"Hunting and posturing." Drexler turned to Feder. "Was our rendezvous before Christmas planned, do you think? Is he trying to track us?"
"No, it was fortuitous, coincidental. The ocean is vast, our timing uncertain. But he's smart, and curious. Do we know something he doesn't? Are whales down here? He trails us, he looks for whales: why not, if hunting elsewhere is as poor as he claims?"
"How many whales?" asked Greta, who had also come to the bridge. She looked at Hart. "What kind?"
"Does it matter?" Drexler asked.
"They must have swum this far south to feed," she said, excited. "It would be interesting to see what they're preying on— to sample for krill."
Drexler considered this. Then he looked at Heiden.
"We can't permit him to come after us, dropping flags, confusing dates of first claim, muddling our authority. You know that."
The captain nodded unhappily. "We can't but we must. We're not at war, Jürgen. The sea is unclaimed. He can prowl where he wishes."
"Nonsense. Take a German trawler to Norwegian fishing grounds and you'll not hear them braying such nonsense. They simply act to protect what is theirs. We must do the same if we're to fulfill our duty to the Reich."
Heiden looked wary. "What do you want to do?"
Drexler nodded toward Greta. "Sample krill," he said decisively. "At the pod."
"Krill?"
"Yes, krill. I want to cut him off." He looked at Greta, calculating. "He can't hunt if we're at the pod first, doing scientific research. We can save these whales for future breeding, help Greta do her research, and send a message that this is no longer a profitable whaling ground— all at the same time. This is ultimately why we came here, Konrad: to make our interests plain."
"Jesus," said Hart. "Cut him off? Did you get a look at that guy? I don't think he's the type to take interference lightly."
"Do you think I am?" Drexler said. He glanced again at Greta. "I'm not afraid of a bunch of damned fish eaters. I'm not afraid of accomplishing my mission."
Greta was watching them uncertainly. "What's your plan?"
"Simple enough. Our ship between theirs and the whales. You in a boat sampling krill, observing behavior, whatever you wish. We're here for science, yes?"
"It sounds risky," Hart objected.
"History's lesson is that it's inaction that is risky."
The pilot looked at Greta, waiting for her to say no. "I do want to see the whales," she said instead, hesitantly, looking at her fellow Germans.
Hart shook his head. "But what if the Norwegians— "
"I want our time down here to mean something," she said. "Jürgen is right."
Hart bit his lip, irritated at her choice but reminded by her manner that he was the foreigner. "All right. It's your expedition."
Drexler nodded. "Exactly." He turned to Heiden, assuming an air of command. "Set course now."
The captain gave a short, hesitant nod. "As you wish." He barked some orders. The ship began to turn and pick up speed. Hart was surprised at the deference to the political liaison.
"It's best to hurry," Feder said. "The barometric pressure is dropping. A threat of bad weather."
"Jürgen, will we get there in time?" Greta asked.
"It's late in the day. I'll do my best." He laid a rule against the chart, then glanced up at the pilots. "Good eyes, Reinhard. And you too, Hart. But now I suggest you adjourn to the galley. We're going to be busy up here, making clear the new order of things."
The pair retreated down the companionway.
"A bit presumptive, isn't he?" asked Hart. "I thought he was an advisor. Suddenly he's acting like an admiral."
"This is an issue of territory, Owen," the German pilot replied. "When Reich politics are at stake, we turn to our major in the SS."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Norwegian whaler was leaking blood.
It was late in the day, the sun sinking into a chill haze and the wind slowly rising. The Schwabenland rolled uneasily in the growing swell, Hart feeling slightly ill as he stood at the rail and studied the carcass being towed behind the Aurora Australis. The whale's body had been pumped full of compressed air to keep it afloat and its tail rose and fell in the swells with a doleful wave, leaving a trail of scarlet. Jansen had struck at the pod. Now a boat was fastening a flag to the beast and the Norwegian was cutting the whale loose to drift for later recovery. His ship began to leave a broader wake as it accelerated, aiming for the survivors. Aiming toward Greta Heinz.
Hart had gone out on deck after another frustrating encounter on the bridge. The Norwegians and Germans had arrived at the whales at almost the same time, Jansen swinging away to hunt down a stray at the edge of the pod. As the Germans slowed to a drift while considering what to do, the Norwegian's harpoon had made a crack clearly audible across the icy sea. Drexler watched unhappily, mentally calculating how far he dared push the situation.
"Are we too late?" asked Feder.
In answer, the feeding whales swam past the German ship as if instinctively seeking shelter, water roiling when they surfaced. Suddenly the Schwabenland was interposed between hunter and hunted.
"It appears not," decided Drexler. He picked up the radio. "This is the Schwabenland calling Aurora Australis. We're conducting a scientific survey of this pod of whales and your hunting is disrupting our investigation. We request that you depart immediately."
"I'm sorry, my friends," Sigvald Jansen's voice crackled back. "We got here first."
Drexler considered a moment. "These are now German territorial waters by right of exploration and formal claim," he tried.
"The hell they are. We follow the rules of the Whaling Convention and no other. Haven't you heard of freedom of the seas?" Jansen clicked off, ignoring further calls.
The Germans looked at each other. "Greta, do you know what kind of biological study you want to conduct here?" Heiden asked.
"To sample for krill and observe the whales' behavior from the motor launch. Can some sailors get me close?"
"I think so."
Hart had come back up from the galley, uneasy at the idea of putting Greta out on the sea. "Let's think about this," he cautioned again. "You're going to put her out there in an open boat with this Sigvald Jansen firing his harpoon gun?"
"Only to establish that we're doing legitimate scientific research," Drexler said, a note of scorn in his voice. "There's no danger, Hart, if that's what has aroused your famed prudence. We're simply establishing our legitimate claim to this pod."
"I'm worried about her, not us. She's the one at risk."
"It's all right, Owen," Greta assured. "The whales are shy."
"That whaler isn't. What if we have a confrontation?"
"Then we'll win and the fish eaters will go home," Drexler said. He turned to Greta. "Don't listen to Hart. These whalers won't come near you or your whales. I suspect that with us on the scene they'll content themselves with their one kill and go back to their factory ship. If not, we'll warn them off with the Schwabenland. Our ship is twice their size."
"I still think this is a needless confrontation," the pilot insisted.
"And I think you were hired to provide technical advice, not opinions," Drexler retorted. He turned again to the biologist. "Greta? This is your decision."
She watched the whales, her face becoming determined. "I want to go. This is the kind of observation I came to Antarctica to make. I just don't want a fight."
"The whole point of this is to avoid future fights, by making clear our position."