Хэммонд Иннес - Calling the Southern Cross!

I then called Kyrre, who had been officer of the watch during the period when Nordahl must have disappeared. He had come on watch at midnight. The ship was stationary and blanketed in fog. Nothing unusual happened through his watch. After he had been on watch about half an hour the fog suddenly lifted and visibility increased to several miles. I asked him whether he had heard a cry or a splash. No, he had noticed nothing unusual.

It was clear, therefore, that Nordahl must have gone overboard between the time he had left the wireless room and just after twelve-thirty, when the fog lifted.

Finally I called Erik Bland. He seemed nervous. “There’s only one question I want to ask you, Bland,” said. “Nordahl left Captain Eide’s cabin shortly after ten-thirty on the night of January second. Did he visit you at all?”

“No. I had a few words with him during the evening meal.” His eyes flickered toward Judie and he gave a slight shrug to his shoulders. “I never saw him again.”

“Had you had a row with him?” It was Judie who put the question, and I remember the feeling of shock caused by the blunt way she put the question and the hardness of her voice.

He looked at her then and said, “Yes. You know as well as I do that we couldn’t get on together. It wasn’t the first row we’d had.”

“What was it about?” Judie’s voice was drained of any emotion.

“Nothing. Just a difference of opinion about the promotion of a certain man.”

“As assistant manager, your duty surely was to assist my father, not to obstruct him.”

“I wasn’t obstructing him.” His voice was pitched a shade higher. “Listen, Judie, your father and I didn’t get on. Leave it at that, can’t I you? I had nothing to do with his death.”

“Nobody is suggesting you had,” I said.

He looked at me quickly. His face was paler now and there were beads of sweat on his forehead. “No? Then what is she driving at? And she’s not the only one. Larvik and Petersen are spreading the idea through the ship, and the Tons berg men will believe anything they say. Everyone on the ship knows Nordahl and I couldn’t get on together. What they don’t know is the reason.” He turned back to Judie. “Your father did everything he could to make things difficult for me. He wanted to put me in a position where I’d be forced to ask my father to recall me.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why? Because he wanted to control the company after my father’s death. He wanted me out of the way.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” I cut in. “Have you any suggestions to make concerning Nordahl’s death?”

“No,” he said. “I’ve no more idea how it happened than you have. The only explanation I can think of is that he had financial troubles. He was gambling—” But Bland stopped short there. “It’s his affair,” he murmured.

“I don’t believe that,” Judie said quietly. “Father never gambled. He couldn’t possibly have had financial troubles. He was interested only in whales.”

“He would have liked to control the company, though, wouldn’t he? “There was a suggestion of spite in his tone. Then he gave a quick shrug. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I’d rather not say any more about it.”

“But he had financial worries,” I said, “and you think this may have had some bearing on his death?”

“Perhaps.”

“And you saw nothing of him after he left the officers’ mess?”

“I told you, no.”

“Very well,” I said. “I think that’s all.” I glanced at the others. Eide nodded to indicate that he was satisfied. Judie was sitting, very pale, staring at her husband. She didn’t say anything, so I nodded to Bland. “Thank you,” I said.

He got up quickly. I could see he was relieved. I didn’t know what to think. There was clearly something behind his statement that Nordahl had been in financial difficulties, but just what, I didn’t know; and Judie either couldn’t or wouldn’t enlighten me.

I said, “We’ll adjourn now. After lunch we’ll see the men who want to give evidence.”

We broke up then. But all through lunch Judie sat silent and pale. She hardly ate anything. Bland himself only once referred to the inquiry. He asked me when I’d be through.

“Sometime this afternoon,” I said. “We only have to take the evidence of those who have volunteered to make statements.”

“Hurry it,” he said.

But by the end of the afternoon we were still sitting. The men who had volunteered to give information were Tons berg men, all of them, and their evidence put a different complexion on the whole business. Even allowing for exaggeration, it became clear that the trouble between Nordahl and Erik Bland was much more serious than we’d been led to believe.

The trouble, it appeared, had started a week after the ship had left Cape Town. It culminated in a bitter row over an error in the figures for whales brought in by Hval IV. Petersen, skipper of Hval IV, had queried the figures. The mistake was Bland’s. He had reported these whales to the secretary as being brought in by Hval VIII, one of the Sandefjord catchers. Petersen, who had come on board to right the matter, called the plan foreman to substantiate his claim. It was this man who volunteered an account of what had happened in the office.

Bland had refused to admit his mistake. White-faced, he had accused Nordahl of concocting the whole thing between Petersen and the foreman.

“I know what it is!” he had shouted. “You’re trying to get rid of me! You’re trying to get rid of my father too! You want to control the whole company!”

Nordahl had asked him what he meant by that, and he had answered, “I know what you’re up to. You crawl to me for financial advice. You thought you’d make enough out of it to buy control. Well, you wait till the crash comes. If I didn’t know it was coming, I’d... I’d—” He hadn’t finished, but had flung out of the office.

I recalled the secretary and asked him why he hadn’t given us this piece of evidence. He replied that he hadn’t thought it relevant. Pressed by me, however, the secretary confirmed every word of the foreman’s evidence.

There was another row in Nordahl’s cabin, which was overheard by one of the winch boys. All he heard as he passed was Bland saying, “I refuse to resign. Fire me if you like. But see what my father has to say when he arrives.” And Nordahl had answered wearily, “Your father can do what he likes. I’m not going to be saddled with a rat like you, and I’ll see that the company isn’t either.”

Next came the evidence that all this had gradually been working up to. The witness was a big man with a scar on his cheek over which his beard had refused to grow. He was from Captain Larvik’s catcher.

His evidence was that he’d been up on deck shortly after midnight on the night of the second and third of January. He had gone aft and had seen Nordahl smoking a cigar near one of the boats. A few paces farther on he met Erik Bland going toward Nordahl. He had stopped then, wondering whether there was any fresh trouble between them. He had heard the beginnings of an altercation. No, he couldn’t say what was said. He was too far away. The men’s voices grew angry. There was a sudden cry, then silence. He saw Bland come back. His face was very white. Then the man had gone aft to the point where Nordahl had been. Nordahl was no longer there.

“Did Bland see you?” I asked, through Kyrre.

“No, I was beside one of the ventilators and there was the fog.”

I had been watching the man closely while he gave his evidence. There was no feeling or interest behind his words. I got the idea that he didn’t see the scene he was describing.

Eide stirred. “Why didn’t you give me this information when I was inquiring into Herr Nordahl’s disappearance?” he asked.