‘We’ll hoist the lower two sails,’ Captain Sigurd said. ‘A team to each mast.’
I nodded at Petter, and he came over. He was our crew film star, tall and blonde, with a way of leaning against the rail that turned him instantly into a promotion shot for his smart jacket, or the coffee mug he was holding. He’d done time as a navy cadet before joining us, but his whole air oozed privilege – preppy, you’d say in the States. Aristokratisch. I was getting on better with him since I’d suggested his promotion to watch leader. Agnetha had made sure he knew it was I who’d recommended him, and he’d managed a stammered thank you before backing off as if I might bite him. I couldn’t see why I made him so nervous, but his nerves made me awkward too, so we didn’t work easily together. He was a good watch leader, at ease with his team, if not with me, and he’d deserved the promotion.
‘Hoist the main sail and lower topsail.’
He nodded, and headed off to round up our climbing team. Harnesses on and checked, then I watched as he and Mona led them upwards. The two older men and Oliver Eastley followed Petter, climbing steadily and sliding out along the yard with no hesitation. Laura Eastley hesitated, watching Oliver, then followed Mona, the teacher, and the Danish wife out along the opposite yard. The bodies draped over the yard, fumbling with the buntlines, then the sail fell into crumpled folds, ready to be pulled down from deck level. Below, on the main deck, Johan was already organising the non-climbers into teams at the ropes. Within fifteen minutes we had the main sail pulling in a beautiful curve, and were ready to repeat the task on the lower topsail.
Once the sails were set, the red and blue watches stood down, leaving my watch on duty. The ship set her shoulder to the swell, and each curved wave reflected a crescent of sunlight. By 18.30, the coast of Norway had receded to a cloudy mass on the horizon. I glanced upwards at the tiers of sail, then out to the horizon of blue water, and my heart sang. The land-pull to Gavin receded. This was what I was made for: this great sweep of water all around me, with the wind gentle on my skin, the ship creaking, the water curling under her forefoot and pulling away along her sides in a long V of foam.
The firefighter was on the ship’s wheel – an easy task now, since all we had to do was head north-west across three hundred nautical miles of sea to Lerwick. The rest of today and all tomorrow before we saw land again.
‘Steady as she goes,’ I said to him. ‘281 degrees. Mr Berg, isn’t it?’
‘Frederik,’ he said.
‘Your first shot aboard a tall ship?’
He nodded. He was dark for a Norwegian, with brown curly hair and velvet-black eyes that were surveying me in a way I didn’t quite care for, almost as if he was assessing my suitability for being his boss. I felt my chin go up, my shoulders straighten. His were twice the width of mine, made even broader by his padded black jacket. ‘Surprisingly, given my husband’s job. I’ve been meaning to come, but something’s always cropped up.’ He smiled, showing white teeth. ‘It was worth the wait.’ His eyes went back to the compass, then returned to me, still with that curious, measuring gaze.
I turned to his standby, Oliver. ‘How about you? Your first time?’ I felt like the Queen inspecting troops: And what do you do?
He nodded. ‘We’d always meant to go to see Shetland, and then Laura spotted this trip, and we thought, well, why not?’ His voice was smooth and warm, like poured honey, his eyes pale blue under the fair brows. There was something unsettling about him, a memory tugging. Those pale eyes – then I remembered a polecat my friend Magnie had trapped, with a glossy brown coat and a neat face dominated by those same pale eyes, sharp and malevolent.
There was no sign of malevolence in Oliver. His eyes were friendly, his smile charming; then his face clouded over. ‘We lost our parents, seven months ago. Car crash. Laura’s finding it hard to get over. I thought this would help take her mind off. A complete change of scene, physical exercise, people all around her.’ He paused, and looked a bit embarrassed. ‘I’m not meaning to make a big thing of it. It’s just I thought, as you’re the boss of our team, maybe you should know.’ He held up one hand, as if to forestall any questions I was about to ask. ‘She’s not on any medication, or anything. Just not her usual self.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Thanks for letting me know. I’ll keep an eye on her.’
His eyes gleamed with an odd satisfaction, and I was reminded of the polecat again. I shook the memory away. My brain caught up with my ears. Our parents, he’d said. I’d taken them for husband and wife, but now I looked, of course they were brother and sister.
