Jenn had a yoga class at 13.30, so I spent half an hour up on the boat deck doing down dog and warrior lunges, with the sea sparkling around us and the coast of Norway slipping slowly by in the distance. When that was over, it was banjer cleaning time, and Jenn headed below with a detachment of the red watch to turf the blue and white trainees upwards. I waited on the boat deck, watching for the broad-shouldered trainee, but he didn’t appear. He had to be red watch after all then, busy mopping.
As soon as the banjer was finished, there was a bustle of activity. Captain Gunnar had ordered the sails to be made ready, and the red watch got busy in their teams, hauling each heavy yard around to a close-hauled starboard tack. Then they headed upwards into the rigging. I wasn’t surprised to see that Sean was the first out along the yard, feet swaying on the wire, hands busy untying the gasket. Once everyone was back down they formed teams again and released the buntlines to let the sails fall, then moved to the clews to tighten them into a bonny curve. The whole process took an hour, but at last there she was, under sail, with acres of tautly curved canvas reflecting the grey sky. Captain Gunnar, watching from the aft deck, nodded to Anders. The motor gave a cough and fell silent.
Suddenly there was no sound but the grey waves stroking the ship’s hull, the gentle creak of the rigging, the sharp mew of a seagull curving overhead. The wind was soft on my cheek. I was standing just forrard of the ship’s wheel, with the two ratlines making a triangle above my head, and my sky was filled with white canvas. Sørlandet’s pennant fluttered above the mainmast. The wooden deck moved under my feet and the afternoon sun glinted on the horizon.
Anders came up to stand beside me. His face reflected mine, his eyes alight at the solemn joy of being here, caught between wind and water. His chest rose and fell in deep breaths of the soft air. We didn’t speak, just stood there, side by side, and absorbed it all.
Most of the trainees had come on deck when the engine went off. Now they were lounging about, leaning against the rail or sitting on benches along the mid deckhouse sides. The Greek boys had gathered up on the foredeck looking out, with even lively Dimitris awed into silence. A knot from my watch were amidships, checking where we were on their mobile phones and pointing out distant landmarks. I glanced at the plotter, then up, clocking the square bulk of Søndre Katland lighthouse, which showed the entrance to Farsund. The red-brick tower of Lista, with its slightly wider top, like a chess piece, was faint on the corner of the headland.
I stood up there for a long time, just watching the sea go by, until my back grew stiff with standing and the low clouds that left moisture on my upper lip became a gentle drizzle that darkened the canvas sails. The midships area cleared as the off-duty watches headed below. At last I headed below too, made myself a cup of tea and joined Cat and Rat on my bunk, to lie back, hands crossed under my head, and listen to the pad of feet above my head, the waves at my ear, the ship forging forward. Every so often a wave flicked around the porthole.
I would be on duty at eight, and there was an all-crew muster at 19.30. I filled my hot-water bottle straight after dinner, then realised my clean nightshirt was still down on the washing line in the galley stores area. I’d just have time to go and fetch it. I shrugged my jacket on and headed down into the banjer. The trainees were busy finishing their meal and searching for jackets, hats and gloves. Slipping through the chaos and into the black hole of the narrow stairs down to the centre of the ship, I gripped the handrail and felt my way down.
I met the first washing line, strung across the ship just above head height, as soon as I took a step from the bottom of the stairs. My items were on my right. There was enough light for me to see the white star pattern of my nightshirt among the flutter of T-shirts and socks. Switching on the light would spoil my night vision. I stood for a moment, waiting until my eyes got accustomed to the dimness.
In the silence, I heard a soft movement somewhere in the dark with me, and smelt that stale tobacco. My heart thumped. I felt out with one hand, along the wall, and switched the light on. The washing sprang up in front of me, glaring white against the dark tunnel.
Behind it, something moved.
I couldn’t see who. The brightness had dazzled my dusk-accustomed eyes and I was still wincing away from it when a large, dark shape rushed towards me, knocked me aside so that I staggered against the wall, gave me a second shove onto the floor, and ran up the steps towards the deck. The thudding feet slowed to a saunter on the banjer steps. I picked myself up and charged after him.
