Yrsa Sigurðardóttir - The Silence of the Sea

Too scared to release his grip on the metal, he fumbled one-handed at his belt, with disastrous consequences. Finally, believing that he had secured the torch, he risked letting it go, only for it to drop away from him. Panic seized him as he watched the beam descending slowly and inexorably through the gloomy water. Suddenly it illuminated a white arm floating in the depths below him. The iron taste of blood filled Ægir’s mouth; he had never experienced such a powerful impulse to look away but he couldn’t. For an instant the torch beam lit up the water around the arm and he glimpsed part of a body; a thin, twisted torso clad in drab-coloured material that billowed gently like a jellyfish. The head was at an odd angle to the body, so Ægir could only make out the profile. But it was enough to see the eye staring through the tendrils of long hair that waved upwards as if reaching out to him.

Everything went black, and Ægir felt the blood flooding into his fingers and toes. Instinctively, he began to fumble his way, panic-stricken, in the direction he had been heading. He was moving probably twice as fast as before and for all he knew he had not taken a single breath during the entire manoeuvre – or flight – that brought him unexpectedly to the end of the container. He sucked the mouthpiece hard and the chemical taste of compressed air filled his mouth as it poured into his lungs. Vile as it was, it felt so good that he allowed himself the luxury of taking several more breaths before inflating his BCD with steady fingers and beginning his ascent. His relief was so great that he almost lost control and it took all his willpower not to rip off his mask, he was so desperate to breathe naturally again. When his head finally broke the surface, he felt an uncontrollable urge to scream.

The rope ladder was still hanging in its place and Ægir clung for dear life to the bottom rung as he spat out his mouthpiece and fully inflated his BCD to keep him afloat. Only as he hauled himself out of the sea did he remember the weight of the air cylinder and for an instant wondered if he would make it. The way up offered life, while there was nothing below but a cold grave, so up he would go. He flexed the chilled muscles of his upper arms and heaved himself upwards groaning with the pain of it. Had the woman he saw in the water been a hallucination? Now that he had escaped the ocean, it all seemed so unreal that he was no longer sure. Yet it must have happened.

‘This is the best beer I’ve ever tasted. Pass me another.’ Ægir emptied the bottle as he sat there wrapped in a blanket, which seemed to be having no effect. He didn’t usually drink before midday but now all he wanted was to get plastered. Strange though it might seem, the chilled beer was exactly what he needed and it made no difference that he shook like a leaf with every gulp. His body did not seem particularly grateful, but he couldn’t give a damn; any more than he had cared about the fuss Lára had made. She had freaked out when they came inside and explained why he was in such a state. She exclaimed that he had betrayed her and the girls by taking such a decision without consulting her, and generally behaving like a selfish shit, either because he was an adrenaline junky or out of a pathetic desire to please the others. And so it went on. In his present state there was no question of persuading her to listen to reason; he couldn’t move from the galley chair where he sat shivering. Keen not to miss anything, the girls had remained behind when their mother stormed out. They were sitting opposite him, their large dark eyes filled with wonder. It was a sign of the state he was in that he didn’t mind their witnessing such an unpleasant scene.

The one part he was determined to keep to himself was the woman; it would be too difficult to explain through chattering teeth. In any case, it had almost certainly been a hallucination brought on by excessive loss of body heat, and he didn’t want to detract from his own heroism by telling a story that would make them shake their heads and roll their eyes when he wasn’t looking. He had got out alive – nothing else mattered. For now.

‘Are you cold, Daddy?’ Bylgja received a jab from Arna’s elbow for asking such a stupid question. Her glasses were knocked askew and she winced.

‘I’m so cold that if I tried to pee, it would come out as ice cubes.’ Ægir took another swig of beer from the newly opened bottle that Halli had passed him.

‘Did you see any fish?’ Arna leant forward over the table and rested her head in her hands, stretching her eyes into slits. ‘You should have caught them.’

‘I didn’t see any fish. It’s too cold even for them. They’re all dead of cold, I reckon.’

Thráinn did not look amused. He stood on the other side of the galley, propped against the sink with arms folded. ‘I’m not sure I follow. You managed to undo the bolts but failed to open the door? And you saw no sign of any damage?’

Ægir nodded, his head jerking in time to the shaking of his body. ‘No. I couldn’t see any holes. There were scratches all over the place, but none of them looked deep enough to be dangerous. I unlocked the door but I couldn’t open it, not on my own. Perhaps it would be possible to attach a rope to it and drag it open with a concerted effort from on deck. I don’t know. But it can’t be done from below.’

‘Not by the likes of you, at any rate.’ Halli winked at Thráinn. Spray had plastered the white hair to his forehead.

Loftur, who had joined them while Ægir was underwater, added with a sneer: ‘I thought everything was supposed to be so light underwater. Obviously not light enough.’

‘Oh, shut up. If you’re such tough guys how come you’re not strapping on tanks yourselves and going to sort it out?’ Ægir took another swig. Losing his temper had warmed him up a little. ‘I’m just describing the situation. I haven’t a clue how to solve the problem. You’re the sailors. You sort out this mess instead of giving me a hard time.’

‘You’ve had enough beer.’ Thráinn pushed himself suddenly upright. ‘Why don’t you go and talk to your wife? She didn’t look too happy when she ran out. Then you’d better take a hot shower and get into bed. It’s the only way to beat the cold.’

‘Mummy went mad.’ Arna grinned. ‘She won’t want to talk to you yet.’ It was obvious that Arna wanted to stay and listen to the grown-ups quarrelling. It didn’t often happen, so the opportunity was too good to miss. ‘I’d wait if I was you.’

Bylgja looked reproachful. ‘She wasn’t angry, Daddy, just upset. When you were away so long, she thought you’d fallen in the sea. She looked out of the window and could only see two men – not you, Daddy – and she thought you’d drowned. She sent us below so we couldn’t watch. I wish I’d seen you come up again.’

Ægir discovered that his lips were dry. When he ran his tongue over them, he tasted salt. ‘Mummy’ll get over it.’

‘I want to try being that cold.’ Arna leant even further over the table. ‘If I ate a ton of ice cream and chewed loads of ice cubes, would I be as cold as you?’

‘Yes, I’m sure you would. But I don’t recommend it.’

‘There is no ice cream.’ Thráinn took the rest of the six-pack from Halli and put it back in the fridge.

‘There is,’ Arna retorted obstinately, unwilling to bow to the captain’s authority. To her eyes he was just another bossy grown-up. ‘I saw ice lollies in the freezer when we put our food in there. Can I have one, Daddy?’

‘No.’ Ægir put his beer down with a clunk. Her question had jolted him back to reality and the predicament they were in. ‘Let’s go below and find Mummy. Thráinn’s right.’ He met the captain’s eye, then his gaze travelled onwards to the larder door. At that point, the effects of the alcohol wore off completely. The padlock was lying on the floor and looked as if it had been clipped through. It had been intact and locked when they went out on deck. He coughed. ‘Have you been fiddling with the lock?’ He nodded as casually as he could towards the larder. The three men shook their heads. ‘Somehow I doubt Lára or the girls did that.’