He looked like a gadget man. ‘Have you seen inside the nav shack?’
He shook his head. ‘It looked like “officers only” to me.’
‘Come and look.’ I showed him the chart plotter, and, as I’d expected, he worked it straight away, and asked about other functions. I left him zooming in and out, and trying different versions of the chart. We were a little pulse just starting to head out across twenty centimetres of blue. While he did that I took my hand-held compass and did a fix on the still-visible pricks of light from the land; Captain Sigurd expected a three-point fix every half hour. Standing against the rail, balancing to the ocean swell, I took a deep breath of sea air, and smiled. Home.
CHAPTER THREE
At 19.00, all the officers ate together in the captain’s mess, seated in order of seniority, with Captain Sigurd at the head of the table, and Henrik, the chief steward, at the foot. Agnetha was on Captain Sigurd’s right, and Johanna, the chief engineer, was on his left. We three sailing officers were on Agnetha’s side, Nils first, me, then Alain, Rafael, so close that I could feel the warmth of his thigh against mine. Jenn, Sadie and Rolf faced us. Rafael began to reach out for the bread, and I just had time to nudge him in the ribs with my elbow before Captain Sigurd said his formal grace. I caught the flicker of a wink before Rafael bowed his head.
Mealtimes were silent affairs. It wasn’t done for a mere officer to introduce a topic, so we waited until Captain Sigurd made a stately comment, to which we murmured assent. I ate my pasta and pork swiftly, excused myself, and headed back to my watch. There would be an all-hands muster at 19.30, led by Jenn and Henrik, and then it would be handover time. I checked our course with the helm, then projected a line from it across the blue screen. Bang on.
I was just entering the course in the log when a shadow darkened the nav shack doorway. I didn’t need to look to know that it was Alain; every nerve-end I had tingled with his presence. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise we were on a praying ship.’
I waved my hand dismissively, and made with the words as if he was just any new shipmate. ‘When I first arrived those mealtimes terrified me. Every scrape of my knife on the china seemed to echo round the room for the next ten minutes.’
‘It’s a lot more formal than the States.’
‘Is that where you’ve been?’ I looked up, and felt my heart thumping at the intensity of his grey eyes, so close to mine. I turned back to the log, and was about to lift the pencil when I realised that my hand was trembling.
‘The States? Yeah. I trained in San Juan.’
‘Is that where your Vancouver is?’
He shook his head. ‘Boston. That’s where her previous owner lived, and he let me keep the berth on for another season while I did her up. He’s keeping an eye on her for me, and I’ll check her out when we get there.’
‘But your family’s in San Juan?’ I kept my tone casual.
I’d touched a nerve. His face closed against me. ‘I don’t have any family. What’s our course?’
Barriers up. ‘281 degrees.’ I indicated the chart. ‘Spot on for the south mainland of Shetland on Friday morning.’
‘Swell. What about this muster thing? Do we have to go down to that?’
‘It won’t take long – just announcements from Jenn and Henrik. Tidy your stuff up, that kind of thing. Oh, and moments of awesome.’
‘Moments of awesome?’ he repeated, rather too
loudly.
‘You’ll see.’
We clattered down the aft steps together and took our places. Jenn welcomed the trainees, and reminded them about not leaving their stuff lying about. With every trainee owning at least one gadget needing charged, the banjer could become a nightmare of trip hazards, with every plug trailing a flex to the nearest table. ‘Gone by breakfast time,’ Jenn warned them. Henrik reminded them about not wasting food, and then – I braced myself for it – came the moments of awesome, Jenn’s way of moulding us together as a crew. I ignored Alain’s amused glance downwards at me as she announced them and then left a silence for us to contribute. ‘Going up the mast,’ Oliver called out. ‘That was awesome.’
‘Cool!’ Jenn said. ‘How about the red watch?’
‘The engine going off,’ one of them said, and another nodded.
Jenn turned her head to Alain. ‘Blue watch, you haven’t had your turn yet, so I’ll expect two moments of awesome from you tomorrow evening.’
‘I’ll give you one right now,’ Alain said. I should have known he’d play along. ‘Being on this amazing ship with all these cool people.’ He got a round of applause for that, though not from me.
