‘Don’t you get in,’ he said. ‘It will ruin your clothes.’
Ingrid waited while Lars, Captain Bull and four of the flensers climbed into the yawing mouth of the whale. Lillemor lined up the shot and pressed the lever on the camera.
Lars clambered out, smiling. ‘You must come and join us for dinner,’ he said to Captain Bull. He glanced at the sky. ‘Or perhaps breakfast. I want to go through a few more details with you and look at the American meat boilers, but for now a little celebration is in order. A full load of oil by February is an extraordinary achievement.’
Captain Bull nodded, pleased. ‘Give me a few minutes to change my clothes and I’ll follow you across. One thing that hasn’t changed over the centuries is the smell.’
He walked them to the railing and the bloody-faced crewmen helped Ingrid down the ladder and onto the bridge of whale flesh again. Lars was right behind her. While Lillemor and the men climbed down, Lars clasped her hand and released it. I’m proud of you, his gesture indicated.
Ingrid nodded, raised her chin and smiled. I’m proud of you, she said silently back.
She was becoming far too accustomed to lying to him.
CHAPTER 23
Mathilde hunched over on her bunk and concentrated on not vomiting. Her stomach had been rock-steady through the wildest tossing of the ship, but she felt now if she made a sudden move, she wouldn’t be able to hold its contents down. Every time she closed her eyes she could see, with hideous clarity, the image of the hanging whale carcass. As they’d returned to the cabin, she’d made the mistake of glancing at the factory ship when a high-pitched noise started up. She saw a long saw on a hinge descending and a spray of red liquid. It was flesh and bone under that saw, she understood, and the knowledge nearly finished her off.
She could have stood this journey, she thought, if it hadn’t been for this. But she knew now that Sandefjord, the place she’d thought of as home – those men and women who lived there, even her children – all survived because of this.
She’d heard that soldiers who made it home from the war rarely spoke of what they’d seen. Did Sandefjord’s whaling men deal with this horror in the same way – coming back and talking only of icebergs and penguins and snowfalls? Or were they truly unaffected by this, seeing it as a day’s work, the blood and guts just something to be washed off like soil on a farmer’s hands?
Their porthole looked straight across to the factory ship so Mathilde drew the curtain across it. She paced around the cabin, past Lillemor’s bed, around her wardrobe luggage. The motion of walking seemed to help her stomach and she kept it up, back and forth, like one of Hjalmar’s huskies on a chain.
The tap at the door was so soft Mathilde thought she’d imagined it. When it came a second time, she hoped it wasn’t Lillemor returning for another try at convincing her to come across. Though a soft knock wasn’t really Lillemor’s style.
‘Yes?’ she called.
‘Mrs Wegger? It’s Hjalmar.’
Why wasn’t he touring the whaler with the rest of them? She crossed the cabin and opened the door. The smell hit her afresh.
‘I just wanted to see if you were all right,’ he said.
It took all her self-control not to break down. ‘How can they stand it?’
‘I don’t know.’ He glanced around. ‘Do you want to come up to the bridge? There’s no one else there, and a pot of coffee is waiting.’
Mathilde was so grateful for his kindness she wanted to weep. It meant having to cross the catwalk while keeping her eyes averted from the factory ship, but the promise of sympathetic company was enough.
‘I’ll get my things.’ She wound her scarf over her mouth and nose, pulled on her coat and went outside. The smell seemed like a solid presence in the still air and the sound of industry echoed around them as the crews called to each other across the gap between the two ships. The huskies were still howling, driven wild by the smell of flesh, she surmised, and the sound added to the nightmarish quality of the scene.
‘Why aren’t you over there?’ she asked, as they neared the bridge.
‘Horntvedt wanted to go, so I’m standing in while he’s away.’ He leaned close. ‘I can’t think of anything more unpleasant, personally, so I don’t mind putting it off for a while.’
She moved to keep a distance from him, conscious of invisible eyes. ‘Ingrid and Lillemor are actually looking forward to it. They told me not to be weak like a woman.’
