Read Online The Blue Ice by Hammond; Innes - Free Book Online

for my reply. Her face was very pale and her eyes looked bright, almost feverish. She handed me the mug. ‘Cheers!’ I said, watching her over the rim of it.
    As soon as Wilson had gone for’ard to the foc’s’le she said, ‘Are you doing a deal with Mr Jorgensen, Bill?’ Her voice was jerky and pitched a shade high.
    â€˜How do you mean?’ I asked.
    â€˜That’s what Mr Dahler told me,’ she said. ‘He said you and Jorgensen were joining forces – against George Farnell.’
    â€˜Against George Farnell—’ I didn’t get it. ‘George Farnell’s dead,’ I reminded her.
    She nodded. ‘That’s what I told Mr Dahler. But he only said, “Don’t lose Gansert – that’s all.”’
    â€˜Did he ask you to have a talk with me?’
    â€˜Not exactly. But—’ She hesitated. Then she took a step towards me and caught my arm. ‘Bill. I’m scared. I don’t know why. There’s something about this boat today. Everybody’s on edge. Everybody’s asking questions.’
    â€˜Who’s been asking you questions?’ I asked.
    â€˜Oh, Jorgensen this morning. Curtis this afternoon. You’re about the only person who hasn’t.’ She suddenly laughed. ‘Instead, I’m asking you. What about Jorgensen?’
    â€˜I’ll decide that when I get to Norway,’ I said. ‘Right now you’d better turn in and get some sleep.’
    She nodded and downed the rest of her drink. I waited till she’d switched her cabin light on, then I turned off the saloon light and went aft to my own cabin.
    I was dead tired and fell asleep on my bunk with my clothes on. The movement of the ship was like the rocking of a cradle. I was conscious of it whilst I slept and it added to the sense of deep luxury. I dreamed of soft things, of deep purples and velvets, and of the rocking, swaying, lurching of the tree tops. Then the motion changed. It became slower, heavier. It shook with the crash of each onslaught. It leaned more steeply, more terribly. I clawed at the blankets, clutched at the side of the bunk at each roll. And suddenly I was awake, and I knew that I had to go up on deck. Down there in my cabin I could feel it. I’d sensed it in my sleep. The wind was holding her down. She was carrying too much canvas. I slipped into my sea boots. As each wave slid under her I could feel her reluctance to lift the next.
    I opened the cabin door. There was a light on in the saloon. At the foot of the companionway, I paused. I could hear voices raised in altercation. I turned and peered through the crack of the half-open door. Jorgensen and Dahler faced each other across the saloon table.
    â€˜ Sa det er det De tenker a gjöre, hva? ’ Jorgensen’s voice was low pitched and violent. The ship heaved and he clutched the centre support. Behind him Jill’s cabin door opened. She was fully clothed. Presumably their argument had woken her. ‘ De far ikke anledning ,’ Jorgensen continued, still speaking in Norwegian. ‘ Sa fort vi kommer til Bergen skal jeg fa Dem arrestert. ’
    â€˜Arrested?’ Jill cried, and he spun round. ‘Why will you have him arrested? What has he done?’
    â€˜Sold secrets to the enemy during the war,’ Jorgensen answered.
    â€˜I don’t believe it,’ she replied hotly.
    I threw open the saloon door. ‘On deck, please, Mr Jorgensen,’ I called. ‘We’re going to shorten sail.’ I didn’t wait for his answer, but hurried up the companionway. Out on deck the night was a howling wilderness of water. I dived for the weather rail and scrambled aft to the dim shapes gathered in the cockpit. The wind would soon be reaching gale force. I could sense the growing weight of it as gust after gust buffeted me. ‘Dick!’ I shouted, ‘time you shortened sail. That yankee’s far too much for