The White Voyage by John Christopher

to know,’ Olsen said, ‘but Carling knew. He probably told them about it.’
    ‘He says he didn’t.’
    ‘And is he to be believed, the state he’s in? He’s probably invented the whole thing. Are you fool enough to give any credence to a man who’s raving?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘He’s not dangerous?’
    Herning shook his head. ‘No violence at all. They got him down quite easily. He’s just talking a lot, about signs and all that.’
    ‘In that case we can concentrate on the bear. Do you think it might have got washed overboard?’
    The question was addressed to Mouritzen. He said:
    ‘No way of knowing. I should think the odds are against it, though.’
    ‘So should I,’ Olsen said. ‘Well, we have enough to contend with, without that.’ He left the bridge to go to his cabin, and came back shortly afterwards with his automatic pistol. He threw it to Herning. ‘Take a party, find the bear, and shoot it. All right?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    When Herning had gone, Mouritzen said: ‘It seems a pity. It’s not the bear’s fault.’
    ‘Fault,’ Olsen said, ‘fault! What has fault to do with it? Do you suggest that in conditions like this I can accept responsibility for a bear running loose?’
    ‘No, of course not. Shouldn’t we notify the Simanyis, though?’
    ‘You can, if you want to. If you think it’s worth while waking them up.’
    Mouritzen hung on to a support as the
Kreya
rolled to a new impact.
    ‘I doubt if they will be sleeping very heavily,’ he said.
    He left his oilskins on the bridge, and went down the inside stairs to the cabins. He knocked at the door of the cabin which the two male Simanyis shared and was answered by an inconclusive groan. Opening the door, he found Stefan lying in his bunk, his face buried in the pillow and a bowl beside him. The other bunk was empty.
    Mouritzen asked him: ‘Your father – where is he?’
    His mouth muffled by the pillow, not looking up, Stefan said:
    ‘They are downstairs – in the saloon.’
    Mouritzen found all the rest of the family down there, fully dressed, sitting in the end alcove, in front of a table that held a half-empty bottle of whisky and a number of ginger ale bottles, some empty and some still unbroached. Josef waved to him.
    ‘You have time for a drink, Mr Mouritzen? Can you get a glass?’
    Mouritzen shook his head. ‘Not just now. I have some bad news for you. Katerina’s cage has been torn loose by the waves.’
    ‘Torn loose?’ Josef said. ‘She is not drowned?’
    ‘She has got out of the cage,’ Mouritzen explained. ‘The Captain has given orders for her to be found and shot. There is nothing else to be done. She cannot be allowed to roam loose on the ship in this storm. It is better for her, too.’
    Josef stood up, holding on to the table as the ship rolled.
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘You cannot shoot that bear.’
    ‘The order’s already been given. I am sorry.’
    ‘But they haven’t found her yet?’ Nadya said. She was wearing jeans and the yellow sweater. She looked tired; her eyes were darkly underlined. ‘I will go and find her.’
    ‘There’s nothing you can do,’ Mouritzen said.
    He stood in her way as she came towards the door. Josef, after a moment, followed her. She looked at Mouritzen, shaking her head a little.
    ‘Tell Captain Olsen we will see to the bear.’
    ‘It is no sense your going out there,’ Mouritzen said. ‘You could not do anything, and you might easily be hurt – killed even. The storm is getting worse all the time.’
    Nadya took his arm and pushed him to one side; he was admiringly conscious of her great physical strength, hardly inferior to his own.
    ‘There is no time to waste in talking,’ Nadya said.
    ‘At any rate, you must get some kind of waterproofs on,’ Mouritzen said. ‘In two minutes you will be drenched to the skin.’
    She went out of the swing doors without replying, Josef following her. The ship lurched, and by the time Mouritzen had followed them, Josef