The Blue Ice

by Innes, Hammond;

  ‘Oh, we didn’t stay there long, miss. We does a bit o’ training up in Scotland and then we’re parachuted back inter Norway. Makes yer laugh, don’t it – all that trouble ter get a’t o’ the country – all the way ra’nd the world we goes ter get ter England – an’ they goes an’ drops us back inter Norway.’ He passed his hand across his face again. He was dead beat with weariness. But he couldn’t stop talking. He’d reached the stage where he had to talk. ‘But we comes back wiv more than the rucksack we goes a’t wiv. They drops a case o’ bren guns an’ nitroglycerine an’ grenades wiv us. Oh, we ’as a fine ol’ time. We comes da’n ter Bergen an’ starts sabotaging ships. To this ruddy day they thinks the ammoonition ship wot blows up by the ol’ Walkendorff Tower is due to carelessness o’ German welders.’ He giggled. ‘Well, it weren’t, see. It was me an’ Peer. Blimey, Oi’m a ruddy good diver. Ask anyone in the shippin’ business in Bergen. They’ll say Alf Sunde – his loaf’s all wood, but ’e’s the best diver in Norway.’

  ‘When you were dropped in Norway,’ Jill interrupted, trying to conceal her excitement, ‘what unit were you with?’

  ‘Why, the Norwegian Army, miss.’

  ‘Yes – but what unit?’

  ‘Oh, I see – Kompani Linge.’

  Jill’s eyes lit up. ‘Put it there,’ she said holding out her hand. ‘We both worked for the same people.’

  ‘Wot you, miss – in the Kompani Linge?’ Sunde’s whole face had lit up too, infected by her enthusiasm.

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘I was one of their radio operators.’

  ‘Blimey,’ he said, seizing her hand. ‘Oi thought there was somefink familiar aba’t your voice. You was one o’ the girls wot used ter give us our instructions on the radio.’ Again she nodded. ‘Well, knock me fer a row o’ little green apples! An’ I never met you. Ever meet my mate – Peer Storjohann? Corporal, ’e was.’

  Jill shook her head. Then she leaned towards him. ‘Did you know most of the Kompani?’

  ‘We was trainin’ wiv ’em for nearly a year – that was 1941. We knew most of ’em who was in Scotland then.’

  ‘Did you know Korporal Bernt Olsen?’

  ‘Bernt Olsen?’ Sunde’s face froze. ‘Yus – Oi knew Bernt Olsen. Why?’

  ‘Beret Olsen’s real name was George Farnell. It was Bernt Olsen who was killed on the Jostedal. And Schreuder was with him at the time. Now please – please tell me where you have taken Schreuder. You did pick him up this morning, didn’t you?’

  I shrank back farther into the shadows by the companionway, praying that he would tell her all he knew.

  ‘Well – yus, miss.’ His voice sounded puzzled and uncertain. ‘That is ter say – Look miss – we picks a man up this morning. All roight. But I dunno who ’e is or what ’e is. If yer wants to know more aba’t ’im – well, you go an’ talk ter Peer. ’E’s the one ter tell yer. If Olsen’s yer boy friend – well, you go an’ talk ter me partner.’

  ‘Yes, but where will we find your partner?’

  ‘A-ah.’ He rubbed his dark chin. ‘Oi dunno as Oi roightly oughter tell yer that. ’Cos if I told yer that it’d be tellin’ where – this man is, wouldn’t it now?’

  ‘But you must,’ Jill whispered.

  ‘Who must?’ Sunde banged his hand on the table. ‘Nah look ’ere, miss. Oi ain’t never told nobody nuffink, see. I bin in the ’ands of the Gestapo once an’ Oi never said nuffink. An’ Oi ain’t goin’ ter talk now, not when a comrade’s life may be at stake.’

  ‘Comrade? How do you mean?’ Jill asked.

  ‘Well, ’e’s a comrade, ain’t ’e? We was in it tergether.’

  ‘The man you picked up this morning?’ Jill seized hold of Sunde’s arm and shook it. ‘I’ve already told you – he’s an Austrian Jew who became a naturalised Norwegian and then worked for the Germans.’

  Sunde passed his hand wearily over his face again. ‘You’re gettin’ me all mixed up,’ he said. ‘Oi don’t know rightly wot Oi’m sayin’. Fair droppin’ wiv tiredness, Oi am. Why don’t you let up, miss? Proper third-degree. Let me get some sleep. Then Oi’ll be able ter fink clearer.’

