‘I couldn’t get through to the Icelandic Coast Guard,’ Thráinn replied, ‘but I managed to raise a British ship on the VHF. I couldn’t hear much because of all the static but I’m pretty sure they got the message and will pass it on to the Icelandic authorities. With any luck we’ll manage to get the long-range radio working, so I can call home myself and repeat the message. Still, we’ll hold to our course regardless, as I said last night.’ Thráinn no longer looked like a ghost; he seemed to have been revived by the roaring elements. There was colour in his cheeks and his eyes were alert. The same was true of the well-rested Halli who looked full of beans, as if he was positively eager to do battle with the forces of nature. The difference between these two men and Ægir could not have been starker; they relished hard physical labour and a hint of danger, whereas he preferred to work in a safe indoor environment.
‘You didn’t tell them about the container and the fix we’re in?’ Ægir received a slap of spray across his face, and the salt stung his freshly shaven cheek. Volunteering to replace the injured crew member was without a doubt the most serious error of judgement he had ever made. He managed to banish this thought by concentrating on the idea of going home. All they had to do was hold out until they reached Iceland, where a new and better life awaited them.
‘No. It was more important to pass on the other message. I didn’t want to risk confusing them. Besides, what are they supposed to do? Is your committee prepared to pay to have us rescued?’
‘Probably not.’ Ægir took hold of the long pole with a hook on the end that Thráinn now handed him. The wet wood felt slippery in his hand. ‘But you reckon they understood and will report the news about the body?’
‘I hope so, but I can’t be sure. We’ll just have to wait and see; hopefully we’ll find out sooner rather than later. It all depends on how successful we are in repairing the long-range radio – or the VHF, for that matter. Then at least we’d be able to make contact with other vessels. Fortunately, the navigation system seems to be unaffected, which suggests it’s not caused by an electronic fault. To be honest, I don’t know what the hell’s going on.’
‘Want me to take a look at it?’ Halli was holding open the lid of a white chest while Thráinn pulled out various pieces of equipment. He had a job keeping his grip on the lid in the buffeting wind. ‘I know a thing or two; I was going to train as an electrical engineer once.’
‘That would be great. But Loftur seems to know a bit about radios too and he was stumped.’ Thráinn straightened up, keeping one foot on the tools he had taken out so they didn’t roll away. ‘Maybe it’s just a coincidence – the storm pissing us about.’ He handed Halli two poles similar to the one Ægir was holding and took two more for himself. ‘I hope this’ll be enough.’ He also picked up a tangle of straps from the deck and held it out to the others. ‘Put this on. I don’t think your wife would be too pleased with me if you were washed overboard, and I can’t afford to lose you either, Halli.’
Ægir put down the pole and untangled the straps, which turned out to be a harness for attaching to a safety line. Copying Halli, he eventually managed to pull it on after a clumsy struggle. It appeared that Thráinn didn’t intend to fasten himself to anything, although Ægir had noticed more harnesses in the box. Perhaps it was beneath his dignity. Although the harness was rather uncomfortable he felt much better for wearing it and would be even happier once it was clipped to the lifeline. His courage rose and he no longer dreaded what was to come. ‘Right.’ He picked up the pole and his new sense of daring was bolstered by the heft of the powerful implement in his hand. Perhaps he was in the wrong profession at home, and would have done better to choose a job that tested his physical endurance and manliness rather than his knowledge of debit and credit. The gust that buffeted him sideways as he thought this jerked him smartly back to reality. In weathering it, he banged his elbow so hard that his funny bone screamed in agony. The deck was running with water, which made crossing it treacherous, and his waterproofs acted like a sail. He took care to tread down heavily to keep his balance on his way to the rail. It was as if the wind was intent on knocking him over but couldn’t decide in which direction.
‘Clip this through the loop.’ Thráinn handed Ægir a hook, then fastened the other end of the lifeline to a steel ring on the rail. After that, he took a firm grip on the line where it hung down from Ægir’s body and yanked it. He did not offer Halli the same treatment. ‘Ready?’ Both men nodded. They now embarked on an operation that Ægir found baffling and counter-intuitive for much of the time. The aim was to push the debris away from the ship, ascertaining, as they did so, whether there was anything lurking under the surface that might damage the propeller or rudder when they started moving again. But no matter how hard they strained and how far over the rail they hung, nothing worked: the rusty, slimy container refused to budge. It made no difference whether their efforts were coordinated or not. The wreckage clung like a limpet to the side of the yacht, and the only visible change was that several cardboard boxes bobbed up and floated alongside it.
‘It looks as if the bloody thing’s come open.’ Thráinn pulled in his pole. ‘Fucking hell.’
‘Is that bad?’ Ægir hauled in his pole too, glad of a chance to rest his arms.
‘Potentially.’ Thráinn wiped his forehead to stop the water streaming into his eyes. ‘It depends what’s inside and which way the doors are facing.’
‘Can this piece of junk really be caught on something?’ Halli spat out a mouthful of briny saliva and nearly had it blown straight back in his face. ‘There’s something fucking weird about this.’
Thráinn wiped his forehead again. ‘I don’t know what’s going on down there. There shouldn’t be anything on the keel for it to snag on. Unless there’s a hole. You did check below yesterday, didn’t you?’ This was directed at Halli.
‘There was nothing wrong. Not then, anyway, and I doubt the hull’s been holed since. We’d have noticed. The container’s just too bloody heavy and we can’t get a proper purchase on it from up here. You can’t see a fucking thing either.’ He bent over the side again, using the pole to give the wreckage another prod. ‘I’ll go below when we’re finished here and do another check.’
‘Are you positive it was only one container?’ Ægir scanned the heaving sea as it dawned on him that there could be more debris on the way. ‘And where’s the ship that lost it? Surely it’s their duty to recover it or make sure it sinks?’
Thráinn and Halli exchanged mocking glances. ‘It doesn’t work quite like that.’ Thráinn gave Ægir’s shoulder a punch. ‘Not such a dumb question, though. According to NAVTEX there was only one container. If more had fallen overboard, there’d have been another alert. So, no need to worry about that, just concentrate on finding out how we can get rid of this bugger without doing any damage.’
‘Shouldn’t we simply chance it? Start sailing and see what happens?’ Ægir was desperate to prevent the captain from saying the words he dreaded most; that they should launch a dinghy and try to take a closer look. The deck felt as secure as a padded cell compared to the thought of braving the ferocious sea in a flimsy little tender. He was suddenly aware of the seasickness pill lodged in his throat, refusing to slide down into his stomach.