Hammond Innes - Blue Ice

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.’

Before going below to interview Sunde, I went into the chartroom and worked out our course. There was a good deal of cloud about and I wanted to avoid any islands until we opened the entrance to Sognefjord. ‘Is the log out?’ I called to Dick. • ‘No,’ he answered. ‘Shall I stream it?’

‘Please.’ I had little tidal information and it was difficult to work out any allowances for drift. But the course we were sailing was marked by two lights and we should have to work on these. I drew in the lines of our course and then went into the cockpit. Dick had left the wheel and was fitting the log line to its bracket. I held the wheel as he dropped the heavy, finned spinner overboard. The thin line trailed aft in our wake and as he let the last loop drop overboard the log wheel began to turn. He came back and took the wheel. ‘What’s the course?’ he asked.

‘North thirty west,’ I answered.

The Nordhordland coast by Bovaagen was already no more than a low line of rock, shining white in the moonlight. It straggled out in a series of hummocks along our starb’d beam until it thinned to a narrow line and vanished. To the west lay open sea. Ahead of us a light winked steadily. ‘That’s Hellesoy light,’ I said. ‘It’s on the island of Fedje. Leave that to port, but keep as close to the island as possible. Utvaer light should then be on the starb’d bow. Hold your course for ten miles and then turn to bring Utvaer fine on the port bow. I’ve marked it on the chart. Okay?’

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘What about watches?’

‘I’ll see about that when I’ve had a talk with Sunde,’ I replied. His face looked pale and very young in the moonlight. A livid bruise was darkening round his eye.

‘You got a nasty clip,’ I said.

‘Oh, that,’ he said, feeling his eye. ‘It’s nothing. It was his head that did that.’

‘Feeling all right?’

‘Fine, thanks. Bit chilly, that’s all. Could you pass me a duffle coat?’

I opened the cockpit clothing locker and flung him one of the coats. ‘I’ll send Wilson up to relieve you,’ I said and went for’ard to the main hatch.

As I descended the ladder I heard Sunde’s voice through the open door of the saloon. ‘Oi tell yer, Oi don’t know nuffink, miss,’ he was saying. He gave a quick gasp of pain.

‘Sorry — am I hurting you?’ Jill’s voice was soft and coaxing. ‘There, that’s fine. I’ll have that hand right in no time. Mr Sunde. I want you to help me.’

‘Oi’ll do anyfink I can, miss.’

I stopped at the bottom of the companionway. They had not heard me coming down in my rubber shoes. Through the open doorway I could see Jill’s face, very intense, very determined. She was sitting facing the diver across the saloon table and she held his bandaged hand in hers. ‘It means a lot to me,’ she said. Her voice was quiet. ‘A man called George Farnell was killed about a month ago on the Jostedal. He was-’ She hesitated. ‘I was very fond of him, Mr Sunde. Until the other day I thought it was an accident. I thought he had been alone. Then I discovered that someone had been with him. His name was Schreuder — an Austrian Jew who worked for the Nazis. Instead of going to the authorities and telling what he knew about Farnell’s death, he came to Bovaagen Hval, shipped as a hand with Captain Lovaas and tried to escape to the Shetlands. That was the man who jumped overboard from Hval Ti yesterday morning — the man you picked up.’

‘Nah look ‘ere, miss. Oi don’t know nuffink aba’t it, see. Oi’m just a diver, Oi am. Oi don’t want no trouble.’

‘You had trouble tonight, didn’t you?’ Jill said slowly. ‘Major Wright told me all about it. If it hadn’t been for Mr Gansert you might be dead now. You’d have told Captain Lovaas what you know then he might have disposed of you. You owe your life to Mr Gansert and the two others who were with him — Major Wright and Mr Everard. Isn’t that so?’

‘Oi ‘xpects you’re roight, miss,’ Sunde answered. His voice sounded hoarse and uncertain. ‘But Oi don’t want no trouble, see. There’s me partner, too. ‘E an’ Oi were in it tergevver durin’ the war an’ Oi ain’t never done anyone dirt, see.’

Jill sighed. ‘Listen, Mr Sunde. Nobody will get into trouble. All we want to know is where Schreuder has been taken. We want to find him and talk to him. We want the truth about Farnell’s death. That’s all. We don’t want to turn him over to the authorities. We just want to know what happened. Please — won’t you help us?’ She took hold of his other hand. ‘Mr Sunde.’ she said, and her voice was hardly audible, ‘I loved George Farnell. I want to know how he died. I’ve a right to know. This man Schreuder could help. Now please — where is he?’

The diver hesitated. His dark face was white with exhaustion. He passed his sound hand across his eyes. ‘Oi dunno. It’s all like a ruddy dream, that’s wot it is. But Oi ain’t tellin’ nobody nuffmk, see. Not wiva’t Oi talk ter me partner first. ‘E’s the brains of the outfit. Oi’m just a diver. The best ruddy diver in the ‘ole of Norway. But it’s ‘im wot’s got the brains. ‘E manages the business side, see. I bin wiv Mm ever since ‘forty. We was in Oslo when the Germans come in, doin’ a bit of salvage work da’n in Pipervika. We went up inter the mountings and joined an army unit wot was farming. But we got smashed up by the Jerries and finds ourselves across the border in Sweden. Well, we starts the great trek — ‘cross Sweden and Finland, down into Russia, ‘cross Siberia inter China. The British Consul in Hong Kong sent us ter Singapore and from there we went to India where they put us in a ship ba’nd for Clydeside. Me partner — ‘e organises the ‘ole ruddy trip.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘We bin through a lot. Peer and Oi. And Oi don’t do nuffink wiva’t Oi consult ‘im first. ‘E’s always tellin’ me — Alf, ‘e sez, you ain’t got the brains of a louse. Only ‘e sez it in Norwegian, see.’ He grinned. ‘Peer’s a great thinker.

Reads books like Altid Amber — wot ‘e calls the classics.’

Jill was leaning forward now and a sudden excitement showed on her face.’ Alf,’ she said. ‘What happened after you and your partner got to England?’