Southtrap

He grabbed me by my front, taking me by surprise.

They left me to die, Shotton! The three of them — Prestrud, Jacobsen and Torgersen! But I didn't die! I lived!'

'It's calculated mass murder!'

'Shut up!' he snarled. 'It isn't. They've got a shipful of food and water. They're in the track of the West Wind Drift. Plenty of ships have broken down and drifted safely to Australia before now. If they could, the Quest can!'

'Wegger A short rat-tat-tat rang through the ship from the direction of the engine-room.

There was a short pause, then two more shots.

Wegger and Bravold eyed each other.

We waited. Minutes passed.

Then Wegger picked up the engine-room intercom. At that moment the Quest kicked as if the inside of her hull had been struck by a giant's hammer.

Wegger relaxed and put down the instrument.

We waited. Then Ullmann came in from the companionway. He was fiddling with the machine-pistol's magazine, reloading as he walked.

'Trouble?' asked Wegger.

'Some. A stupid clot tried to stop me. Old bastard. Said he loved his engines.' The big man spat on the deck. 'Said they were his life.' He shrugged. 'It was his life.'

'MacFie!' I breathed. 'You killed MacFie!'

Ullmann seemed cynically amused. 'There was another,' he told Wegger. 'Did you hear the second lot of shots?'

I died a thousand deaths for Linn before Ullmann continued.

'A young 'un. Red hair. He came at me like crazy. Yelled something about a ghost in a tunnel. Maybe he was trying to protect the old guy.' He shrugged again. 'It doesn't matter. He got in the way.'

'Fine,' said Wegger. 'Now fix the radio. A grenade will do.'

'Wegger,' I said deliberately. 'You bastard — you unspeakable bastard!'

The test will put some guts into McKinley — if he has any,' he retorted. 'They'll be found — in time. After we've been to Prince Edward.'

Ullmann went off, and shortly afterwards the crash of the explosion set every piece of steel on the bridge vibrating.

When he returned, Wegger told him, 'Go and get the girl while Shotton collects his things. Everyone to meet here in five minutes.'

Wegger himself guarded me while I found my sextant and other navigating instruments as well as a couple of charts. As I finished, he said, 'You could have had it very easy, you and the girl…'

My anxiety over Linn and our scheme was destroying me. I didn't respond to his gambit. I gathered up the penguin-skin rug — for her sake — but I couldn't stop myself from looking at my watch.

'What's up?' Wegger demanded. He was living on hair-trigger tenseness. Luger trigger.

'Weather,' I replied. It was half the truth, anyway. 'The sooner we get back to the windjammer with the present build-up, the easier I'll be in my mind.'

This answer didn't quite satisfy him and he said, 'Get out of here. Back to the bridge.'

Linn was already there when we arrived. She was standing apart from the others, a small crush-bag at her feet. Her green-grey eyes held steady on mine. I knew she had succeeded. The minute transmitter was hidden away in the folds of her parka.

'Search her!' snapped Wegger. 'Her and her dunnage.'

My mind froze as Ullmann went forward. No frisking hand could fail to detect that light-metal box.

Linn pushed her bag at him with a foot. He stooped, unzipped it.

My tongue felt as if it had been immobilized by the sort of ice which had frozen Botany Bay solid. But ice is wet. There was no moisture at all in my mouth.

Ullmann's hands began to explore Linn's bag.

'Wegger,' I remarked, trying to sound casual, 'maybe you've been too busy killing innocent people to notice that this ship is slewing. The wind has got hold of her bows. She's coming round. Any minute now that lee for our launch won't be a lee any longer. The boat isn't moored — it's only secured to the scrambling net. It'll stove in against Quest's hull any moment.'

Wegger looked startled and said, 'Belay that, Ullmann. There's no other gun in the ship anyway — I know. Get overside quick and fend off the launch. Bravold, guard these two. Come!'

They shot off. Linn knelt and re-zipped her bag slowly, her relief apparent in the careful way she bent so that the transmitter inside her parka would not be visible.

I took the bag. I faced McKinley briefly. Petersen was gagging as if he were about to be sick.

'Good luck,' I said.

He regarded me bleakly without speaking.

'Get moving!' ordered Bravold.

Wegger and Ullmann were already in the boat when we reached the, rail. Linn went down before me, cautiously straddling the rail and carefully nursing the concealed transmitter. I followed with her bag. Bravold brought up the rear.

We cast off the launch and pulled clear of the ship. The Quest wallowed like a harpooned whale. The wind had started to gust more strongly from the south-west. We felt its bite afresh the moment we cleared the shelter of the ship's side. The iceberg boxing in Botany Bay was only a couple of kilometres away now. It was anyone's bet how soon the Quest and the berg would collide. The light also had changed: it was dark in the storm quadrant although the sun had a whiteness high towards its zenith.

Dollops of spray started to break aboard. I called to I Wegger, 'Can't you go faster? We're running into trouble already.'

He speeded up and the launch shipped more icy water. Finally we got inside the shelter of the arch, and hurried across the protected water to Botany Bay, which was still stationary with her main royal aback.

The first thing I noticed on the quarterdeck was that the bodies of Kearnay and Biggs were missing.

'What happened to them?' I asked Clem Bent, the bo'sun, out of Wegger's hearing.

'We buried 'em decently while those bastards were away,' he replied. 'We didn't want him simply throwing them overboard.'

Wegger and Ullmann set to work in the bows making the tow fast to the motor-launch.

'All hands!' I shouted. 'Men! We're towing the ship out of here. Get those royals clewed up! Secure the anchor inboard. Hands stand by tops'l and topgallant braces.'

I said to Bent at the wheel, 'Maybe you'll want help at the helm when we get outside.'

'Aye,' he answered. 'She steers like a bitch and kicks like a mule.'

The tow was finally made fast and the motor-launch tugged the windjammer slowly across the quiet water. The calm didn't last long. Once we hit the waves rolling in through the entrance the launch's towing speed fell off sharply. I began to wonder whether it had even enough power to fetch Botany Bay through the entrance. With the waves' thrust and the tow falling slack and then jerking taut again our speed was down to about one knot. Botany Bay was still the cork in the bottle.

The launch edged through the arch into the open sea beyond. Botany Bay dragged at her heels. Would the cork get out of the bottle? 'Hold her!' I told the helmsman. 'She'll swing when the wind catches her…'

She did, even before she reached the open sea. The bluff bow offered maximum resistance to the wind; the wind took full advantage. It jerked her head round in spite of the motor-launch. I dared not risk setting sail. The starboard mainyard scraped the ice-cliff, bumped, scraped again. Pieces of ice rattled on the deck. In her situation the ice portico flanking the entrance had become a dead lee for the ship. One rag of canvas would have driven her against it.

Botany Bay rebounded from touching the ice; the tow snapped taut; she lurched forward again. Half the length of the ship was now through the neck of the bottle. But the wind was pushing her round, round once again towards the menacing portico.

I simply had to chance the forward momentum a sail would give. It was a question of checks and balances. Would the sail's forward thrust be enough to carry her to safety or would the simultaneous sideways tug throw her to destruction against the towering cliff?