Southtrap

Southtrap Page 14

by Geoffrey Jenkins

  He became more animated, as if the memory of the action had given him a shot in the arm, a stimulant even more effective than the schnapps.

  'You must have heard about it. The Royal Navy was superb in action during the First Battle of Narvik. One of your destroyer captains won a Victoria Cross.'

  'Sorry. My history doesn't run to that.'

  'Well, the Germans grabbed the port of Narvik. There was a whole squadron of their destroyers. Then the British broke in through the fjord in the snow and the mist — very brave, very daring. There was shooting, shooting, shooting. Every warship fired torpedoes. The harbour was full of torpedoes. It was all darkness and confusion and we snatched one before we escaped with the factory ship. A piece of cake, as you say, in all the smoke and shooting and snowstorms.'

  'You — took — a live — torpedo — as- a- souvenir!'

  'Yes. It was floating around near a quay.'

  I sat and stared at him.

  'You don't believe me?'

  'I most certainly don't believe you. No one would be crazy enough to risk a torpedo with a live warhead which was liable to go up at any moment.'

  He laughed. 'You're smart and you're tough but you're not very old and you don't know everything. I'll tell you. The Germans were using magnetic pistols to trigger the warheads. Narvik is very far north. In high latitudes the pistols were affected by the magnetic field. It would be just the same very far South. They failed to explode. It was safe enough.'

  'Okay, I'll buy it,' I retorted. 'And subsequently this souvenir was valuable enough to you and Prestrud and Torgersen to risk your chances of escape by taking it along with you.'

  He chuckled, and I realized I wasn't getting anywhere. 'Yes, we valued that torpedo a lot, Prestrud and Torgersen and I.'

  I struggled to regain the advantage I knew I'd lost, but at what point in our exchange I did not know.

  'Listen,' I resumed. 'When Captain Prestrud spoke to me for the last time he was definitely feeling guilty about something. Guilty enough to want to get it off his chest to a comparative stranger. It was something to do with your escape. What was it?'

  Jacobsen froze. He said heavily, 'There was nothing for us to feel guilty about.'

  'Torgersen knocked down the quisling radio-operator — did he kill him? Or did you and Captain Prestrud?' I pressed him. 'He mentioned having done something which was justified at the time. If that means killing a man in war-time…'

  'No one killed him,' broke in Captain Jacobsen. 'He was only stunned. We took him along with us. That's all.'

  He clammed up completely, and I began to be afraid that he would actually walk out.

  I took a shot in the dark. Torgersen got killed later.'

  'Aye,' retorted Jacobsen savagely. 'We ought to have killed that quisling Rolf Solberg at the time. Torgersen and I wanted to but Prestrud had a soft heart. We let him live. And thirty years ago today he killed Torgersen. It was after the first of our get-togethers.'

  'Yes, Captain Jacobsen?' I said encouragingly.

  'We three decided that after the war we would foregather once every five years on the anniversary of our escape from the German raider. The first celebration was held in our home port, Sandefjord.'

  I gestured at the picture on the panelling that Linn had pointed out to me. Jacobsen nodded. That's the place. But our gathering was before Prestrud married and had a home. We celebrated it as comrades-in-arms should. Next day Torgersen was found in his hotel stabbed to death. I think Rolf Solberg must have been temporarily insane when he did it. He left clues everywhere. The police had no difficulty in tracking him down.'

  Apparently unrelated circuits in my brain started to make contact.

  'You say he was stabbed to death. What sort of knife?'

  He thought a while and then replied, 'I don't think the police ever found the murder weapon. I can't remember it on exhibit in court when he was tried.'

  'It wasn't a knife with a carved handle and a killer whale engraved on it?' I asked.

  'No. I'm quite sure now. There was no knife exhibited at his trial.'

  'You were at Solberg's trial, of course?'

  'Prestrud and I were key witnesses. Solberg was sent to prison for life. He's probably still there.'

  I fired my next question, 'What did you and the other two skippers actually do to the unfortunate Solberg?'

  Jacobsen gave a half-roar, half-grunt, like an elephant seal. 'Unfortunate! We ought to've killed him! I said so then and I say so now! He got what he deserved.'

  'What was that, Captain Jacobsen?'