I was too late. By the time I reached the deck, it was filled with trainees in their watch lines, hoods drawn up. Jenn was already in her place, smiling, and Captain Gunnar was overseeing us benevolently from the aft deck. His eye rested on me, flushed and late, and any idea I’d had of trying to talk to him about intruders withered instantly. Not here, not now, with the whole crew assembled. Just the thought of breaking ranks made me turn cold. I slid in beside Agnetha, heart thudding, and tried to steady my breathing. She gave me a sideways look. ‘Did you forget the moments of awesome?’ she murmured.
I had forgotten. My stomach lurched as if an octopus was dancing inside it. ‘Moments of awesome’ was part of Jenn’s way of moulding us into a company, and I had to say that by the end of the voyage it worked, but the first couple of musters were toe-curling. Jenn was going to name people who’d been part of ‘moments of awesome’. My Shetland upbringing winced at the thought of being hauled out in public like this. She named them, one moment from each watch. For ours, Erik had nominated the younger sister, Nora, for going out on the yards. Nils volunteered a youngster who’d steered an exceptionally straight course, and Agnetha’s watch leader, Jonas, clapped a hand on the shoulder of a grinning boy who, he said, had been a star in the heads-cleaning. Then Jenn asked for moments from three of us. The teenagers rolled their eyes and the adults, reticent Norwegians, edged backwards. There was silence until Mike volunteered getting the engine off.
Looking at him in the grey light, for once he didn’t look like someone who was bouncing with moments of awesome. There was a strained look to his skin, and lines under his eyes as if he’d not slept well. He was actually forty-six, but usually his energy made him seem ten years younger; today, you’d guess his age at nearer fifty. I remembered Klaudina’s look, and wondered if she was putting pressure on him to give up this post for a life ashore. They had two boys, aged eight and six; maybe she wanted him to be home for them. If Gavin and I became permanent, if we ever wanted children, I’d have to leave the sea …
I came back to earth as Jenn dismissed everyone, and realised that I’d been so busy shutting out touchy-feeliness that I hadn’t looked round for the broad-shouldered man. I looked now, as the watches were dispersing. The white and blue watches broke out of their lines, but mostly stayed put; I scanned the disappearing red watch as quickly as I could, and saw nobody that resembled him.
‘He wasn’t there,’ Anders said, appearing beside me. ‘I looked, while everyone was assembled.’
‘You’re sure?’
He nodded. ‘He was an adult, and there are not so many men. He’s not there.’
‘I’ll talk to the captain about him.’
I went into the officers’ mess and knocked on the panelling at the side of the doorway into Captain Gunnar’s combined bedroom and office. It was similar to mine, except larger, wide enough to have his desk set across the ship, with a red velvet settee beside it, and matching curtains screening his cabin bed. A little door led to his private bathroom. The room was empty.
I was due on watch. I’d mention it when Captain Gunnar came up to check our course.
The wind increased during our watch until we managed 4.3 knots, a brisk walking pace. A couple of the youngsters were on helm and standby first, with Olav on safety and Ben, the younger of the two brothers, forrard on lookout. He had an important job tonight, for the grey drizzle and cloudy skies meant visibility was poor, and first a fishing boat came charging out from the murk ahead
of us, then an oil vessel, five times the length of Sørlandet, its blazing lights appearing only at fifteen minutes to collision time.
‘I spotted the mystery man at breakfast this morning,’ Olav said, coming up beside me, ‘and again at tea tonight.’
I looked at him blankly. ‘Mystery man?’
Olav nodded as if his head was on a spring. ‘That’s what Ellen and I call him, because he keeps himself to himself. If you say hello, he just nods and grunts, then turns away.’
‘Oh?’ I tried to sound casual, but he shot me a sharp look from his little eyes.
‘Do you know the man I mean? He has iron-grey hair, cut short, and a Russian face. Broad shoulders, and a dark jacket, and he smells of tobacco.’