Hjalmar opened the bridge door and she stepped inside ahead of him. A faint aroma of coffee lingered there, taking the edge off the stink. ‘I don’t think it’s female weakness not to want to see that,’ he said and started pouring her a coffee.
Mathilde felt herself relaxing a little. She took the proffered mug and sipped. ‘How long will we be here?’
‘A few days,’ Hjalmar said. ‘I hoped we might rendezvous with Norvegia before the factories, and I could have missed out on this, but no such luck. She’s still far away, unfortunately.’
The coffee, strong and bitter, calmed her rolling belly a little. The huskies whined and complained below, lunging against their collars to get closer to the blood and meat they craved. The whine of the bone saw cut the air, and Mathilde and Hjalmar stood in silence, sipping, with their backs to Solglimt. She tried to distract herself by thinking of Jakob and the way he slurped hot coffee into his mouth to cool it. It was a habit she’d disliked, but she was accustomed to it and she realised Hjalmar blew on his and then sipped it silently.
Mathilde had assumed all men were much like Jakob, in bearing and manner and style. But how did she know? Hjalmar might be different in every way to Jakob. She sneaked a sideways glance and found he was regarding her. She turned away at once, mortified.
‘I won’t bite you, Mathilde,’ he said.
‘I know.’ She studied her coffee mug.
‘Do you wish to marry again?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Her voice was sharper than she intended. ‘I must consider my children, Captain.’
‘Of course. Forgive me for prying.’
He fell silent and she regretted rebuking him. She searched for a way to continue the conversation. Lillemor had told her he was divorced and she wondered if he was one of those men on the sea who kept a woman in every port, as the old joke ran. He had a way of making her feel she was the only woman of interest to him when he was talking to her, but perhaps all charming men could do that.
‘The dogs seem upset,’ she said at last.
‘They’ll be quiet when the crew brings over some whale meat for them. It seems a waste to feed those creatures to dogs, but I suppose it’s no worse than using them for soap and margarine.’
‘At least we don’t use them for corsets any more.’
‘I’ll be glad to get off this ship and away from it all,’ he said. ‘Aagaard is right. It’s like watching the fur sealers at work all over again. The fleets will hunt till every whale is gone.’
She’d been able to block the image of the whale carcass, but at his words it came back to her and she felt nauseous. How could she bear it?
He turned away from her and crossed to the side of the bridge closest to the factory ship. ‘They’re on the way back.’
Mathilde didn’t answer. Hjalmar could escape from this, on his little wooden boat, while she had no choice about the matter. It seemed unfair. He had been her only friend on board, the only one willing to help her. It would be lonely without him.
She heard the bone saw scream again and even on the bridge with the door shut to muffle it, the sound made her flinch.
At Cape Town she’d capitulated when Lars had said she couldn’t leave the ship, but since then Mathilde had seen how women like Lillemor and Ingrid got their way. She could be as determined as Lillemor, and simply insist on going with Hjalmar. He would take her, she was sure of it, and once away from this nightmare she’d have some chance of holding on to her sanity.
They gathered in the mess for an early hot breakfast with the
factory ship’s captain and this time Mathilde had to attend. She heard that the calm conditions meant the crew had been able to couple the oil lines between the two ships and begin the transfers. Solglimt’s full tanks of whale oil were emptying into Thorshavn’s maw, while through another line, fuel oil ran across into the factory’s tank.
The thought of the space beneath them filling with whale oil made Mathilde’s appetite disappear. She sat quietly amidst the toasts and conversation. Hjalmar joined in the good cheer with the rest of them, but she was glad of his warm presence beside her, an invisible comfort.
Ingrid rose before the end of the meal to excuse herself. Mathilde saw that Lillemor was still absorbed in conversation; it was a chance to escape her. ‘May I walk to the cabin with you?’ she asked Ingrid.
‘Of course.’ Ingrid’s voice was relatively friendly and she was even smiling.
Mathilde followed Ingrid outside. On the deck she clapped her hand to her mouth, wondering if she’d ever get used to the smell. The men from Solglimt showed no sign of noticing it.
‘Can we hurry?’ she asked Ingrid.
