by Linda Harrel
The ceremony climaxed in the remarkable and reluctant form of Angus Dunn, drafted to act as the official greeter to the Arctic—a polar bear.
'Mind,' said Sarah, whispering into Tony's ear, 'it takes a little imagination to see him as a bear!' His costume consisted of a rather dingy set of long underwear haphazardly stuffed with pillows, a healthy dusting of flour on his face and rusty beard, and a circle of soot on his prominent nose.
He produced a stack of papers from a basket, certificates naming everyone crossing the Circle for the first time a Member of the Royal Order of the Blue Nose. From the three wildly protesting women, the bear first demanded a dusty, smacking kiss before relinquishing the prize.
Sarah laughed until her eyes were bright with tears. Flicking a tickly coating of flour from her flushed cheek, she triumphantly displayed her certificate to Tony. 'It says I've passed the gateway to the top of the world,' she read, 'and entered the land of icicles, blizzards, williwaws and a myriad snowflakes! And it's signed, "Boreas Rex, Ruler of the North Wind". What's a williwaw?'
'I don't know,' said Tony darkly, 'but it sounds perfectly dreadful. I'd stay away from it.'
'I intend to,' said Sarah, looking very grave. 'And I also intend to have this framed when I get home. It's better than a Pulitzer Prize… almost!'
Tony folded his arms on the table and leaned towards her. 'And this story you're doing on us. Is it going to be Pulitzer material?'
Sarah cocked her head and considered. 'That I can't say. But it won't be for lack of material if it isn't. My room's awash with notes.'
Laughter erupted farther down the table. Tony bent low over Sarah. 'I'd love to talk to you about how you're getting along, but I think our chances of getting any peace and quiet here are shot for the night. Could you spare a few minutes in my suite before you turn in?'
'I don't see why not. I doubt we'll be missed much here.'
Tony held her chair back and draped her sweater over her shoulders. Together they slipped out of the wardroom unnoticed—or so Sarah thought. But in the general confusion, she could not see the eyes that had followed their every move.
The steward left brandy and coffee and departed silently. Dropping his jacket over a chair back and undoing his gold cuff links, Tony joined Sarah on the sofa.
'So,' he began, filling her glass, 'how have we been treating you?'
Sarah saw Guy's face flash before her eyes, then said firmly, 'Beautifully! Really, Tony, I can't praise your people enough. Even Captain Price, with all he has on his mind at the moment, has taken the time to talk to me.'
'I'm glad,' said Tony, settling back with his brandy. 'I was worried that…' His voice trailed off and for once, Tony Freeland looked hesitant.
'Worried that what, Tony?'
He made an impatient gesture. 'I thought perhaps that bit of an explosion the other day in the conference room might have put you off. It was nothing, really… just the usual squabbling that goes on in any family. But I shouldn't have subjected you to it.'
Sarah shook her head. 'Don't give it another thought, Tony, honestly. I understand that on any project as complex as this there are bound to be differences.'
Tony looked out at the velvety blackness beyond the windows. 'We're so terribly proud of this ship. It's been a long and difficult road we've travelled, bringing her from the dream to the reality. I don't want anything to spoil it now!'
Spoil, thought Sarah. That was just the word she had used in connection with Guy. But Tony was a doer, a builder. She liked that. How much damage could Guy do to him if he took it into his head to be really unpleasant?
It suddenly occurred to her that Tony had taken a great gamble in bringing her along. She could, if she were that sort, hold a very large stick over him. As outlandish as the thought was, she wanted very badly to reassure Tony that he had nothing to fear from her corner.
In a completely feminine gesture, she laid her fingertips on his wrist. 'I hope you don't think I'll be influenced by Guy's bluster. I'm quite capable of sorting out the facts from all his storm and fury.' And on impulse she added, 'All this has been quite a strain on you, hasn't it?'
He gave a short, almost bitter laugh. 'It shows, does it? It's been a tough year… the rush to complete the Enterprise on schedule… Uncle Julian's health declining. That's been the worst, I think. He's a marvellous old man, Sarah—you'd love him.'