  ‘All right,’ Jill said wearily.

  I went in then. ‘Hello, Sunde,’ I said. ‘How are you feeling? Hand all right?’

  ‘Not so bad,’ he answered. ‘Thanks fer wot you done, Mr Gansert. Proper bastard Lovaas is.’

  ‘You went to Nordhanger this afternoon?’ I said.

  He hesitated. ‘Ja,’ he answered.

  ‘Had Lovaas been there before you?’

  ‘Yep. I saw ’im at Bovaagen when ’e come back in the drosje.’

  ‘And then you went out to Nordhanger yourself?’

  ‘That’s roight.’

  ‘Did Lovaas get anything out of Einar Sandven?’

  ‘Einar wasn’t there.’

  ‘Where was he?’

  ‘I ain’t sayin’ where ’e is.’

  ‘What about his wife?’

  ‘She won’t say nuffink.’

  ‘Does she know where Schreuder is being taken?’

  ‘She might guess. But she wouldn’t talk.’ He got up and staggered as the table on which he had leaned his weight tilted.

  I pushed him back again into his seat. ‘Sit down,’ I said. ‘There are still one or two things I want to ask you. What happened this morning – yesterday morning, rather? You heard the catcher go by in the mist. You probably saw it. Then you heard shouts and a few minutes later a man was swimming towards your boats. Were you down below then?’

  ‘No. I’d come fer a breaver an’ a pipe. I’d still got me things on. I was just takin’ a little rest.’

  ‘And what happened? You pulled him on board. But what made you up anchor and clear out so quickly? You must have known the catcher would be searching for the man.’

  ‘Well, we knew all aba’t ’im, see. So as soon as ’e says—’ And then he stopped.

  ‘How do you mean, you knew all about him?’ I asked.

  ‘’Ere, you’ll be gettin’ me sayin’ things.’ He got to his feet again. ‘Lumme, give a bloke a chance, can’t yer? Oi’m fagged a’t an’ that’s the truth.’

  I said, ‘Sit down.’

  ‘But look ’ere, guvner – just let me—’

  ‘Shut up,’ I said. ‘And listen to me. I want to know where this man Schreuder is. Miss Somers wants to know because she was a friend of Bernt Olsen, otherwise Farnell. She wants to know what happened up there on the Jostedal Glacier. And I want to know – for other reasons. What’s more, Sunde, I intend to find out.’

  ‘Well, yer won’t find out from me,’ he answered sullenly.

  ‘Look,’ I said angrily, ‘who got you away from Lovaas, eh?’

  ‘You did,’ he responded. ‘Oi already said ’ow grateful—’

  ‘I don’t want your thanks,’ I interrupted him. ‘I want information. Can’t you see we’re your friends? We’re not going to hurt Schreuder. We just want to know what happened, that’s all.’

  Curtis poked his head round the galley door and said, ‘Soup up.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Let’s have it. Maybe it’ll help him to talk.’

  But it didn’t. For two solid hours I sat there like an intelligence officer examining an enemy prisoner. I tried every approach I knew short of hitting him – and I almost did that once, I got so exasperated. But it had no effect. Every time I came up against a brick wall of – ‘You ask my partner.’

  At last I said, ‘Well, where is your partner?’

  He gave a wan smile. ‘If I tol’ yer that, yer’d know where the other fellow was nah, wouldn’t yer?’

  ‘Then what’s the use of telling me to ask your partner?’ I demanded irritably.

  ‘Tell yer what Oi’ll do,’ he said suddenly. ‘Next place we touch at, you put me ashore an’ Oi’ll telephone a message ter Peer ter meet you some place. Where you makin’ fer?’

  ‘Fjaerland,’ I said.

  ‘In Sognefjord?’

  I nodded.
<
br />   ‘That’s easy then,’ he said. ‘You’ll be off Leirvik in the morning. Put me ashore there an’ Oi’ll phone me partner an’ ’e can meet yer at Fjaerland on ‘is way back.’

  ‘Back from where?’ I asked.

  But he smiled and shook his head. ‘Yer won’t catch me like that, Mr Gansert. Back from where ’e’s been, that’s where.’

  ‘He’s taken Schreuder right up to Sognefjord, has he?’

  ‘Yes. No ’arm in yer knowing that. You put me ashore at Leirvik an’ Oi’ll phone Peer to meet yer at Fjaerland.’