Ingrid took her arm and they scurried along the catwalk to the cabin. Mathilde fumbled with the latch of her door.
‘You’ve gone a bit pale,’ Ingrid said. ‘Are you all right?’
Mathilde shook her head and stood back while Ingrid opened the door and ushered her inside. She went straight to the bunk and lay down on it with a moan, fighting not to be ill.
Ingrid sat on the other bed. ‘It’s probably like seasickness. I’m sure you’ll get used to it in a day or two.’
Mathilde turned her face to the wall. ‘Horntvedt was right. This is no place for a woman.’
Ingrid stood up. ‘Why shouldn’t a woman be here? Don’t be so squeamish. It makes us all look bad.’ The note of impatience she often seemed to have when speaking to Mathilde had returned.
It occurred to Mathilde this was the first time she and Ingrid had been alone together since leaving Cape Town. It was a chance to talk to her without Lillemor hearing.
‘I could go on Norvegia,’ she said softly.
Ingrid shrugged. ‘I’m sure we’ll all be looking forward to a cruise on Norvegia if we meet her in time.’
The idea was forming as Mathilde spoke. ‘I don’t mean a cruise. I could change ships and go back to Norway with Hjalmar.’
Ingrid’s voice hardened. ‘What are you talking about?’
Mathilde pushed herself up to sitting. ‘He doesn’t care for this business either. He says the factories will clear all the whales from the Antarctic in a few seasons, just as the fur sealers decimated the seals, and then you’ll see that this is wrong.’
‘Did he invite you to come on Norvegia?’
Mathilde didn’t answer.
‘Tell me the truth. Did he?’
‘He would take me if I asked.’
Ingrid was silent for a few moments. ‘Mathilde, you’re a guest of Lars, and my companion,’ she said at last. ‘But it’s not a pleasure cruise. Neither you nor I, or even Lars can control where we go and we certainly can’t change ships as it pleases us.’
Mathilde glared at her. Was she serious? ‘Lars has a great deal of control, it seems to me.’
‘We all have to make the best of it.’
Mathilde felt a rush of rage, not impotent this time, but explosive. ‘Since when do you force a guest against her will? I’m not your servant. If I want to leave with Norvegia, I will.’
‘You can’t just go on a boat without permission of the captain!’
Mathilde got to her feet and stood facing Ingrid. ‘And that I’ll have. You wait and see.’
Ingrid reached for her hand, but Mathilde pulled away.
‘You’re a widow. What would people say?’
‘I’m past caring,’ Mathilde said.
CHAPTER 24
Heavy cloud hung over a steel-grey sea. Thorshavn nestled up to the mother ship, as Lars called the factory, sucking Solglimt’s tanks empty like a nursing babe, and the wind carried the promise of a chill deeper and more dangerous than they’d known.
Leaning against the rail, Ingrid saw Solglimt’s crew waiting, hooks up, for the next whale to come in. They watched her openly, perhaps enjoying the novelty of a woman. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave and they waved back, pulling their pipes out of their mouths, their filthy faces splitting into wide grins.
The factory’s winches started up again. Another catcher must have arrived with a load of whales and the men turned away to begin their work. Ingrid made her way to where Qarrtsiluni and F18 were moored and dodged out of sight, to a spot where she could see open water on the other side of the ship. A squall was coming, blotting out the faint distinction between sky and sea. Ingrid wanted it to blanket the ship, cut off her line of sight to Solglimt and blow away the stench that hung over them.
Ingrid was a hunter and she didn’t flinch from killing. But there was something about the mechanised harvest of the whales that took this out of the realm of hunting. She’d been fine until she saw the whale foetus slumped on the deck. She couldn’t stop wondering what it felt when its mother was harpooned. Did the aftershock of the harpoon’s head exploding in its mother’s flesh ripple through to the womb? Did the foetus sense its mother’s death throes? She shook her head and pressed her eyes with her gloved hands to dispel the image.
Lars had told her she would need courage for this trip and she’d thought it would be the courage to face the unknown, to endure the ship’s tossing and the cold and the ferocious Antarctic storms. But that was the least of it. She hadn’t expected squeamishness and jealousy to be her challenges.
