‘It is,’ he said. ‘You can hear the whales sing.’
‘What?’
He put his finger to his lips and leaned close. ‘Down in the tank. Press your ear against the hull. You can hear them.’
‘Now you’re teasing me,’ Ingrid said.
He reached out and touched her sleeve timidly. ‘I swear, Mrs Christensen, it’s true. I’ve been down there just now. You can only do it when there’s no engine running and no catchers nearby.’
‘What do they sound like?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know how to say. Sort of sad.’
Ingrid stared up at the sky again. Earlier that day the tank had felt frightening and poisonous, but now, emboldened by alcohol, the prospect of hearing the whales felt irresistible. She took the cigarette from her lips and ground it out on the railing. ‘Take me down.’
He drew back, looking nervous. ‘I can’t winch the basket down by myself.’
‘Well, get a few of the men.’
He shook his head. ‘If they know there’s whales around …’
‘Oh.’ Ingrid paused. ‘How did you get down there?’
‘The ladder.’
‘We’ll go down the ladder then,’ she said.
He was afraid, she could tell. He hesitated.
‘I promise you won’t get into trouble.’
He glanced around to make sure no one was watching and started walking. She followed him to the catwalk’s end and down onto the deck. He lifted up a heavy hatch and laid it back.
‘Cleaning’s just finished, ready for the whale oil,’ he said. ‘Won’t smell as bad. I’ll go first.’
He clambered over the side and started down the ladder into the dark. Ingrid took a deep breath and followed. He was right; the fuel fumes from the morning were nearly gone. As her eyes adjusted, the evening light coming through the hatch softly illuminated the tank so she could make out its size. She concentrated on one step at a time, feeling her way, hearing Tobias’s breath below her echoing strangely. Then she heard a groan that made her jump with fear.
‘Tobias?’
‘That’s them!’ he said.
Ingrid stopped. The dark space yawned beneath them.
‘Come on. You can hear them better at the bottom.’
She continued down the ladder, wishing she’d worn her gloves. Her fingers were chilling quickly against the cold metal and she was starting to shiver. Tobias grunted below and she realised he’d reached the floor. Another few rungs and she was there too.
‘Here, put your ear against it,’ he said.
The hull was cold against her ear. For a long time, silence. Then, at the edge of Ingrid’s hearing, a moan. She pulled back and as she broke contact with the hull, the sound almost disappeared. She shook her head slightly, and then pressed her ear back to the metal. The sound was distinct, somehow transmitted through the water and into the ship itself. It was a high wail, haunting and oddly melodic, finishing on a rising note, followed by a deep rumbling.
Ingrid thought she heard whining, then a plaintive lowing. An unexpected bellow, like a man standing in a field, his voice raised to summon someone. An unearthly whistle, sliding up the scale like a child’s tin flute.
‘No animal could make those sounds,’ she said, moving her ear from the wall.
‘I swear it’s them,’ Tobias said.
‘How far away are they?’
He shrugged. ‘The sound travels a long way, the whalemen say.’
They both pressed their ears to the hull again. Ingrid heard a groan of ancient weariness. In her intoxicated state, it sounded as if some great leviathan of the sea waited below them, planning its revenge. She drew back, suddenly afraid.
‘Take me up,’ she said, her heart pounding.
‘You go first,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right behind.’
She found the ladder and realised that her hands were shaking. It was foolish, she told herself. She was inside the hull and whatever made that sound was outside. But the fear was primeval. She wiped her aching, cold hands on her coat, reached up for the ladder and began to climb.
‘Ingrid?’
She opened her eyes to a slash of light that cut into the numbing comfort of sleep. Nausea rushed over her and she groaned softly. Thorshavn’s engines were running and their thrum penetrated her skull.
Lars sat down on the bunk beside her. ‘I’m back. We’re on the way to the next factory. Do you want some coffee?’
Ingrid rolled towards him. ‘What time is it?’
‘Early, around four, I think,’ he said, finding her hand and wrapping her fingers around the mug.
Ingrid pushed herself up onto one elbow. Her mouth tasted foul and she was glad he hadn’t kissed her. She took a sip of coffee. Lars was looking at her expectantly. She lowered the mug and tried to collect her groggy thoughts. ‘Did you find land?’
