by Wilbur Smith
vast wilderness of fog and sea and ice. .
Prepare to pick up survivors, David/ said Nick, and the mate hurried
away while Nick moved to the wing of the bridge from where he could
watch the rescue.
Suddenly Nick stopped and lifted his head in bewilderment. For a moment
he thought it was gunfire, then the explosive crackling of sound changed
to a rending shriek as of the tearing of living fibre when a giant
redwood tree is falling to the axes. The volume of sound mounted into a
rumbling roar, the unmistakeable roar of a mountain in avalanche.
Good Christ! whispered Nick, as he saw the cliff of ice begin to change
shape. Slowly sagging outwards, it seemed to fold down upon itself.
Faster and still faster it fell, and the hissing splinters of bursting
ice formed a dense swirling cloud, while the cliff leaned further and
further beyond its point of equilibrium and at last collapsed and lifted
pressure waves from the green waters that raced out one behind the
other, flinging Warlock's bows high as she rode them and then nosed down
into the troughs between.
Since Nick's oath, nobody had spoken on the bridge.
They clutched for balance at the nearest support and stared in awe at
that incredible display of careless might, while the water still churned
and creamed with the disturbance and pieces of broken jagged ice, some
the size of a country house, bobbed to the surface and revolved slowly,
finding their balance as they swirled and bumped against each other.
Closer/ snapped Nick. Get as close as you can. Of - the yellow
life-raft there was no longer any sign.
jagged shards of ice had ripped open its fragile skin and the grinding,
tumbling lumps had trodden it and its pitiful human cargo deep beneath
the surface.
Closer, urged Nick. If by a miracle anybody had survived that
avalanche, then they had four minutes left of life, and Nick pushed
Warlock into the still rolling and broiling mass of broken ice - pushing
it open with ice strengthened bows.
Nick flung open the bridge doors beside him and stepped out into the
freezing air of the open wing. He ignored the cold, buoyed up by new
anger and frustration. He had paid the highest price to make this
rescue, he had given up his chance at Golden Adventurer for the lives of
a handful of strangers, and now at this last moment, they had been
snatched away from him. His sacrifice had been in vain, and the
terrible waste of it all appalled him. Because there was no other
outlet for his feelings, he let waves of anger sweep over him and he
shouted at David Allen's little group on the fore-dec.
Keep your eyes open. I want those people! Red caught his eye, a flash
of vivid red, seen through the green water, becoming brighter and more
hectic as it rose to the surface.
Both engines half astern, he screamed. And Warlock stopped dead as the
twin propellers changed pitch and bit into the water, pulling her up in
less than her own length.
in a small open area of green water the red object broke out.
Nick saw a human head in a red anorak hood, supported by the thick
inflated life-jacket. The head was thrown back, exposing a face as
white and glistening with wetness as the deadly ice that surrounded it.
The face was that of a young boy, smooth and beardless, and quite
incredibly beautiful.
Get him! Nick yelled, and at the sound of his voice the eyes in that
beautiful face opened. Nick saw they were a musty green and unnaturally
large in the, glistening pale oval framed by the crimson hood.
David Allen was racing back, carrying life-ring and line.
Hurry. God damn you., The boy was still alive, and Nick wanted him. He
wanted him as fiercely as he had wanted anything in his life, he wanted
at least this one young life in return for all he had sacrificed. He
saw that the boy was watching him. Come on, David/ he shouted Here!
called David, bracing himself at the ship's rail and he threw the
life-ring. He threw it with an expert round arm motion that sent it
skimming forty feet to where the hooded head bobbed on the agitated
water. He threw it so accurately that it hit the bobbing figure a
glancing blow on the shoulder and then plopped into the water alongside,
almost nudging the boy.
Grab it! yelled Nick. Grab hold! The face turned slowly, and the boy
lifted a gloved hand clear of the surface, but the movement was
uncoordinated.
here. It's A& next to you/ David encouraged. Grab it, man! The boy had
been in the water for almost two minutes already, he had lost control of
his body and limbs, he made two inconclusive movements with the raised
hand, one actually bumped the ring but he could not hold it and slowly
the life-ring bobbed away from him.
You bloody idiot/ stormed Nick. Grab it, And those huge green eyes
turned back to him, looking up at him with the total resignation of
defeat, one stiff arm still raised - almost a farewell salute.
Nick did not realize what he was going to do until he had shrugged off
his coat and kicked away his shoes; then he realized that if he stopped
to think about it, he would not go.
He jumped feet first, throwing himself far out to miss the rail below
him, and as the water closed over his head he experienced a terrified
sense of disbelief at the cold.
