A Grue Of Ice (36 page)

202

hoses were still over the side. I saw now the source of Kohler's apparently unlimited supplies of fuel.

Another of Kohler's victims was tied up alongside the
Grönland, a
Liberty ship whose deck cargo of tanks and lorries looked absurdly new in the bright light inside the fjord. She too had disappeared without trace far to the south of the Cape of Good Hope.

They were
my
ships and Kohler's ships in the fjord. I shared neither Upton's elation nor Pirow's satisfaction, and my thoughts were reflected by the pain in Helen's eyes. The natural harbour would, I foresaw, be a perfect stagingpost for aircraft travelling from Cape Town to Sydney via the South Pole, and a strategic base of the first order for flying patrol over the vital sea route round the Cape. But I felt a surge of despair at the sight of the caesium veins. Upton's personal battle had ended in triumph, but the world's struggle over this hidden island of incalculable wealth would end in chaos. Yet, I told myself as we were drawn further in to the fjord, Helen and I alone were still the repository of the secret of the island's position. I eyed Upton. If I could get hold of the Schmeisser .. .

There were a score of other ships scattered about the anchorage. Some of the names I could read, others not. The beautiful Danish training sailing ship
Kobenhavn
was there: her disappearance in the Southern Ocean without trace before the war with a crew of sixty cadets had been a sea mystery as deep as the loss of the
Marie Celeste.
Near the
Kobenhavn
was the
Berwick,
one of the great teak fliers which had broken all records from Calcutta to London in the 1860s. A big iron-sided windjammer was broken in half across a reef. In addition, stacked like fragments of corpses in a mortuary, were ships' masts, teak and oaken timbers, figureheads, stanchions, cabin doors, big old-fashioned teak binnacles with Kelvin compasses and oil sidelights ; broken oars, harness casks, whole deck-houses ; a long mainyard pointed skywards as if it had been dropped from a plane, the footropes and gaskets still in position.

Overwhelmed by the sight, I steered automatically for the far end of the fjord, where I could see jets of steam in the rocks, spurting from some underground volcanic source. The glacier was more impressive close up: where the tongue of the ice entered the water it was sharp, not smooth and rounded as one would expect from the wash and weathering

203

of the current. It would be warm where the steam jets were, I told myself, and all of us needed warmth. Upton did not speak, but stared like a man in a dream at the caesium seams as we slid along with the current.

Pirow waved as we passed the
Gröniand. "Look,
Herr Kapitan—it was you in H.M.S.
Scott
that made us slip those hoses and get away to sea so quickly."

The Man with the Immaculate Hand. The fine ships were

as much his victims as Kohler's.

I brought the whaleboat into the shallows, sliding to a standstill against a rough beach of basalt and pumice. A jet of steam blew from a fissure in the rocks twenty feet above our heads. I seemed to be choking with warmth, and I pulled off my gloves. I jumped uncertainly over the side to secure the boat. As I felt land under my sea-boots, a wave of emotion and weakness almost overcame me. I

threw a bight of rope round a rock to moor the boat. A tiny springtail—the wingless fly of Antarctica—settled on my hand. I had thought never to see a land creature again.

I picked Helen up and carried her ashore, bringing the sleeping-bag for her to lie on. I had to assist Sailhardy.

" Walter!" said Upton. " Bring me some hot water and see if we can get my hands loose." The palms must have been raw from the rowing, but he seemed oblivious of pain. " Take the Schmeisser, you bloody fool—I don't want Wetherby to get

hold of it at this stage." His eyes were hard. " You won't be as lucky this time, Wetherby. The oil will have unfrozen by now in the gun."

Pirow clambered out too, and stood next to me. He looked down the fjord. " Liebe Gott!" he said huskily. " It is good to be back!" There was pride, arrogance and a touch of triumph in his ashen face.

The undamaged state of the ships—Kohler's victims-puzzled me. There had never been any hint from Kohler's signals in the German war records that he had used Thompson Island as his base. It was clear that Kohler had kept Pirow in the dark as to the name and position of this Southern Ocean base. The German sea fox had done the same to his own Oberkommado der Marine. In two years he had sent the High Command only half a dozen short messages listing his amazing successes. He, like Pirow, believed that while you kept off the air while raiding, you lived.

" Did you send boarding parties and bring the ships in afterwards?" I asked Pirow.

204

He shook his head. " The Herr Kapitan Kohler was a sailor like yourself. He used what the Southern Ocean gave

him. Why risk the
Meteor
in action when your ships would come to him here in the fjord?"

" What do you mean?"

" The current," replied The Man with the Immaculate Hand. " It is deep and powerful—you want to see what happens to a ship in its grip. It is no ordinary current, Herr Kapitan—you see the vessels it has brought in from the ocean to this graveyard."

" A current is not that powerful."

" No, Herr Kapitan, it is not. Further out it is
a
strong current which will bring
a
derelict in and all the sort of stuff you see here. But near Thompson Island it becomes a killer. It sweeps in past the entrance on the side of the fjord where we are now, and then . . . Look!" He pointed at the foot of the glacier. There was
a
great swirling eddy. " It seems to nosedive there. We lost a boat's crew trying to investigate it closely. On the other side of the fjord the countercurrent is weak by comparison. The Herr Kapitan had his anchorage there, and he always entered the fjord on the counter-current side."

" You mean, you just sat here . .."

He held out his hands. " The ships came because I signalled them. Sometimes it was a fake distress call, sometimes . . ." he grinned—" an order from the officer commanding the South Shetlands Naval Force—you, in other words, Herr Kapitan Wetherby. It was merely necessary to bring them into the fog-belt, where the current becomes so powerful, and it did the rest. It brought them in like lambs to the slaughter."

