The Snow Tiger / Night of Error

  ‘Come in.’ He looked fit again. Without trying to show it, I had kept clear of him on the voyage, finding it intolerably creepy to have the possible murderer of Mark underfoot, but I couldn’t avoid some contacts and this was one I had almost been hoping for.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You’re carrying on this research stuff, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s right. As you know, we’re leaving in a day’s time.’

  ‘There was a message waiting for me here in Panama from my partner, Jim Hadley. Jim’s down in New Guinea and he says he can’t come up this way for a while. Now, I know you only promised to bring me as far as here, and I’m grateful, my word I am. But I wondered if I could stick with her a bit longer – you’ll need a man in my berth, anyway. Maybe you’ll be putting in some place that’s nearer for Jim – Tahiti, maybe? That ‘ud suit us both.’

  I said, ‘I don’t see a problem. You’re welcome to stay on as far as I’m concerned, if it’s all right with the skipper.’

  ‘Gee, thanks, Mr Trevelyan. I know I keep asking favours and you help out every time.’

  ‘There’s no favour. We will need a man – you work well and you earn your keep. But it’s up to Mr Wilkins, mind.’

  ‘Too right. I’ll check with him. Thanks again.’

  I passed the word to Geordie to accept the expected offer, and told Campbell about it. ‘Right, we’ll keep him under our thumb,’ he said. ‘Not much chance of him knowing where we’re going if we don’t know, and he can’t pass the word on from out there.’

  So friend Kane stayed on with us. And the next day we sailed on a voyage of uncertain duration to an unknown destination which might, or might not, exist.

  FOUR

  According to local knowledge the Récife de Minerve was nothing but a legend, and not an uncommon one at that. The Pilot’s preface on vigias showed that there were probably masses of them around, but certainly it said that in 1880 HMS Alert had searched the area in which it was said to lie, without any success. And she wasn’t the only one – several ships had looked for it, some had found it – but it was never quite in the same spot twice.

  We left Panama and made good time at first but in a day or so found ourselves becalmed in a sea of glass. We stuck it for twenty-four hours and then went ahead under power. Campbell didn’t like clichés about painted ships on painted oceans, especially after I told him another legend concerning the ship that had floated in the Gulf of Panama for forty years until she rotted and fell apart.

  Using the engines was a pity because there would be so much less fuel for station-keeping and dredging, but in Campbell’s view time was as precious as fuel, and I couldn’t disagree with him. I had Paula to think of. Campbell had sent a spate of cables to his ferrets, advising them that they must keep their eyes on the movements of Suarez-Navarro’s ship, and once we were at sea he became nervous. I think he was unused to being cut off from the telephone. He haunted the radio, but though he needed news he half didn’t want to get it, and he certainly didn’t want to answer. We had a powerful radio telephone that he had insisted on installing; it was an electronic shout that could cover the Pacific. But he didn’t want us to use it for fear the Suarez-Navarro would monitor the broadcasts.

  News did finally come that they had dropped anchor in Port Moresby, in Papua, and, as in Darwin, were sitting tight and doing nothing. Campbell was as worried by their inactivity as he would have been if they had been constantly on the move.

  We all felt better when Esmerelda surged forward under the impact of her engine. She forged through the placid seas at a steady nine knots to where we would catch the south-east trade wind and find perfect sailing weather. It wasn’t long before we picked up a southerly wind and we headed southwest under fore-and-aft sails only, Esmerelda heeling until the foaming sea lapped at the lee rail. As the days went by the wind shifted easterly until the day came when we knew we were in the true trade winds. We hoisted the big square sails on the foremast and Esmerelda picked up her heels.

  These were Kane’s home waters and, while we didn’t depend on him, he was free with his advice on weather conditions to be expected. ‘A bit further on we’ll get revolving storms,’ he said. ‘Not to worry – they’re not very big – but my word they’re fast. On you like a flash, so you’ve got to keep your eyes peeled.’