  ‘And you’ll come on to Fjaerland with us?’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Then me an’ me outfit can come back together.’

  With that I had to be content. At least I had some idea where Schreuder had gone. I let him go to his bunk. He had all the obstinacy of the Cockney driven into a corner. Maybe we could have handled him better. Perhaps if I’d left it to Jill. ‘There can’t be so many places right up the Sognefjord,’ I said to her. ‘If this damned partner of his doesn’t turn up, we’ll make inquiries at every quay in the fjord.’

  ‘That’ll take us some time,’ she said.

  ‘Anyway, they probably didn’t touch at any of the landing stages,’ Curtis said. ‘They probably slipped him in at night on a deserted stretch of the shore.’

  ‘Probably,’ I said. ‘If only we could make the little diver fellow tell us what he knows.’

  Jill pressed my hand. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘I’ll have another session with him in the morning.’

  Curtis got to his feet and stretched. ‘By God, I’m sleepy,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘Think I’ll make some coffee.’

  At that moment Dick’s voice hailed us. ‘There’s a breeze springing up, skipper,’ he called down. ‘What about setting some sail?’

  I remembered then that I had forgotten all about relieving him. ‘Coming,’ I called back. ‘Curtis. Give Wilson a shout, will you. We’ll be getting sail on her.’

  Jill caught my arm as I turned towards the companionway. ‘Thanks for what you did today,’ she said. She was smiling. Her lips were very red against the pallor of her skin. ‘It made me feel I wasn’t alone any more – that I had good friends.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ I said and turned away from her quickly. But as I climbed the ladder to the deck I realised again how much more important this was to her than to me – how much more important emotion was than the hard financial gain of the thing.

  I felt the breeze as soon as I poked my head out through the hatch. It was icy cold and refreshing. ‘Sorry, Dick,’ I said. ‘Losing my grip. Completely forgot you hadn’t been relieved.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he answered. The moon had disappeared behind cloud and he was just a dark bundle of duffel coat humped over the wheel and outlined against the slight phosphorescence of our wake. ‘I came to remind you once, but I could hear you grilling the poor devil, so I left you to it. What luck?’

  ‘He won’t talk without his partner’s there,’ I answered angrily. ‘He’s phoning him in the morning.’

  The others came up then and we hoisted sail. Hellesöy light was already astern, the black bulk of Fedje Island standing in silhouette against the swinging beam. On the starb’d bow another light winked. ‘Utvaer Fyr?’ Jill asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, looking up at the set of the sails as we leaned over to a fine reaching breeze. ‘Another eight by the log and we’ll alter course. We’ll be headed straight for the entrance to Sognefjord then.’ I called to Dick who was slacking off the weather topping lift. ‘You and Curtis better turn in and get some sleep. You too, Jill,’ I said.

  ‘What about you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ll sleep in the chartroom bunk.’

  I packed them off below – Carter, too. I wanted them to get as much sleep as possible. There would be work to do tomorrow if we were going to try and sail up the Sognefjord. Finally I was alone on deck with Wilson. I stood in the cockpit and leaned my arms on the chartroom roof, gazing up to the tall mainmast where canvas and rigging showed in a dim blur against the night. The whole ship was leaning gracefully, roaring through the water with the lee rail well under the water seething along the scuppers. It was a fine night for sailing. But there was a frozen bite in the wind. I shivered and went down into the chartroom. ‘What’s your course, Wilson?’ I asked.

  ‘North thirty west,’ he answered.

  I checked it on the chart. We were well clear of all the countless islands that dotted the coast to starb’d of us. ‘Wake me when you turn on to your new course,’ I said and climbed into my bunk. The slight movements of the ship and the rhythmic creak of the rigging lulled me into instant sleep.

  When we altered course, I took the wheel and sent Wilson below for some sleep. It was four o’clock and bitterly cold. The wind blew right through me. It seemed incredible that men ever sailed round the Horn. I felt numbed with the cold. The wind was on our port quarter now and the ship rode upright, main and mizzen booms pressed well out to starb’d. I watched Utvaer light come abeam and move across the quarter till it was lost behind a lump of land. The dawn came up out of the east, cold and grey and clear. The mountains emerged from the darkness of the night and gathered round. They were grey and heavy looking. But except for one, shaped like an enormous sugar loaf, they were not exciting. I might have been in Ireland or sailing up a Scottish loch. There was little sign of snow. These were but the foothills of the giant snow-fields inland. As the light increased the mountains grew blacker. Clouds gathered all across the sky. Grey scuds rolled up and wrapped themselves around the tree-clad slopes. The sky reddened till it blazed in fiery red and then the sun rose like a flaming cannon ball over the mountain tops. The sea boiled red along our sides. Then the scuds gathered thick like fiends of misery to drench all warmth and the bright fire died out of the sky. Suddenly the sun was gone and all was grey again – grey and drab as the mist rolled over us.

