She altered course slightly and edged into the teeth of the wind. The Island Cock was back on his perch, but no longer masking the compass from her view. The van of the storm swathed the volcanic peak of Tristan. The island's water supply is born in the old crater, which, strangely, never freezes even in the hardest weather. Under the machine's belly I could see the great fields of kelp in the sea, stretching out tentacles like a mightmare octopus in the dying light. To the east, sea and sky melted into a glory of turquoise; in the west, the great battalions of cloud came racing up.
We pulled clear of the headland by Tristan's anchorage.
A waterfall made a steel scar down the cliff-side.
" Starboard forty?" Helen Upton asked Sailhardy.
" Sixty," he said. " Every bit of sixty. The cliff will G.I. completely blank out the sun in a minute. Turn sixty degrees."
She smiled wryly, the first time I had seen any animation of her face. I didn't need to be told: flying was her whole life. " Landing on instruments?"
" Aye," replied Sailhardy. " Aye, ma'am." The sun went as we wheeled round Herald Point into Falmouth Bay, the anchorage. Helen Upton clicked on the machine's spotlight, and swung in a broad circle round the
Ridge. As if in reply, floodlights splashed the factory ship's deck. She was big-every bit of 25,000 tons. I could not imagine how we could land among the steel wires which held up the double funnel aft and the cumbersome masts. The deck seemed a conglomeration of valves and bollards, with almost no clear space. Pipes, as thick as a man's thigh, criss-crossed the deck forward of the bridge. Among them were huge steel boxes, surmounted by matching butterfly nuts. I could not guess what they were for.
" Carl," she said rapidly into the intercom, " tell Captain Bjerko I can't see with all those lights-they're blinding me. Say I'm coming in from the stern. When I'm fifty yards away, put out the lights. I'll come in on the spot alone after that." Sailhardy's knuckles were tightly clenched round the cabin stay. " Bring her into the lee of the ship, ma'am," he urged. She looked at him swiftly and nodded. She started a wide circle past the bows. Antarctica had steam up. The two high stacks, port and starboard, belched smoke. Higher even than they were two ventilators. We lost height as we came into the vessel's lee. Then everything went black. The stacks were putting up a smokescreen equal to a destroyer's.
Luff, ma'am," urged Sailhardy.
Helen Upton laughed-and the laugh sounded as if it had not been used for a long time. " Sailor!" she exclaimed. " I can't lull an aircraft." But her hands were already busy at the controls. We followed the smoke downwind, and then pulled clear. She made a new approach to the factory ship. The machine neared the stern. The slipway grating through which whales are hauled was picked up by the bright floodlights. It looked as ominous as Traitors' Gate at the Tower of London. I felt my breath draw in as we came in low.
The lights cut. The helicopter spotlight stabbed out. We would never get through the rigging to the patch of clear deck.
" Bring her head round a little, ma'am," breathed Sail34 hardy. He shot a glance the way we had reached the anchorage. " T h e re 's a big gust coming. " Her hand s answered him. The two were in complete accord. It was the master in one element responding to the master in another, the sea and the air.
She pulled the stick back hard and whipped the throttle wide: We scraped past one of the high ventilators, circling again.
" Jesus!" whispered Pirow.
" Carl!" called the girl in a level voice. "Tell Captain Bjerko to light the flensing platform only. I'll try there, this time."
Pirow's radio key chattered as we swept round again. Again, too, the nerve-tearing approach from the stern. The wind was stronger now. It must have been gusting fifty knots or more. Traitors' Gate came up to meet us. The machine canted as Helen Upton lifted the port side, the side with the boat lashed to it, high. The tail, too, was high. I heard Sailhardy's intake of breath. We slid crabwise round the middle gantry like a wounded dragonfly. A peckle of rain blurred the perspex. It was too late to pull away this time. We were committed. The starboard wheel touched the deck. The boat side and tail remained high. She gunned the rotor at the tail. It swung slowly, deliberately, into the wind. She placed it delicately, so delicately I scarcely felt the bump, on one of the big steel boxes. She let the boat side of the machine cant gently to the deck, flicking the throttle. We stood square on the rain-slicked deck.
She sighed softly, and rested her hands for a moment on the now-dead controls. Men were already lashing the machine to the big bollards.
I licked my lips. " You have to miss only once," I said. She sat there, immobile, not speaking.
" I reckon she was rolling twenty degrees each way," Sailhardy pondered. " You were magnificent, ma'am." The strange eyes seemed to be filled with the hard glare of the floodlights. " Carl," she said, " take Captain Wetherby to my father. He wants him urgently. And Sailhardy." We climbed on to the heaving deck. She made no attempt to rise as we left.
" Careful!" said Pirow. " A factory ship has more places to break your neck than any other ship I know."
The powerful lights threw everything into taut relief. Above my head a huge piece of curved, grooved iron looked bigger than it really was. It had a hook with projections, and was secured to the gantry by hawsers as thick as my arm.
When we reached the bridge companionway I remembered my things in the boat. " There are some of my instruments and charts in the boat," I told Pirow. " I'll go back for them. Tell Sir Frederick I'll be right along."
I swung myself up into the cockpit. I stopped short. Helen Upton was clinging on to the central cabin stay, half in and half out of her seat. Her face was as white as the floodlights. She was trying to pull herself on to her feet. The Island Cock stared at her.
I went forward. " Take it easy!" I said, lowering her into the seat. " I'm not surprised, after that landing." Her eyes were full of pain. " Why did you have to come back and see me?" she half-choked. " Why did you have to see me?"
" That landing…" I began.
She waved me quiet. " It wasn't the landing," she got out, biting her lips. " It's me. Don't be polite. You've seen me." "I don't understand," I said.
She spoke so softly I could scarcely hear. "The winches. I forgot. Usually I use one of them to haul me up after a long spell of flying. It gets my hip, you see. There's a bullet in it. I just limp a bit ordinarily. When the flying is tough, it gets me. Once I'm on my feet, I'm all right. I always send everyone away."
" Your father shouldn't allow you."
" He doesn't know, and won't know, unless you tell him," she replied. " He must not know. Never. Help me up, please."
She pulled off the flying helmet. Against the stark light and storm-darkened night, her hair could not have been more effectively posed. It was fair and short and curly, dented round her forehead with the pressure of the leather. I put an arm round her. She leaned heavily against me for the first steps along the deck and then walked slowly, with a slight limp, past the bridge to a large chartroom-cum-office. Behind the desk sat a man. A light was at his left shoulder, etching the features.
His face was made of metal.
3. The Secret of the Blue Whale
Incredulity, mixed with revulsion, stopped me as I saw the grey mask. The effect was more startling when he rose and the pewter crinkled into a smile. I could see the laughter-lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes. There seemed to be no division between the line of his strangely-coloured forehead and his short, curly grey hair. He was short and stocky, with a sailor's eyes. The change from what I thought would be a deadpan into a warm welcoming smile left me at a loss.