  Campbell turned out to be a poor sailor and spent a great deal of time on his bunk regretting that ships were ever invented. It was unusual for him not to be the master of the situation, and he said he felt like a spare wheel on deck, surrounded by men who were doing all sorts of mysterious things fast and well without his guidance. He must have been hell to his mining engineers on land.

  Clare, on the other hand, was a good sailor. She worked hard on deck, wearing the battered sailing gear she had promised us and a healthy tan, and was greatly appreciated by all the crew, who had found her an unexpected bonus on this leg of the voyage. She did help cook and kept watch like the rest of us, but she also absorbed the books in our small library like blotting paper, becoming especially interested in Geordie’s collection of small boat voyages, many of which dealt with the Pacific.

  One evening she and I talked together and I got another look at my brother, through Clare’s eyes.

  It was one of those incredible nights you find in the tropics. There was a waning moon and the stars sparkled like a handful of diamonds cast across the sky. The wind sang in the rigging and the water talked and chuckled to Esmerelda, and a white-foamed wake with patches of phosphorescence stretched astern.

  I was standing in the bows when Clare joined me. She looked across the sea-path of the moon and said, ‘I wish this voyage would go on forever.’

  ‘It won’t. There’s a limit even to the size of the Pacific.’

  ‘When will we get to Minerva?’

  ‘Perhaps never – we’ve got to find it first. But we’ll be in the vicinity in a week if the weather keeps up.’

  ‘I hope we were right about that drawing,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I wish I hadn’t tried interpreting them. What if we’re wrong?’

  ‘We’ll just have to think of something else. Figuring out Mark’s mental processes was never an easy job at the best of times.’

  She smiled. ‘I know.’

  ‘How well did you know Mark?’

  ‘Sometimes I thought I knew him pretty well,’ she said. ‘In the end I found I didn’t know him at all.’ She paused. ‘Pop doesn’t think much of what you’ve said about Mark – about his honesty, I mean. Pop thought well of him – mostly.’

  I said, ‘Mark had many faces. He was working for your father and he wanted something out of him so he showed his cleanest, brightest face. Your father never really knew Mark.’

  ‘I know. Speaking figuratively and with due respect to your mother, Mark was a thorough-going bastard.’

  I was startled and at the same time unsurprised. ‘What happened?’

  She said reflectively. ‘I was a bit bitchy the other night and then you pulled me up with a jerk when you called that singer “just another of Mark’s popsies”. You see, I suppose I could be regarded as “just another of Mark’s popsies”. It was the usual thing. It must happen a thousand times a day somewhere in the world, but when it happens to you it hurts. I went overboard for Mark. I was all wrapped up in rosy dreams – he was so damned attractive.’

  ‘When he wanted to be. He could switch the charm on and off like a light.’

  ‘He let it happen, damn him,’ she said. ‘He could have stopped it at any time, but the devil let it happen. I was hearing the distant chimes of wedding bells when I discovered he was already married – maybe not happily – but married.’

  I said gently, ‘He was using you too, to get at your father. It’s not surprising behaviour from Mark.’

  ‘I know that now. I wish to God I’d known it then. Mark and I had a lot of fun in those days, and I thought it was going to go on forever. Do you remember – ?’

  ‘Meeting you i
n Vancouver? Oh yes.’

  ‘I wondered then, why you didn’t seem to get on. You seemed so cold. I thought you were the rotter, and he said things …’

  ‘Never mind all that. What happened?’

  She shrugged. ‘Nothing – nothing at all. And I found out at about the same time that Pop was having his troubles with Suarez-Navarro, so I didn’t tell him, or anyone – though I think he guessed something. Have you noticed that he only praises Mark as a scientist, not as a person?’

  ‘And then Mark vanished.’

  ‘That’s right. He’d gone and I never saw him again.’ She looked ahead over the bows. ‘And now he’s dead – his body lies somewhere out there – but he’s still pushing people around. We’re all being pushed around by Mark, even now – do you know that? You and me, Pop and the Suarez-Navarro crowd, your friend Geordie and all your commando pals – all being manipulated by a dead man with a long arm.’

