A Grue Of Ice (15 page)

" Get up, Wetherby," snapped Upton. It was the first time he had not used my Christian name. " Go over him, Peter. And if he hasn't got it, then the islander."

Walter's paws tore at my clothes, while Pirow covered me with the Luger. When he had finished searching me, Walter turned over the unconscious Sailhardy roughly and searched him.

" It's not on them," he said. " It's here somewhere—it must be."Upton grasped the lapels of my reefer jacket. There was a curious air of exhilaration and menace about him. Although the name had never been mentioned between us in relation to the chart, each knew tacitly what the other had in mind. " Where is Captain Norris' chart? Where is it, man?"

I jerked my head at the chart-case. " In there."

" It is not—I've been through everything," interrupted Pirow. " He's lying."

" Of course he's lying," snapping Upton. " I would too, if I had anything as priceless as Captain Norris' original log and chart of Thompson Island."

" Thompson Island!" I exclaimed. " There you have it!

Thompson Island!"

The formidable pink flush suffused the pewter. I was weak from Walter's blow, but even so I was surprised at Upton's outburst of near-mania strength. He shook me like a rat." Yes, blast all the Wetherbys and their secretive Captain Norris!" he snarled. " Eight words for everything in my life

—the log and track chart of the
Sprightly
1 Norris, rot his 86

soul! He faked up—or your precious John Wetherby faked up—a duplicate for the Admiralty's benefit. It's useless, as everybody knows. What I want is Norris' original. You've got it and, by God, I mean to have it. At any price whatsoever, do you understand? Any price whatsoever !" My mind raced to the chart. I knew every minute detail of it. There
was
nothing of any value to a man like Upton. He must have some other knowledge about Thompson Island, apart from the chart, but to which the chart was nevertheless complementary. I had to find out what it was.

" I'll take this ship apart rivet by rivet to find the chart," Upton went on savagely. I believed him. He rounded on me. " Will you take me to Thompson Island?"

I evaded a direct answer. " How should I know where

Thompson is?"

" You've got Norris' chart, and that shows the true position of Thompson Island."

I saw the fallacy of what Upton was saying. What I and I alone knew was that Captain Norris' chart was priceless—

up to a point. Beyond that point the centuries-old secret of the lost island was one man's only—mine. Kohler

must have known, too ; Pirow obviously did not.

" Will you take me to Thompson, according to the chart?" Upton rasped. Even Walter stood back at Upton's anger.

No.,,

" No?" he replied. " We'll see. Walter! The islander. You know what to do."

Walter's sea-boot crunched into Sailhardy's face. Pirow stood grinning. Walter raised his boot to kick again. Norris'

chart—without me—wasn't worth risking Sailhardy's life. It was obvious that Upton considered Sailhardy expendable.

" Stop!" I shouted. " Stop!"

" Where is it?" demanded Upton.

" Walter," I said softly. " Never let me find you alone, particularly if I have a fiensing knife in my hand. Remember that!

" The big skipper looked uneasy, but Upton seemed beside himself. I thought I still might find out what he knew, that I did not, about Thompson Island.

" I'll take you to where the chart says, providing you tell me what you are looking for on Thompson Island," I said. " We could do a deal." I knew in advance what his share would be from a bargain like that—square miles of open sea. He'd receive the same share, if he trusted to the chart by him87 self, without me. I thought wryly to myself, I was somewhat in the same position as old John Wetherby after Norris'

original discovery had started the world talking, except that in my case it was my life and Sailhardy's that were at stake. John Wetherby had faked a chart when the Admiralty had

insisted ; he had kept back his superior knowledge by virtue of Norris' original. Now in my mind—it was not written down

—was the knowledge which superseded the information of the Norris chart. I could afford to let Upton have the original chart. He had obviously seen the fake at the Admiralty.

" No deal," snapped Upton. " On lesser matters, maybe, but not on this. Think quickly! Walter has an educated boot, and what is one bloody Tristan islander more or less?" I played for time. " Or one Bruce Wetherby more or

less?"