  He shrugged. 'It all happened a long time ago. There's no point dredging it up now.'

  The man's silences were as solid as he was. I tried another tack.

  'See here, Captain Jacobsen. Captain Prestrud tried desperately to tell me something, but he didn't make it. But he did warn me with all the strength he had left to stay away from Prince Edward Island.'

  Questioning Jacobsen was like sounding unknown waters with a hand lead-line. You never knew when you would strike a shoal or deep water.

  'He was my good friend and comrade for many, many years. It was a good thing he told you that.'

  'Why, Captain Jacobsen? Why!'

  He remained unresponsive and withdrawn.

  I threw out a fresh probe. 'But in spite of that warning, this ship is bound for Prince Edward Island. And for tonight Captain Prestrud had planned another anniversary celebration of your escape — a very special one — thirty years to the day, as you said yourself. What is it about Prince Edward Island that meant so much to both of you?'

  He replied sullenly, 'There's nothing there any more. Nothing!'

  'Any more?' I pressed him. 'Any more? What was there, then?'

  'Nothing.' But he was lying. He got to his feet.

  I went quickly to the chart cabinet. He turned to see what I was doing, so that he faced away from the door.

  It opened. Wegger took a step in. I looked up. 'Yes…?'

  He wasn't looking at me but in Captain Jacobsen's direction. Without replying, he turned on his heel and was gone, banging the door shut behind him.

  I was too preoccupied to worry about Wegger at this moment. I found the general chart showing the Sub-Antarctic islands. Jacobsen joined me at the table and I deliberately kept the chart flat while I stabbed it with my finger.

  'Where did all this take place?'

  'Here. Quite close to Prince Edward Island.'

  'Ah!'

  I let the printed lettering at the top unroll itself into his line of vision. 'Teddy. Atlantis-Pinguin-Sibirien. January 14th 1941.'

  He stared at it, shaken. 'Where did you get this?'

  'It belonged to Captain Prestrud.'

  He read the words aloud, "Teddy. Atlantis-Pinguin-Sibirien." These are all forgotten things from a long-forgotten past.'

  'Maybe. But I'd still like to know about them. Teddy is the name of a ship, I know that much. And Pinguin was the raider which captured the whaling fleet.'

  'Aye,' he agreed. 'Aye. The Teddy was a tanker, so it seemed…'

  'So it seemed?'

  'She sailed with us — eleven catchers and the factory ship Pelagos from Narvik after the battle. Outwardly Teddy was a tanker. But underneath…' He shrugged. 'It doesn't matter any more if I tell you. She was the flagship of the Free Norwegian Navy. She was fitted with gun positions and everything for a warship. Sol-berg — the bastard!'

  'What did he have to do with Teddy?'

  'He'd been her radio operator before the war. He knew she was a warship. When he went over to the Germans, he gave her away. The German Naval High Command was on the look-out for her. She was captured by the raider Atlantis in the Indian Ocean when she was on her way to protect the whaling fleet in Antarctica. Teddy was carrying the overall master-plan for the Free Norwegian Navy, and the details of the whaling fleet's rendezvous-point near Prince Edward. Atlantis seized the lot. As if that wasn't enough, Solberg also turned the Pinguin on to our fleet by chatting in Norwe
gian over the R/T and pretending to be another big factory ship called the Harpon which was due to join us from South Georgia.'

  'Sibirien — what does that mean?'

  'It was the code-name for the whaling fleet's Antarctic rendezvous-point. Sibirien — Siberia — cold. It was a large area of sea divided into grids in order to fix an exact rendezvous.'

  'What area did Sibirien cover?'

  'It was a big rectangular stretch with Bouvet as western terminal and Prince Edward as eastern.'

  'So it all comes back to Prince Edward Island, doesn't it?' I said. «Not that that threw any light on Holdgate's death, I added to myself. Why a volcanologist whose only interest in Prince Edward was its rocks should have been brutally stabbed to death all this time after the events Captain Jacobsen was speaking of was incomprehensible.

  Jacobsen was breathing quickly and shallowly. I realized that he had reached the limit of what he would answer. So I switched to another tack.

  'There's something else I want to discuss with you — or rather Captain Prestrud's daughter and I both want to discuss it with you,' I said. 'It's about tonight's celebration dinner.'

