by koltbord — there were innumerable tins of fish treated in different ways, smoked salmon, pickled hake, pressed whalebeef and a whole assortment of different meats, salad and several types of cheese. There was milk and a light Norwegian Pilsner to wash it down.
Lovaas was there and Captain Nordahl of Hval To. The talk was mainly of whale. Sunde kept his eyes on his plate and when he spoke it was only to ask for something to be passed to him. If Dick had let him be, I might have found out what I wanted and Lovaas might never have come into the picture again. But Dick asked him how it was he spoke such good English, and with a Cockney accent.
The little diver looked up. 'Me muvver was Cockney,' he answered, tucking his food into his cheek. 'She never could get on wiv the Norwegian language, so roight from the time Oi first opened me ma'f she talked ter me in English.'
'Who were the men working with you this morning?' Dick asked.
'Me partner an' a fisherman.'
There was a lull in the general conversation and Lovaas looked across at him. 'What are you fishing for?' he asked.
The Cockney Norwegian grinned. 'Per aerer engines, Kaptein Lovaas,' he answered. 'Oi'm a diver. Started yesterday.'
'He is getting up the engines of that old Junkers 88 that was shot down off Skarv Island,' Kielland explained.
'Off Skarv Island?' The sudden interest in Lovaas's voice hit me like a punch. I could see it coming and I couldn't stop it. I began to talk about salvage operations in British harbours. But only the Kiellands were interested. Lovaas had stopped eating and was watching the diver. 'Were you out there this morning, Mr Sunde? — ' he asked.
I kept on talking. But all around me was a heavy silence. Sunde gave Lovaas a quick, scared glance and then his eyes fell to his plate. He toyed nervously with his knife and fork. But he didn't eat. 'That's roight,' he said. And then hurriedly: 'Oi went da'n ter examine the engines. When Oi sees they're okay Oi sends me mate inter Bovaagen fer an acetylene cutter.'
Lovaas was on him like a hawk. 'To Bovaagen, eh?'
'That's roight,' Sunde replied. But the way he said it lacked conviction and he fumbled with his knife as he spread thin layers of cheese on top of meat.
'Who are you working with?' Lovaas went on.
'Peer Storjohann,' Sunde replied. 'He and Oi is partners. We own the boat an' the equipment.'
'And the fisherman?'
'Oh, he's a local man,' put in Kielland. 'Old Einar Sandven from Nordhanger.'
'From Nordhanger, eh?' Lovaas seemed chewing this information over in his mind. Then he said, 'What time was it you ceased work this morning?'
Sunde looked across at me and then at Lovaas. He seized his glass and took a gulp of beer. I leaned forward across the table and said, 'Can you tell me more about these engines? Presumably the plane was shot down several years ago. Surely the engines will be rusted beyond use?'
Sunde seized on to my new line of conversation with evident relief. 'Lor' bless me soul, no,' he answered. 'They'll be all roight. Metal don't rust right under the water, see. It's air and water what rusts metal. You see ships rusted 'cos you see 'em after the air's bin at 'em. But you sink a ship right under the sea an' then go da'n an' take a look at 'er — well she's all roight, see.'
He paused, and in that pause, Lovaas said, 'How long were you out off Skarv Island this morning, Mr Sunde?'
'Oh, Oi dunno,' Sunde replied quickly. 'An hour — maybe two. Why?' He looked across at Lovaas, but somehow he wasn't able to hold the other's gaze. His eyes dropped to his plate again.
'What time did you start work?' Lovaas persisted.
'Oh, Oi dunno. 'Ba't eight.'
'Then you would still be out there about ten this morning?'
'Couldn't say what time we was a't there till. Ask me partner. 'E's got a watch.'
'When will he be returned, eh?'
''Ow should Oi know? Depends 'ow long 'e takes ter get the oxy-acetylene plant. Mebbe 'e'll 'ave ter go inter Bergen fer it.'
Lovaas leaned towards Sunde. There was something almost menacing in the solid, squat bulk of him. 'Were you out off Skarv Island when we were searching for Schreuder?' he asked.
'Was that the name of the man wot fell overboard from Hval Ti?' Sunde asked, trying hard to cover up his nervousness.
'Yes,' Lovaas answered abruptly.
'Well, we weren't there, see. We didn't 'ear nuffink.'
Mrs Kielland patted Lovaas's arm. 'I'm sure Mr Sunde would have said at once if he'd been there, Kaptein Lovaas.'
Lovaas said nothing. He sat watching Sunde. The silence at the table became uncomfortable. Mrs Kielland said, 'It is so terrible. It is the first man we have lost at Bovaagen Hval. And so close to the station — it does not seem possible.'
'Is this the first man you've ever lost?' I asked Kielland.
He nodded. 'We have accidents, you know. Men cut themselves on flensing knives. And then we had a man's leg badly torn by the winches. But that is all at the factory. Never have we any accidents on the ships. This is the first.'
I looked across at Lovaas. 'But it's not your first, is it, Captain Lovaas?' I said.
'What do you mean?' His eyes flared with sudden anger.
