Читаем The Blue Ice полностью

I sat silent after that, wondering how I was going to handle this whaling skipper. And as we glided northward over the flat calm of the sea, the haze gradually increased, until the sun was no more than an iridescent light and it began to grow cold. Visibility was being gradually reduced as the mist formed and I began to fear we might miss Lovaas.

But ten minutes later Curtis hailed me from the bows. 'Ship on the port quarter, skipper.'

I peered into the opaque void that made sea and sky appear one and saw a vague shape catching the light about a point to port. I put the wheel over and as our bows swung towards it, the shape became a ship. It was not unlike a small Fleet sweeper — high bows dropping to a low deck that ran level with the water to the stern, and a single raked-back funnel. She was cutting through the water at considerable speed, throwing up a high bow wave and trailing a black line of smoke from her funnel. A catwalk ran from the bridge to a level platform set right in the bows. On that platform was a gun — a harpoon gun. I swung Diviner farther to port and ran to intercept. When I was almost across her bows, I turned in to a parallel course and hailed her as she came surging past. 'Captain Lovaas!' I called. 'Can I come aboard?'

I heard the engine-room telegraph bell ring and then a man emerged on the catwalk. He was short and fat with a peaked cap set at an angle and a green jacket whose silver buttons twinkled in the strong light. 'Who are you, please?' he roared.

'The man who described George Farnell to you,' I answered.

He turned and gave an order. The engine-room telegraph sounded again and the engines of the catcher died.away. 'Please come alongside,' he called across. 'Alongside here.' And he pointed to the side of his ship.

I'll handle this alone,' I told Curtis as I closed with the other ship. 'Keep the others on board.' The catcher was so low built, presumably for speed, that when our fenders bumped against her iron sides I could climb on to her deck with ease. Lovaas came down on to the deck to greet me. He was, as Dahler had said, a short man with a big stomach. His bottle green jacket flapped open as he walked and the serge trousers of the same colour were stretched taut. Only a wide leather belt with a silver buckle seemed to hold his huge belly in place.

'My name is Gansert,' I said.

He held out a big hand covered with sandy hairs. 'I am Lovaas,' he said. 'We have met before, eh — as voices.' He laughed. It was a fat chuckle that rumbled up from his stomach. 'Voices,' he repeated as though pleased. 'You like a little drink, eh? Come on.' He took hold of my arm. 'Nobody come on board my boat and not have a little drink.' He glanced down at the yacht. 'We will tie your boat, eh? Then we proceed and waste no time while we talk. "Hei! Jan! Henrik! Fortoy denne baten!" As the two men doubled to their task, he pushed me for'ard. 'Good boat you have,' he said. 'Good sea boat, eh? This is mine, too.' He waved his hand round the ship. 'All mine — very cheap. I could sell her for three times what I give.' He chuckled and pressed my arm. 'Good profit, eh? Good profit. Twice I have been with the factory ships to the Antarctic. But no more. This is better. I can do as I wish. I do not work for any damned whaling company. I work for myself and they pay me for what I bring them. Better, eh? Better, isn't it?' He had a way of repeating himself as though pleased over a word. 'In here,' he said as we reached the top of the ladder that led to the accommodation below the bridge. 'Halvorsen!' he called up. LFull fart forover sa snart den andre baten er fortoyet.'

'Ja,' came the reply., 'In here, please.' Lovaas pushed open a door. 'My cabin,'

he said. 'Always a damn' disorder. No woman, you know. Never have a woman on board. Have 'em ashore, but never on board, eh? Here they are.' He pointed to the photographs pinned to the wall above his bunk. 'Hilda. Martha. Solveig.' He slapped his deck. 'I have one whole drawer full. You would not believe that, eh — a man as big as me?' And he patted his stomach. 'Now. You like aquavit, eh? Or brandy? I have French brandy — no duty, good stuff.'

'What's aquavit?' I asked. I'd always heard of it as a Norwegian drink, but I'd never had it.

'Never had aquavit, eh?' He roared with laughter and slapped my arm. 'Then you will have aquavit.'' He stooped down with a grunt and brought a bottle and two glasses out of a cupboard below the desk. Above our heads the engine-room telegraph rang and the engines throbbed into life. 'There' he said, holding up the bottle. 'Real line aquavit. See the inside of the label? The name of the ship it crossed the Line in, going south, and the name of the ship that brought it back. All good aquavit must cross the equator twice.'

'Why?' I asked.