‘I think I’ve seen him about.’ My casual tone was better this time. We didn’t need rumours going round the trainees about mysterious stowaways. I suddenly remembered the man I’d bumped into at the Fiskbrabaren, yesterday morning. He had smelt of stale tobacco too. A Russian face … known to the police. My heart went cold. Olav was watching my face; I forced a smile. ‘He’s not on our watch, so I don’t know his name. Maybe his Norwegian’s not very good.’
‘I thought that too, the first time, so I tried him with English. That didn’t work either.’
I managed a laugh. ‘Maybe he just doesn’t speak at all first thing in the morning.’
‘I’m not sure what watch he is on. He had his jacket on for tea, so that looked like the white watch, except he wasn’t with them just now when they lined up.’
‘He’s a smoker,’ I said. ‘Maybe he’d just come in from deck, or was desperate to get out there again. It’s a strange habit, isn’t it?’
Olav wasn’t to be diverted. ‘He’s a strange man. I’ll keep an eye on him.’
That had me flummoxed. I didn’t want to rush into saying, ‘No, don’t, steer well clear of him,’ because that would start all sorts of rumours. I kept up the casual tone. ‘I’m sure he’ll open out soon. Maybe he’s just shy.’ Inspiration struck. ‘Or seasick. People hate to admit to that, and it does make you feel awful.’
I was saved by Sindre striking two bells. I verified our course and gave it to Nora, then escaped to think it over as I scanned the radar for ships and ticked off the passing lights: Vibberodden, Eigerøy. With glasses, I could just make out the lower flashes of Grunnesundholmen in the channel behind. Next would be the two Hå lighthouses. I re-checked them in my pilot’s book: Kvassheim was red, green, white directional, occulting eight seconds, and Obrestad was white, thirty seconds. I might just spot Kvassheim before handover, and soon after that the ship would tack, and head west, across the North Sea.
I was worried. If that Russian I’d bumped into was on board, if he was the man Sergeant Hansen had warned us about, then I needed to talk to the captain about him. We could still stop in Stavanger. On the other hand, if I was wrong, if the man was a legitimate trainee, then my name would be beneath mud. I spent the next hour worrying about it, but knew in the end that I had to say something. This was Captain Gunnar’s decision, not mine.
When the captain came up to check our progress, I glanced around us, then murmured, ‘Captain, I have a concern. Can I talk to you as soon as possible?’
He gave me a sharp look. ‘The morning will not do?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think so.’ I sank my voice to a murmur. ‘Sergeant Hansen’s problem.’
He understood straight away. ‘Very well. Immediately after the change of watch.’
It was a long watch, grey and cold, and by the end of it even the keenest trainees were huddled under the boat deck, hoods pulled down. They lined up at double speed and disappeared down the hatch like puffins into their burrows.
I hung my jacket inside my cabin and knocked at the officers’ mess door. ‘Captain?’
He motioned me into the saloon, and waited.
‘I think the sergeant’s stowaway is aboard.’
His white eyebrows shot upwards. ‘You’re sure it’s not one of the young people playing a prank by smuggling a friend along?’
I shook my head. ‘An adult. Broad-shouldered, strong. One of the trainees described him as Russian-looking. He wears a dark jacket, and I think he’s lurking down in the tunnels.’ I explained what had happened, and Captain Gunnar listened, one hand tugging at his moustache. When I’d finished he was silent for a moment, then he looked straight at me, eyes stern. ‘You are sure of all this?’
I nodded.
His brows drew together. ‘If we have to divert to Stavanger …’
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. If we diverted to Stavanger, and no stowaway was found, my head was on the chopping block.
He gave a long sigh. ‘Very well. Say nothing for the moment. I must phone Sergeant Hansen. I’ll make an announcement to everyone in the morning.’
‘Sir,’ I agreed. I left him frowning into space and headed for the peace and quiet of my cabin. Cat lifted his head as I came in, then snuggled it down again. The waves shushed against the ship’s side, and soft feet padded on deck above me. I heard Agnetha giving orders to the helm. I squeezed my feet down past Cat and Rat, and curled up around them, enjoying their warmth, then reached for my phone.