'I seem to remember hearing that you killed a man once.'
'Who tell you that, eh?'
'A Mr Dahler.'
'Dahler.' His eyes narrowed. 'What did he say about me?'
'Only that you were sacked from the command of a catcher for killing a man.'
'It's a lie.'
'Maybe,' I said. 'But how will you explain this man Schreuder's death to the police?'
'Explain? Schreuder jumped overboard.'
Lovaas was crumbling a piece of bread and suddenly I felt on top of him. 'What about my evidence?' I said.
'But the man jumped over the ship,' Mrs Kielland said. 'Surely that is right? All the men say he jump straight over. You and Kaptein Lovaas search for him together.'
'The man was desperate,' I said. 'That's why he jumped. I wonder what you had done to make him so desperate, Captain Lovaas? Had you threatened him as you did that other man?'
Lovaas thrust back his chair and got to his feet. He was red with anger. 'I am not to stay here to be insult,' he cried, losing his English in his excitement. 'You are a guest here. If you were not you would get hurt for that. Now I go back to my ship. But be careful, Mr Gansert. Be careful. This is dangerous talk.' He turned to Mrs Kielland and said, 'Taak for maten.' Then, with a quick glance at me, he left the room.
I had overplayed my hand. I should have kept quiet. But I'd wanted to get his mind away from Sunde and those two diving boats. I glanced round the silent table. Kielland was watching me. His eyes had lost their good-humoured twinkle. 'Will you please tell me what happened on board Hval Ti?' he asked.
I told him. And when I had finished, he said, 'You were interested in this man Schreuder for the same reason that Jorgensen was interested, eh?'
I nodded.
He didn't say anything, but sat slumped in his chair as though lost in thought. 'Will there be an inquiry into the man's death?' I asked him.
He looked up. 'No,' he said. 'No. I do not think so.'
'But surely-' I began.
He held up his hand. 'You forget,' he said, 'Herr Jorgensen is a very powerful man. We are like you people. We are hardworking, honest and law-abiding. But when a thing is a matter of high politics and big business — then-' He hesitated. 'Then it is best left in the hands of those who understand it. Come. We will go and have a little drink with our coffee, and we will forget all about this, eh?'
We had our coffee and drinks in the Kiellands' sitting-room.
Sunde sat himself next to Mr Kielland. I had no opportunity of getting him alone, and after our coffee, Kielland insisted on taking the four of us round the station. He took us through the boiler-rooms where the steam for the oil vats was generated and on into a roofed-in space piled high with the rotten-smelling remains of whalebone. There were great sections of backbone steamed out so that they were like huge loaves of aerated bread, as light as a feather. This refuse scraped from the bottom of the oil vats was being crushed and packed in sacks as guano for agriculture. Then we went down into the main part of the factory where the vats stood like huge blast furnaces, six a side in two long lines. We walked down the narrow space between them. The heat was terrific. On each side of us a scalding hot gutter carried a thin, yellow stream of whale oil to big, open tanks. 'From these tanks it goes to be cooled,' Kielland said. 'Then it is packed in oil drums. It goes all over the world — for soap, candles, cosmetics, margarine.'
I tried to show interest, but I was impatient to get back to Sunde before Lovaas had a chance to talk to him alone. But Kielland's life was the whaling station and he was determined to show us everything. He took us to a vat that was being cleared of slag, all the oil having been extracted. Two men, stripped to the waist, were hauling out the filth with iron scrapers from an open door at the base of the vat. It piled up on the floor. a mass of decayed-looking rubbish that might have been the sweepings of an incinerator. 'More guano,' Kielland said. 'It is all money. Every little bit of whale is money. Nothing is waste. Even the finners are used. They go to England to be made into brushes. Come. I show you how we cut and pack the meat.' We went out on to the flensing deck. The sun was hot and bright. The steam saws, hummed. The men slid along the slippery deck with great, star-shaped sections of bone: all that was left of the great monster we had seen being dragged up the slipway that morning was a long, ragged, bleeding backbone. The meat had all been cleared. They were hosing down the deck. Kielland noticed our surprise and said, 'We do not waste time, eh?' I have forty men here and we can handle three whales a day if necessary.
'Three whales a day!' Curtis said. 'But that never happens, surely. You've only three catchers.'
'Oh, not early in the season,' Kiel land answered. 'But later the whale comes south. In September we may be catching them just off the islands. Then quite often we have all three catchers in day after day. It is hard work. But we do not mind. It is good money for everyone then.'
We crossed the deck and went into the packing sheds. Whilst Kielland was talking to the others, I strolled through on to the quay. And then I stopped. Captain Nordahl's Hval To was lying there, but there was no sign of Hval Ti. I turned back. 'Kielland,' I called. 'Where's Lovaas's boat?'
He turned, a large hunk of whale beef in his hand. 'Hval 'I'll He should be there.'
'It's not there,' I told him. 'Has Lovaas gone back to the whaling grounds, do you think?'
