I did not reply and he went on more formally. 'I don't want to intrude on Mr Grohman's position as first officer, sir. Perhaps I'd better call him. He came aboard about an hour ago. I am sure he's not aware that you're here.'
I had noted the white decks, the way the light alloy yards had been burnished, and the general shipshape condition and Bristol-fashion of Jetwind. And it was Tideman who had been in command for the days Grohman had been away messing about on the mainland.
'You've kept the ship in pretty good nick,' I answered. 'You do the explaining.'
He looked pleased and said, 'She's ready for sea.' I warmed to him further when he said, without flattery, 'First, my congratulations on your record in Albatros, sir. I know what it implies.'
No mention of his own three trips round the Horn, no attempt to sell his own abilities. Yet his seamanship was apparent in Jetwind's splendid condition. Had he allowed the crew to become demoralized after their let-down from Grohman's back-tracking on the record, it would have been reflected in the state of the ship. In a remote port like Stanley, with no diversions, that meant not an iron fist but a combination of respect and discipline.
Tideman led Brockton and me to three walk-around consoles grouped about the big stainless steel wheel; the centre one was in the standard navigation position.
'This is the actual nerve-centre,' Tideman explained. He indicated six levers, all in the 'off position. 'These operate the hydraulic mechanisms for the six masts — you can swing 'em or trim 'em to any angle or any way you like, either in tandem or individually. Like this — look behind you, sir.'
He eased over a lever and the high tensile steel mast structure started to swivel. There was no noise, no sense of power. Yet the thing weighed a score of tons and was fifty-two metres high.
'That's Tuesday in action,' Tideman said. 'We can do the same for Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.' 'Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday?' I echoed.
Tideman laughed. 'The names of the weekdays are just a gimmick, but it makes the masts more personal than merely Number One, Number Two and so on. I got the idea from the old Great Britain — her six masts were known by the days of the week.'
I had been aboard the Great Britain in a Bristol dry-dock during her restoration after one of the world's great salvage feats in 1970 when she was towed from the Falklands to Britain after lying as a hulk in Stanley for over eighty years. However, Tideman's information about the names of her masts was new to me.
Nevertheless, it was again Brockton who surprised me by the extent of his knowledge about this remote part of the world. He gestured beyond The Narrows.
'The inlet where the Great Britain lay beached isn't far beyond the gap — Sparrow Cove, it's called. We'll see it on our way out.'
I pulled the discussion back to the present. 'Show me how the yards operate,' I told Tideman.
'All yards on every mast can be moved in unison or individually,' he went on. 'Personally I like 'em best trimmed in a slight spiral on the weather side. My view is that it gives better results. Mr Grohman disagrees.' 'Go on telling me what you think,' I said.
He glanced at me keenly. 'You can set the yard trim either manually to the angle you decide, or you can hand over to the computer, which will do the job for you. Or you can — ' he indicated another switch ' — work on manual override while the computer is in use, just the same way as you drive a car on automatic. You really can't go wrong.'
The enclosed, air-conditioned bridge felt like a glasshouse to me. 'I have to feel the wind,' I told Tideman. 'All this remote control and mollycoddling…' I gestured at the big windows, several of which were strip-heated to remain clear in freezing weather.
'I had the same feeling at first,' agreed Tideman. 'It isn't what we Cape Homers are accustomed to. It is surprising, though, how soon one adapts to it.' He indicated another bank of push-buttons.
'These are to set or to shorten sail. The operation can be carried out on each mast separately, from mainsail to royal, or synchronized, as with the other controls.'
I remembered a remark of Thomsen's. 'It took twenty seconds to furl everything, I was told. It doesn't seem possible.'
'Say thirty seconds at the outside, not much more,' he replied. 'It's faster than the fastest crack yachting crew can achieve. The operation is so quick that it's almost impossible to catch the ship aback.'
Tideman moved on to a closer, smaller console. He was slightly disdainful. 'These are bridge commands to the diesels which operate the hydraulics, the screw and supply power to the ship-she consumes a lot’
The escape plan was uppermost in my mind. 'So no preliminary warming of the diesels is necessary then?' 'No.
'Driving the auxiliary engine to power the ship in times of calm is really their secondary purpose,’ he went on. 'The propeller nacelle complete can be raised into the hull when she's wind-driven. This is the switch. It's stowed that way now. Otherwise, it's mainly a question of pitch control over the screw.' 'Has power been used much?'
'Captain Mortensen disliked the auxiliary as much as I do,' he answered. 'If you're sailing a sailer, sail it, he said. However, these two powered gadgets here are pretty useful — there's a six-ton White-Gill thruster in the bows and a Pleuger four point seven-ton thruster at the stern. Using them, you can make Jetwind spin on a sixpence.' 'How long does it take to get Jetwind under way?'
'It depends where she's lying, of course. At an open mooring like this one, a few minutes.' 'A few minutes!'
That was better than the best I had hoped for in regard to my break-out plan.
'Yes. Figuratively speaking, the ship's speed of manoeuvre took me aback to start with. One doesn't have to take man-power into consideration. Everything is machine-driven. The officer on duty alone operates the sail plan from this central situation.' He added, with deliberate intention behind his words, 'I'd like the opportunity to show you.' 'Not yet. Anyway, you couldn't with the wind as it is.'
Tideman, however, seemed to want to press the point Jetwind is lying ideally at this moment. There's a slight rim of water coming in through The Narrows — maybe half a knot. Her head is pointing right for the exit. We could be up and away in minutes, as I said.'
How long, I asked myself, would Jetwind take to cover approximately one and a half kilometres to The Narrows? What speed would she have worked up to in that distance? Would it be sufficient — have enough power, in other words — to carry out my design against the Almirante Storni If the wind failed me when the time came, I could make a criminal fool of myself and the ship. 'Depending on the wind, as I said,' I replied.
'Aye — depending on the wind,’ he echoed. 'But you know yourself, sir, that We're close enough to the gale pattern of the Horn for the weather to break from one of three directions only — the northwest, the west or the southwest.'
In other words, from the quarter which suited Jetwind's sailing qualities best. 'What do you make of the prospects at present?' I asked.
Tideman hid his real opinion behind a smoke-screen of technicalities.
'Jetwind was being Weather Routed from Bracknell via Portishead radio when we left Montevideo for the Cape,' he answered. 'Once we became harbour-bound in Stanley, the service was discontinued.' He indicated a Japan Radio Co. facsimile weather chart recorder mounted forward on the bridge. 'Metbrack was supplying us with interpretation of satellite pictures of the weather ahead and astern of the ship. That's also come to an end. Consequently, I don't know what's now working up from the direction of the Horn.'
'Where did you learn all your expertise?' I asked, a trifle ironically.