The Blue Ice

'Stand back, Jorgensen!' I ordered. 'You've no right to do a thing like that. It wasn't Dahler's fault. He's not a sailor. Curtis shouldn't have handed the wheel over to him.'

'Not Dahler's fault!' Jorgensen laughed unsteadily. That wasn't an accident,' he said. 'Ask Miss Somers.'

I looked at Jill. 'What happened?' I asked.

But she seemed too frightened to speak. She just stood, staring down at Dahler's inert body.

CHAPTER THREE The Voice of 'Hval Ti'

Whether that gybe was intentional or an accident I didn't know. And I hadn't time to think about it then. Dahler's body was crumpled over the wheel, jamming it. The mainsail, still overweighted with canvas in the howling wind, was dragging at the mast. With the port backstay gone and the starboard backstay slack the massive timber of the mast was bending to each gust. I could hear it groaning above the thunder of the seas breaking inboard over the bows. I hauled Dahler's body off the wheel and thrust it into the cockpit. Then I put the helm hard to starb'd and brought the ship up into the wind. 'Haul in on the mainsheet, Jorgensen,' I shouted as the boom began to swing loosely inboardSomehow we got the boat close-hauled and the starboard backstay set up. Then I handed the wheel over to Jill and went for'ard with Jorgensen to get a reef in the mainsail and repair the port backstay. Curtis wasn't badly hurt, but he'd a nasty cut on his shoulder and I sent him below as soon as Wilson arrived on deck. 'Take Dahler with you,' I told him. And then suddenly remembering that he'd originally been at the wheel, I said, 'Why did you hand the wheel over to Dahler and not to Jill as I ordered?'

'Jill wasn't in the cockpit,' he said. 'I saw you were in a jam and as I got up from the wheel, Dahler stepped in right beside me. He'd been at the helm once during the day, so I thought it would be all right. It left Jill as a gash hand. I didn't realise-'

'All right,' I said. '.You get on below and see to that cut. Put Dahler on his bunk. I'll see him later.'

It took us the better part of an hour to get things sorted out and the boat properly trimmed. I took in two reefs to be on the safe side. The damage didn't appear great, but only daylight would reveal what had happened aloft. The strain as the full, weight of the mains'l had swung across had been terrific.

Masthead fittings might be torn out or loosened. When the ship was at last riding easily, I sent Jill below to fix Curtis's arm and put Jorgensen on the wheel. Dick and the two hands were stowing sails for'ard. I entered up the log and then checked our course on the compass. The binnacle light threw a faint glow on Jorgensen's face. 'Why did you hit Dahler?' I asked him. He didn't answer and I said, 'The man's a cripple. He should never have been allowed to take the wheel in this wind. He couldn't hold it.' Still Jorgensen said nothing. 'Do you think he did it on purpose?' I demanded.

'What do you think?' he asked.

I remember how Jorgensen had been standing on the hatch cover, reaching up for the jackyard. If I hadn't sensed the gybe coming and yelled a warning to him, the boom would have swept him overboard. It would have smashed his ribs and sent him hurtling over the life lines. If Dahler had wanted to get rid of Jorgensen… 'It was an accident,' I said angrily.

'An accident?' He laughed. 'Dahler has been sailing boats all his life. That was no accident, Mr Gansert. You heard what was said between us in the saloon just before we came on deck.'

'You were threatening to have him arrested,' I said. 'But that doesn't prove that he tried to — to involve you in an accident.'

To murder me I think you were going to say.' He shifted his grip on the wheel. 'Let us call things by their proper names,' he added. 'What Dahler did was attempted murder.' The way he said it, it sounded ugly.

'I'll go down and have a word with him,' I said, and left him sitting there at the wheel.

It seemed incredible that Dahler should have meant to kill him. And yet, sitting there at the wheel and seeing Jorgensen standing on that hatch, the means of killing was right there in his hands. He had only to turn the wheel and the gybe was bound to happen. An accident. Nobody would have been able to prove that it wasn't an accident. And there would have been no chance of picking Jorgensen up with the ship's tangle of sails and broken rigging. It was understandable if he were a novice. Only a little while before he took the wheel Curtis had almost done the same thing by accident. But if he'd been sailing boats all his life…

I pushed open the saloon door. Curtis was pulling on his jersey. Jill was in the galley sweeping up broken crockery. 'How's the shoulder?' I asked Curtis.

'All right,' he said. 'Bit stiff, that's all.'

'Dahler in his cabin?'

'Yes. He's come round. Cut lip and bruised cheekbone, that's all. What did Jorgensen want to go and hit him for? There's something funny about those two. They hate each other's guts.'

I went into Dahler's cabin. The light was on and he was sitting propped up in his bunk, dabbing at his lip, which was still bleeding. I shut the door. He turned at the sound, holding his handkerchief to his face. 'Well?' he asked. 'How much damage have I done?'

'Quite enough,' I said. 'Why did you take the wheel if you didn't know how to sail?'

'I was right beside Wright when you told him to give a hand for'ard,' he replied. 'I couldn't help. Jill Somers could. So I took Wright's place at the helm. And I do know how to sail, Mr Gansert. Unfortunately I haven't done any sailing since — since this happened.' He waved his withered arm at me. 'The ship heeled to a gust of wind and the wheel was torn out of my hand.'

'Jorgensen thinks you did it purposely,' I told him.

'I had gathered that.' He dabbed at his lip. 'Is that what you think?' His dark eyes were watching me. The cabin lights were reflected in the over-large pupils.

'I'm prepared to take your word for it,' I told him.

'I asked you, Mr Gansert, whether you thought I had done if purposely?'

I hesitated. 'I don't know,' I answered. 'He had just threatened to have you arrested. And you don't exactly conceal your hatred of him.'

'Why should I?' he answered. 'I do hate him.'

'But why?' I asked.

'Why?' His voice rose suddenly. 'Because of what he's done to me. Look at this.' He thrust the withered claw of his arm at me again. 'Jorgensen,' he snarled. 'Look at my face. Jorgensen. Before the war I was fit and happy. I had a wife and a business. I was on top of the world.' He sighed and sank back against his pillow. 'That was before the war. It seems a long time ago now. My interests were shipping. I had a fleet of coasters and four tankers that supplied Del Norske Staalselskab. Then Norway was invaded. The tankers I ordered to British ports. Some of the coasters were sunk and a few got away, but the bulk of the fleet continued to operate. And whilst Jorgensen was entertaining the German commanders in Oslo, I worked for the liberation of my country. My house at Alverstrummen was a refuge for British agents. My offices in Bergen became a clearing house for boys slipping out of the country. Then suddenly my house was raided. A British agent was captured. I was arrested and imprisoned in Bergen. That was not so bad. My wife could come and see me and I passed the time binding books. But then the Germans drafted us for forced labour. I was sent to Finse. The Germans planned to build an aerodrome on top of the Jokulen. Did you ever hear of that monumental piece of German folly?'

'Jorgensen mentioned it to me-' I began.

'Jorgensen!' he exclaimed. 'What does Jorgensen know about it? He was much too clever.'

He leaned out of his bunk and got a cigarette from his jacket pocket. I lit it for him. He took several quick puffs. His fingers shook. The man was wrought up. He was talking to steady himself. And I listened because this was the first time I'd got him talking and up there at Finse he had met George Farnell.