She gripped the rail hard. The prospect of Mathilde boarding Norvegia with Hjalmar and joining his expedition enraged her, though she hoped she’d been able to hide it. If she had to face the reality of whaling without showing disgust, she didn’t see why Mathilde should be let off so easily. Nor why she should be the only woman on Norvegia when Ingrid herself hadn’t been permitted to travel without a female companion.
The squall was coming closer and Ingrid pulled her collar up around her ears. The cold wind cut through her attempt at self-deceit. In truth, she wanted to go on Norvegia herself, but could never abandon Lars and her duty to him. So the thought of Mathilde blithely going where Ingrid longed to was insufferable.
Sleet began to slice into her face and she turned away and went back to the cabin. Lars was sitting up in the bunk writing in his diary when she came in, pushing the door shut behind her against the wind.
‘I thought you’d be asleep,’ she said.
‘I can’t.’ He rubbed his hands through his hair. ‘It’s too light and too exciting. We’re going to take one of Solglimt’s catchers and look for land.’
‘Not with a storm coming, surely.’
‘After the storm.’
Ingrid smiled. ‘Then we might catch some lost sleep?’
He nodded, closing his diary. ‘Yes, please. I always sleep better with you.’
She began to undress. The wind was moaning through the ship. She closed the curtain so the room became semi-dark and clambered into the narrow bed beside him, pressing her body against his welcome warmth.
‘You did well today,’ he murmured, tucking her head under his chin.
‘We may have a problem,’ Ingrid said. ‘Mathilde is revolted by the whole business. She says she will change ships and go home with Norvegia to get away from it.’
‘Unfortunately, Norvegia has been delayed by ice. We won’t be meeting her until after the factory ships, so there’s no point in Mathilde going with her.’
‘I think there’s something else going on,’ Ingrid said. ‘She wants to get away from us.’
Lars shrugged. ‘Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad thing.’
Ingrid rolled apart from him. The wind howled and whirled and the running of the oil pumps vibrated through ship and bed and body.
‘You couldn’t seriously allow her to travel unchaperoned
on Hjalmar’s boat, even if it were safe,’ she said.
‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘I just thought –’
‘You must make sure she knows it’s impossible.’
‘Well, just tell her.’
‘I did, but I have no authority here. She says she’ll throw herself on Hjalmar’s mercy and beg him to take her.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t worry; she won’t do any such thing. Once she sets eyes on Norvegia and sees her bobbing like a cork on the ocean, she’ll stay.’
‘Can you at least speak to Hjalmar?’
‘I’m sure it won’t be necessary,’ he said. ‘Mathilde just wants to get home, and Thorshavn is the most direct route.’
Ingrid didn’t want to press any further, lest Lars see her jealousy. She curled in closer to him as the wind screamed around the porthole. ‘Do you think we’re close to land?’
‘One of the catchers has done depth soundings not too far away and the water was unexpectedly shallow,’ he said. ‘Hjalmar tells me that’s as good an indication as any. But there are lots of icebergs around this season, so conditions are treacherous.’
‘When are we going?’
Ingrid felt his body draw back from hers, a subtle tightening across the surface of his skin.
‘I’ll have no argument on this,’ he said. ‘I agreed to bring you on the tanker, but I’ll not let you travel on a catcher into unknown waters.’
She sat up. ‘You can’t be serious? Leaving me here covered in the stink of whale while you go looking for land?’
‘The catcher is a more dangerous proposition. It would be unfair to our children to put us both together on one.’
Ingrid took a deep breath lest her rage become white hot and blast out of her. ‘Surely you don’t think that’s fair.’
‘The catcher stinks as much as any factory, and it’s small, wet, cold and uncomfortable. It won’t be an easy trip. I won’t discuss it further.’
Ingrid slid out of bed and began to fumble for her clothes.
‘Where are you going?’
Where indeed? Ingrid stood shivering in her half-dressed state. A blizzard was howling across the ship and she couldn’t think of any place she’d be welcome.
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