‘The pack ice was so thick we couldn’t get far into it,’ he said. ‘But we’re heading for Thorshammer now and the captain says he thinks they might be closer to land over there. And I hear you had some excitement?’
Ingrid blinked.
‘Discovery passed by, Horntvedt told me.’
‘Ah, yes.’ She rubbed her eyes and at the memory of Horntvedt’s intransigence she pushed herself up into a sitting position. ‘Did he tell you he refused to make contact?’
‘He told me you ladies cavorted on the deck like mad women to get Mawson’s attention.’
‘I had no choice,’ Ingrid said, as the coffee started to do its work and she felt herself coming properly awake. ‘That man is a stubborn ass! It might have been our only chance to see Mawson.’
‘He’s the authority on the ship when I’m away,’ he said. ‘But did you see Mawson?’
‘Yes.’ Ingrid pushed the hair out of her eyes. ‘Yes, we did. We made such a carry-on to get his attention that every man on his ship saw us. He probably thinks Thorshavn is carrying some loose women.’
‘That’s not exactly helpful to your cause,’ Lars said, and there was an edge of anger in his voice.
‘What else should I have done? Just let Mawson go by?’
‘It’s too late now at any rate. But try and remember you’re the first women down here. You’re on show.’ He stood up. ‘Let’s have breakfast. I’m ravenous. Food on the catcher is very basic.’
‘You go up,’ Ingrid said. ‘I’ll be there shortly.’
‘Yes, you’d best make yourself presentable. You’ve some respect to win back.’
Ingrid said nothing as he left the cabin. When he was gone she got out of bed shakily. She splashed some water on her face and looked at her pallid complexion in the mirror. How long, she wondered, until she could feel the simplicity of ice and snow and nothing more?
She pinched her cheeks hard until some colour came up, drew on her eyebrows, gulped down three aspirin tablets, pulled on some clothes and followed the sickly smell of frying towards the saloon.
CHAPTER 27
The gloom of the past days had disappeared. Antarctica felt almost friendly, Mathilde thought, as they weaved through the icebergs. Reflecting the sky and the ice, the water was benign blue and white instead of the inky black it had been near the factory ships. The air was so warm that the passengers had gathered on the catwalk in the morning sunshine instead of on the bridge to look out for the second factory ship, Thorshammer.
Mathilde stationed herself upwind from Hjalmar and closed her eyes. The smell of his pipe had made her want to gag. She’d never heard that cigarettes could make one ill the way alcohol did, but she felt as if poison was running through her veins. Ingrid looked pale too, while Mathilde could swear that Lillemor looked better than usual, as though she thrived on the things.
The men bantered with each other cheerfully, shielding their eyes and looking ahead, trying to be the first to spot their destination. Mathilde squinted at the brightness around her and glanced over at Hjalmar. He seemed a different person away from the miasma of the factory ship, standing barehe
aded in the sun, puffing on his pipe and looking around in pleasure. He had a strong jaw, just right for holding a pipe in his mouth, and his hat was on a jaunty angle.
Mathilde half thought she had dreamed the previous night’s conversation. If she remembered correctly, thanks to Lillemor’s pushing, her half-formed thought of an affair with Hjalmar had been discussed as though it was a real possibility. But the idea now felt distant with the advent of morning and sobriety. She wouldn’t really have an affair with him, she wouldn’t know how, but the sense that it was possible left her invigorated.
She’d considered sleeping with him so he’d take her on Norvegia and away from the factories, but she knew, sneaking a glance at him, that it was more than that. She liked him. She chided herself for being such a simple woman that the mere thought of an affair could wipe out the horror of the factory ship.
It would be better not to get further involved with a man as charming and likeable as Hjalmar. Surely she could cope? They’d finished with one factory ship and had two more to go. Away from the stink, the memory of it was losing its potency.
‘Not one but two sunny days,’ Hjalmar said, smiling. ‘Make the most of it, ladies.’
Mathilde smiled wanly.
‘There she is!’ Nils, with his keen eye, pointed to a dark smudge in the ice.