But he shook his head. 'No. He has to have water and fuel. Perhaps he has gone to Bovaagen.' His eyes creased to a twinkle. 'He has a girl at Bovaagen. And the mate has his wife staying at the Skjaergaardshotelet. Most of his men have a woman of some sort there. I think you will find he has gone to Bovaagen. He has more whale than the other boats. He is in no hurry. Also it is no good out in the Norskehavet now — Hval Fern reports bad fog. Now look at this, Mr Gansert. What do you think of this for meat, eh?' He held the slab of red meat out to me. It looked like real beef. 'Not all of the whale is like this, you know,' he went on. The meat is all graded. This is the best. This will go to Bergen or Newcastle for the restaurants. Then there is other meat which goes to make sausages. The worst meat goes for the foxes. We have big fox farms here in Norway.' He tossed the piece of beef back on to one of the packing shed shelves and glanced at his watch. 'Now we go up to the house, eh? There is the radio at four and then, after, we have tea — just a cup, but it is very good because my wife always insists on a little drink with it.' He chuckled and patted my arm as he led the way back across the flensing deck.
I was in a hurry to get back. I wanted to see Sunde. Mrs Kielland was alone in the sitting-room. She put her knitting down as she rose to greet us. 'Well, has Albert shown you everything?' She took hold of Jill's hand. 'You poor dear. I think you are very brave. The smell is something you have to get used to. But did you see the meat?' Jill nodded. I think she was quite exhausted with whale. 'What did you think? Is it good? Is it like your ox beef, eh?'
'Yes. Very.' Jill folded up quietly into a chair.
'Where's the diver?' I asked.
Mrs Kielland turned. 'Mr Sunde? That is very strange. I have not seen him since middag.'
'Probably he has gone to Bovaagen to help his partner with that equipment,' Kielland said.
'Ah yes,' his wife agreed. 'That is it. I'm sure that is what he will have done. Why? Did you wish to speak with him?'
'Yes,' I said. 'I–I wanted to know more about his diving methods. If you'll excuse me, I'll just take a stroll round and see if he's about.' I nodded to Curtis and he followed me out.
'He wouldn't have gone to Bovaagen surely,' he said as we closed the door. 'Not with Lovaas there.'
'He might have gone first and Lovaas followed,' I answered. 'We'll just see if he's on the station.'
Curtis, who knew quite a bit of Norwegian from his service in the country, questioned everyone we met. But the only person who seemed to have seen anything of Sunde since the midday meal was the steward. He'd seen him going down behind the station towards the cutting where the sea swept in. We walked down to it across the bare rock. The sun was slanting behind the iron chimneys of the station and the rock was a warm, golden colour. We reached the cutting. It was narrow and the sea ran out through it fast as the tide fell. We crossed a bridge and continued on. Men's boots had blazed a trail through the years that led like a white path to the crest of a jagged shoulder of rock. From the top we could see the white spire of Bovaagen church standing like a bright spearhead against the pale, burnished blue of the sky. And in a little backwater to our left a rowing boat lay tied to a rock. It was the sort of boat you find everywhere in Norway — a development of the coracle, pinched out to a point at bow and stern, a miniature Viking's craft that had survived down the ages even to its fixed wooden rowlocks. From a neighbouring rock, a length of rope trailed in the greasy water.
'Perhaps there was another boat there,' Curtis suggested. 'He may have rowed down to Bovaagen.'
'Possible,' I said.
'Or he may have walked,' Curtis added, gazing towards the little wooden church on the distant hill. 'It can't be so very far if the men walk it every day.'
'Far enough,' I said. 'Anyway, their houses are probably this side of the village. Come on. We'll take Diviner down there.'
We turned back then and walked towards the sun. As we crossed the wooden bridge that spanned the cutting, we met some of the men starting home. They were a small, dark lot with dirty clothes and almost every one of them carried a dripping hunk of red meat. They smiled at us in a quiet, friendly way and said, 'God dag,' as they passed. Curtis spoke with one or two. Most of them had houses much nearer than Bovaagen. 'Bovaagen they said, was over an hour's hard walking.
We got back to the Kiellands' in time for tea and a drink. Immediately afterwards we excused ourselves and went down to the ship. As we walked through the almost deserted station, Jill said to me, 'If we don't find Mr Sunde at Bovaagen, we might try Nordhanger.'
'Einar Sandven's cottage?' I asked.
She nodded. 'There's a road to Nordhanger from Bovaagen.'
As we passed through the dark cavern of the packing sheds, a ship's siren reverberated through the low island hills. I stopped, listening to the sound of it dying away. Then it came again, a deep, hollow sound. Curtis, who was ahead, ran out on to the quay. Then he turned and called to us. 'It's Lovaas,' he shouted. 'He's coming in.'
The slanting sunlight sprawled the shadow of Hval To across the quay. Curtis was pointing across the catcher's bow with its deadly harpoon gun. Through the gap between the islands steamed another catcher. Its siren-puff of steam still hung like a white wreath astern of it. Across the still water came the sound of the engine-room telegraph. The catcher began to swing as it manoeuvred in to the quay. The golden sunlight caught the side of the bridge. HVAL 10. 'Come on,' I said to the others. 'We mustn't appear too interested.'
