The Blue Ice

Lovaas was on him like a hawk. 'To Bovaagen, eh?'

'That's roight,' Sunde replied. But the way he said it lacked conviction and he fumbled with his knife as he spread thin layers of cheese on top of meat.

'Who are you working with?' Lovaas went on.

'Peer Storjohann,' Sunde replied. 'He and Oi is partners. We own the boat an' the equipment.'

'And the fisherman?'

'Oh, he's a local man,' put in Kielland. 'Old Einar Sandven from Nordhanger.'

'From Nordhanger, eh?' Lovaas seemed chewing this information over in his mind. Then he said, 'What time was it you ceased work this morning?'

Sunde looked across at me and then at Lovaas. He seized his glass and took a gulp of beer. I leaned forward across the table and said, 'Can you tell me more about these engines? Presumably the plane was shot down several years ago. Surely the engines will be rusted beyond use?'

Sunde seized on to my new line of conversation with evident relief. 'Lor' bless me soul, no,' he answered. 'They'll be all roight. Metal don't rust right under the water, see. It's air and water what rusts metal. You see ships rusted 'cos you see 'em after the air's bin at 'em. But you sink a ship right under the sea an' then go da'n an' take a look at 'er — well she's all roight, see.'

He paused, and in that pause, Lovaas said, 'How long were you out off Skarv Island this morning, Mr Sunde?'

'Oh, Oi dunno,' Sunde replied quickly. 'An hour — maybe two. Why?' He looked across at Lovaas, but somehow he wasn't able to hold the other's gaze. His eyes dropped to his plate again.

'What time did you start work?' Lovaas persisted.

'Oh, Oi dunno. 'Ba't eight.'

'Then you would still be out there about ten this morning?'

'Couldn't say what time we was a't there till. Ask me partner. 'E's got a watch.'

'When will he be returned, eh?'

''Ow should Oi know? Depends 'ow long 'e takes ter get the oxy-acetylene plant. Mebbe 'e'll 'ave ter go inter Bergen fer it.'

Lovaas leaned towards Sunde. There was something almost menacing in the solid, squat bulk of him. 'Were you out off Skarv Island when we were searching for Schreuder?' he asked.

'Was that the name of the man wot fell overboard from Hval Ti?' Sunde asked, trying hard to cover up his nervousness.

'Yes,' Lovaas answered abruptly.

'Well, we weren't there, see. We didn't 'ear nuffink.'

Mrs Kielland patted Lovaas's arm. 'I'm sure Mr Sunde would have said at once if he'd been there, Kaptein Lovaas.'

Lovaas said nothing. He sat watching Sunde. The silence at the table became uncomfortable. Mrs Kielland said, 'It is so terrible. It is the first man we have lost at Bovaagen Hval. And so close to the station — it does not seem possible.'

'Is this the first man you've ever lost?' I asked Kielland.

He nodded. 'We have accidents, you know. Men cut themselves on flensing knives. And then we had a man's leg badly torn by the winches. But that is all at the factory. Never have we any accidents on the ships. This is the first.'

I looked across at Lovaas. 'But it's not your first, is it, Captain Lovaas?' I said.

'What do you mean?' His eyes flared with sudden anger.

'I seem to remember hearing that you killed a man once.'

'Who tell you that, eh?'

'A Mr Dahler.'

'Dahler.' His eyes narrowed. 'What did he say about me?'

'Only that you were sacked from the command of a catcher for killing a man.'

'It's a lie.'

'Maybe,' I said. 'But how will you explain this man Schreuder's death to the police?'

'Explain? Schreuder jumped overboard.'

Lovaas was crumbling a piece of bread and suddenly I felt on top of him. 'What about my evidence?' I said.

'But the man jumped over the ship,' Mrs Kielland said. 'Surely that is right? All the men say he jump straight over. You and Kaptein Lovaas search for him together.'

'The man was desperate,' I said. 'That's why he jumped. I wonder what you had done to make him so desperate, Captain Lovaas? Had you threatened him as you did that other man?'

Lovaas thrust back his chair and got to his feet. He was red with anger. 'I am not to stay here to be insult,' he cried, losing his English in his excitement. 'You are a guest here. If you were not you would get hurt for that. Now I go back to my ship. But be careful, Mr Gansert. Be careful. This is dangerous talk.' He turned to Mrs Kielland and said, 'Taak for maten.' Then, with a quick glance at me, he left the room.

I had overplayed my hand. I should have kept quiet. But I'd wanted to get his mind away from Sunde and those two diving boats. I glanced round the silent table. Kielland was watching me. His eyes had lost their good-humoured twinkle. 'Will you please tell me what happened on board Hval Ti?' he asked.

I told him. And when I had finished, he said, 'You were interested in this man Schreuder for the same reason that Jorgensen was interested, eh?'

I nodded.

He didn't say anything, but sat slumped in his chair as though lost in thought. 'Will there be an inquiry into the man's death?' I asked him.

He looked up. 'No,' he said. 'No. I do not think so.'

'But surely-' I began.

He held up his hand. 'You forget,' he said, 'Herr Jorgensen is a very powerful man. We are like you people. We are hardworking, honest and law-abiding. But when a thing is a matter of high politics and big business — then-' He hesitated. 'Then it is best left in the hands of those who understand it. Come. We will go and have a little drink with our coffee, and we will forget all about this, eh?'

We had our coffee and drinks in the Kiellands' sitting-room.

Sunde sat himself next to Mr Kielland. I had no opportunity of getting him alone, and after our coffee, Kielland insisted on taking the four of us round the station. He took us through the boiler-rooms where the steam for the oil vats was generated and on into a roofed-in space piled high with the rotten-smelling remains of whalebone. There were great sections of backbone steamed out so that they were like huge loaves of aerated bread, as light as a feather. This refuse scraped from the bottom of the oil vats was being crushed and packed in sacks as guano for agriculture. Then we went down into the main part of the factory where the vats stood like huge blast furnaces, six a side in two long lines. We walked down the narrow space between them. The heat was terrific. On each side of us a scalding hot gutter carried a thin, yellow stream of whale oil to big, open tanks. 'From these tanks it goes to be cooled,' Kielland said. 'Then it is packed in oil drums. It goes all over the world — for soap, candles, cosmetics, margarine.'

I tried to show interest, but I was impatient to get back to Sunde before Lovaas had a chance to talk to him alone. But Kielland's life was the whaling station and he was determined to show us everything. He took us to a vat that was being cleared of slag, all the oil having been extracted. Two men, stripped to the waist, were hauling out the filth with iron scrapers from an open door at the base of the vat. It piled up on the floor. a mass of decayed-looking rubbish that might have been the sweepings of an incinerator. 'More guano,' Kielland said. 'It is all money. Every little bit of whale is money. Nothing is waste. Even the finners are used. They go to England to be made into brushes. Come. I show you how we cut and pack the meat.' We went out on to the flensing deck. The sun was hot and bright. The steam saws, hummed. The men slid along the slippery deck with great, star-shaped sections of bone: all that was left of the great monster we had seen being dragged up the slipway that morning was a long, ragged, bleeding backbone. The meat had all been cleared. They were hosing down the deck. Kielland noticed our surprise and said, 'We do not waste time, eh?' I have forty men here and we can handle three whales a day if necessary.