A Grue Of Ice (16 page)

ran under stress. But her excitement overrode everything. "
H for Helen! Position approx fifty-six degrees South, one
degree West."

Pirow stopped in his tracks,
white-faced. "Plain language
transmission!
Thorshammer
can't miss it!"

" Dear God in Heaven!" shouted Upton. " Stop her, Carl!

Perhaps the radio interference is too bad for
Thorshammer
to hear. . . ."

" No," snapped Pirow. " Never. Some temporary sunspot fade, but nothing like as bad as I made out to the Herr Kapitan to get him off the ship."

" Bouvet's dead spot . . ." began Upton.

" Dead spot for equipment thirty years ago, but not now," Pirow replied.

Helen's voice
cut in. "I
can't see the end of them! There
are thousands and thousands of them! There are Blue Whales
everywhere! I have found the breeding-ground of the Blue
Whale!. Big, small, bulls, cows, calves! I've never seen any-
thing like it!"

"
Blast the
girl!" roared Upton. "Blast! blast! blast!
Just at this moment of moments! Everyone between here and South Georgia must have heard our position—including

Thorshammer."

Pirow stood as if undecided, the Luger in his hand. Helen's bombshell had put them off their guard, but
I
missed my opportunity.

" Give me that gun!" went on Upton. " Get to your radio! Do something!" Pirow hurried off, but Upton and Walter remained behind. " They'll be safe enough if we lock them in here for the moment," said Upton. " How long will it be before that bloody islander comes round?"

" An hour, maybe two," shrugged Walter. " What does it matter anyway?"

" Yes," echoed Upton. " What does
it
matter, anyway? 92

It's Wetherby who is the problem." He smiled without humour. " I thought I was up against something in the great Captain Wetherby of war-time fame. I didn't even get a run for my money. One kick in the face of his friend, and the whole show was over. Come, Peter!"

The door crashed to and I heard the lock turn.
I
knelt down and tried to do something about Sailhardy's face. It was a savage wound, and he would carry the scars to the end of his life. The way Upton talked, he did not intend either Sailhardy'

s life or mine to reach its natural span. I looked round the cabin, but escape seemed hopeless. My cabin was situated at the end of the corridor. Beyond the solid steel bulkhead were the big compartments for processing the whales. The

porthole was there, but short of jumping into the sea, it offered no escape for me.

My own danger was not uppermost in my mind.
I
was thinking of Helen, and I hated Upton for his part in moulding her, fashioning her whole existence, to be the instrument of his dream, Thompson Island. It was typical of the man that he had not confided his secret to her, but in the shock of her own escape long ago in Norway, the lack of a mother had so influenced her—not unwillingly,
I
told myself, but that was her part of the story, unknown to him—to be the brilliant but oulless automaton I had first met.
I
could not get out of my mind the transformation I had witnessed on the ice, and the vital, attractive personality I had seen as she had stood in this very cabin doorway.

SaiIhardy stirred, but did not regain consciousness.
I
tore off part of my sleeve and made an improvised bandage. I waited. After about half an hour I heard the roar of the helicopter's rotors overhead, as Helen came in to land. In less than five minutes there was a knock at the cabin door.
I
did not reply.

" Bruce!" Helen called. " Bruce! Are you all right?"

" Yes,"
I
called. " Helen! For God's sake, get me a gun or a knife, and let me out of here!"

" My father seems beside himself," she called softly.
"I
gave him the slip for a moment." I heard the sound of her footsteps running back along the corridor.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as the Tannoy spoke. "

AXM. Canberra International Antarctic Weather Analysis
Centre. WMO code Fm forty-five on the zero zero GMT
analysis ..."

93

I looked in astonishment at the grilled space above the bulkhead. Upton and Pirow must have forgotten to switch off the repeater from the radio shack.