We went on along the quay, past the pile of fifty-kilo cases of whale meat awaiting dispatch, past Hval 2, whose men were all on deck watching Lovaas come in, until we came to Diviner. Her deck was deserted. The varnish of her bare masts shone warm in the slanting sun. We climbed aboard and went below. Dahler was sitting alone in the saloon. 'Where's Carter and Wilson?' I asked him.
They have gone to look over Hval To, and to have a little drink, I think.' He smiled. A bottle of whisky and a half full tumbler stood at his elbow. 'I am glad you have returned. It is very dull down below here. But I do not wish to look at the factory.' He reached for the bottle. 'Have a drink,' he said. 'Everybody come an' have a drink.' He suddenly crashed the bottle down on to the table top. 'I do not wish to look at the factory, I tell you.' He pushed the bottle quickly away and raised his withered arm. 'Why you bring me here, eh?' he demanded of me. 'Why did you bring me here? Was it to torture me? Do you think I like to be here — marooned in your damned yacht — knowing that if I go up on deck I shall be face to face with the factory — my factory. Ever since you went to lunch with Kielland I have been down here. And I have been thinking. I have been thinking about the ships I owned and the tankers — and Knut Jorgensen.' He slammed his claw-like hand down on to the table top with a violence that shook the room. 'I do not like to think about such things,' he cried. His voice was slurred and hysterical. 'It is not good to think about them.' He stopped and his eyes narrowed cunningly. He leaned towards me. 'What would you do in my position, eh?' And suddenly violent again, he shouted. 'You'd do what I'm going to do. There is no justice — no God. I have lived through two wars. I have seen evil flourish and the good have been mown down. I tell you — there — is — no — justice.' Then, speaking faster, so that the saliva was visible at the corners of his mouth: 'But I will make my own justice. I will fight them with their own weapons, do you understand?'
Jill went forward and took his hand. 'Yes, we understand, Mr Dahler,' she said. Her voice was quiet and soothing. 'Sit down now. We're all going to have a drink with you.' She picked up the bottle and smiled at him. 'You haven't left us very much, Mr Dahler.'
'No,' he said. He swallowed awkwardly and sat down again. He was suddenly a tired and rather pathetic old man. He passed his hand wearily over his face. 'I have drunk too much,' he whispered. Then, with sudden renewal of his violence, 'But I will not sit here doing nothing while Knut Jorgensen fills my place. I enlarged it. At his death we had five ships, that was all. When the Germans invaded Norway, I had a fleet of fourteen coasters and four tankers. Twenty-three thousand tons.' He seized the tumbler and drank, spilling the whisky down his chin. 'All gone,' he murmured. 'Nothing left. Nothing left, damn them — do you hear? God!' He buried his head in his hands. He was crying openly.
'Go up and get some more glasses, Dick,' I said. 'There are several lying about in the chartroom.'
As he slid open the door, we could hear orders being shouted in Norwegian and the sound of the catcher's engines going astern. Jill looked across at me. 'What are you going to do?' she asked. 'Are you going to Bovaagen?'
I hesitated. Dahler lifted his tear-stained face. His eyes were wild and bloodshot. 'Have a drink,' he said, seizing the bottle and pushing it across the table towards me. He rose unsteadily to his feet. 'I want you all to have a drink with me,' he said, raising his glass. 'I want you to drink with me to the — to the damnation of Jorgensen.' He drained his glass and sat down.
He looked dazed.
«I Dick came tumbling down the gangway. 'Bill,' he called. 'Lovaas is coming on board.'
'On board Diviner?'
'Yes.'
I turned to Jill. 'Get Dahler into his cabin. Curtis, shut him in. He mustn't meet Lovaas.'
Heavy footsteps sounded on the deck over our heads. 'Mr Gansert!' It was Lovaas's deep voice. 'Mr Gansert! Anyone below?'
Jill and Curtis between them had got Dahler out from behind the table. 'Yes?' I called. 'Who wants me?'
'Kaptein Lovaas,' came the reply. 'May I come down please?'
I went to the companionway. 'What do you want, Captain Lovaas?' I asked.
'I wish to speak with you,' was the reply.
I glanced back into the saloon. Curtis was just shutting the door of Dahler's cabin. 'Very well,' I said. 'Come on down.'
A moment later Lovaas's squat bulk filled the companionway. 'It is a party, eh?' he said, smiling as he saw the glasses on the table. 'That is god. I will never refuse a little drink.' His face beamed. He was positively genial.
'Whisky?' I asked, picking up the bottle and one of the glasses.
'Whisky. Yes, that will do very well.' His thick, powerful fingers engulfed the glass I handed him. He waited till all our glasses were filled. Then he said, 'Skaal!'
'Skaal!' I replied.
He drained his glass at one gulp and breathed with satisfaction. 'That is good whisky, Mr Gansert.'
I refilled his glass. 'And why have you come to see me?' I asked. My tone was not particularly welcoming.