  ‘Take it easy,’ I said. She sounded terribly bitter. ‘Mark’s not pushing anyone. We all know what we’re doing, and we’re doing it because we want to. Mark is dead and that’s an end to him.’

  It was time to change the subject. I used the standard approach.

  ‘Tell me about yourself, Clare. What do you do? When did your mother die?’

  ‘When I was six.’

  ‘Who brought you up? Your father was away a lot, wasn’t he?’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, I’ve been everywhere with Pop. He brought me up.’

  ‘That must have been some experience.’

  ‘Oh, it was fun. I had to spend a lot of time at boarding schools, of course, but I always went to Pop during the vacations. We weren’t often at home though – we were mostly away. Sometimes on a skiing holiday, sometimes to Europe or Australia or South America during the longer vacations. I was always with Pop.’

  ‘You’re well travelled.’

  ‘It was tricky at times though. Pop has his ups and downs – he hasn’t always been rich. Sometimes we had money and sometimes we didn’t, but Pop always looked after me. I went to good schools, and to college. It was only last year that I found out that once, when Pop was on a crest, he’d put aside a fund for me. Even when he was busted he never touched it, no matter how much he needed money.’

  ‘He sounds a fine man.’

  ‘I love him,’ she said simply. ‘When the Suarez-Navarro mob put the knife into him it was the first time I was old enough to understand defeat. I got down to studying stenography and so on, and he made me his confidential secretary when he couldn’t afford to hire one. It was the least I could do – he’d lost faith in everybody and he had to have someone around he could trust. Although I didn’t feel too trusting myself just about that time.’

  ‘He seems to have survived.’

  ‘He’s tough,’ she said proudly. ‘You can’t keep Pop down, and you can bet that in the end Suarez-Navarro will be sorry they ever heard of him. It’s happened to him before and he’s always bounced back. I still work for him. I –‘

  ‘Whatever it is, say it.’

  ‘I had you checked out in London, when you were preparing for this trip. I didn’t want Pop stung again. Besides …’

  ‘My name was Trevelyan?’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘But I had to. You checked out fine, you know.’ For the first time since I’d known her she was a little shy. She went on. ‘That’s enough about the Campbells. What about the Trevelyans – about you?’

  ‘What about me? I’m just a plodding scientist.’

  We both laughed. Plodding certainly didn’t describe this airy swooping progress, and it eased her tension.

  ‘Most scientists seem to be looking up these days, not down.’

  ‘Ah, space stuff,’ I said.

  ‘You don’t seem very enthusiastic.’

  ‘I’m not. I think it’s a waste of money. The Americans are spending thirty billions of dollars to put man into space; in the end it could cost ten times that much. That works out at about twenty thousand dollars for every square mile of airless lunar surface. You could get cheaper and better land on earth and if you poured that much money into the sea the returns would be even better. I think the sea is our new frontier, not space.’

  She smiled at the missionary note in my voice. ‘So that’s why you became an oceanographer.’

  ‘I suppose so – I was always in love with the sea.’

  ‘And Mark? What made him one? I don’t think I’ve ever known two brothers more different.’

  I said, ‘Mark was eaten up with ambition. How he got that way I don’t know – I think some of it was jealousy of me, though God knows what he had to be jealous about. When my father died Mark seemed to go wild; mother couldn’t control him. Since she died I’ve had nothing to do with him – he went his way and I mine. It hasn’t always been easy having a brother like that in my line of work. People sometimes confuse us – to my detriment.’

  ‘And his advantage.’

  ‘Why, thank you, lady,’ I said and bowed; and our relationship suddenly took a step forward.

  ‘Trevelyan; that’s Cornish, isn’t it? Are you Cornish?’

  ‘Yes. We’re descended from the Phoenician and Carthaginian tin traders. Hannibal is still a popular name in Cornwall, though not in our family, thank God.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No, I’m not. It’s a fact.’

  We had a long, relaxed and easy conversation that night, talking about everything under the sun and moon, and by the time she went back to her cabin I had a better idea about both Clare and her father. Campbell was a difficult man to assess, not very forthcoming about himself and sticking to business most of the time. This talk with Clare had given me something of his background and I felt more than ever that he was a man to be trusted.