  'I do not wish to celebrate anything tonight,' he replied. 'These are old wounds you have re-opened.'

  I picked up the phone and while I was waiting to get through to Linn, I said to him, 'I didn't open them, Captain Jacobsen. It was someone else who did. Someone on board my ship at this moment, and I'd give my left arm to know who he is.'

  He eyed me keenly. 'I don't like the way you've handled this affair, but I think we are on the same side. I'm beginning to like you better now, Captain.'

  Linn answered at the other end and saved me from the awkwardness of having to reply.

  'Linn,' I asked, 'can you come to my cabin, please? Captain Jacobsen is here.'

  'I'll be right down.'

  She shook hands formally with Captain Jacobsen, and then came and stood next to me.

  He surveyed the two of us. Either he was shrewder than I had thought or else our feelings were more obvious than either of us was aware of.

  'So,' he smiled. That's the way of it, is it?' He gave me a warmer glance than any we had exchanged during the interview. He said to Linn, 'I am happy for the daughter of my old comrade-in-arms. You have made a good choice in this man.'

  Linn answered quickly, to cover her confusion. 'I thought we were going to discuss the celebration dinner.'

  Jacobsen said, still smiling, 'Before you came in, Linn, I told the captain I was in no mood to celebrate, but I feel different now. Everyone else will think we are celebrating the anniversary of a war-time escape but we three, we'll be thinking of your future.'

  She touched his arm with spontaneous warmth.

  Thanks, Captain Jacobsen, you've done me good. I needed cheering up. All the passengers are standing around in little groups talking in hushed tones, and the whole ship is drenched in gloom. This weather isn't exactly helping matters, either.'

  'I was afraid it would be like this,' I said.

  Linn said, 'I thought it might help to cheer things up a bit if we staged an exhibition of the drifter buoy and the balloon and the instruments in the main lounge this afternoon. Everyone's curious about them, and about the launching tomorrow.'

  'How did the met. boys react?' I asked.

  'Jumped at it,' she replied. They've been checking and rechecking everything until they're seeing double. They'd welcome a break.'

  'Right,' I said. 'Follow it up with a good dinner and plenty of wine and it'll be just what the doctor ordered.

  Captain Jacobsen broke in. 'When your father and I used to get together, Linn, one of us always made a speech. I'm the only one of the three left, so I will make tonight's speech.'

  I felt uneasy at the suggestion. 'No skeletons out of the past, please, Captain Jacobsen.'

  He grinned and shook his head. 'We'll forget all that — and we'll forget what's been happening aboard this ship — for a few hours anyway. As I said just now, it's what I'll be celebrating in my heart — that's what matters.'

  His enthusiasm fired Linn. She said, 'I'll find some volunteers and we'll decorate the dining-room this afternoon.'

  'I saw some cases of Kaapse Vonkel coming aboard just before we sailed,' I said. 'Cape Sparkle. Genuine Cape champagne. I'm told it's good stuff.'

  Jacobsen rubbed his hands. 'When a man talks like that, the party's halfway to success.'

  He looked years younger. I hoped the afternoon in close proximity to his wet-nurse wouldn't kill his mood.

  That's fixed then,' I said. 'Linn, will you make arrangements with the cook? He'll need both his assistants — aspirant cooks as he calls them. His English isn't all that hot. You'd better stick to Norwegian when you're dealing with Klausen.'

  'There's no knowing what he'll serve if I don't.' She smiled.

  Jacobsen was getting up to go. At the back of my mind was something else I'd wanted to ask him. I remembered it as he reached the door. 'Wait a minute, Captain Jacobsen. There's just one more thing.'

  I went to the safe and took out the leather-framed picture of the beautiful, strange-looking woman.

  Jacobsen studied it intently, without lifting his eyes. An expression of tenderness came over his face; there might have been nostalgia there too, but there was no trace of his light-hearted mood of a few moments before.

  When he did not speak, I asked, 'Do you know who she is?'

  Jacobsen snapped the case shut and returned the picture to me. 'No one will ever know her,' he said, and left the cabin.

  His emotion remained after he had gone, invisible and yet there, like a radio-active cloud from a nuclear satellite which has burned itself up on re-entering the earth's atmosphere. Dangerous, too, when fall-out begins.