He laughed. 'You think I should be angry, eh? I have a quick temper, Mr Gansert. It comes easily. It goes easily. I do not think about what happens at middag. There are more important things.' He glanced at the others. 'Shall we speak alone, Mr Gansert?' he asked.
'It's not necessary,' I replied sharply.
He shrugged his shoulders. 'As you wish.' He pulled up a chair and sat himself down. His heavy body in its bottle green jacket seemed to engulf the chair. 'I have been to Bovaagen. From there I took a drosje to Nordhanger.' He pulled a short cigar from his pocket and lit it. 'Einar Sandven was not at Nordhanger. Nor was he at Bovaagen. Peer Storjohann was also not at Bovaagen. Both of them have not been to Bovaagen today. Mr Sunde is a liar.' He smiled. It was a fat, roguish smile. But his» blue eyes were narrowed and watchful. 'But I think you knew that, Mr Gansert, eh?'
'Well?' I said.
He looked around the silent room. 'You and your friends are all interested in this man — Schreuder? You think, as I think, that he is rescued by the divers. He is still alive. In that case he can be traced.' He paused and drew on his cigar. 'Mr Gansert — you are here for a big English metals company. You do not come all this way just to find out about the death of a man who is not even employed by your company. This man, Farnell; he was an expert on metals. Perhaps Schreuder kill him.' He smiled as though at some secret joke. 'Perhaps he kill himself. But the man who escape from my boat, he leaves me with those little grey pieces of rock I mention. When I show them to herr direktor Jorgensen, he seize them and is away to Bergen at once. Now I am not a stupid man. I know when a thing is important. When I give them to herr Jorgensen, his eyes light up like my searchlight. Like my searchlight. He is excited, you understand. So I know that this is the clue.' He leaned quickly forward, stabbing his cigar at me. 'These pieces of rock — they are samples of metal, I think. Is that not so?'
I said, 'You've a right to your own conclusions, Captain Lovaas.'
'My own conclusions!' He laughed and slapped his knee. 'That is god. Very careful. Most diplomatic.' Then his voice suddenly hardened. 'Please, I do not like long words. Am I right or wrong?'
< 'You can think what you like,' I answered.
'So.' He smiled. 'I understand. Now, Mr Gansert. The position is this. You know what this metal is. Herr Jorgensen does not — not yet. By tomorrow he know. But now — at this moment — he does not. You have the advantage of one day. I have thought of this very carefully. This is what I have thought. You know what the metal is. But you do not know where it is. That is why you are here. Now I know something that you do not know.'
'What is that?' I asked.
He laughed. That I keep a secret. Just as you keep secret the metal. But now, perhaps, we talk about business, eh? We can help each other. You are a smart man. Jorgensen is a fool. He take my pieces of metal. But he does not pay me. He only threatens. I could have help him. But no! He is the great herr direktor. And I am just the best skytter in Norway. Now, you are clever. We can work together and when we find this man-'
'How will you find him?' I asked.
'Oh, I have ways of doing things. I will find him all right. Now, what do you say?'
I hesitated. The man was no fool. But what was it he knew that I didn't? And as I hesitated I heard the door of Dahler's cabin open behind me.
'So you will double-cross your master?' Dahler's voice was no longer slurred. It purred.
Lovaas jumped to his feet. 'Herr Dahler?' His voice was startled. Then angrily: 'Why are you here? What is the little game, eh?'
'You are surprised to see me?' Dahler gripped the table for support. 'Why are you so surprised? Am I not permitted to visit my own country?' His voice was suddenly violent. 'Who are you to decide whether I shall come here to Bovaagen Hval or not? Answer me! What did you do in the war, eh? I will tell you. You were a collaborator. You went where there was money. You worked for the Germans. You captained one of their-'
'This is enough, herr Dahler,' Lovaas roared. 'Everyone in Norway knows how you sell the secret of the new marine engine — how you arrange the guard up at Finse. Whilst you flee to England, I was working for my country — underground.' Lovaas suddenly sat down. He was breathing heavily. 'But I did not come here to throw words at you, herr Dahler. I come here to talk to Mr Gansert.'
I glanced up at Dahler. His face was white. He looked utterly exhausted. But there was a strange gleam in his eyes. 'Yes, I am sorry.' His voice was quieter, almost apologetic. 'I talk too quickly4 am upset.' He sank down on to the settee beside me. 'So Jorgensen has not paid you, eh?' He laughed softly. The sound was cold, almost gleeful. 'And you like money, do you not, Lovaas?' He leaned quickly forward. 'I wonder if you realise what there is in this for the man who knows where the metals are to be found? I will tell you, Lovaas. There is a fortune. Jorgensen has gone to Bergen with your samples of ore. From there he will fly to Oslo. By tomorrow his experts will be examining those samples. In a day, two days perhaps, he will know. You have realised that. And so you are here to discover what there is in this for you. Is not that right?'
Lovaas nodded. His eyes were fixed on Dahler. There was a cold, avaricious gleam in them.
'Mr Dahler,' I said. 'Will you please leave this to me?'
