Southtrap

by Geoffrey Jenkins

  I had to steady my voice out of its first husky wobble.

  'I hear you, S for Skua, I hear you.'

  The operator's excited voice called out, presumably in the aircraft's cockpit, 'I got him, skipper! I got him!'

  I heard the roar of the aircraft's engines relayed over the instrument and a chatter of talk. Then a different voice. It was formal, tentative. I realized why. He could have been talking to a hijacker.

  'Captain, aircraft S for Skua speaking. Please identify yourself.'

  'John Shotton, captain, cruise ship Quest.'

  The voice said something aside and I heard the surge of other voices. Maybe the crew were all crowding round him.

  The pilot's voice came back to me, relaxed, but filled with wonderment.

  'Shotton! You must be indestructible, fellah!'

  Then it hardened. 'Where are the hijackers?'

  'Dead.'

  There was a long whistle. 'All of them?'

  'Yes.'

  'The ringleader too?'

  'I killed him myself.'

  The pilot's voice sounded incredulous. 'How?'

  'With my hands.'

  The voice came back in rapid-fire. 'Listen, Shotton, they wanted me to load up the media boys in this crate when I took off but I wouldn't, because we're practically sitting up to the ears in fuel. If only those pen-pushing sons of bitches knew the story they're missing…'

  'See here,' I interrupted. 'Forget the news story. I've got an emergency here. Life or death.'

  The flier's voice levelled off. I'm making a circuit of the island. I'll be over you again shortly. Keep talking. What emergency?'

  'I have a woman with a bullet in her. Linn Prestrud. She's dying. I've got to get her out. She's bad. A hospital case.'

  There was silence. I broke it anxiously. 'Are you still with me, S for Skua? I repeat, I have an emergency case…'

  None of the pilot's earlier excitement was audible in his reply. In its flatness I could detect the anxieties of that eight-hour maximum range flight from the Cape over the wildest ocean in the world, the skilled astro-navigation to pinpoint Prince Edward, the superb achievement of having found us.

  'I hear you,' he said. 'You've got to realize, Shotton, that I can't land. I can't fly her out. There are medical supplies in the canister we dropped. I'll drop you more. Everything I have.'

  The big machine lumbered into sight again. This time it turned and started to circle over the sea in range of Cave Bay. Dead despair closed over my heart. The Shackleton might have been a ship in outer space for all the good it could do Linn.

  I said equally flatly, 'Medical supplies by themselves are no good. It's skilled attention she needs. A doctor. And a hospital. Immediately. She'll be dead by this evening.'

  The pilot must have heard the desperation in my voice. 'See here, Shotton. I've also got a doctor on board and he can give you advice what to do. He's got his kit with him. I'll parachute that to you. There's also a destroyer on her way here from the Cape — I passed her five hundred kilometres out. She'll be here in a few days. She's carrying a helicopter. Don't despair. They'll get her out.', I nerved myself to repeat, 'I want you to understand. She's dying.'

  The pilot cut in, more formally still, 'Captain Shot-ton, you understand the logistics of the situation I'm faced with. I'm flying on the limit of my fuel. I left the Cape in a storm and a gale has been chasing my tail for 2300 kilometres. I've got to fly into that headwind all the way home. I might even have to ditch this crate before I reach base if I go on circling and using fuel as I am. I appreciate your position. I'm handing you over to Doctor Lawson. We'll do everything to help, but you must understand there is a limit.'

  'I understand.' My voice was stone dead.

  A new voice came over the walkie-talkie. 'Doctor Lawson speaking.'

  'Doctor,' I said, trying to control my words. 'She's dying. She's got a bullet in her chest…'

  'Not so fast, Captain Shotton. I must have details, if I am to help.'

  The bullet split in two…' I pulled my thoughts together and outlined how Linn was wounded.

  When I had finished, he said, 'Hold on. I'll come back to you.'

  The radio operator came through in his place. 'Captain Shotton? The doctor is consulting with the captain. The skipper asked me to tell you we rescued your ship.'

  The Quest?'

  'Sure. This is our second flight to the ice in four days. The ground crews have nicknamed the Shack Antarctic Archie. That cruise ship was quite a proposition. A destroyer went to tow her in after we'd located her. But the skipper — a young guy called Peterson — did a wonderful job. He'd rigged a kind of sail and was keeping her away from the icebergs…'

  'Petersen wasn't the skipper,' I said. 'I left McKinley in command.'

  'McKinley hit his bunk and a bottle, so they told us,' he replied. Then he added admiringly: That was quite a brainwave of yours about the transmitters, Captain.'

  I couldn't go on listening. The thought of that shattered transmitter which had deflected the bullet from Linn's heart was too agonizing.

  My voice was hoarse. 'Listen! For Pete's sake — tell the doctor to come back! What the devil does he have to consult the pilot about! It's me he has to consult…'

  The pilot's voice, rattled and uncompromising, came on. 'Captain Shotton, Doctor Lawson has been arguing with me. He says he intends to make a parachute jump to try and save Miss Prestrud…'

  'Parachute jump!' It came out in a sort of croak.

  'Yes. In my opinion it's plain suicide. He'll kill himself on this terrain. But he's determined to try. He's getting into harness right now. I'm prepared to give him one chance — only one run, do you understand? No dummy approaches. One — for real. I can't spare the fuel. Where's the best place here?'

  My mind couldn't absorb the news. I replied dazedly. 'Where I'm standing — it's pretty soft, right here in front of the Golden Gate.'

  The pilot's voice remained distant, matter-of-fact. 'My fuel's so low I also intend to jettison my lifeboat. That will reduce wind drag on the way home. It's equipped with survival gear, engine, sails. Is it any use to you?'

  My mind leapt ahead. If the doctor could help Linn, I could use the lifeboat with its special equipment to get her across the channel to Marion with its met. station, communications, sick-bay, warmth, food…

  'Yes, I have a use for it,' I answered tightly. 'Drop it in the water near the mouth of the cave. It will drift ashore of its own accord.'

  'Roger. I'm coming in.'

  I watched the big machine straighten, aim for the cave. The words of the dropping drill came over the walkie-talkie.

  Turning on target — running in — doors open — distributor set — all switches on — camera on.' There was a moment's pause. Then: 'Lifeboat going — now, now, now.'

  I didn't need to hear the finale: 'Lifeboat gone — in target area' because the lifeboat dropped from the machine's belly like a whale calving, its parachute billowed, and it landed spot-on 50 metres from the cave's entrance.

  The machine swung round to the channel approach.

  Now.

  The walkie-talkie went silent.

  I watched with my heart in my mouth. The plane headed out over the channel, turned, started its run-in. It was higher than before. Then it was over me. I didn't see the parachute burst from the door opposite me. The plane was gone, the parachute hung in the air.

  The pilot's aim had been as sure the second time as it had the first. The doctor dropped cleanly in the grass between the two massive bastions as if he'd jumped off the top of one of them.

  I raced across to him. Together we undipped the harness as he got up. He held a small case of instruments. He was young, sunburned. He had the grip of a weight-lifter and the eyes of a saint.

  He didn't waste words. 'Where is she?'

  I led him down to the cave and took him to Linn.

  She was unconscious, muttering from the fever. We drew up the thick sweater and removed my rough bandages, which
were caked with blood. The entire side of her right breast was purple and swollen.

  The doctor ran his probe along the path the bullet had taken, then felt the ragged place where it had entered her chest.

  He took his eyes from the wound and fixed me.

  I looked the question I dared not ask.

  'I think she might make it,' he said.

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