Geoffrey Jenkins - Southtrap

Not only because of your father, Linn, I thought as I looked at her.

She said, 'On our way down to Prince Edward we're going to have the services of one of the greatest living experts on marine birds — Doctor Kebble. He's from the Percy Fitzpatrick Institute of African Ornithology, here in Cape Town. How long do you reckon we're going to take to get to Prince Edward? Six days?'

'Yes, but you've got to take into account that I'm not making the usual direct course south-east from the Cape to the island.'

'Aren't you? Why not?'

'Because of the buoy. Let me explain. We'll be crossing two distinct zones of the ocean as we go South. First we pass what's called the Sub-tropical Convergence, where the warm water and the particular life it supports ends. The second zone has as its boundary the Antarctic Convergence, which is where the cold north-flowing Antarctic surface water plunges beneath the warmer Sub-Antarctic water. Prince Edward is nearly forty-seven degrees South, almost on the Antarctic Convergence. This Convergence is the Great Divide of the Southern Ocean — it's a quite unmistakable boundary in the sea, something real and physical. Life changes dramatically from one side to the other. It's a marked boundary line but it's not always in the same place. Prince Edward usually lies about one hundred and sixty kilometres to the north of the divide but it has been known to reach the island on occasion…'

'And so, John?'

'Sorry. I'm beginning to sound like one of your guide-lecturers. What I was coming to was that the Weather Bureau wants its buoy and balloon launched at a spot much further to the west than Prince Edward itself — about fifteen hundred kilometres, but on the same parallel, in order to probe Convergence conditions. The idea is that it will drift eastwards in the general direction of Prince Edward at a speed of between a quarter and one knot an hour. When the buoy nears Prince Edward, the weather station next door on Marion will also monitor it, checking its readings against its own. The actual launch-point is almost due south of the Cape coast. That's where we head for first.'

The telephone rang. Linn stiffened. We both thought, but neither of us said, that this would be the hospital.

I said. 'I'll take it.'

I went over and stood holding the receiver, looking at her.

A voice came over the wire, 'Is that the captain?'

'Captain here.'

'Hold on for the Director of the Weather Bureau.'

I put my hand over the instrument and said to Linn, 'Weather Bureau.'

Another voice came through. 'Is that Captain Prestrud?'

'No,' I replied. 'Captain Prestrud has been injured. He is in hospital. Shotton speaking. I've taken over.'

The Director's anxiety made the earpiece vibrate. What was going to happen? What about the cruise? And the launching of the buoy?

I quickly outlined the situation and added, 'You don't have to worry, sir. We'll sail on schedule. Tomorrow, Friday.'

'I'm very distressed to hear about Captain Prestrud,' said the Director but I could nonetheless sense the relief in his voice. 'I only rang to wish the Quest good luck.'

Thank you, sir. One always needs luck in the ice.'

'I'll be in radio touch and give you the go-ahead on Monday at the exact time — ten hours GMT. You do realize the importance of the buoy and the balloon, don't you, Captain Shotton? There are a hundred and forty-five nations depending on you.'

'I do, sir. I'll launch Bokkie on time, whatever.'

I liked his laugh. 'Bokkie! So you know, eh?'

'If Smit is married, his wife has a rival.'

He laughed again. 'Keep in touch, eh? After you've set Bokkie on her way, make a signal personally to me, will you, Captain? We're one of the Regional Communication Hubs for this project and I must let the other stations know as soon as Bokkie is away.'

'You can count on that, sir. Four days from now.'

'I'm already counting in terms of hours, not days,' he replied. 'Good luck, Captain Shotton.'

I put down the phone.

'Four days from now!' echoed Linn. 'Our banquet's the night before — let's make it a double celebration.'

I stood by the phone looking down at her. 'I'm all mixed up about this banquet affair.'

'Didn't my father explain about it before he went to hospital?'

'No. He merely mentioned there was to be a big dinner. Lots of goodies and cases of wine came aboard, but I was much too busy getting the ship ready to ask what it was all about. I didn't realize how important it was to him until he made me promise when I saw him in hospital that it would go ahead as planned.'

'I wonder…'

'See here, Linn. Looking back on it now, I think your father was in even worse shape than I thought at the time. He made me promise the dinner would take place. It seemed to be linked with what he was trying to tell me about his war-time escape. I was crowded for time and couldn't press the question, but I doubt whether he would have been able to reply, even if I had.'

'It was very important to him,' she explained. 'It's been a Prestrud occasion for years. Every five years he and Captain Jacobsen hold this dinner to celebrate their escape from the German raider. Sunday's dinner was to have been the biggest occasion of them all because it would have been in the very area where the escape took place.'

'I see.'

'What's the matter, John. Why do you say it like that?'

I felt a little shiver in the spine. I was remembering the injured man's desperate attempts to marshal his facts. It was more than just a dinner he had been trying to get across. He'd wanted to tell me something relating to the Quest's voyage. But he hadn't succeeded.

'I was thinking of something your father mentioned. One of the other catcher skippers — Torgersen — was murdered, wasn't he?'

'Yes. It was all a long time ago.'

'But we've got Captain Jacobsen with us on the Quest and we're going into the very area where all this war-time business occurred.'

She eyed me penetratingly. 'Yes. Captain Jacobsen and Mrs Jacobsen are both aboard. She's very possessive about him. He's got a slight heart condition and she insists that he should rest up after the long plane trip.'

'Linn, are you certain your father never told you what happened when the three of them escaped from, the German raider?'

She shook her head emphatically. 'Never. He didn't like to talk about it. But I do know that after he and Captain Jacobsen had held one of their get-togethers he always seemed more comfortable and relaxed. They must have chinned over old times.'

'I don't quite follow how two seafaring men whose jobs took them to the ends of the earth could settle on a firm date to meet every five years.'

The answer is that it was very important to them both,' she replied. 'All I know is that they did keep their date faithfully.' She pointed to one of the photographs on the wall of the cabin. It represented a fjord, a timber house, and snow-covered trees. 'I remember them foregathering at our home once — no, it was twice.'

'It's difficult to think of you as Norwegian. I'd say English, if I were to meet you casually.'

'My mother was English. She was a schoolteacher on exchange in Norway. That's how they met. My father didn't marry till late in life. He'd spent all his younger years saving up to buy his own ship.'

'And your mother?'

'She was killed in a car accident on an ice-bound road about ten years ago. I was at school in London when it happened.' She made a slight gesture of impatience. 'We came to discuss passengers, remember? Not to talk about me. I'm sure there'll be a crowd to see them off when we sail. We'll have to make sure there aren't any stragglers left aboard.'

'I intend to sail early. Too early, I hope, for most people to come to the docks.'

Too early for your wife to come and wave you goodbye?'