He shook his head wearily and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He seemed to be struggling for words that were painful. 'He hates to give up the reins, and I understand that. But there are some decisions he really shouldn't, and can't, make any more. It's certainly not made any easier for him when others encourage him to do more than he should.'
Sarah took a sip of her brandy and looked at him candidly. 'You mean Guy,' she said simply.
Tony lifted his palms in a gesture of frustration. 'He doesn't mean to, of course. But they share this "old salt" camaraderie: Uncle Julian served in the Navy during the war. Whenever Guy's in London, they get together at the Club and spin tales for hours. They may sound harmless, but it only seems to push Uncle Julian farther and farther into the past and away from reality.'
'Have you spoken to Guy about this?'
Tony raised an eyebrow and smiled crookedly. 'Guy,' he said wryly, 'is not the easiest man to reason with. But look—I'm sorry to have dumped all of this on you! You're very easy to confide in, you know.'
Sarah poured graceful arcs of coffee into thin china cups and handed one to Tony. 'It helps just to talk sometimes,' she said kindly.
'I hope you don't think badly of me, Sarah. I'm the first to sing Guy's praises—he's tops in his field. 'But it's such a narrow one. Sometimes I think it gives him tunnel vision. He forgets about the rest of it: the scheduling, the payrolls to be met, the labour negotiations. There are hundreds of employees looking to us for their livelihood, and I can't forget that for a minute. If this voyage is anything less than an unqualified success, a lot of people are going to be hurt.'
Sarah's long eyelashes swept up and she found Tony staring at her intently. 'Is something wrong?' she asked, her fingers moving nervously to the fine gold chain that encircled her neck.
'Absolutely nothing. I was just wondering if you aren't some beautiful apparition… like the mermaids who used to beckon to homesick sailors. You're the loveliest woman I've seen in a very long time.'
'You have been working too hard!'
'Don't ever undervalue yourself. You've got the entire wardroom giddy over you—no, don't laugh, it's perfectly true! Listen, Sarah,' he said after a pause, 'when we're through here, would you be my guest for a week or two at our country house? We're going to have so much to talk over.'
'Oh, Tony, I don't know. It sounds lovely, but…' How was she supposed to handle this? She and Tony had developed a very pleasant, uncontrived relationship in the short time they had known each other. But she certainly wasn't interested in making the leap from simple friendship to any sort of intimacy.
'Don't tell me—' he said, 'there's some lucky young Canadian counting the days until you set foot on dry land again. There has to be.'
'No,' she replied with a bittersweet smile, 'there's no one special I'm going home to.'
'That's a mystery I won't question. But if you're hesitating because you're afraid it wouldn't be quite proper, let me reassure you. The country house is for the entire family. It's a beautiful old Queen Anne manor, Sarah, with acres and acres of farmland and forests around it. It's always bursting at the seams with hordes of Freelands and Courts and their assorted offspring and friends and dogs. There'd be nothing indiscreet about your presence.'
'I never thought otherwise,' she said quickly.
'Then you'll at least consider it?'
'Consider, yes,' she said at last.
'I can't ask for anything more than that!' Tony said warmly. He folded his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.
He made no other move towards her and, for that, Sarah was grateful
. As charming as she found Tony, she wanted no personal entanglements to muddy the waters of her assignment.
Their hands were still lightly clasped when they heard a knock and looked up to see the door swing open. Guy walked in and tarred them both with an expression that brought two burning spots of colour to Sarah's cheeks.
'Working late, aren't you?' he demanded.
Sarah withdrew her hand from Tony's and smoothed her skirt primly over her knees.
'May I?' he asked, indicating the bottle of brandy.
Tony gave an impatient flick of consent. 'What can I do for you, Guy?' he asked with ill-concealed impatience.
Guy lowered his large frame on to the arm of the sofa across from them. 'I'm going to take a work crew down into Tank One tomorrow, to have a last look at the welds and submerged discharge pumps. After that, they can start spraying the tanks with L.N.G. to bring their temperature down to the point where they're ready to accept cargo. I thought you'd want to know.'