  And yet it was then that I felt the excitement of the place. I was alone at the wheel of my own ship. And I was entering the longest fjord in Norway. For 130 miles it stretched eastward into the very centre of the most mountainous section of Norway. It was two to five miles wide with towering mountains falling sheer to the water and it was as deep as the mountains were high. I had read all about it and here I was actually sailing into it. And not just sailing for pleasure, but sailing with a purpose. I was going to Fjaerland, which lay under the largest glacier in Europe – 580 square miles of solid ice. And there, I hoped, I’d find the truth about Farnell. The reason for his death was as important to me now as the thought of what he might have discovered. I had seen the troubled look in Jill’s grey eyes and something of the urgency in her had communicated itself to me.

  The cold dampness of the mist should have destroyed my excitement. But it didn’t. It increased it. Every now and then some change of the wind would draw aside for an instant the grey veil and I’d catch a glimpse of the mountains, their tops invisible, but their bulk suggestive of the greater bulk behind. This was the way to see new country, I thought. Like a woman, it should be revealed gradually. As I gripped the wet spokes of the wheel and felt the steady thrust of the wind driving Diviner deeper and deeper into the mountains, the mystery of the place held me in its spell and I remembered Peer Gynt again and the saeter huts high up in the hills.

  Lost in my thoughts, the time, usually leaden-footed at the dawn, passed quickly. At eight o’clock the wind shifted abeam and I hauled in on main and mizzen sheets. Then I called Dick and went below to get some sleep. ‘Watch the wind,’ I said, pausing with my head just out of the hatch. ‘You can’t see them, but the mountains are all round us.’

  I must have been dead beat, for I fell asleep at once and the next thing I remember is Curtis shaking me. I sat up at once, listening to the sounds of the ship. We were canted over and moving fast through the water, cutting through a light sea with a crash and a splash as the bows bit into each wave. ‘When do we reach Leirvi
k?’

  He grinned. ‘We left Leirvik an hour ago,’ he said.

  I cursed him for not waking me. ‘What about Sunde?’ I asked.

  ‘He made his call.’

  ‘Is he back on board?’

  ‘Yes. I saw to that. I went with him.’

  ‘You don’t know what place it was he rang?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. He wouldn’t let me come into the call box with him.’

  ‘Has Dahler come round?’

  ‘Yes, he’s all right. Got a hangover, that’s all.’

  I got up and went into the saloon. Dahler and Sunde were there facing each other over the remains of a rice pudding. And again I heard the name Max Bakke mentioned – this time by Sunde. His voice was nervous and pitched a shade high. He glanced round as I entered and I was aware of a sense of relief at my interruption.

  ‘Who is Max Bakke?’ I asked as I settled myself at the table.

  Dahler rose to his feet. ‘A business acquaintance of Mr Sunde,’ he said quietly. And then to the diver: ‘We will talk of Max Bakke later.’ He turned to me. ‘Has the weather cleared yet, Mr Gansert?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I haven’t been up top.’

  He went out then and I was left alone with Sunde. ‘Who is Max Bakke?’ I asked again as I helped myself to bully beef.

  ‘Just somebody Mr Dahler and I know,’ he replied. Then with a muttered excuse he got up and hurried out of the saloon.

  When I had finished my lunch, I went up on deck. It was raining. The ship was shrouded in a thick mist. The mountains on either side were a vague blur. The wind was abeam, coming in gusts as it struck down invisible gullies in the mountain sides. Dick was at the wheel, his black oilskins shining with water and little beads of moisture clinging to his eyebrows. Jill and Dahler were standing in the cockpit.

  ‘Had a good sleep?’ Jill asked. Her face was fresh and pink and wisps of fair hair escaped from below the peak of her black Norwegian sou’-wester. Her grey eyes smiled at me teasingly. She looked little more than a kid.

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ I answered. ‘Has it been raining all the time?’