" The
Kyle of Lochalsh
was armed with six-inch guns," I said.

He nodded across the fjord. " You have-not noticed
Meteor's
gun emplacement over there. We unshipped one of our 5.9 inch guns and mounted it—on that side so that

we could cover the enemy
as
he was swept along this side of the fjord. We had every inch of the fjord taped for ranges. Resistance would have been suicide."

I was filled with foreboding listening to Pirow's boasting. The weapons and victims of our war seemed so insignificant beside the potential in the rock seams above our heads.

Walter was massaging Upton's hands with warm water. I

carried Helen to the stream of warm, sulphur-smelling water where it cut through the pumice on its way to the fjord. 205

I shifted some lumps of pumice to make a support for her

back.

" What is my father going to do now?" she asked. My own anxiety was reflected in her voice.

" He talked about ships—and here they are," I said. " But you can't sail away without a crew in any of them, even assuming that they are in any shape after all these years."

" Listen!" she said.

Pirow was talking animatedly. We were slightly higher than the boat where the stream began up the slope. " The Herr Kapitan Kohler thought the 5.9-inch gun in the emplacement was better technically than those Harwood had at the Battle of the River Plate," he enthused. " But Kohler always marvelled at the English rate of fire. That gun is automatic on the ranges—every inch of the fjord is tabulated. You simply can't miss."

Upton got his hands free. He gave them a quick glance and then turned to Walter. " Could you load a gun like that?"

Pirow interrupted. " There is no need to pick up the shells. There is a hoist which brings them right to the breech."

" Christ!" said Walter. " All this sounds as if you're planning a war."

" I've got my island, and I've got the means to defend it," went on Upton, stretching himself.

" There's a big magazine under the gun," went on Pirow. " When
Meteor
put to sea, a gun crew was left behind—

except the last time, in order to engage H.M.S.
Scott.
There are probably some small-arms, too."

" Bruce!" whispered Helen. " It gets worse, not better. You must get to the radio and signal
Thorsharnmer.
I'm desperately afraid of what he is up to."

Sailhardy came slowly over to us. " Did you hear, Bruce?" " Yes."

" Will that gun be of any use after all this time?" Hope started into Helen's face. Sailhardy did not wait for my reply. " It must have a film of rust inside the barrel. If Upton tries to fire it, he'll blow himself to pieces." I shook my head. " If the gun had been on this side of the fjord, the warm side, I might have been hopeful. There aren't any warm springs over there. The temperature is polar near the glacier. Things don't rust in the dry Antarctic cold.

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Just after the war the Americans found a shotgun at least fifty years old in a camp by the Ross Sea. The barrel was still burnished bright." Upton, Walter and Pirow came ashore and walked stiffly along the beach, Upton flexing his fingers.

" Bruce!" said Helen eagerly. " Here is your moment!

Look, they're all three wrapped up in what they're saying. The radio
is
in the boat. Signal
Thorshammer!"

"
Be quick, boy!" Sailhardy exclaimed. " Watch that gun, for God's sake! I'll shout if they turn!"

I raced, stumbling on the rough pumice, to the whaleboat. I threw myself under the decking to get at the radio. I clicked over the switch. There was still some power left in the batteries. I fiddled for a moment with the tuning dials and took the first frequency which dropped into my mind-24 metres—

Raider's frequency.

"
Dot-dot-dot—dash-dash-dash—dot-dot-dot!—SOS! SOS!
I flicked over the receiving switch, holding one earpiece against my head and listening with my other ear for the tell-tale crunch of boots on the shingle.

I cast round desperately. I wasn't a skilled operator like Pirow and probably the signal was weak. I must get through to
Thorshammer,
give our position, and warn her about the current and the gun.

In my anxiety, my war-time code signal came to me. It was all I could think of.

"GBXZ,"
I tapped.

No reply, I switched frantically to the 18-metre band. "
GBXZ—to all British warships."

I clicked over. The reply was loud and clear.

"DR. DR—am coming to your aid. Keep transmitting for
D IF bearing. VKYI."

"Thorshammer! Beware . .. life-raft . . ."
I missed Sailhardy's shout. It was Walter who tore at me, sending the headphones spinning. Pirow was there too, clutching at me as if I had outraged his precious radio. Walter pulled me half out of the cubbyhole on to the gratings. I thrust him aside. He wasn't that strong yet.

" He got off a message and the key is locked!" exclaimed Pirow. " God alone knows what he's said."

Upton stood by the boat. " Have you switched it off?" Pirow nodded. He turned to me. " What did you say to the destroyer?"

207

" The hell with you," I retorted. "Anyway,
Thorshammer
is coming for you. She's got the bearing now she's been asking for so often."

" Get in there," Upton told Pirow. " See what
Thorsham-
mer
is saying. Call it out while we watch Wetherby." In a moment Pirow called. " I can't understand. She's saying
GBXZ '.
That is the British war-time code—'
to all
British warships'.
And now—'
Da—coming to your assist-
ance '."

"
Are you sure it's
Thorshammer
signalling?"

" Yes," called Pirow. " She's telling us to keep transmitting." There was a short pause. " Now she's calling
Life-raft! life-raft! Keep transmitting! Keep your key down!
Can you hear me? Can you hear me?' "

"
Pirow," said Upton, " come out of there!" Pirow was badly shaken. " I want you to send a message, do you hear? Just the same weak sort of message you have been faking up as coming from the life-raft. You are to give our exact position."

" Don't be crazy!" said Walter. Helen and Sailhardy joined us. " You're telling
Thorshammer
to come and get us—just what this bastard has been doing."

I did not like Upton's look. " I'm telling her to come—

not necessarily to come and get us. What is our position, Wetherby?"

" Go to hell," I replied. " Find out the position of Thompson Island yourself."