'What difference does it make? I'm sure you'll do exactly as you wish.'
Guy shrugged. 'Only trying to be helpful.'
'You mean you can actually go down into those huge tanks? I didn't know that!' exclaimed Sarah, the embarrassment of the previous moment forgotten. 'Guy, could you arrange it so that I can come along, too?'
He looked at her, his eyes narrowing slightly, then gave his terse consent.
'Wait a minute!' Tony shot out. 'I thought that was considered hazardous duty.' Sarah raised her eyes questioningly to Guy.
'Some of the men don't like it because it's eerie down there, but it's not what I'd call dangerous. Anyway,' he added, tipping his head back and draining his glass, 'it's good honest work for a story.'
Cynically, he looked from Tony to Sarah. 'Main deck, Station One, seven a.m. sharp,' he snapped.
It never failed, she fumed. They had not once been in each other's company without the sparks. She pulled the blankets back with an angry snap, bounced into bed, and lay there, smarting with anger.
Intuitively she knew that Guy Court was a powerful and potentially dangerous personality. And for some reason he had targeted her for his hostility. But why, that was the question!
Did he resent her simply because of her sex? Women were traditionally considered bad luck on ships, and in some men the superstition lived on. And if Guy really was consumed with jealousy of his cousin, it was logical—if ridiculous—that he would associate her with the enemy. Certainly he had no respect for her intelligence or backbone. But that much she could do something about!
Sleep brought her no release from her outrage. She awoke tired and on edge, but no less determined to join Guy and change his obstinate mind.
They were steaming just south of Resolute, the only settlement of any size for hundreds of miles. Sarah had always loved that name. It made her think of romantic sagas of adversity, isolation, and courage. As if to draw some inspiration from it, she squinted at the sliver of pale grey land that lay along the horizon. The sun had barely begun to tint the sky a watery pink. The entire landscape was so totally without warmth or movement that she felt chilled and turned her back to it.
The six of them were huddled together, feet braced against the sullen roll of the ship, slapping their arms to keep warm. If it weren't for her stubborn need to prove herself to Guy, Sarah would have fled inside long ago. Instead, she stood staunchly exposed to the cutting edge of the wind, her cheeks flaming. She looked tiny in the puffy parka, her face childlike inside the fluffy circle of fur.
Sniffling with cold, her hands clumsy in mittens, she struggled to make notes as Guy assigned duties to each of the men. He had made at least one concession to the cold, she noted, and put a down parka on over his sweater. But his head was uncovered and the wind tossed his hair about his broad forehead.
He looked at home on that heaving deck, she conceded grudgingly. The air of command about him was striking. While Tony, too, received deference from the crew, something else was reserved for this man. He belonged here. The sea had even helped form his face as well as his character, weathering his skin and chiselling little lines about his eyes and mouth. Against her will, she admitted that she was slightly in awe of him.
The hull inspection was the one duty hated by each and every man on board with something that bordered on the irrational. The descent into the dark, cavernous bowels of the ship made brave and sensible men suddenly uneasy. - The open hatch revealed a succession of twisting, backtracking steep metal staircases. They wound down in a dizzy spiral until they were lost in total blackness.
Guy posted one of the men at the hatch with a walkie-talkie so that the intrepid band of explorers would never be out of voice contact with the deck. The others were to proceed, single file, down the side of the internal pipe tower. Patrick would lead, with Guy following up the rear, behind Sarah. With the exception of Sarah, they all carried powerful lanterns and transmitters.
'Keep in line,' Guy shouted to her as they stood at the brink. 'Whatever you do, don't make any move away from the group!'
'You can count on it!' she shouted back over her shoulder. She gulped down a queasy rush of vertigo and disappeared into the hole.
Deeper and deeper they trooped, until the light from the hatch became only a distant star. The intermittent crackle from the radios became their only link with the outside world as the darkness closed over them.
The descent might have been spine-tingling, but it was at least interesting. The inspection work, in comparison, was long, tedious, and numbingly cold. To her annoyance, Sarah found that the tanks were more fascinating in theory than reality. She followed dutifully after the men, but there was little to see in the murk, and less to do. She was overjoyed when Guy gave the signal to start the climb back up.
