Geoffrey Jenkins - Southtrap

'As a sailor,' I commented, 'I can take the full measure of that curse.'

'It's not everyone who sights the Flying Dutchman who is doomed,' she went on. 'Only those who see her heave to and start to lower a boat.'

Her talk made me think of Botany Bay. 'Did you happen to see the windjammer which occupied the Quest's berth immediately before us?'

Linn shook her head.

'She was a modern replica of a convict hell-ship,' I said. 'Wax-works show. Very realistic. She's on her way to Australia now. She would have beaten round Cape Point in the teeth of just such a south-easter.'

Linn pointed ahead to where, beyond the Quest's dipping bows, the land ended in twin peaks.

'Which is Cape Maclear and which is Cape Point?' she asked.

'You know more about the place than I do.'

They're only names in my head,' she replied. 'I know of them because it's somewhere about here that Dias planted his cross.' She put her hand over mine on the rail. This is sheer magic, John. Sheer magic.' She leaned her shoulder unselfconsciously against me as she craned to see something under the bows.

'What is it, Linn?'

'Did you notice the Quest's figurehead, John?'

'Of course. Thor throwing his hammer.'

'But you may not know that when a Thor ship is sold the original bronze figurehead is always removed and an imitation painted in its place.

'I didn't know,' I said. 'I'm still learning from you.'

'Dad prevailed on the owners to let him keep the Quest's original. So Thor throws his magic hammer and it comes back to the thrower fulfilling his wish. I'm having my wish today, John. I'm seeing the sheer magic of the Cape.'

Magic in you too, Linn. Woman's magic.

My apprehension and unease about the Quest's voyage began to fade a little. With Linn by my side it could turn into a bright adventure.

'I want to stand here and watch and watch while we round the Cape,' she went on. Her hand still lay on mine. 'Did you ever hear the expression, "to shoot the gulf"?'

'Never.'

'Funny how phrases die out. When Drake sailed into the Pacific from Cape Horn, sailors called it "shooting the gulf". For many years afterwards it meant breaking out into something quite new, a whole new world. I feel as if I'm doing that now. Shooting the gulf. Just like Drake.'

These are Drake waters too. Right under Quest's keel at this moment.'

'I know. He called it "the fairest Cape in the whole circumference of the earth".'

Our moment was killed by a discreet cough behind us. It was Persson, the radio operator.

He said formally, 'Personal to you, sir. Mr Wegger was with me when it came in. He said he'd keep an eye on things in the radio shack while I found you.'

Even as I took the signal slip I wondered why in hell Wegger should have been concerning himself with the radio. But it was only a momentary thought. The contents of the message obliterated this and everything else.

It read:

Captain Prestrud died 08h30 this morning. Police taken possession body pending postmortem and inquest. Norwegian consul Cape Town informed. Groote Schuur Hospital.

The shock of it made me pull my rank. 'My compliments to Mr Wegger, Persson. Tell him that his duties do not include being stand-by radio operator.'

I saw the light which had been in Linn's eyes dim at my tone. As she turned away from Persson's startled embarrassment I guessed what she was thinking of me — a smoothie with women but a bastard who rode his crew and made a show of it to impress.

I went on roughly, 'Get going, your job's not on deck watching the scenery.'

'Aye, aye, sir.' He scuttled off.

'Linn,' I felt some of the sandpaper still in my voice.

'Yes, John?' she was cool and poised — until she saw something was amiss.

I held out the signal slip. 'I think you'd prefer to read this for yourself.'

I was already making calculations for the Quest's return to Table Bay; automatically I had noted the ship's position. The mouth of the Klaasjagers River was slightly ahead and the land became more rugged and unfrequented; it is a nature reserve.

Linn read the signal. The colour rose and went from her face. She stared at the slip, but her eyes were unfocused. When she raised them they looked as if they had been weighted behind like a doll's.

She said in a small, strangled voice, 'Thank you, John. I think I'll go below to my father's — to your cabin.'

'I'll see you down…'

She shook her head and went quickly down the short steel ladder. As I followed more slowly I noticed Wegger striding away from the radio shack as if he were heading for his quarters. He could hardly have missed seeing me but he walked on without giving me a glance. When I reached the bridge I could sense the effect of the message I had sent to Wegger by the tight silence among the men. Jensen at the wheel was making a study of the compass; Petersen was standing almost to attention, just where an officer of the watch should stand.

'I'll take the deck, Mr Petersen,' I said.

'Aye, aye, sir.'

I went to the telegraph and rang, 'Half Ahead.' No point in carrying on at her present speed. The Quest would only have to retrace her course when we turned back, as we surely would, once Linn had recovered sufficiently from the shock.

The Quest's heartbeat slowed. She pitched more as the way fell off her. The splendid panorama out to port became meaningless to me. It had been a brief moment, mine and Linn's, and we would remember it. Life always kicks you in the balls when you aren't looking, an old bo'sun I sailed with used to say. It seemed as if he hadn't been so wrong, after all.

Quest coasted on, waiting for Linn's word to about-face. Now that the cruise was finished, I realized how keenly disappointed I was. For all my doubts and unease I'd wanted to challenge those wild seas, wanted to put the Quest's nose first into the south-easter building up beyond Cape Point, and then to face the Brave West Winds. Above all, I'd wanted to get to Southtrap. The nickname for Prince Edward was in itself a challenge. I must ask Linn, I thought, who was the Prince Edward Captain Cook had named it after. But with this thought came a fresh thrust of disappointment. It didn't matter now.

'Sir!-'

There was nothing deferential about the word. It was curt, imperative, explosive.

I swung round. Wegger was standing at the rear of the bridge. There was about him that air of truculence and intensity which had marked him on the dockside. Only now it was hardly concealed.

For a moment I thought it was my reprimand which had got him on the raw. But only for a moment.

'The ship's slowing — why?' he demanded.

I replied tautly. 'Mr Wegger. When I give an order aboard my ship I don't go around broadcasting explanations. The ship's slowing because I ordered it.'

I could feel the vibrations rippling from Petersen and Jensen behind me. But Wegger was completely unaffected by my tone.

'Are we going back because of Captain Prestrud?'

My look was meant for an up-and-downer to put him in his place. It stopped at his left jacket pocket. It was heavy and sagging, the way a pocket sags when you carry a gun.

'Miss Prestrud is naturally shocked,' I retorted levelly. 'She has gone below.'

He took a step towards me in that same uncontrolled way as he had done ashore. If I had to hit him, it would have to be hard and once only — before he could get the Luger.

The ship can't turn back now,' he said. 'We've got the drifter buoy…'

'I am well aware of the implications, Mr Wegger, and of our commitments to the Global Research Programme.'

An icebreaker would have come up short on the ice in my voice. Wegger didn't.

'You've slowed the ship before you know what she intends to do…'

It was lucky for him that the bridge phone rang. Petersen answered and held it out to me as if it might bite.