Gavin answered at the first ring. ‘Cass, halo leat! I thought you’d be out of phone reach in the North Sea.’
‘You mean you’re not calibrating my mobile to see?’
He laughed at that. ‘No, I don’t have you on a tagging app. It wouldn’t be able to cope. What’s worrying you?’
‘I don’t only phone when I’m worried.’ It was disconcerting that he could read me so accurately.
I could hear the smile in his voice. ‘The worry’s in your voice, like water finding a pebble in its way. Go on.’
‘We’re maybe going to stop in Stavanger.’
‘Oh?’
I explained. I could imagine him nodding as he listened. ‘So I don’t know what to wish for,’ I finished. ‘Stowaway or not. Not, I suppose.’
‘Not would be best for the ship,’ Gavin agreed. ‘And your captain struck me as a sensible man. He won’t blame you for putting safety first.’
‘Better safe than sorry,’ I agreed.
‘You will keep away from the tunnels?’
‘No reason for me to be down there now.’ I just hoped it would all turn out for the best, and changed the subject. ‘How was your damp stake-out …?’
TWO BELLS
Stavanger
Saturday 27th June
CHAPTER FOUR
Captain Gunnar got the whole crew together over breakfast. ‘What I am about to say is confidential.’ His eyes rested on Erik, who was nearest the door. He gave it a significant look. Erik nodded, and closed it behind him. Instantly the room felt too small, the air stuffy. My stomach squirmed uneasily. ‘I have a disturbing suspicion,’ he began, heavily, ‘that we have a stowaway aboard.’
The crew glanced around each other. Mike’s face was closed, unsurprised; they’d obviously discussed this earlier. Agnetha was frowning, as if she was trying to visualise all the faces she’d seen; beside her, Erik stared at Captain Gunnar, mouth open. Nils gave a sour, secretive smile.
‘Unfortunately,’ Captain Gunnar continued, ‘this may well be more than just a teenager who thinks it would be amusing to run away to sea. I called Sergeant Hansen this morning. The man that we were warned about before leaving Kristiansand is extremely dangerous. He must not be approached. For that reason, I am not going to search the ship while we have trainees aboard. He may well be lurking in the tunnels. I do not wish any of you to go there. Remain within the well-lit areas of the ship, and do not go anywhere that is little used.’
He paused to look around us, brows drawn together. We nodded, and he continued. ‘I have diverted our course to Stavanger, ETA 11.00. We will tell the trainees that we had extra time, and let them off to explore. We too will come off, and give the special forces leave to search the ship from stem to stern. Watches are suspended until t
hey have finished. I will remain with them, to make sure they have seen everything. I would like everyone else to wait ashore while the police search. We do not want any possibility of a hostage situation.’
‘I’ve had that feeling, now,’ Mike said, ‘of there being one more aboard than I can account for.’ Rolf nodded in agreement. Nils remained still, watching.
‘Naturally, a team of policemen coming aboard will look a little strange. If you are questioned you should say that Stavanger customs are concerned about people smuggling, and all vessels are being searched in this way.’ For the first time, he smiled. ‘For extra verisimilitude, you can complain about how over the top it is. Our departure from Stavanger will be 17.00, with all crew to be aboard at 15.00, and all trainees at 16.00. There will be a morning muster at 8.00, and I will announce these times.’
He nodded dismissal at the other ranks, and we officers ate our oatmeal and drank our yoghurt in a heavy silence. Cat wouldn’t like it, but he’d better go into his basket until we left the ship together, just to make sure I could lay my hands on him when I needed him; Rat too. I didn’t want either of them shot by a trigger-happy Norwegian special forces patrol officer.
I left the table as soon as I could, still feeling queasy. There was nothing in the ship’s motion to account for it; the white watch had stowed some of the sails away in the early hours, so that we didn’t arrive in Stavanger too soon, and we were rolling gently along under the two topsails on each mast. Still, seasickness was like that. You could ride out the worst of gales unaffected, then feel awful because a slight swell was hitting the ship at just the wrong angle. We’d be in Stavanger too soon for it to be worth taking a Stugeron.
Death in Shetland Waters Page 5