  And then there was Clare herself. I found myself wondering if she could bring herself to trust another Trevelyan, or whether Mark had soured her on Trevelyans for life. I mentally chalked up another stroke against Mark. I spent a long time thinking about Clare before I turned in.

  And then I suddenly thought of what she had said about Mark – of his dead hand pushing people around like pawns on a chessboard. It was true; everything we had done or were doing stemmed from Mark and his character. It was as though Mark had been a showman and we were his puppets as his skeletal hands pulled the strings. It was a shuddery thought to go to sleep on.

  II

  We entered a region of small revolving storms as Kane had predicted. They ranged from mere waterspouts, ten yards across, to monsters fifty feet in diameter. These squalls provided exhilarating sailing as long as care was taken. Esmerelda would be foaming along beneath a brilliant blue sky when the horizon would darken and within minutes the water would be dark and wind lashed, and when the storm had gone there would be rainbows plunging into the sea and the faithful trade wind would pick up again, driving us deeper into the heart of the Pacific towards the southeast corner of French Oceania.

  Sixteen days after leaving Panama Geordie figured out the midday sights and announced, ‘We’re nearly there. We’ll enter the search area this afternoon.’

  We had decided not to tell the crew too much, and so Geordie gathered them and merely said that I wanted to stooge about looking for a particular sort of water condition, but that everyone was to be on the watch for shoals. Everyone knew there wasn’t much land out here and his request may have sounded strange, but they willingly organized for extra eyes on each watch, and we had a man up the foremast with binoculars a lot of the time. To my mind that was just a token that a search was in progress as I didn’t think they’d spot anything, but for everyone else it perked up interest. We arranged for some dredging, to give the teams practice as we went along.

  I was in the chart room early the next morning with Campbell and Geordie, going over the chart and the Pilot.

  I said, ‘The Erato spotted Minerva here – that was in 1890. In 1920 another ship placed Minerva here, stretching east-north-east f
or two miles. As Robinson points out, there’s a difference of ten miles.’

  Campbell said, ‘It’s strange that there should only have been two sightings in thirty years.’

  ‘Not so strange,’ said Geordie. ‘These waters are pretty quiet, and they’re quieter now that power has taken over from sail. There’s no need for anyone to come here just for commerce.’ He put his hand on the chart. ‘There are several possibilities. One of these sightings was right and the other wrong – take your pick of which was which. Or they were both wrong. Or they were both right and Minerva is a moving shoal – which happens sometimes.’

  ‘Or they were both wrong – and Minerva is still a moving shoal,’ I said dubiously.

  ‘Or there are two shoals,’ offered Campbell.

  We all laughed. ‘You’re getting the idea,’ said Geordie. He bent to the chart again. ‘Now, we’ll put each of these sightings into the middle of a rectangle, ten miles by twenty. That’ll give us two hundred square miles to search, but it’ll be sure. We’ll start on the outside and work our way in.’

  Campbell said, ‘Let’s get to the heart of the matter. Let’s go right to each of these positions and see what’s there.’

  But Geordie decided against that. ‘It depends on the weather. I’m not going anywhere near those two positions unless the sea is pretty near calm. You read what Robinson said about not being able to distinguish breakers from storm waves. We might find her too quickly and rip the bottom out of Esmerelda.’

  ‘We’ve got the echo sounder,’ I said. ‘They should tell us where the water’s shoaling.’

  ‘Damn it, you’re the oceanographer,’ said Geordie. ‘You should know that these islands are the tops of undersea mountains. There’ll probably be deep water within a quarter of a mile of Minerva. And we could be sailing in twenty fathoms and a spire of coral could rip our guts out.’

  ‘You’re right, Geordie. Minerva’s probably a budding atoll. Give her another million years and she’ll be a proper island.’

  ‘We can’t wait a million years,’ said Campbell acidly. ‘All right, you’re the skipper. We’ll do your square search.’