It seized his chest in a vice that choked the air from his lungs, it
drove needles of agony deep into his forehead, and blinded him with the
pain as he rose to the surface The cold rushed through his light
closing, it crushed his testicles and his stomach was filled with
nausea. The marrow in the bones of his legs and arms ached so that he
found it difficult to force his limbs to respond, but he struck out for
the floating figure.
It was only forty feet, but halfway there he was seized by a panic that
he was not going to make it. He clenched his teeth and fought the icy
water as though it was a mortal enemy, but it sapped away his strength
with the heat of his body.
He struck the floating figure with one outflung before he realized he
had reached him, and he clung desperately to him, peering up at
Warlock's deck.
David Allen had retrieved the ring by its line and he threw it again.
The cold had slowed Nick down so that he could not avoid the ring and it
struck him on the forehead, but he felt no pain, there was no feeling in
his face or feet or hands.
The fleeting seconds counted out the life left to them as he struggled
with the inert figure, slowly losing command of his own limbs as he
tried to fit the ring over the boy's body. He did not accomplish it. He
got the boy's head and one arm through, and he knew he could do no more.
Pull/ he screamed in rising panic, and his voice was remote and echoed
strangely in his own ears.
He took a twist of line around his arm, for his fingers could no longer
hold, and he clung with the remains of his strength as they dragged them
in.
jagged ice brushed and snatched at them, but he held the boy with his
<
br /> free arm.
Pull/he whispered. Oh, for God's sake, pull! And then they were
bumping against Warlock's steel side, were being lifted free of the
water, the twist of line smearing the wet skin from his forearm,
staining his sleeve with blood that was instantly dissolved to pink by
sea water. He felt no pain.
With the other arm, he hung on to the boy, holding him from slipping out
of the life-ring. He did not feel the hands that grabbed at him. There
was no feeling in his legs and he collapsed face forward, but David
caught him before he struck the deck and they hustled him into the
steaming warmth of Angel's galley, his legs dragging behind him.
Are you okay, Skipper? David kept demanding, and when Nick tried to
reply, his jaw was locked in a frozen rictus and great shuddering spasms
shook his whole body.
Get their clothes off/ grated Angel, and, with an easy swing of his
heavily muscled shoulders lifted the boy's body on to the galley table
and laid it out face upwards.
With a single sweep of a Solingen steel butcher's knife he split the
crimson anorak from neck to crutch and stripped it away.
Nick found his voice, it was ragged and broken by the convulsions of
frozen muscles.
What the hell are you doing, David? Get your arse on deck and get this
ship on course for Golden Adventurer/ he grated, and would have added
something a little more forceful, but the next convulsion caught him,
and anyway David Allen had already left.
You'll be all right. Angel did not even glance up at Nick as he worked
with the knife, ripping away layer after layer of the boy's clothing. A
tough old dog like you - but I think we've got a ripe case of
hypothermia here. Two of the seamen were helping Nick out of his sodden
clothing, the cloth crackled with the thin film of ice that had already
formed. Nick winced with the pain of returning circulation to
half-frozen hands and feet.
Okay/ he said, standing naked in the middle of the galley and scrubbing
at himself with a rough towel. I'll be all right now, return to your
stations. He crossed to the kitchen range, tottering like a drunk, and
welcomed the blast of heat from it, rubbing warmth into himself, still
shaking and shuddering, his body mottled puce and purple with cold and
his genitals shrunken and drawn up into the dense black bush at his
crotch.
Coffee's boiling. Get yourself a hot drink, Skip/ Angel told him,
glancing up at Nick from his work. He ran a quick appreciative glance
over Nick's body, taking in the wide rangy shoulders, the dark curls of
damp hair that covered his chest, and the trim lines of hard muscle that
moulded his belly and waist.
Put lots of sugar in it - it will warm you the best possible way/ Angel
instructed him, and returned his attention to the slim young body on the
table.
Angel had put aside his camp airs, and worked with the brusque
efficiency of a man who had been trained at his task.
Then suddenly he stopped and stood back for a moment.
Would you believe! No fun gun! Angel sighed.
Nick turned just as Angel spread a thick woollen blanket over the pale
naked body on the table and began to massage it vigorously.
You better leave us girls alone together, Skipper/ said Angel with a
sweet smile and a twinkle of his diamond earrings, and Nick was left
with the memory of a single fleeting glimpse of the stunningly lovely
body of a young woman below the pale face and the thick sodden head of
copper and gold hair.
Nick Berg was swaddled in a grey woollen blanket, over the boiler suit
and bulk jerseys. His feet were in thick Norwegian trawlerman's socks
and heavy rubber working boots. He held a china mug of almost boiling
coffee in both hands, bending over it to savour the aroma of the steam.
It was the third cup he had drunk in the last hour - and yet the
shivering spasms still shook him every few minutes.
David Allen had moved his canvas chair across the bridge so he could
watch the Trog and work the ship at the same time. Nick could see the
loom of the black rock cliffs of Cape Alarm close on their port beam.
