I couldn’t quite place him as he was introduced to us. He was quite a tough-looking man and he seemed a little embarrassed at drinking with us as though he felt out of place. I put him down as an artisan. Yet he, too, seemed to understand English.
‘What do you do on the station?’ I asked as he stood beside me.
‘Oh, Mr Sunde is not on the station,’ Mrs Kielland said. ‘He’s another little venture of Albert’s.’
‘What do you do then?’ I asked him.
‘Gor’ blimey, Oi’m a diver,’ he said.
The sudden outburst of pure Cockney took me by surprise. ‘A diver?’ I said.
‘That’s roight.’
I caught Dick’s eye and then said, ‘Are you diving for the station?’
‘That’s roight,’ he repeated and concentrated on his drink.
‘What are you diving for?’
‘Aerer engines,’ he answered. ‘A Jerry plyne was shot da’n just off the stytion. Oi’m gettin’ the engines up.’
Then yours were the boats we saw this morning, just off the outer islands,’ I said. ‘A diving boat and a little fishing boat?’
‘That’s roight.’
‘Where are your boats now?’
‘The divin’ boat’s lyin’ just ra’nd the ‘eadland.’
‘And the other — the fishing boat?’ I asked.
His grey eyes looked up furtively at me over his drink. ‘Me mate’s gorn inter Bovaagen for somefink,’ he muttered and gulped down his glass of cognac.
I watched the little Cockney diver as he sipped a second glass of cognac and I was certain he was hiding something. The others had the same idea. They were watching him, too. He glanced quickly in our direction and edged away towards the station manager. Jill gripped my arm. ‘Bill!’ she whispered, ‘do you think he could have picked Schreuder up this morning?’ Her voice was tense and strained.
‘I don’t know,’ I answered. ‘It’s possible. What do you think?’
‘I felt-’ She hesitated and then looked up at me. ‘Bill, I felt close to him this morning — terribly, strangely close. It was as though-’ She stopped and then said, ‘I don’t know. I just felt as though I were close to him, that’s all.’
To Farnell?’
She nodded.
I looked across at the dark-haired little diver. He was talking to Kielland. He was talking fast as though he had to keep on talking. I caught snatches of his conversation. It was about depth of water and oxy-acetylene cutting. ‘He’s nervous,’ I told Jill quietly. ‘I’ll get him alone as soon as I can and see what I can find out.’
But I didn’t get him alone before lunch and at lunch something happened that made me even more anxious to talk to the man privately. The meal was laid in a long, low room branching off from the steward’s big kitchen. Windows looked out across ridges of bare rock to a black cutting where the sea lay still in the hot sunshine like a piece of glass. The meal — middag they called it — was a colossal affair. It began with big steaks of whale meat served with tomatoes and potatoes. This was followed by koltbord — there were innumerable tins of fish treated in different ways, smoked salmon, pickled hake, pressed whalebeef and a whole assortment of different meats, salad and several types of cheese. There was milk and a light Norwegian Pilsner to wash it down.
Lovaas was there and Captain Nordahl of Hval To. The talk was mainly of whale. Sunde kept his eyes on his plate and when he spoke it was only to ask for something to be passed to him. If Dick had let him be, I might have found out what I wanted and Lovaas might never have come into the picture again. But Dick asked him how it was he spoke such good English, and with a Cockney accent.
The little diver looked up. ‘Me muvver was Cockney,’ he answered, tucking his food into his cheek. ‘She never could get on wiv the Norwegian language, so roight from the time Oi first opened me ma’f she talked ter me in English.’
‘Who were the men working with you this morning?’ Dick asked.
‘Me partner an’ a fisherman.’
There was a lull in the general conversation and Lovaas looked across at him. ‘What are you fishing for?’ he asked.
The Cockney Norwegian grinned. ‘Per aerer engines, Kaptein Lovaas,’ he answered. ‘Oi’m a diver. Started yesterday.’
‘He is getting up the engines of that old Junkers 88 that was shot down off Skarv Island,’ Kielland explained.
‘Off Skarv Island?’ The sudden interest in Lovaas’s voice hit me like a punch. I could see it coming and I couldn’t stop it. I began to talk about salvage operations in British harbours. But only the Kiellands were interested. Lovaas had stopped eating and was watching the diver. ‘Were you out there this morning, Mr Sunde? — ‘ he asked.
I kept on talking. But all around me was a heavy silence. Sunde gave Lovaas a quick, scared glance and then his eyes fell to his plate. He toyed nervously with his knife and fork. But he didn’t eat. ‘That’s roight,’ he said. And then hurriedly: ‘Oi went da’n ter examine the engines. When Oi sees they’re okay Oi sends me mate inter Bovaagen fer an acetylene cutter.’
Lovaas was on him like a hawk. ‘To Bovaagen, eh?’