Upton gave a brittle laugh. " In principle, yes. In practice, it is harder to get rid of a Royal Society man than an unknown islander."

Walter grinned. " All sorts of accidents happen on factory ships, with all the machinery and knives. Strange things." He glanced at Sailhardy's battered face. " Who would know whether it was a boot or a falling tackle block which smashed in his face?"

" If it's a question of disposing of one body or two . . ." I began.

" Shut up I" Upton snarled. "Don't talk round it. It's the chart or . . ." He gestured at the unconscious form on the floor.

" It is in the helicopter cabin," I said. " It's tucked away behind the quilting near the pilot's seat."

" God help you if you're lying," he said. " Walter, get up to the machine—quick! Bring it here!"

Upton and Pirow both drew back to the doorway
as
Walter left. Pirow kept the Luger trained on me. I felt like a battered bull whale after a deep-sea duel.

" So the whole business of the Blue Whale was a bluff?" I asked slowly.

Upton had regained some of his composure. " Not entirely. Not entirely."

" Then why the hell drag along four catchers—you wanted five—to look for Thompson Island? It's beyond me."

What quality of doom did Thompson hold? John Wetherby

had died mouthing the name ; Norris and his famous
Sprightly
88

had gone to their eventual deaths in the wastes round Thompson after returning, following the first discovery, when and where, no one knew ; Joseph Fuller had been drowned at his Stonington lighthouse ; Francis Allen had been lost in the ice with
the
ship bearing his name. Now Thompson was driving to near-mania and murder a whaling tycoon who could

apparently reap no benefit from its rediscovery. And why

was it so valuable that Upton would allow nothing to stand

in the way?

" The Blue Whale story was ideal cover," he explained. " I had to have a string of ships—you remember Nelson's frigates before Trafalgar? The catchers were to serve the same purpose in scouring the waters round Bouvet for Thompson. They were to be my eyes. That was before I knew you had the chart."

" If Nelson had had a helicopter, he would not have

needed a string of frigates," I replied.

He grinned. " Touché. But I have read Kohler's weather study of Bouvet. If it's not blowing a bloody gale, it's fog ; and if it's not fog, it's total cloud ; and if it's not total cloud, it's an impossible sea. An American coastguard cutter flew

a helicopter near Bouvet a couple of years ago. They damn

near lost it, after only half an hour in the air. I don't have to tell you about Bouvet's weather."

" If you didn't know I had Norris' chart, why bring me into it?"

" Not even I could wheedle out of the Admiralty your secret report on the sinking of the
Meteor,"
he said. " But I know that you sighted land as you went into action. Once

I knew you had the chart, that naturally became redundant.

The two things are the same."

I averted my eyes so as not to give myself away. Let him go on thinking they were the same! He'd never find Thompson Island his way. If he went on regarding Sailhardy

and me as expendable, my knowledge might well buy our

lives.

The door burst open. Walter and Helen tried to push through at the same time. Walter held the folded chart

triumphantly. His right hand was smeared with blood.

Helen gave a gasp as she saw Sailhardy on the floor. She

looked in disbelief at Pirow and the gun, and at me. Her

face was flushed with anger.

" Daddy, what on earth . . . ?" She indicated Walter, 89

speaking rapidly. " What right has this lout to break into my cabin, and tear down the fittings like a madman? It is

my machine, and what I say goes. He grabbed the quilting and tore it to pieces. . . . Bruce, Bruce!
He
killed Suzie Wong!"

" You bastard, Walter!"
I
said.

" Who the hell is Suzie Wong?" demanded Upton.

" My good-luck bird—this oaf killed her!" she repeated. " What right has he .. ."

