A Ravel of Waters

'Grohman put the ship about, and beat into the gale for days. The Falklands! Of all places, why? That is where Jetwind is now. In Port Stanley. That's why I reacted the way I did when you told me you'd been close to Port Stanley when you cut through the Jasons in Albatros.’ 'Who was the next man in line after Grohman?'

'Tideman. John Tideman. Royal Navy Adventure Training School. Sailed round the Horn three times. He would know how to handle a fast ship!' 'Why didn't you appoint Tideman?'

'I told you, after Mortensen's death, I could not communicate with Jetwind, or I would have. Besides, I didn't know – wasn't told – that Jetwind had altered course. The communications system seemed to go haywire.' 'The radio, you mean?'

'No. I know the radio was working, because I checked back with Weather Routing. The ship was still acknowledging weather advice. But all I got were some cryptic telex messages when he was finally approaching the Falklands. Something about formalities surrounding Mortensen's death… a lot of crap! But that isn't the end of the story. Once Grohman reached Port Stanley, the authorities held Jetwind’

'You mean arrested?'

'Held is all I know. Investigations. Inquest into Mortensen's death. I tried phoning for clarification. If you want to blow a gasket, just try phoning Port Stanley.'

'It's absurd,' I replied. 'The British authorities in Port Stanley…'

'It was not only the British who stalled,' he retorted. 'It was the Argentinians. They also put their damned dago fingers in my Jetwind operation.' 'But the Falklands are British,' Don said.

'Argentina doesn't give a damn,' Thomsen snapped back. 'They have claimed the islands for generations. They even have their own name for them – the Malvinas. I wish I knew what got into that fool Grohman to put his nose into that thorny nest of international politics. All he needed to do was to carry on to Cape Town.' 'When did all this happen?' I asked.

'A week ago. A week! A week ago Jetwind anchored in Port Stanley! She was originally due in Cape Town five days ago and now she's harbour-bound while a dozen of the world's top shipping tycoons snigger in derision!'

'What does Sir James Hathaway say about this Falklands business? He's on the spot.'

'He is in a spot,' Thomsen retorted. 'He is being held in a kind of protective custody aboard Jetwind. The Argentinian authorities have refused to allow him to return via the mainland – a matter of bureaucratic red tape involving his travel permit. He must be chewing the rudder pintles off Jetwind. Every extra day he is ship-bound in Port Stanley, my chances of obtaining his financial backing diminish.' 'What about the other ship-owners?'

'Polite, but increasingly sceptical about Jetwind. They bring up the old cliche, something always happens to a sailing ship. Something did. Twenty million dollars' worth of floating computerized gadgetry is tied up in an obscure port. But I'm not beaten yet,' he said in a steely voice.

I said tersely, 'You didn't come here to cry on my shoulder.'

'Jetwind is still viable. I've decided to send the shipowner party off on a cruise to Gough Island.'

'To Gough? What the hell for? It's only halfway from South America to the Cape.'

'That's why! I'll show 'em still!' he went on. 'Gough is fifteen hundred and fifty nautical miles from the Cape. It's two thousand, one hundred and fifty miles from the Falklands. Jetwind can cover that distance in a week if she's thrashed to the limit. My party will be travelling aboard the South African research ship Agulhas due to relieve the weather station on Gough. I'm planning to have Jetwind intercept the Agulhas, and give a demonstration of her – in full flight, so to speak. That'll get 'em! They'll buy my project yet, if they can see her like that! I'll convince Hathaway, too! Given the right skipper she can do it.'

Don obviously knew all about the Jetwind drama. He made a great fuss over Thomsen's empty glass. He was clearly deeply concerned over the whole affair. Turning to face Thomsen, he said, 'Axel, I think the time has come to tell our friend here the purpose of our meeting.'

'Right,' said Thomsen in an authoritative manner. 'Let me come to the point. Rainier. I need a sailor, a man with guts, a man who's not afraid to take chances and pick up a challenge.' He came close to me with his fists clenched as if he meant to hit me. And flinging a fist in my direction, he said, 'I need YOU!'

Chapter 5