Then I heard Upton's voice. " Nothing but bloody weather reports! That's all there ever is from the Antarctic!" Pirow's voice, intent, came through. " I told you, let a ship send eleven letters, and I'll find her.
Thorshammer .is
silent."

" It doesn't surprise me," I heard Walter say. " Christ!

After all we've done to keep our position dark."

Upton was rattled. His voice was harsh with anxiety. " Try and get
Thorshammer,
Carl ! Change frequency, do any damn thing!"

" The Herr Kapitan Wetherby should be here," came Pirow's cool voice. " We'll try eighteen and twenty-four metres—

raider's frequency."

There was a pause. Then Upton's voice broke in. " What is it, Carl? Have you got her?"

"
Thorshammer,"
replied Pirow. " She's flown off the seaplane!" I heard the crash of a telephone receiver being picked up. " Bjerko!" snapped Upton. " Alter course! Turn away, south and west! Full speed ahead!" I felt the pulse of the factory ship start to quicken under the cabin floor.

" That won't help at all," said Pirow. " The seaplane will be using radar, anyway.
Thorshammer
took a hell of a risk flying her off in this sea."

" It just shows how important she considers us," said Walter. " There's nothing we can do now to avoid being caught."

" Don't throw in the bloody towel before you're even

hit," said Upton curtly. " I'm not beaten, by a long chalk. By all that's holy!" I heard him say slowly. " Wetherby has been of more use than he thinks. We'll keep our previous course. We'll hide away in the heart of his so-called atmospheric

machine. If it's anything like he says, there'll be so -much fog and ice that
Thorshammer
will never find us. And in that weather, she won't be able to use her seaplane."

My heart sank as I heard him pick up the telephone and

order Bjerko to return to our former course. The ship had scarcely had time to settle on the south and west course. We were now racing towards our doom as fast as the screws could turn. By the vibration, I could tell that the
Antarctica's
engines were being pushed to the limit. In my mind's eye I

94

saw that deceptively calm sea, damped by the ice as the crystals formed, and thickening to a viscous-porridge-like consistency ; the loss of speed as a ship fought against the massive drag of the sea starting to freeze ; the great bank of fog which was the invariable accompaniment of the freeze-up ; and finally, the rapid coagulation of water into jaws of ice which would clamp like
a
vice round the ship and crush her to death.

" Anything from the seaplane?" asked Upton.

" Yes," said Pirow, " steering straight here. She can't miss. She'll be overhead in less than a couple of hours."

" Peter!" came Upton's voice. " When do you think,
at
our present speed, we will be in Wetherby's danger area?"

" Maybe twelve hours," replied.

" We could avoid
Thorshammer
intercepting us herself to-day, and during the darkness to-night we could dodge

her," went on Upton. " By early to-morrow the weather will probably start to become pretty bad. With
Thorshammer
minus the seaplane, we have a sporting chance."

" Minus the seaplane," echoed Pirow.

Upton's voice was brittle when he spoke after
a
pause, even allowing for the quality of the loudspeaker. " Your Spandau-Hotchkiss is a very fine weapon, Peter."

Pirow's voice held a thrill—whether of dismay or astonishment,
I
could not tell. " You'll get Walter to shoot down
a
plane--a naval plane—in cold blood in peacetime?"

I
could tell from the way Upton said it, that he had just thought it up, and novelty of the idea appealed to him. " No, not Walter, Captain Wetherby will shoat down
Thors-
hammer's
seaplane."

I
went closer to the loudspeaker grille to make sure
I
was not dreaming. It was a closed-circuit affair between the cabin and the radio office, but the voices were as close as if they had been talking next door and reaching me through

an open ventilator. The diabolical ingenuity of Upton's mind revealed itself as he went on.

" We now have the chart, and both Wetherby and the

islander are only in the way," he said. " Sailhardy is easy to dispose of. Walter will rough him up a bit more, and

he'll be found to-morrow morning, or the morning after, lying under one of the big tackles aft. Poor fellow, they'll say, the tackle came adrift in the gale and its whole two tons fell on him."