" I wrung the bloody thing's neck," said Walter: " It
is
unimportant. It flies at me when I look for the chart." Upton did not seem to hear her. He stood, mesmerised

by the parchment Walter held in his hand. " Get out!" he told her roughly. " Get out! One miserable bird does not matter. Nor would a life—for this!" He took the chart from Walter. " Get out!" he said. " If you want to cool off and mourn your bloody bird, go and fly your precious helicopter in circles."

Helen stook back, stunned by his outburst. His megalomania sickened me. She backed to the door. " Yes, that is just what I will do," she said in quiet anger. " I don't know what you all are up to, but remember
I
have seen this little scene, even if no one else of the crew has."

She shut the door, but I do not think Upton even noticed.

In less than a minute I heard the machine take off. Upton

unfolded the chart. Then he stabbed his finger again and

again at a little circle from which the wandering line of the
Sprightly's
track radiated. " Thompson Island! Thompson Island!"

He turned on
me.
The fury was gone, and the eyes seemed even brighter. He could not control his hands. He

pointed at the corner of the parchment, where there was a

marginal note. " November-December 1825. The log and track of the
Sprightly!"
he whispered. "Thompson Island!" Pirow edged round, keeping the automatic trained on me. " There's Bouvet, too. There are Norris' soundings of the Bollevika anchorage."

Upton could scarcely get the words out as he fumbled

to decipher Norris' writing. " December the thirteenth, 1825. Log of the
Sprightly:

" 2 p.m. saw a small low Island bear W 6 miles. 3 rocks
in a cluster bear NW, another rock NW nearly level

with the water's edge. This island is in Lat 53.56 Long
90

5°30.
this island we have named Thompson's la bears
NNE 15 leagues from Bouvet Island. Three rocks we

named The Chinnies SE 4 or 5 miles off Thompson's la
and another small rock 3 miles south of them.. .."
Upton was silent for a long time. " So that is where Thompson Island is!" he exclaimed at last. " Fifteen leagues, or forty-five miles, north-north-east of Bouvet!"

For the next half-hour Upton relapsed into long abstracted silences as if he had forgotten the presence of the three of us altogether—silences broken now and again by a volley of words. It was then that I first seriously doubted the man's sanity. The only sounds were Sailhardy's unconscious moans. We dared not break in upon the silences.

Once Upton turned the parchment over and over. " God!

Imagine that little ship
Sprightly
of Norris' at two o'clock in the afternoon coming out of the fog and being confronted with the island! Now it is mine!" He fell into a long silence, as if he were reliving Norris' great discovery.

Then he came over to me, eyes bright, and grabbed me by the shoulder, completely carried away by what was going

on in his own mind. " Tell me, man, does it look the way Norris says—small and low? How could it ever be confused with Bouvet, which is all cliffs and peaks? Did you see it like that? Tell me!"

"I saw it like that," I said. "I saw Thompson Island I am the only man living to have seen it."

He looked thoughtfully at me. " The only man living," he echoed.

I remember the ice, the dirty grey sky, the shroud of fog.

Upton's next words added to my doubts about his mind.

He traced with a finger, with almost reverential care, the old sealer's track past Thompson Island and its rocky outcrops. "Heavenly blue," he said. " Heavenly blue." The Tannoy loudspeaker above my bunk came alive with

its disembodied crackle. " Bridge here! Bridge here! Sir Frederick Upton! Stand by for a repeat from radio office of an urgent message." Upton had been thorough. He'd told the bridge he would be in my cabin before leaving, so that he would not be out of touch while he searched my things.

Something inside me cleared like a lift of fog when I

heard Helen's voice, for it told me she had had no part in her father's scheme for Thompson Island. She came over

the loudspeaker clearly, which meant she must have been

91

fairly close
to
the fleet, in view of the radio interference at any distance.

"
H for Helen! Do you hear me? H for Helen! Helicopter
NRWH calling factory ship Antarctica."

Upton wheeled on Pirow. " Get up to the radio office—

jam her, swamp her, do any damn thing, but get her off

the air—quick!"

I
felt somehow that the normal overtones in her voice were for me—the way she might think Royal Navy formality