He cocked his head on one side as he peered into my face. 'You need not be afraid,' he said softly. 'I am finding an ally for you — an ally — for — us — both.' He switched to Lovaas. 'Find the man who escapes from your ship this morning, Kaptein Lovaas. That is all you have to do. But you will have to be quick. Jorgensen will not stop at anything once he knows about those metals.'
Lovaas smiled. 'You do not like direktor Jorgensen, eh, herr Dahler?'
His emphasis on the direktor was like a goad to Dahler. 'Like him!' he almost screamed. 'If I had-' He stopped abruptly, smiling secretly to himself.
Lovaas laughed. Then he turned quickly to me. 'Now, Mr Gansert — do we work together, or not? What is your offer?'
'At the moment, there is no offer, Captain Lovaas,' I answered. 'But if you can produce Schreuder — then we might perhaps talk again.'
Lovaas smiled. 'I understand. That is what you English call C.O.D.' He rose to his feet, 'Very well, Mr Gansert. When I have the man, we will talk again.' He paused in the doorway. 'Don't forget the diver, Mr Gansert.'
'He has gone to Bovaagen,' I said.
'Ja, he was in Bovaagen. I had some speak with him.' He smiled. 'That was very good Scotch. It has make me warm in here.' He slapped his huge belly. 'Warm and friendly, Mr Gansert.'
We watched him go in silence. His heavy footsteps sounded on the deck. He bellowed an order in Norwegian. Then all was quiet. The saloon seemed almost empty without him.
'Did he really have a talk with Sunde, do you think?' Dick asked.
I didn't answer. I was wondering whether I could use Lovaas or not.
Dahler struggled to his feet. 'I am going on deck,' he said. 'I must have some fresh air.' He pushed passed me. His face was deathly pale. He staggered slightly as he went through the door.
'Follow him up,' I said to Curtis. 'Don't let him see you. But just make certain he comes to no harm. He's so full of liquor he's just as likely to walk into the sea as on to the quay.'
Jill sighed. 'Poor Mr Dahler,' she said. 'Life hasn't been very kind to him.'
A moment later Curtis was back in the saloon. 'Dahler all right?' I asked.
'Bit unsteady. But sober enough to get on to the quay and go on board Hval Ti.'
'Hval Ti?' I cried.
He nodded and picked up his drink. 'That's right. He went straight along to see Lovaas. What do you make of that, skipper?'
I sat back trying to think it out. 'He might have some son of hold on Lovaas,' Dick suggested. 'It's clear Lovaas hasn't spent all his life catching whales.'
'Jorgensen is more likely than Dahler to have a hold on him,' I answered. 'We'll have a little chat with our friend when he comes back.'
It was over an hour before Dahler returned. And then we had to put him to bed. He was completely drunk. 'Aquavit on top of whisky,' Curtis said smelling his breath. 'We'll get nothing out of him for an hour or two.'
Back in the saloon Curtis said, 'Sunde is the man we want to see.'
I nodded. 'If anyone knows where Schreuder is, he does.'
'Would he have told Captain Lovaas, do you think?' Jill asked.
'No,' I replied. 'I don't think so.' I was thinking of the scene at the midday meal with Sunde nervously trying to avoid Lovaas's questions. 'And if Lovaas had known then he would have adopted a different attitude when he came on board this evening. Lovaas knows something. But it isn't the whereabouts of Schreuder.'
Curtis refilled his glass. 'The way I see it,' he said, 'Sunde could be made to talk.'
'How do you mean?' I asked.
'He wouldn't tell Lovaas anything at Bovaagen. He was safe there in the village. But if he returns here-' He looked at me significantly and raised his glass. 'After that little pep talk from Dahler, Lovaas will stop at nothing. He'll get hold of Sunde and wring the truth out of him somehow.'
I had been thinking the same thing. I suddenly made up my mind. It was a long time since I'd had to do things this way. I helped myself to a cigarette and pushed the tin across to the others. 'It will be high tide in about an hour,' I said. 'That means the current will be slack in the cutting behind the whaling station. We leave our berth here and make a show of putting on sail as though we were off to Fjaerland. Once outside the islands, we double back and drift up the cut behind the factory. We wait for Sunde there.'
Curtis nodded. 'You're gambling on Sunde having rowed to Bovaagen.'
Tin certain there should have been two boats in that inlet we saw this afternoon,' I said. 'That length of rope trailing in the water-'
'I quite agree,' Curtis said. 'But Lovaas may have the same idea.'
'Quite possibly.'
He grinned.
'Right,' I said. 'Dick. Will you go and collect Wilson and Carter from Hval To! Shout to them. Tell them we're sailing. I want Lovaas to know. Get the idea? Then have the engine started. Curtis. You go up to the Kiellands' place. See the steward or the secretary of the company. Check that there should be two boats in that inlet. Also, make certain that Sunde hasn't returned,'
As they hurried on to the deck, I turned to Jill. She was sitting with her elbows on the table and her chin resting on her hand. 'As soon as we've got Sunde,' I said, 'we'll make for Fjaerland.'
