The White Voyage by John Christopher Page B

of the gale, and the groaning counterpoint of the
Kreya
’s resistance to it. ‘She was incredible,’ Mouritzen added. ‘A magnificent woman.’
    ‘Yes,’ Olsen said. ‘But I haven’t much liking for masterful women. When, in school history, I read of Joan of Arc, I detested her. I thought it fitting that she was executed, although I did not approve of the method.’
    ‘What kind of women do you like?’
    ‘Those that can be bought. The purchase removes the possibility of sentiment.’
    ‘So you hated your mother,’ Mouritzen said, ‘as well as worshipping your father. You are the anti-Oedipus.’
    Olsen looked at him with cold anger. He began to say something, but checked the words before they could make sense. A smile came to his face, broadening slowly.
    ‘You are a clever man, Niels. I am fortunate in having you as First Officer. A better officer might well be a more stupid one, and I would not care to have to live with stupidity.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘But it is not true that I hated my mother. Hate is a large thing, and what I felt for her was small.’
    ‘You would call it indifference?’ Mouritzen said.
    He realized that he had allowed some of his scepticism to manifest itself in his tone of voice. Olsen plainly noticed it, but merely smiled.
    ‘You think I do not know myself, Niels? I am a man without insight, ruled by his prejudices and obsessions. That is how I appear to you, is it not?’
    ‘Not quite like that.’
    ‘The same brush blackens you,’ Olsen said. ‘Although you are clever, you have not seen this. Find a seaman and you find a man who, deep down, is indifferent to women. He may pursue them, he may even marry, but that does not alter things. No true lover would tolerate so frequent and such long separation from that which he loves. No woman of sense marries a seaman, except for convenience.’
    ‘You have strong views,’ Mouritzen said. ‘And you put them well. But they are still nonsense.’
    Olsen laughed. ‘Does it come too close?’
    ‘It comes nowhere near me. It’s a matter …’
    He broke off as the telephone bell rang. Olsen picked up the receiver.
    ‘Captain speaking.’
    Mouritzen watched him as he listened, observed the slight narrowing of the eyes.
    ‘Mr Mouritzen will be coming down right away,’ Olsen said.
    ‘More trouble?’ Mouritzen asked.
    ‘Herning sounds nervous,’ Olsen said. ‘Hold him on a tight rein, Niels.’
    ‘What’s happened?’
    ‘He says that the No. 1 hatch has gone.’
    ‘My God!’
    ‘Yes. Better get down there right away.’

Chapter Six
    Clinging to the steps as a wave washed over the
Kreya
, Mouritzen thought the wind was even higher. He made his way across a deck running with water towards the cluster of lights above the forward hold. Herning was there, with half a dozen hands; and also, he saw with some disquiet, Carling. But Carling made no attempt to interfere as Herning made his report.
    ‘Smashed open, like a tin box, sir! And every sea we ship cracks it farther open.’
    Their torches, cast together, threw a double beam and Mouritzen saw what had happened. Presumably a wave had got under the hatch cover and lifted it. Subsequent seas had crashed the cover down against the hatch, lifted it and crashed it again, in a rhythmic pounding under which, in the end, the heavy steel had twisted and buckled. Now the cover on the starboard side was forced down below the level of its mate, useless, and with each wave water was sucked through into the hold, wrenching it further out of shape.
    The
Kreya
heeled and a wave lifted higher and higher above them before thundering down to immerse them, for an instant, in a world of savage water. Holding on to the rail, Mouritzen had a moment’s dread that there would be no more solid, that this was the end of things – a roaring in the ears, a choking, liquid coldness. In the apprehension of death, he thought of the sun, of all its lavish fire, and desperately worshipped it.
    But the