The morse beam squealed suddenly, a long sequence of code to which every
man on the bridge listened with complete attention, but it needed the
Trog to say it for them.
La Mouette has reached the prize. He seemed to take a perverse relish
in seeing their expressions. She's beaten us to it, lads.
salvage to her crew I want it word for word, snapped Nick irritably,
-and the Trog grinned spitefully at him before bowing over his pad.
La Mouette to Christy Marine. Golden Adventurer is hard aground, held
by ice and receding tides. Stop. Ice damage to plating appears to be
below surface. Stop. Hull is flooded and open to sea. Stop.
Under no circumstances will Lloyd's Open Form be acceptable. Emphasize
importance of beginning salvage work immediately. Stop. Worsening
weather and sea conditions. My final hire offer of $8000 per day them
plus .21/2% of salvaged value open until 1435 GMT. Standing by. Nick
lit one of his cheroots and irrelevantly decided he must conserve them
in future. He had opened his last box that morning. He frowned through
the blue smoke and pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders.
Jules Levoisin was playing it touch and hard now. He was dictating
terms and setting ultimatums. Nick's own policy of silence was paying
off . Probably by now, Jules felt completely safe that he was the only
salvage tug within two thousand miles, and he was holding a big-calibre
gun to Christy Marine's head.
Jules had seen the situation of the Golden Adventurer's hull. If he had
been certain of effecting salvage - no, even if there had been a
fifty-fifty chance of a good salvage, Jules would have gone Open Form.
So Jules was not happy with his chances, and he had the shrewdest and
most appraising eye in the salvage business.
It was a tough- one then. Golden Adventurer was probably held fast by
the quicksand effect of beach and ice, and La Mouette could build up a
mere nine thousand horse-power.
It would mean throwing out ground-tackle, putting power on Adventurer's
pumps - the problems and solutions passed in review through Nick's mind.
It was going to be a tough one, but Warlock had twenty-two thousand
rated horse-power and a dozen other high cards.
He glanced at his gold Rolex Oyster, and he saw that Jules had set a
two-hour ultimatum.
Radio Officer/ he said quietly, and every man on the bridge stiffened
and swayed closer, so as not to miss a word.
Open the telex line direct to Christy Marine, London, and send quote
"Personal for Duncan Alexander from Nicholas Berg Master of Warlock.
Stop. I will be alongside Golden Adventurer in one hour forty minutes.
Stop. I make firm offer Lloyd's Open Form Contract Salvage. Stop.
Offer closes 1300 GMT". The Trog looked up at him startled, and blinked
his pink eyes swiftly.
Read it back/ snapped Nick, and the Trog did it in a high penetrating
; voice and when he finished, waited quizzically, as if expecting Nick to
cancel.
Send it/ said Nick, and rose to his feet. Mr. Allen, he turned to
David, I want you and the Chief Engineer in MY day cabin right away. The
buzz of excitement and speculation began before Nick had closed the door
behind him.
David knocked and followed him three minutes later, and Nick looked up
from the notes he was making.
What are they saying? Nick asked. That I am crazy? They're just kids/
shrugged David. What do they know? They know plenty, and they're
right. I am crazy to go Open Form on a site unseen! But it's the
craziness of a man with no other option. Sit down, David.
When I made the decision to leave Cape Town on the chance of this job -
that was when I did the crazy thing., Nick could no longer keep the
steely silence. He had to say it, to talk it out. I was throwing dice
for my whole bundle. When I turned down the Esso tow, that was when I
went on the line for the whole company, Warlock and her sister the whole
thing depended on the cash from the Esso tow I see/ muttered David, and
his colour was pink and high, embarrassed by this confidence from Nick
Berg.
What I am doing now is risking nothing. If I lose now, if I fail to
pull Golden Adventurer out of there, I have lost nothing that is not
already forfeit. We could have offered daily hire at a better rate than
La Mouette, David suggested.
No. Duncan Alexander is my enemy. The only way I can get the contract
is to make it so attractive, that he has no alternative. If he refuses
my offer of Open Form, I will take him up before Lloyd's Committee and
his own shareholders. I will make a rope of his own guts and hoist it
around his neck. He has to go with me - whereas, if I had offered daily
hire at a few thousand dollars less than La Mouette. Nick broke off,
reached for the box of cheroots on the corner of his desk, then arrested
the gesture and swivelled in his chair at the heavy knock on the cabin
door.
Come! Vin Baker's overalls were pristine blue, but the bandage around
his head was smeared with engine grease, and he had recovered all the
bounce and swagger that Nick had banged out of him against the
engine-room windows.
Jesus! he said. I hear you just flipped. I hear you blew your mind
and jumped overboard - and when they fished you out, you up and went