Sloan Wilson - Ice Brothers

She gave him a smile of immense gratitude. Then a fat woman who was throwing paper streamers jostled her away from the rail.

He never saw Becky again. He remembered the mournful tooting of the tugboats, the smell of the harbor and the circling gulls as he watched the ship out of sight. In retrospect it seemed that he had a premonition that he would never see her again.…

The gulls were still with him, circling around his head as he stood on the flying bridge of the Arluk in Argentia two and a half years or what seemed like several centuries later. Then he heard Mowrey bawl, “Yale, where’s that goddamn Sheenie? I’ve got some new codes here that have to go in the safe.”

Closing his eyes for a moment to help blot out the past, Nathan climbed down the ladder to the bridge.

“I’m right here, captain,” he said.

For a week the Arluk waited in Argentia while Mowrey drilled his men and indignantly sent messages to every authority he could think of, requesting reasons for the delay. He got no answers, but on the eighth day, the quartermaster on watch reported that “Captain Hansen’s trawler” was steaming into the harbor. Their sister ship, Paul saw as she came to moor alongside, proudly carried a metallic crescent device atop her mast for radar.

“Jesus Christ, that bastard Hansen copped a radar set for himself,” Mowrey exploded. “How come they give one to him but not us? I know they figure the silly bastard can’t find his way without it, but damn it, he’s not headed into more fog than we are.”

Hansen moored his ship alongside the Arluk without any of the daring, flash and risk-taking which Mowrey had displayed. He just came in bucking the fast current very slowly, put out a bow line at leisure, and winched his stern around. The operation fascinated Paul because he thought that he could duplicate it himself.

“Hansen, you handle a ship like a fucking old lady,” Mowrey growled from the wing of his bridge.

“I’d rather do that than handle one like a madman,” Hansen replied with a smile. “How are you, Cliff?”

“How many asses did you have to kiss to get radar?”

“I didn’t even put in for it. Don’t get too envious. The damn thing was great for two days and then quit.”

“They’ll probably be able to fix it here for you,” Nathan said.

“Maybe. I radioed ahead and they didn’t sound too sure. The damn thing is so new they don’t have many technicians, and those they got are all tied up with navy stuff.”

“I’ll look at it if you want,” Nathan said. “I’ve done a little work on radar.”

“You’ll be saving our lives if you can fix it — maybe literally,” Hansen said. “I got an idea they gave us the damn thing for a purpose.”

Paul had always been curious about radar, which then was the newest and most hush-hush of developments, and accepted Hansen’s invitation to come aboard with Nathan. Even Mowrey was curious enough to come along. The radar set was a huge metal box with a round piece of glass in the front of it, much like a porthole. It filled one end of the pilothouse.

“Looks like you got sort of the Adam and Eve of radar,” Nathan said, inspecting the box closely. “I didn’t know they put anything this primitive into production.”

“They were going to give us a smaller one, but the navy grabbed it. The guys in Norfolk said they didn’t know how long this thing would work, but we were lucky to get anything at all. The subs and the aircraft carriers have top priority on this stuff.”

“Can your radioman give me some tools?” Nathan asked. “I’ll have a look at it.”

Paul watched him while he unscrewed metal plates. Aboard the Arluk , Nathan had always struck him as nice, intelligent in some abstract way, but completely incompetent and bumbling when it came to anything nautical. With tools in his long, slender fingers Nathan’s whole manner changed. He moved briskly and with apparent enjoyment as he began examining the complex mechanism inside the box with a flashlight.

“It’s nothing but a damn radio,” Mowrey said and went back to the Arluk .

“Your basic problem is that this set has no real protection against vibration and dampness,” Nathan said. “It was never designed for marine use. Probably there are one or more shorts. I hoped nothing is burned out. Did they give you any spare parts?”

“Not a one,” Hansen said grimly. “We wouldn’t know how to use them anyway.”

Nathan reached for a voltameter and began the tedious job of testing scores of connections.

“You obviously know what you’re doing,” Hansen said. “God, I wish I could get you assigned to this ship!”

Nathan straightened up and for the first time Paul saw a smile erase that look of profound sorrow on his long, narrow face.

“Captain Hansen, if you could arrange that, you would be saving my life,” he said. “I can’t tell you what it’s like to be on a ship where there is no way for me to be useful.”

“I was going to talk to Cliff about Paul here,” Hansen said. “There’s just some small chance that I might be able to make some sort of a deal for both of you.”

The two officers stood watching for perhaps half an hour while Nathan worked on the radar set. Finally he twisted some knobs and the little porthole in the box suddenly glowed with an odd green light around which a pencil line of brighter light turned like a big second hand on a watch.

“You’ve fixed it!” Hansen said.

“Temporarily, I’m afraid.”

Nathan adjusted more knobs. The moving line of bright light began to trace a strangely glowing outline of the surrounding harbor on the glass.

“God, imagine what that thing would mean in a fog or at night if you were chasing someone or being chased,” Hansen said fervently.

“I wish I could promise you that you’d have it for long,” Nathan replied. “I’m afraid this set will be constantly going out and will always need tinkering. I can at least give you a list of spare parts you can order.”

“What the hell good will they do us if we have no one who has any idea what the hell is going on inside that box?” Hansen said. “It’s ridiculous to leave you on a ship which has no radar. I’m going over to see Cliff.”

Hansen found Mowrey in his bunk aboard the Arluk , half sitting with his shoulders against two pillows. He had a glass in his hand and spoke thickly, a fact which did not surprise Hansen at all.

“Do you mind if I come in to talk over some problems of state?” Hansen began.

“Take a load off your ass, Wally,” Mowrey replied, pulling up his legs to make room at the foot of his bunk. “I’ll get you a drink.”

From a drawer under his bunk within reach of his arm he took a bottle and a glass.

“If you want water, you can get it at the head,” he said.

Hansen accepted the glass, went to get water and sat down on the stool near the chart table.

“I want to talk to you about the possibility of trading some officers,” he said. “You’ve got a radar specialist but no radar. My communications officer is a guy who just made ensign after ten years as a quartermaster. Want to swap?”

“So you want my Sheenie,” Mowrey said with his sweet grin. “What else do you want?”

“Well, my exec graduated from the Coast Guard Academy last year. He’s never seen ice, but except for that he could easily run a ship like this himself. To sweeten the deal, I’ll trade him for the guy you call Yale, and you can get some sleep at night.”

“So you want my Sheenie and my Yale. Do you want my cook too?”

“I’d like him, of course, but I know you’ll never let him go. How about it, Cliff? I’m sure we could clear it with Headquarters if we both approved and we’d both be a hell of a lot better off.”