As the men looked in the direction he was pointing, Ingrid gave Mathilde a rueful glance and squeezed her arm. ‘Are you all right?’ she mouthed.
Mathilde rolled her eyes. ‘I wish it wasn’t so bright,’ she whispered.
‘Oh, come on!’ Lillemor, of course, had overheard and she stepped in between them and linked arms with both. ‘You should have both had a big cooked breakfast.’
‘I wish you’d told us the cure beforehand,’ Mathilde said.
The three of them laughed. The capering for Discovery and their frank talk the previous night seemed to have altered something between them, Mathilde realised. She’d needed the chance to drink alcohol and laugh, even if the evening had ended rather strangely. Now, at least until the next factory ship, she could enjoy the sight of the icebergs in the sun and the way the water sparkled and how pleasantly cold and fresh the air was on her face. Perhaps she’d be able to forget the sight of the flensed whale, hanging high.
She stepped forward with Lillemor and Ingrid to join the men at the railing. The breeze of their motion was fresh and smelled of ice and brine. The sun turned the water a deep royal blue and the sky was azure at its zenith, lightening at the horizon.
Thorshammer took shape in front of them and as they drew nearer, Mathilde’s nose wrinkled with the first hint of the smell, the same as it had been at Solglimt. The factory ship was lying quietly. There were no whales on the flensing deck and no catchers to be seen. Horntvedt blew a welcoming blast on the ship’s horn that made them all jump and Mathilde could see the crew gathering on Thorshammer’s deck to greet them. She glanced again at Hjalmar. He was staring intently out to the port side.
‘What are you looking at?’ Ingrid asked him.
He turned quickly. ‘Ah, Mrs Christensen. Just that big iceberg. I think there may be a seal on it.’
Mathilde peered in the direction he was pointing, but could see no sign of a seal. His voice sounded oddly formal. He and Ingrid didn’t seem to banter in the way they had earlier in the trip, she thought.
‘Lars says you have a better chance of finding land near here,’ Ingrid said.
‘Some of the catchers have reported shallower depth soundings than any we’ve taken,’ he replied. ‘I hope we’ll find land close enough to take you ladies ashore.’
His expression had become bland. From below on the deck came a shout and they all looked down. Several of the ship’s crew had come out to see Thorshammer and one of them was pointing out to the port side.
‘Ah,’ said Lars. ‘There’s a little humpback, I think.’
Mathilde’s heart sank as she realised what it was Hjalmar had been looking at. Against the glassy surface of the sea it was easy to see the whale’s back break through and its breath blast high, hanging in a mist on the air. Next to it, a second whale rose and spouted. A few moments later a tail emerged from the water and crashed down, sending spray in all directions. Raised voices came from the deck below them; an argument over who had spotted the whales first and could thereby claim a tip if a gunner eventually shot it. Mathilde looked down to see a couple of sly punches thrown, but the men were quickly pulled apart by the rest of the crew.
‘I heard a lot about the humpbacks on the catcher,’ Lars said. ‘They’re much smaller, so the gunners don’t favour them, but they’re often to be found when there aren’t any blues around. They’re quite friendly, apparently.’
The whales surfaced again, closer now, and one rolled slowly to its side, lifting an absurdly long, slender pectoral fin and slapping the water. The crew over on the factory ship started pointing too. The underside of the dark fin was white. Beside it, a strange black shape emerged from the water and Mathilde realised it was the other whale’s head, as it manoeuvred upright on its tail. She could make out the barnacles on its skin, mottled white and grey.
‘Do you think it can see us?’ Mathilde asked.
‘Of course,’ Hjalmar said, and she could hear the tension in his voice.
Another shattering blast issued from Thorshavn’s horn and the whale lowered itself below the surface. Mathilde expected the noise would send them fleeing, but moments later both whales blew again, apparently unconcerned.
Thorshavn’s engines went into reverse as it came close to Thorshammer. There were no dead whales to buffer the two ships and Horntvedt was leaving plenty of room to spare.
‘Here comes the catcher,’ Lars said.
Mathilde gripped the railing. The engines of the two big ships idled while the catcher came steaming in, dragging its haul of five blues by their tails. From both Thorshavn and Thorshammer came raised voices and gesticulations in the direction of the two whales, which continued to play off the stern.