She looked up at me. 'I shall be glad when all this is over,' she said. She looked past me and stared unseeingly at the emergency lamp in its gimbals. I wondered what was in her mind. She sighed and took a sip at her drink. Then quite suddenly she said, 'It amounts to kidnapping him, doesn't it?'
'Sunde?' I said. 'Well, yes. Shall we say — protecting him from Lovaas. Don't let it worry you. I take full responsibility for it.'
'I wasn't worried about that,' she replied quietly. 'I was just wondering what he would be able to tell us.'
There were shouts from the wharf. I heard Dick's voice giving orders to the hands. Then footsteps moved on the deck over our heads. A moment later the engine started. I dived up the companionway. The sun had set. In the cold, dead light of approaching darkness the factory buildings loomed very black above the packing sheds. 'Lovaas heard all right,' Dick said. 'He's up there on the bridge, watching us.'
I looked up at the tall bow of Hval Ti. I could just see the outline of the bridge. Lovaas was standing with legs straddled on the catwalk. Dick tapped my arm. 'Here's Curtis,' he said.
I turned. 'Well?' I asked as he came aft to the cockpit.
'You're gambling on a pretty safe bet,' he said. 'I had a word with an electrician who lives in the steward's quarters. He says there are normally two boats in that inlet. They belong to the station. This afternoon, just after middag, he saw Sunde rowing one of them down the cut. He hasn't returned yet.'
'Is he expected back?' I asked.
'Yes. All his things are here. Besides, he's a stranger in Bovaagen. The electrician johnny says there'd be no reason for him to stay there the night.'
'Good.' I turned to Wilson. 'Let go fore and aft,' I ordered him. 'Dick. You and Curtis clear the mains'! cover. Up on peak and throat as soon as you're ready.' I picked up the speaking tube. 'Half ahead,' I told Carter as the last of the wraps thudded on to the deck.
As we slid past Hval Ti, Lovaas leaned over the rail of the catwalk and hailed me. 'Where do you go, Mr Gansert?' he asked.
'Fjaerland,' I replied. 'You'll find me there if you have anything to tell me.'
'Okay. Pa gjensyn!' He raised his hand.
The mains'l cover was off now and they were at the halyards. As the grey shadow of the catcher merged into the darkness astern of us, the gaff rose through the topping lifts. A moment later the mains'l was a great splash of white, catching the navigation lights and fading into the blackness above us. Behind us, the lights of the two catchers shone like a village against the dark shape of the factory. As we went out through the islands, we set jib and mizzen. Then I put the wheel over and we swung away to starb'd. The lights of the catchers vanished behind the islands. By the time we reached the inlet leading to the cutting, all the sails were stowed again.
The tide was slackening as we glided slowly into the cut. At the first convenient spot I got a rope ashore and moored up, for I was scared of submerged rocks. Diviner swung slowly with the in-running tide until she lay snug against sheer rocks, chafing gently at her fenders. We found a way ashore and explored a route along the edge of the cutting to the bridge. My plan was to catch Sunde at the bridge after he had moored his boat.
It was very dark and silent among the rocks. We reached the bridge and stood there listening to the gurgle of the water as it ran through the cut to some basin further inland.
'Suppose he lands at the quay?' Jill said.
'I don't think he'll do that,' Curtis answered.
'No,' I agreed. 'He'll want to steer clear of Lovaas.'
'For that reason he may stay in Bovaagen,' Dick suggested.
'It's possible,' I replied. 'But he's no reason to suspect Lovaas would go to such lengths.'
Curtis laughed. 'It'd be funny if Lovaas had the same idea as us.'
'If so,' I said, 'he'd be more likely to pick him up on the station.'
'Maybe,' Curtis acknowledged. 'Still-' He caught my arm. 'What's that?'
I listened. But I could hear nothing beyond the gurgle of the water under the bridge.
'I thought I heard somebody call — up towards the factory.'
'Probably one of the staff,' I said. 'It's early yet.'
We stood there for some time, listening to the sound of the tide among the rocks. But we heard nothing more. We returned to the ship then and had food whilst Wilson and Carter kept watch.
Shortly after eleven, Dick, Curtis and I went ashore. We were wearing rubber shoes and dark clothes. The moon was beginning to rise and a faint light illuminated the sky. We settled ourselves behind a broken jumble of rocks near the bridge. There was no sound from the cutting now. The tide was at the high and the water slack. It began to get cold. The light in the sky steadily whitened. Soon we could see the bridge and the dark shadow of the cut.
Suddenly, away to my left, I caught the creak of oars. 'Did you hear it?' Dick whispered. 'He's coming up the cut.'
I nodded.
A loose stone rattled down against the rocks away to our right. I barely noticed it. I was listening to the creak of the oars, peering through the opaque uncertainty of the light to where I knew the inlet was. But I could see nothing — only the vague shape of rock and water. The creaking of the oars ceased. Silence for a moment; then the jar of a boat against rock. There was the clatter of oars being shipped and then, after a pause, the sound of boots coming towards us across the rock on the other side of the cutting.
