‘What about you, Halli?’ Ægir made an effort to include the young man in the conversation.
‘Yes.’ It looked as if this monosyllable would be their only answer, but suddenly he added: ‘Only for three months. That’s why I’m here; they thought it would be better to have someone who knew their way around.’
‘Wow. What was it like?’ Lára hoped it wasn’t embarrassingly obvious what she was fishing for. ‘It seems amazing that a yacht like this should have belonged to an Icelander.’
‘It depends what you mean by belonged,’ interjected Ægir. ‘The yacht was registered in her husband’s name. Or rather a company owned by her husband.’ He couldn’t work out what his wife was up to but saw that his comment had annoyed her.
‘You know what I mean.’ Lára turned back to Halli. ‘What was it like?’
Halli dropped his gaze to his plate and toyed with a lone potato. ‘Oh, you know, nothing out of the ordinary.’
‘But it must have been out of the ordinary.’ Lára tried and failed to make eye contact with him. ‘Do tell us. What was Karítas like, for example? And her husband?’
‘They were just like anyone else. That’s all I can say. I had to sign an agreement not to discuss my time on board, especially not the guests or owners, so I can’t really talk about it.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Mind you, it might not count any longer, now they’re bankrupt. I wouldn’t know. But it doesn’t make any difference, because nothing interesting happened, so there’s nothing to say.’
‘Are you going to tell me they made you sign an agreement not to share your knowledge of the engine either?’ Thráinn folded his arms. ‘Anyone would have thought so, judging by how little you seem to know what you’re doing.’ He winked at Lára without Halli noticing. The young man flushed to the roots of his white hair.
‘Were there any children?’ Either Arna hadn’t grasped the part about the confidentiality clause or she dismissed it as irrelevant.
‘He doesn’t know, darling.’ Ægir worked with confidentiality agreements every day at the committee and the subject made him uncomfortable. It was to the young man’s credit that he wanted to keep his promise. Such matters ought to be honoured, and Ægir tried to convey as much to Lára by sending her a sobering glare. She ignored him.
‘Yes, he does. He can answer yes or no, can’t he?’ Arna put down her fork and returned to the attack. ‘Were there any children?’ She had inherited her mother’s friendly interest in people, whereas Bylgja took after her father. So alike on the outside; so different inside.
‘No.’ It was unclear whether Halli was answering or trying to put a stop to any further questions.
‘You could at least tell us if you enjoyed it.’ Lára wasn’t going to give up so easily.
‘No.’ At first the others weren’t sure whether he was refusing to answer or referring to his experience, but his next comment removed all doubt. ‘I wasn’t happy on board and I was in two minds about accepting this job when it came up.’
‘Oh.’ This was not the reply Lára had been hoping for. ‘Were you seasick?’
For the first time since they had embarked, they saw Halli genuinely amused. ‘No. I wasn’t seasick.’
‘What was wrong then?’ Lára pretended not to notice when Ægir trod warningly on her foot.
‘There’s something weird about this yacht. I can’t really explain. There’s just something wrong with her.’ He gave Thráinn a nasty smile. ‘The captain was a real loser as well, not that that’s unusual.’
Thráinn snorted. ‘Rubbish. As if you know anything about a boat like this. You’ve only been at sea for what, three, four years? This yacht is one of the finest vessels I’ve ever sailed and I know what I’m talking about.’
Halli turned red again, this time from anger, not embarrassment. ‘I didn’t criticise her performance, did I?’ He took a slug of wine. ‘It’s the atmosphere. There’s something creepy about her and I’m not the only one to think so.’
‘Really?’ Ægir said, then wished he hadn’t. This conversation was the last thing the girls needed to hear. They were sitting rigid with attention, hanging on every word instead of eating their supper.
‘Some of the other crew members told me the stories that were going round about her. They were all the same. I’m not particularly superstitious but all that talk about a curse made me uneasy. It was obvious they weren’t joking.’ Halli broke off abruptly and concentrated on shovelling the last potato into his mouth. ‘Thanks for the food.’ He stood up and went out.
Ægir walked into the pilot house and was surprised yet again at how different it was from what he had been expecting when he first came aboard. It reminded him more of a radio repair shop than the bridge of a ship, with its rows of computer screens and gadgets, all with a mysterious role to play. The only detail consistent with his preconceptions was the handsome wooden wheel below the window, though Thráinn had told him on the first day that it was only there as backup in case the automated navigation system failed. Generally, if the crew needed to steer the ship manually for any reason, they would use a joystick that was no bigger than the controller for a computer game. In addition to all the navigation equipment, the yacht had a sizeable telecommunications system, and although Ægir didn’t trust himself to repeat Thráinn’s explanation of how it all worked, he remembered more or less what role each system played. Still, he hoped he would never have to operate any of the technology in here; if he did, there was a risk the yacht would end up sailing in circles.
‘Isn’t it hard to keep an eye on all those screens and monitors?’ Ægir plonked a cold beer on the table that stood in the middle of the pilot house. It was covered with a non-slip cloth and had a raised chrome edge around it to prevent objects from sliding off in heavy seas. The bottle was wet with condensation, so he took care not to place it too close to the chart that was spread out on the table. He had seen similar charts on his sailing course, covered with lines and numbers that he had understood when sitting in the classroom but which now seemed to bear little relation to the sea they were supposed to represent. ‘I brought you a beer. Thought it would be okay since Thráinn’s relieving you soon.’
‘Thanks.’ Loftur reached for the bottle, after what looked like an internal struggle about whether to keep up his surly manner. ‘I’ve had just about enough anyway. The sodding radio’s playing up and I can’t fix it. It’s doing my head in.’ He took a swig of beer.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Endless bloody interference, a couple of weird calls.’ He nodded towards what looked like a card machine, from which a strip of paper protruded like a tongue. ‘There was an alert on the NAVTEX about a container falling off a freighter not far from here. That may have something to do with it.’
‘What’s the NAVTEX?’ Ægir went over to the machine and read the short English text on the printout, which was accompanied by a sequence of numbers and letters.
‘It receives messages about navigational alerts, like weather warnings, ice reports and notifications about other hazards such as drifting containers – like now.’
‘We’re not in any danger, are we?’ Ægir’s tone was ironic as he assumed the answer would be no. Loftur seemed far too relaxed and would surely have fetched Thráinn if it was serious. Ægir took a sip of cold beer.