‘Will they try for the humpbacks?’ Lillemor asked eagerly.
Mathilde watched the whales with a fixed gaze, praying they would flee.
‘Which one is it?’ Lars said, shading his eyes as the catch was offloaded. ‘Ah, it’s Torlyn. Andersen’s boat. He won’t pass up such an easy kill.’
‘Why don’t you have a go at this one?’ Hjalmar said and Mathilde turned to him in astonishment. ‘It looks like an easier shot than your last one.’
Lars laughed. ‘Indeed.’
‘Did you shoot a whale?’ Ingrid asked him.
‘Tried to,’ Lars said. ‘It’s a damn sight harder than it looks. You’ve got to aim exactly at the waterline as the whale starts to go down. Mine went too high by a mile. The gunner was kind enough to say anyone who hits a whale the first time is just lucky.’
‘So why don’t you try again?’ Hjalmar said. ‘The catcher’s just here. It’s only a humpback.’
Mathilde stared at him, perplexed. He refused to meet her eyes. She turned to Lars, who was scanning the decks below. All of the factory ship’s crew, and Thorshavn’s own, were on deck, some three hundred men who’d be watching keenly. Suddenly she thought she understood. Lars was far less likely to succeed than an experienced gunner like Andersen. Hjalmar wanted the humpbacks to escape too.
‘Not this time,’ Lars said.
‘What about you, Lillemor?’ Mathilde said desperately. ‘I thought you wanted to have a turn?’
Lillemor laughed. ‘I’d like a few practice shots before I try in front of an audience. But I’d love to see how they do it. Here they come.’
The catcher chugged around the edge of Thorshavn’s bulk, swinging past the bow and emerging into clear water. The humpbacks surfaced and blew lazily, unaware of the danger. There was no escape now, Mathilde thought. She watched the narrowing distance between the catcher and the round patch of clear water marking where the whales had dived. Both the large ships had cut their engines, and the only s
ound was the throb of the catcher, pumping black smoke from its funnel as it crept forward. The gunner stood by the harpoon gun at the prow, its pointed tip clearly visible, the line attaching it to the boat coiled in precise loops at his feet. On Thorshavn’s deck below them the men watched in eager silence, leaning over the railing. The crew of the fuel tanker had few such excitements.
Mathilde’s hangover expanded and blossomed, and the pressure behind her eyes increased. She felt Ingrid’s hand on her arm.
‘Don’t turn away,’ Ingrid said, close to her ear. ‘All these people will think Lars was wrong to bring us down here.’
The catcher slowed to a halt. Not a voice spoke as they strained to see where the whales might rise. Then Mathilde heard an incongruous sound above the ticking of the idling engine. At first she couldn’t make it out.
‘I’ve heard of this trick,’ Lars said.
On the back of the catcher, one of the crewmen crouched close to the waterline, his arms around something. As a plaintive sound travelled across the water to them, Mathilde realised he was playing an accordion. She recognised the haunting refrain of ‘Gjendine’s Lullaby’, the song that Norwegian mothers sang to put their children to sleep.
That they could use such a song to lure the whales to their deaths!
She didn’t make the decision consciously; her body reacted on its own. Her mouth opened and the sound emerged. Her voice, silent for so long, had returned.
At first her singing was soft, a plea. The men below looked up with astonished faces, and over on the catcher the accordion player leaned closer to the water, drawing out his notes and playing louder. By itself, her voice rose too, louder than the song needed or demanded, loud enough to be a warning, an entreaty to the whales to swim far and fast, to ignore this spell.
Like two great fists punching up out of the water, both whales broke through the surface with explosive breaths. There was a terrible pause. The whales arched their backs to dive and the crack of the harpoon gun shattered the air.
The accordion player broke off and Mathilde’s voice trailed away. The whales dived down, their backbones arching, the vertebrae rippling. Down, down, but too slowly. The rope whistled as it uncoiled, the harpoon flew true. It struck with a concussive thud that made Mathilde gasp. Ingrid put her hand over Mathilde’s on the railing and squeezed, in comfort or warning, she didn’t know.
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