The Black Tide

the others had almost finished their meal and I wasn’t hungry. The questions they asked me made it clear they were under tension, all except Hals, who seemed relaxed and not in the least concerned about the nature of the voyage or where we were bound. I remember afterwards, when I was sitting with a whisky in my hand and a growing feeling of exhaustion, Rod Selkirk asked him how long the ship had been in the khawr and what sort of crew she had, and he said he didn’t know, that, like ourselves, this was the first time he had been on board. And he added, glancing quickly at me, ‘The crew is mainly Pakistani, but there are others also on board.’ And he took the opportunity to warn us not to leave the area of our quarters. ‘Which means, of course, we are confined to this deck and the one above — decks B and C. That is, until we sail.’ And he added, ‘There are guards to see that this order is obeyed, and they are armed. So you stay in your quarters please, all of you.’

They wanted to know the reason, of course, but all he said was, ‘I don’t know the reason no more than you. I don’t know anything about this voyage, except that we are all being well paid for it. I will try and do something about the food, but it is not important. We are signed on for a single voyage, that is all.’

‘Weel, here’s to the end o’ it then.’ Fraser raised his glass, then saw mine was empty, sloshed some more whisky into it and went round the others, moving carefully as he topped up their glasses, whistling softly through his teeth. ‘If we had a piano noo—’ The tune he was whistling was Loch Lomond, and when he’d

finished the round, he stood swaying in front of us and began to sing:

‘Aboot a lassie Ah’ll sing a song, Sing Rickety-tickety-tin; Aboot a lassie Ah’ll sing a song, Who didna have her family long — Not only did she du them wrong, She did every one o’ them in — them in, She did every one o’ them in …’

By the time she’d set her sister’s hair on fire and danced around the funeral pyre— ‘Playing a violin — olin’, we were all of us laughing. The Ball of Kirriemuir followed and then he had switched to Eskimo Nell, verse after verse— ‘Roond and roond went th’ bluidy great wheel, In and oot…’ The sweat was shining on his face, dark patches under his arms, and when I got up to go to my cabin he was suddenly between me and the door. ‘Where yu think yu’re goin’? Is it tha’ yu don’t like ma singin’, or is it the song?’ He was almost dancing with sudden rage. ‘Yu a prude or somethin’?’ ‘I’m just tired,’ I said, pushing past him. I must have done it clumsily for he lost his balance and came bouncing back at me, his arms flailing, mouthing obscenities. Somebody hauled him back, but I barely noticed. I wanted to be on my own and think things out. The fire doors closed behind me, their voices fading as I went along the alleyway to my cabin. Inside it was desperately hot, the air conditioner not working and no fans. I stripped off and had a cold shower.

There was no fresh water, only sea water, which was tepid and left me feeling hotter than ever and sticky with salt. I lay on my bunk, just a towel over my stomach, listening to the sounds of the ship — the deep-buried hum of the generator, the occasional footstep in the alleyway as somebody went to the heads opposite.

It must have been about half an hour later and I was still there on the bed, when there was a knock on the door. ‘Mind if I come in?’

I sat up, suddenly very wide awake, for the door was opening and I could see his head in silhouette against the light outside, the stubble growth on his cheek shading the line of the jaw. ‘What is it? What do you want?’

‘A word with you. That’s all.’ He stood there, hesitating. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, you see. I have to talk to you.’

I switched on the light and Choffel’s face leapt into view. He came in and shut the door. ‘I didn’t know, you see… about your wife, I mean.’ His face was pale, his hands clasping and unclasping. ‘Only just now — my daughter wrote to me …’ He shrugged. ‘What can I say? I’m sorry, yes, but it’s nothing to do with me. Nothing at all.’ He moved closer, coming into the cabin, his voice urgent. ‘You must understand that.’

I stared at him, wondering at the nerve of the man. I didn’t say anything. What the hell did one say? Here he was, the man who had put the Petros Jupiter on the rocks — and by doing so he had been as much the cause of Karen’s death as if he’d taken her out

there and killed her with a blow torch. But what could I do — leap from my bed and throttle him with my bare hands?

‘May I sit down please? It’s a long story.’ He pulled up a chair and a moment later he was sitting there, leaning forward, his dark eyes fixed on mine, and I thought, My God, this isn’t at all how it should be, the little bastard sitting there and me still on my bunk. ‘Get out!’ I said hoarsely. ‘Get out, d’you hear?’