  Linn said thoughtfully, 'John, there's an awful lot of things I still don't understand about this cruise.'

  I locked the picture away. 'You can't be more puzzled than I am. Even after talking to Captain Jacobsen.'

  She came close and held the lapels of my jacket. 'But there's one thing I can see perfectly plainly — you're dead on your feet, John. You need sleep, and I intend to see you get some — now.'

  I threw her a mock salute. 'Aye, aye, Captain Linn.'

  She looked at the time. 'I'll have a tray of lunch sent in to you here right away. When you've eaten you're to go straight to your cabin and sleep.'

  I knew she was right. I could feel the stresses catching up on me. Ahead of me was the dinner celebration followed by a night of what I believed would be piloting the ship through the first ice-fields.

  'If I sleep, it'll be in here,' I told her. 'With one eye open, next to the phone.'

  She didn't argue, but kissed me and went away.

  I must have been in poorer shape than I thought. I did not hear the lunch tray arrive but I was roused by the imperative ringing of the phone. I swung myself off the couch. I was wide awake as soon as my feet hit the floor. Automatically I noted two things — first, that it was half-dark and that the ship's motion was increasing; second, that I had been covered by the penguin-skin rug.

  I snatched the phone from its cradle. 'Captain here.'

  'Sir! It's Persson! Come quickly! It's a Mayday!'

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I wrenched open the door. As I did so, something fell from the outer handle where it had been balanced. I snatched it up. It was a long envelope addressed to me.

  I thrust it into my pocket and raced to the radio shack.

  As I threw open Persson's door I was struck by a wash of sound. Sferics came screaming in over the volume-up loudspeaker, hissing like a steam locomotive. The sound grew, then ebbed.

  'Repeat! Repeat!'

  Persson was sitting with his elbows on the desk juggling with the clumsy microphone like a rock star bewitching a teenage audience. His jaw was dark with unshaven beard and his short hair was uncombed.

  A fresh burst of hissing filled the room. Then a tiny hard core of voice became audible.

  '
Mayday!' it whispered. 'Mayday! May…'

  'Goddammit!' exploded Persson. 'Just got him, then it goes!'

  He beat at the microphone. 'Repeat! Receiving your Mayday. Repeat! Repeat! What ship is that…?'

  'Mayday,' it whimpered. 'Mayday. Mayday. Mayday.'

  'Repeat!'

  The voice brightened like a sight of salvation. 'Do you hear me? Mayday! Mayday!'

  Another long surge of sound broke over the reefs of interference.

  'Don't lose him!' I snapped at Persson. 'Where is he? Is he close?'

  'He could be anywhere — I can't get a D/F bearing on that sort of transmission,' he answered. He said coaxingly into the microphone, 'I hear you, Mayday. Repeat, I hear you. What ship is that?'

  'Position.' I broke in. 'Give his position!'

  '… Bay. Mayday…'

  'Did you hear Bay or Day?' I demanded.

  'Bay. B for Bertie. Sure.' Persson replied.

  Then the voice, as disembodied as if it came from a microphone in the throat of an albatross a thousand kilometres away, said, 'Full-rigged ship Botany Bay. Repeat, Botany Bay. Collision…'

  'Botany Bay!' I echoed. 'That was the horror ship in Cape Town! She was on her way to Australia!'

  'Got him!' Persson's voice vibrated. 'Botany Bay — I hear you!'

  'Position!' I repeated. 'He was starting to give it.'

  'No.' Persson shook his head. 'Botany Bay said collision, not position.'

  'In these waters?' I asked incredulously. 'There's not another ship to collide with!'

  There was another long burst of sferics. We only caught the last few words'… collision with ice…'

  'Iceberg!' I echoed. 'My oath, she hit an iceberg!'

  Persson said, 'Botany Bay — repeat your message about collision…' To me he added: 'Did he say iceberg? I only heard ice.'

  'She must have collided with an iceberg — it's all it could be down here,' I answered. 'We must get a bearing on her — we must!'

  Persson fiddled with the dials. Hissing noises cascaded over everything.

  Then he observed, 'She's just about on the limit of reception range.'

  I recalled what Smit had told me. 'Four hundred kilometres? Or less?'

 

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