'No crew will stand for it. Three months out there-'
'Johan says they agree. I have offered a bonus of course.'
'And the engineers?'
'Per is already discharged. Some burns, that is all. Duncan has two cracked ribs. I saw him at the hospital last night.'
'And he undertakes to keep those engines running for three months?'
She nodded, a little defiantly I thought. 'Yes, he does.' I forebore to mention that it was a failure of the engines that had lost her ship, but she must have guessed what was in my mind for she said quickly, 'Duncan was away sick for almost a month. Per Kalvik, the assistant engineer, is not so good. He is a young man and on his own he do not maintain the engines properly.' And she added, 'Duncan has never been away from the ship before, not since we installed the new engines.'
She had it all worked out, the crew, the engineers, everything, quite prepared to ignore the fact that under the terms of the agreement we had to provide a replacement if for any reason I was forced to run for shelter. But when I pointed this out to her, she flared up at me: 'It is you who are raising difficulties, nobody else. Fuel and stores, anything you want, is to be delivered free of any transport charge by the supply ship, and I have arranged for the transportation of men on leave by helicopter from the rig, also free. Since you will not be fishing you will need less crew. Minimum crew for stand-by boats is six — captain, mate, chief engineer, assistant engineer, cook and one deckhand. You, Duncan and Johan will not get relief.' She had been talking very fast. Now she stopped abruptly, standing staring at me, her manner suddenly awkward. 'It is a very difficult situation, between us. We do not know anything about each other. And this agreement-' She made a motion of her hand towards the document. 'As soon as I sign, then you are the mortgagee and I am in your hands. Even the loan I arrange — it is made to you, not to me. He insists on that.'
It was certainly an odd arrangement and the division of any profits was left to us. 'I imagine you will require some sort of an agreement drawn up between us,' I said.
She didn't seem to hear me, her head turned to the window, gazing out at the water. 'These businessmen are very clever.' There was a long pause, and then suddenly she was facing me again. 'Two complete strangers. And they have hung us round each other's neck.' She smiled, a gleam of humour that was gone in a flash. 'Well, there it is. Neither of us can argue, we have no money.' She pulled up a chair and sat down. 'I agree. We shall need to have an agreement. But not now. Later.' And she began writing in the alterations.
She wrote fast, as though by concentrating on the words she could relieve the tension and frustration that was in her, initialling each alteration as she made it and signing the copies at the bottom. Then she pushed the whole lot over to me. When I had signed she said, 'Johan is living on board. I suggest you do the same now.'
'And the crew?'
'They are at the Seaman's Mission, available whenever you want them.' She collected the papers together and put them in the envelope. 'Now if you are ready, we will pick up your things and I will drive you down to the boat.'
CHAPTER THREE
It took me four days to complete the welding of a steel patch. The biggest problem was rigging a secure platform on which to work in the cramped space between the starboard engine and the hull. After that it was a question of following each tide down as the water poured out of the engine-room through the rent in the hull. The job was slow and dirty, and though we had spring tides, the last six inches or so of steel sheet had to be left unwelded. It was on the Tuesday morning, just as Johan and two of the crew were holding the first sheet in position and I was spot-welding it to the hull plates, that Sandford arrived.
No doubt he called my name several times before he tapped me on the shoulder. The arc of the welding torch-made a hell of a row in the confined space of the engine-room. I swung round, the arc sputtering in my hand so that I nearly knocked him off the single plank we had rigged as a walkway from the ladder. 'What do you want?'
'That mortgage. I'm told you own it.' He had to yell to make himself heard. 'I'll buy it off you.'
I turned back towards the hull plating. With the tide falling, and the sheet not yet fixed, this was no time for interruptions. His hand gripped my shoulder. 'How much do you want?'
I pushed my visor up. 'Talk to Mrs Petersen,' I said. 'She's the business brains.' His eyes, bright in the spotlight, reminded me of the way his mother had looked when she thought there might be money in my visit.
'I have. I saw her last night.'
Then you know the answer.'
'She isn't the mortgagee.'
I glanced at my watch. Just over an hour of tide to go. I turned my back on him, pulling the visor down and flicking the jet full on. He shouted something at me as I bent to my welding again, the bearded face of Johan watching with his big hands on the plate, dangerously close as the gobs of molten steel flew out. I forgot about him then, my mind concentrated on the job.
Before the tide was up again I had the whole plate welded, except for the last six inches which had still been underwater at the bottom of the tide. It was late afternoon then and we went up to the bridge, the four of us sweating and tired and dirty. 'You want tea?' Johan asked as we reached the top of the ladder and felt the cold air of the deck.
'No, beer I think.'
'Ja. Beer.' His blond beard, all grimed with oil and slightly singed, cracked open in a grin. 'Beer for me also. Lars? Henrik?' The two seamen nodded and he sent Lars to raid the pantry. We had left our jerseys in the bridge and we entered to find Sandford seated in the skipper's chair, a pile of cigarette butts in the ashtray behind the wheel housing. 'I've been watching the tide on the rocks. Thought you wouldn't be able to work down there much longer.'
I pulled on my jersey, chilled now with the sweat drying on me. 'You been waiting here all the time?'
He nodded. 'Can't discuss business with a man waving a welding torch in my face.'
'There's no business to discuss,' I said.
'No?' He swivelled the chair as though enjoying the feel of being in the master's seat. 'I've been thinking. It was clever of you. I never thought of buying the mortgage. Nor did any of us. There were five of us turned up at the auction yesterday morning, all of us with money to bid for her, and nobody was exactly pleased when they told us it was off.' He lit a cigarette from the butt of the one he had just finished and stubbed the old one out in the ashtray. 'Can we go somewhere where we can talk?'
'I'm living on board,' I told him. 'If you want to talk it will have to be here.' Lars appeared with four cans, of beer.
Sandford got to his feet. 'Come into the master's cabin then. We can talk there.'
'There's nothing to talk about,' I said. But he insisted and in the end I followed him. 'Well, what is it?' I said as we faced each other alone with the door closed.
'It took me most of yesterday to find out just how you'd fixed it.'
'I didn't fix it.'
'No, it was that oil man Fuller. But you're the mortgagee and I'm willing to buy you out.'
'It's all tied up with the charter agreement.'
'I know that. But it suits my plans. I'll give you a thousand — cash. So long as you get her floated.'
Within two minutes he had raised his offer to fifteen hundred and I wondered why. Cash meant he knew all about fiddling tax. It wasn't only that I was suspicious; it went against the grain. And when I asked him who would skipper her, he said he had his own man and a crew as well.
'You'd still have to complete the charter,' I said.
He nodded. 'Of course.'
It didn't make sense. 'What's behind your offer?'
He laughed. 'I told you. I need a ship. And this is the only one available.' And he added, 'Fifteen hundred isn't a bad offer just for getting her afloat and towed into Bressay Sound.'