'There he is,' Dick whispered in my ear. As he spoke I caught sight of a human figure moving towards the bridge. His boots slithered on the rock. The hard sound of his footsteps became hollow as he stepped on to the plankings of the bridge. It was Sunde all right. I could recognise him now. 'Soon as he's across the bridge,' I whispered to the other two. I tensed, ready to dart forward and grab the man.
And in that instant, a sharp command was given in Norwegian. Sunde stopped. He hesitated, as though meditating flight. The voice spoke again. It was a strong, commanding voice. Then two figures emerged from the shadow of some rocks away to our right. In the pale light of the still unrisen moon I recognised the squat bulk of Lovaas. He held a gun in his hand. With him his mate, Halvorsen.
Sunde began to reason with him. Lovaas cut him short. I heard a name that sounded like Max Baker mentioned, and Lovaas laughed. The two men closed in on the diver. And then, one on either side, they marched him away to the whaling station.
I waited till their shadowy forms had vanished over a crest of rock. 'Quick!' I said. 'We must get between them and the ship.'
'The factory,' Curtis whispered. 'It's the only place where we can surprise them.'
We struck away to the right then, making a wide detour and running hard. As far as possible we kept to gullies in the rock. Our rubber shoes made no sound. We reached the wire surround that kept the starving island sheep from getting into the factory and entered by one of the gates. I paused in the shadow of the office block and looked back. The sky was getting lighter. The moon's tip was edging up over the black outline of the hills. I could just make out three shadowy figures moving towards us across the bare rock.
We went down the cinder track towards the flensing deck. By the boiler house we stopped. The path was narrow here with buildings on either side. Dick and I slipped into the warm darkness of the boiler-room. Curtis stationed himself in a doorway opposite. We agreed a signal for action and waited.
We could hear the sound of their feet on the rock. But they didn't enter by the gate we had used. They kept outside the wire, moving along behind the factory. Curtis slipped out from his hiding-place. 'There's another gate,' he whispered. 'I saw it this afternoon when Kielland was showing us round. It's at the back of the factory. And there's a door leading into the place where the oil vats are.'
'Then we'll have to get them inside the factory,' I said. 'We must stop them getting to the catcher,'
We ran down the cinder track and across the greasy surface of the flensing deck. The moonlight was quite bright now. By comparison the inside of the factory was very dark. One solitary light glowed at the far end. It showed the shadowy shapes of oil vats rising to the roof. I moved cautiously forward and almost immediately stumbled into a thick, evil-smelling mass. It was a pile of waste from the vats, still warm like a dung hill. The place was silent, yet full of the sound of escaping steam. The steady hiss of it seemed as much a part of the building as the heavy warmth and the smell. The sound of the steam was all round us like a singing in the ears. And through it came a faint bubbling sound. It was boiling oil trickling down the gutterings between the vats.
Curtis gripped my arm. On the other side of the building a rectangle of pale moonlight showed the doorway that he had remembered. For a moment it was blocked by shadows. Then it was clear again. Something fell with a crash of iron and there was a muttered curse in Norwegian. Then a torch was shone on the floor. 'You take Lovaas,' I told Curtis. 'Dick. You get the other fellow. I'll look after Sunde.'
We dosed on them from behind. It would have been easy if Dick hadn't stumbled against something. There was a clatter. Then the torch swung on to us. I saw Curtis go forward in a diving tackle. The torch spun across the floor. There was a thud of bone on bone as Dick hit out. And then everything was a wild jumble of curses and blows. 'Sunde,' I called. 'Quick. The yacht is down in the cutting.' He must have heard me, for I saw his small figure dive for the doorway. Curtis and Dick called to each other. Then we were all through the door and running for all we were worth across the open rock. Sunde was ahead of us, clearly visible in the moonlight. His boots slithered on the smooth rock. We quickly overhauled him.
Behind us came a shout. I glanced over my shoulder. The corrugated iron of the factory was quite white in the moonlight. Lovaas was following us. A stab of orange flame was followed by the whine of a bullet. He was firing as he ran.
We topped a rise and saw Diviner's masts. I shouted for them to get the engine started. My breath was coming in great sobs. I was badly out of training. The engine burst into life as we scrambled down the rocks into the cutting. Jill waved to us from the cockpit. Wilson was holding the boat against the outgoing tide on the after warp. 'Let go,' I told him as we reached the deck. Instantly the tide dragged her clear of the rocks.
Jill caught my arm. 'Thank God you're all right, Bill,' she said. 'Was there shooting?'
'Yes. Lovaas.' I called to Carter for full speed and took the wheel. Sunde looked all in. His face was pale. 'Get him below,' I told Curtis. 'And have Jill see to that hand of his.' Sunde had a nasty cut across the knuckles. 'You all right, Dick?'
'Fine,' he replied.
I looked back. Two lines of ripples stretched diagonally across the inlet, marking our progress. A figure appeared on the rock under which we had moored. It was Lovaas. He stood watching us for a moment, quite still and silent. Then he turned and went back towards the factory.
'Take over, will you, Dick,' I said. 'I want to have a talk with Sunde.'
'Where shall I head for, skipper?'
'Sognefjord,' I answered. 'We're going to Fjaerland.'