A Ravel of Waters

I said, more confidently than I felt, 'At sea, the ship's master has complete authority. If it took a top-flight London specialist to pinpoint the cause of death, Grohman himself could not have realized it.' 'He might have had reason to suspect.'

'Suspect someone? In that case the captain has the right of arrest. Did he detain or question anyone? Has he aired his suspicions to you?' The grand-master saw his game slipping away.

He said stiffly, 'He would have been exceeding his duties to voice a mere opinion.'

I felt I had regained firmer ground. 'Grohman is an Argentinian, who was temporarily captain of a ship registered in Falmouth…'

'The Falklands was the nearest British port,' interrupted Dawson.

'You're talking legalistically,' I retaliated. 'The situation isn't as simple as that.'

Superficially it might have been simple, had I not seen and heard the violent reaction on the mainland over Jetwind or encountered the obstructionism of the Argentinian officials. Nor could I forget Grohman's air of triumph when I had provoked him into telling me that the Almirante Storni was on her way to detain Jetwind. You don't send a warship to hold a ship for a case of suspected murder.

Dawson tried to short-circuit the interview. 'I am glad. Captain Rainier, that you agree the matter is not simple and that you have come round to my way of thinking.'

'On the contrary, I have not,' I answered. 'Grohman knew well enough that by bringing the ship here he would raise a political hornets' nest. In fact, that may well have been his purpose.'

Mr Dawson was clearly taken aback by this suggestion. 'You must not forget that Argentina claims territorial waters of two hundred sea-miles offshore and has filed claims with the United Nations to these islands and all others for a considerable sector of the Cape Horn area…' 'I've heard the claims,' I interrupted. 'They're absurd.'

'Argentina regards the Falklands as Argentinian territory,' he continued. 'You have to accept that fact when you live in this part of the world. Therefore, Grohman brought the ship to what he regards as an Argentinian port.'

'Where, then, does your legal jurisdiction as a British official come in? It means nothing, from Grohman's point of view.'

I had Dawson nailed, and he knew it. He slid out from under my attack. 'The position of the Falklands is an explosive issue, and Mr Grohman is an Argentinian. I am happy to be able to tell you that tomorrow we are expecting an Argentinian warship for a courtesy visit. She is the Almirante Storni and Captain Julian Irizar and I will have consultations over Captain Mortensen's death.' 'What the devil has it to do with the Argentinian Navy?'

He displayed long-suffering patience. 'I have been attempting to convey to you that we have here a knife-edge situation which requires consultation and good neighbourliness in order to continue our modus vivendi.'

I suppressed my intended retort. If I played my fish right I could find out the Almirante Storni's time of arrival.

I said casually, 'We spotted the warship from our plane on the way over. When is she due in?'

'We have made special provision for her to tie up tomorrow morning early,' he answered. 'She should reach the outer harbour of Port William about ten tonight. She'll anchor there and come in later when it's light enough. The Narrows are tricky in darkness and there is no official pilot in Stanley.'

‘I’d like to be up to see her come in,' I said, hoping 1 was keeping the inference out of my voice. 'What time will she come through?'

'The Narrows have an odd characteristic,' he said more readily, apparently glad to ditch the subject of Argentina-Falklands relations. 'The sky is generally clearest over the entrance at about two in the morning, even when weather is working up. Port Stanley is far enough south to be able to see landmarks quite clearly at that time. When daylight comes, the cloud cover usually closes in. My guess is that the destroyer will negotiate The Narrows in the early hours. Captain Irizar knows the port well he's been here before.' He eyed me speculatively. 'I hope — in the interests of good neighbourliness — that you will show Captain Irizar round your ship. Jetwind is quite a talking point.'

'I shall be delighted to show Captain Irizar my ship at close quarters,' I replied. How close, only dawn and The Narrows would show.

What Dawson had now revealed about the Almirante Storni's intended movements had sewn up all but the final link of my plan. The weather and the wind. I wanted to sick up at the rest of Dawson's pontifical papering-over of the legalistic and diplomatic niceties. What was the true reason behind Grohman's decision to bring Jetwind to the Falklands? Beneath all his shadow-boxing there was, I was convinced, some powerful secret motive. I also meant to find that out — once I had put a safe distance between Jetwind and the Argentinian warship. I also had no illusions about the furore that would follow Jetwind's break-out.

Perhaps Dawson took my silence for second thoughts; he decided to exhibit a flabby iron fist. 'You realize, don't you, Captain, that Jetwind is required to stay in port until after this business of the inquest has been cleared up?' 'Required? By whom?' 'The law.'

'You've just said the place is so small it doesn't even have a harbour pilot.'

'I would have thought you would be perceptive enough to see through the presence of the Almirante Storni, Captain.'

'You mean, you would tolerate the services of a foreign warship to detain Jetwind?'

'I spoke of good neighbourliness,' he replied blandly. I wondered whether the left-hand wisp of his moustache would survive if our conversation went on for much longer. 'In this remote part of the world, there might be services required — and rendered — in the interest of that good neighbourliness when there was no suitable… ah, instrument, ready to one's own hand.' 'I get the message,' I said bluntly.

Dawson rose to terminate the interview on what he obviously considered a winning note.

'Then I hope Stanley will have Jetwind's company for a while longer and you will forget about such things as record-breaking in the greater interests of the region.' He forced a hand as limp as a wet sail upon me in token of his triumph. 'I shall pass on your invitation to Captain Irizar tomorrow.'

I thought of the night ahead. 'Maybe I'll even see him myself.'

I hurried through Dawson's door into the clean air, cleaner than I had left it an hour before.

It was keen — the first knife-edge gust from the Drake Passage.

Chapter 12

By two bells in the middle watch — nine o'clock that night — the wind was blowing fresh from the east across the anchorage. Jetwind lay with her head to it. She tugged at her anchor cable as if eager to get going. I was in the crow's nest at the summit of No. 2 mast, directly overhead of the bridge, the mast I had visited with Kay. From my vantage-point, fifty-two metres above the deck, I could see the occasional surge from a white horse. The wind was building up; there was a lot more punch still to come. There couldn't be enough, for my business with the Almirante Storni.

I moved round to probe beyond The Narrows into the waters of Port William's outer anchorage. Where was the Almirante Storni? Any moment the warship should become visible. A cloud, fringed yellow along its edge by a track of reflected shore light, whipped at zero feet across the quartet of low hills separating us from the outer anchorage. These hills terminated at Navy Point, The Narrows' Western head-land. The cloud moved so fast that in no more than a couple of seconds it seemed to have blanketed the 300-metre passage, blacked out the navigation light on the opposite side at Engineer Point, and obscured a trio of further low hills on the eastern side of the entrance gap. Then the cloud blacked out the crow's nest itself. The wipers were ineffectual against the thick vapour.