‘Great note to end on,’ Jenn said, and dismissed us. The blue watch scurried for their jackets, and mine drittled to their places on deck. Ten minutes to go. I did a last check of our heading, and reported our position and course to Captain Sigurd. No whales, no waterspouts, no oil rigs as yet, barometer steady. I came back out on deck and yawned, trying to get myself into the mood for sleep. I was due on deck at 03.30.
Alain bounded up the steps two at a time, jacket slung over his shoulder. My heart ached at the sight. I swallowed and looked away as he spoke. ‘281 degrees, right?’
‘Right.’ I signed myself off in the log. ‘You have the ship.’
‘I have the ship,’ he agreed, and signed on.
I left him to it, and stood for a moment by the rail, looking out at the water. It hazed under my gaze. I swore to myself, and rubbed the tears away. Agnetha came up beside me, and we were silent for a moment, then Agnetha turned her back to the gleaming sea, and spoke across her shoulder at me. ‘There’s a trainee on board I’m not sure about.’
I turned round, hoping nothing showed on my face, and looked an enquiry.
‘Daniel Christie. He’s on Nils’s watch, so you may not have noticed him. Late twenties, UK passport. That’s a Scottish surname, isn’t it?’
I nodded, intrigued now.
‘He doesn’t fit.’ She frowned. ‘I can’t put my finger on it. His jacket is best sailing quality, but it’s brand new, and though he’s fit enough it’s the kind of gym fitness you’d get in a businessman who works out. I just don’t see … there’s no reason why an office worker shouldn’t decide he wants to try a tall ship, but …’
I knew what she meant. ‘Yes. No sailing background at all’s unusual. How’s he getting along on watch?’
‘Oh, he joined in fine hoisting the sails, but somehow he’s separate from them all.’ She frowned at the grey hills on the horizon. ‘He just doesn’t feel right. As if the ship is a cover for something else. Well, obviously we can’t search his baggage. We could have a word with the customs beforehand, when we get back to Norway.’
‘Difficult,’ I agreed.
‘Anyway, what I wondered was, could you have a casual chat with him as you do the deck round? I just want to know how he strikes you.’
‘Which is he?’
She nodded down towards the main deck. ‘There. Talking to the blonde charmer from your watch.’
I followed her gaze. Oliver was standing with one hand on the ropes running down from the mainsail. A man I hadn’t particularly noticed was lounging against the rail beside him. They were chatting animatedly, Daniel gesturing with his free hand, and Oliver laughing.
I saw at once what Agnetha meant. Daniel’s whole air said city office: a lawyer, an accountant, an admin assistant. His mid-brown hair was fashionably cut in that sleeked-back style that tends to flop over onto the brow, except that it was gelled in place. His brows were set low, his nose long and straight, and he had a long chin in an oddly shaped jaw, angled to a point at each corner, which a manicured stubble beard didn’t quite disguise. He was wearing a navy and grey Musto jacket, the newest breathable offshore design at a cool £400, along with the more expensive trainer-style Musto deck shoes; those were new as well.
I nodded to Agnetha. ‘I’ll check him out.’
I generally took Cat for a last stroll before settling down for the night. Even as I looked round, he appeared from the nav shack, and gave me his soundless mew. ‘Come on then, boy,’ I said, and he followed me down the steps, magnificent tail held high to show the silvery-ash underside. We did the round of the deck, with the trainees admiring him, and asking the usual questions about whether he got seasick, and if he had a litter tray, and ended up at Oliver and Daniel. ‘Hi, Oliver,’ I said. I turned to Daniel and held out my hand. ‘Hi. I’m Cass. I’m in charge of the white watch.’
He gave me one of those doublehanded shakes. ‘Daniel Christie, of the red watch.’ His voice was conventional educated Scots, east coast, similar to Oliver’s, and he was the same age. I had a prickling feeling down my spine. ‘Do you two know each other? From home, I mean?’
I thought Daniel gave the beginning of a nod, before Oliver leapt in smoothly. ‘That’s the story, isn’t it? You put two Scots from Edinburgh together in the middle of the Sahara, and before you know it they’re talking about Princes Street and Hogmanay parties, or the discos they went to when they were young.’ He gave Daniel a considering look. ‘We’d probably have gone to all the same ones, but I don’t think I know your face.’