They were half way up when the crewman ahead of Sarah dropped his flashlight. Muttering, he bent to retrieve it and, as he straightened, his head hit the handrail with a sickening thud. Dazed, he fell back against Sarah, and only Guy's quick grasp kept them from collapsing in a heap on the stairs.
'Sorry, sir,' the man said weakly. 'I'm okay now.'
'Take your time, Walker,' called Patrick from up front. 'That sounded like quite a crack you took!'
'No problem, sir!' he replied quickly.
Easy, thought Sarah. You sound rattled. And sure enough, once more he staggered and groped for the rail.
Patrick flashed his light down into the man's face, catching a trickle of blood glistening on his temple. 'Better get him up to fresh air, Guy,' he Said, draping one of the injured man's arms about his neck.
'Right,' said Guy. Turning to Sarah he said briskly, 'You won't be able to see very well with the three of us jammed together. And I don't like the idea of you fumbling behind me. Stay here,' he ordered. 'I'll come right back for you.'
Panic rose in Sarah. 'No, Guy, please!' she whispered hoarsely. 'I'll find my way!'
'I've got one problem on my hands,' he rapped out. 'Don't give me two!' Strong hands gripped her shoulders and pressed her down firmly on to the grid landing. He found her hand and wrapped it around the guard rail.
'There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that can happen to you if you sit exactly where you are and don't budge until I get back. You see that, don't you?'
'Yes,' she admitted in a tiny voice. Then, not wanting to delay the poor man's return to fresh air, she said in a stronger voice, 'Go on—I won't go anywhere, I promise!'
Perhaps he sensed her courage was a sham, for as he stood, he gave her hand a quick, encouraging pat. Soon he and Patrick, with Walker slumped between them, receded from her sight.
The darkness and silence down there were absolute, and a wave of disorientation threatened to engulf her. She could not, she lectured herself sternly, give in to any flights of fancy. That strong metal platform was not about to let her go.
But dear God, I am afraid! she thought. She was sitting in the belly of a super-tanker, hundreds of feet beneath the surface of an icy sea, at the edge of a great blac
k abyss. Gingerly she slid her fingers sideways until she came to… nothing. A drop straight down to—no! she thought. Don't do this. Fight it! But a prickle of terror was crawling relentlessly down her spine.
'Sarah? Sarah!'
He was coming down the stairs quickly, as if they were no more dangerous than someone's front porch steps. The beam of his light hit her. He knelt beside her, his eyes searching hers. 'Come on,' he said, cupping her elbow in his palm. His voice was firm but not unkind.
Sarah willed herself to move, but couldn't. To her horror she found her hand frozen to the rail, the one thing she felt was her slender tie to reason and survival.
Gently, but with no room for protestations, his hand sought out hers and broke her grip. Humiliatingly, she found herself reaching for him. She heard him sigh and knew he was exasperated, but he seemed to comprehend the depth of her fear. Wordlessly, he pressed her two hands to his chest and wrapped his arms about her, enfolding her completely. Thankful that he wasn't going to lecture her, she lay against him, listening to the rapid flutter of her heart.
When at last he felt her body untense, he said simply, 'Let's go now.'
He drew her to her feet and, keeping one arm. protectively around her waist, climbed with her to the light above.
'They're makin' a big fuss over nothin',' said Walker, and Sarah thought him about to blush.
'It just makes good sense to stay down after a knock on the head, Mr Walker,' she said, smiling down at her hapless companion who lay tucked under a crisp sheet in the infirmary. 'Here,' she added, 'I've brought you some magazines from the library to pass the time until they release you.'
'That's very kind of you, miss,' he replied.
'Putting you back in the salt mines tomorrow, I hear, Walker. Is that good news or bad?' Guy appeared, his broad shoulders filling the doorway.
The man grinned. 'Strange as it may sound, I'd rather be up and workin' than stuck here on my back when I've got nothin' worse than a cut, sir,' he said.