Walter interjected, " Someone else will have to do the 95

job, specially since it'll be at night. I can't shuffle backwards and forwards from
Aurora in
a small boat with a tiny engine in these seas. It was bad enough to-day. If the weather becomes anything like Wetherby says, it'll be impossible."

" It is not vital," said Upton. " I'll smash him up myself."

" The Herr Kapitan Wetherby is the one to be afraid of," said Pirow. I wondered wryly if he was thinking of the
Meteor's
end. " I want to see you force him to shoot down
Thorshammer's
plane."

" So do I," said Walter.

The voices receded and I jumped up and jammed my

ear against the loudspeaker. I heard only a word here and there—" Luger . .. take him across to
Aurora . . .
clear them out of the way, of course, they're your crew, Walter ..

. lash his wrists, one each side of the trigger . . ." Upton's voice and the others sank into an incomprehensible mutter.

What in God's name was Upton about, I asked myself. It was obvious from the scraps of conversation I had heard that I was to be tied to the Spandau-Hotchkiss and be made

to take the blame for shooting down the seaplane. How? Then I saw: Walter would take one harness and I would be lashed into the other—it must have been the crew Upton

had been referring to, about clearing them out of the way. In the sort of seas we were encountering, the only members

of the crew who would be about would be those strictly on duty, a handful of men who could easily be ordered out of the way. The gun itself was situated aft the wheelhouse, and the helmsman would not be able to see what was going on without leaving his post. I guessed Walter would come to take me across to
Aurora
from my cabin. He'd stick the Luger in his pocket and be at my back....

The voice became stronger as the three men moved about

the radio office. I could pick up Upton's words, faint at first and then stronger. ". . . other harness. Wetherby will be helpless. Shoot the bloody thing down and don't fluff it, do you hear, Walter?"

There was a surly mutter and then Pirow's voice was clear. " It is clever, Sir Frederick. So Wetherby takes all the blame, if
Thorshammer
should catch us?"

I lost the end of Upton's sentence, but the beginning sent

me cold. " The blame—and the bullet . . . through the head with the Luger ... cut him loose .. ."

I could see it in my mind's eye: a burst from the SpandauHotchkiss from Walter which would send the seaplane 96

into the sea. A bullet for me and then a fake rescue attempt, Walter shouting to the helmsman to alter course to the crashed plane, knowing full well that the cold water would kill them in three minutes. And then Walter explaining how he had been obliged to shoot me to stop my madness with the gun. The

pieces fitted together with diabolical cunning.

The voices became so faint I had to strain to hear.

" What about the other skippers?" asked Pirow. " They won't like it. They may turn against you."

"Turn—to whom?" asked Upton confidently.
"Thors-
hammer?
Don't be crazy. Can you see them simply handing themselves over to
Thorshammer?
Never! They're in this thing too deep already, and they'll be deeper in still after the seaplane has been shot down." I heard a mirthless chuckle. " If you miss the seaplane, Peter, I'll come after you with a Luger myself."

I looked at the unconscious man on the floor. Sailhardy and I had been in some tight spots during the war, but this looked tougher than any of them: I could see only one way to save our .lives, and that was to tell Upton the real secret of Thompson Island. The bargain would be purely one-sided, for Upton would certainly never tell me now what he was really after on Thompson Island. It would be a plain barter for our lives, with Upton raking in all the winnings. The Tannoy repeated the slam of the radio office door, after the crunch of footsteps. It remained alive, but silent, except for an occasional splutter of Morse. Pirow must have been left alone on watch. An hour dragged by, and then another half. Sailhardy moaned and stirred from time to time, but did not come round. A kick like Walter's would have killed anyone less tough than the islander. My only ally outside the cabin seemed to be Helen. Would she, though, having been so long under her father's sway, assist me, even if she wanted to? I strained every sense to hear her footsteps outside, but everything remained silent.