Daniel had his cue now. He shook his head. ‘Which school did you go to – Fettes?’
‘Stewart’s Melville.’
‘I was George Watson’s.’ He smiled, showing perfect teeth. ‘But we’re both Edinburgh, so here we are on a Norwegian sailing ship, talking about Princes Street.’
Oliver bent down to stroke Cat, who was stretching up against my leg, bored of not being noticed. ‘Your cat’s a beauty.’
Cat jumped lightly up onto the square rail surrounding the mast, and prepared to be admired.
‘Have you done much sailing?’ I asked Daniel.
He shook his head. ‘In dinghies on a school trip, but not since. The financial crash put everyone on longer hours. It’s only now I’ve started to get evenings to myself. Then I saw the Sørlandet on its website and thought, well, why not? There were plenty of flights to Kristiansand, so I decided to join it there and do the whole trip.’
There was tension underlying his light voice, and he was explaining too much. A lightweight, I thought, the junior partner in whatever was going on. Oliver cut in again. ‘This is wonderful, being at sea.’ He gestured upwards, to where Alain’s watch was climbing towards the upper topsail yards. ‘Will we get all the sails up now, do you think?’
‘A good few of them, anyway.’ We spread the sail-handling load over a couple of watches to keep our speed down to about eight knots, for ease of passage planning, and to share the work round the trainees. I turned my head back to Daniel. ‘Have you been aloft?’
He nodded, and the colour came back to his face. The muscles in his neck relaxed. ‘It was great. I loved looking down at the water, and seeing the waves going past below, as you’re up balanced on this rope high in the air.’
I couldn’t keep asking questions. I made it casual. ‘You sound like someone who’s into extreme sports.’
‘I’ve done a bit of rock-climbing. It’s a change to be over water, rather than looking down at tumbles of rocks, or a river gully.’ He pulled a face. ‘It doesn’t look so hard, if you know what I mean.’
‘It is though,’ I said. ‘Hitting water from that height would be just like hitting stone.’
‘Oh, I know that intellectually. But my eyes don’t believe it.’ Oliver, beside him, made a movement, a tu
rn of his wrist as if he was looking at his watch, and Daniel copied it, shaking back his sleeve to show what I suspected was a Rolex. ‘Is that the time? I’m on duty at midnight. Better get some shut-eye.’
He was just turning away when Laura came over. This time, there was no sign of recognition. He looked her over with the air of a man assessing his chances for a holiday romance, and considering them good. He settled back against the rail, with as easy a grace as if it had been rehearsed, and smiled. ‘Hi. Daniel Christie.’
‘Laura Eastley. This is fun, isn’t it?’ She gave him a quick, assessing look, smiled back, then looked at me and smiled again. ‘Hi, Cass.’ Her attention was on Oliver. ‘I’m going to turn in now, get as much sleep as I can. We need to be up at four, remember.’
‘I’m remembering,’ he said, and didn’t move. ‘You know me, I can get by on practically no sleep.’
‘I know how hard it is to wake you too,’ she retorted. She raised a hand at Daniel. ‘See you later. See you at four, Oliver.’
Daniel watched her go, then shoved himself upright. ‘Well, my hammock calls. Good to meet you, Oliver.’
‘I think Laura has the right idea,’ I said. She wasn’t the only one; the trainees were thinning out. There was nothing like sea air for upping your sleep hours. I headed back to the aft deck and joined Agnetha by the rail.
‘Well?’ she said.
‘Something odd,’ I agreed. ‘They were at pains to show me they didn’t know each other, but I think they did. They’re the same age, and that world of Edinburgh private schools is a small one.’ I remembered that from those days with Alain, who’d been a student there. Students went to one set of clubs, comprehensive school people to another, and the elite to yet another.
Agnetha gave me an old-fashioned look. ‘Could they be a gay couple who’ve not come out?’
I hadn’t thought of that. ‘Maybe.’ It was a simple solution, but it didn’t feel right. I remembered the admiring look Daniel had given Laura, theatrical, as if it had been rehearsed in a mirror. ‘Yes, that could be it. I just feel they’re plotting together.’
Death on a Shetland Isle Page 3