‘For that reason he may stay in Bovaagen,’ Dick suggested.
‘It’s possible,’ I replied. ‘But he’s no reason to suspect Lovaas would go to such lengths.’
Curtis laughed. ‘It’d be funny if Lovaas had the same idea as us.’
‘If so,’ I said, ‘he’d be more likely to pick him up on the station.’
‘Maybe,’ Curtis acknowledged. ‘Still-’ He caught my arm. ‘What’s that?’
I listened. But I could hear nothing beyond the gurgle of the water under the bridge.
‘I thought I heard somebody call — up towards the factory.’
‘Probably one of the staff,’ I said. ‘It’s early yet.’
We stood there for some time, listening to the sound of the tide among the rocks. But we heard nothing more. We returned to the ship then and had food whilst Wilson and Carter kept watch.
Shortly after eleven, Dick, Curtis and I went ashore. We were wearing rubber shoes and dark clothes. The moon was beginning to rise and a faint light illuminated the sky. We settled ourselves behind a broken jumble of rocks near the bridge. There was no sound from the cutting now. The tide was at the high and the water slack. It began to get cold. The light in the sky steadily whitened. Soon we could see the bridge and the dark shadow of the cut.
Suddenly, away to my left, I caught the creak of oars. ‘Did you hear it?’ Dick whispered. ‘He’s coming up the cut.’
I nodded.
A loose stone rattled down against the rocks away to our right. I barely noticed it. I was listening to the creak of the oars, peering through the opaque uncertainty of the light to where I knew the inlet was. But I could see nothing — only the vague shape of rock and water. The creaking of the oars ceased. Silence for a moment; then the jar of a boat against rock. There was the clatter of oars being shipped and then, after a pause, the sound of boots coming towards us across the rock on the other side of the cutting.
‘There he is,’ Dick whispered in my ear. As he spoke I caught sight of a human figure moving towards the bridge. His boots slithered on the rock. The hard sound of his footsteps became hollow as he stepped on to the plankings of the bridge. It was Sunde all right. I could recognise him now. ‘Soon as he’s across the bridge,’ I whispered to the other two. I tensed, ready to dart forward and grab the man.
And in that instant, a sharp command was given in Norwegian. Sunde stopped. He hesitated, as though meditating flight. The voice spoke again. It was a strong, commanding voice. Then two figures emerged from the shadow of some rocks away to our right. In the pale light of the still unrisen moon I recognised the squat bulk of Lovaas. He held a gun in his hand. With him his mate, Halvorsen.
Sunde began to reason with him. Lovaas cut him short. I heard a name that sounded like Max Baker mentioned, and Lovaas laughed. The two men closed in on the diver. And then, one on either side, they marched him away to the whaling station.
I waited till their shadowy forms had vanished over a crest of rock. ‘Quick!’ I said. ‘We must get between them and the ship.’
‘The factory,’ Curtis whispered. ‘It’s the only place where we can surprise them.’
We struck away to the right then, making a wide detour and running hard. As far as possible we kept to gullies in the rock. Our rubber shoes made no sound. We reached the wire surround that kept the starving island sheep from getting into the factory and entered by one of the gates. I paused in the shadow of the office block and looked back. The sky was getting lighter. The moon’s tip was edging up over the black outline of the hills. I could just make out three shadowy figures moving towards us across the bare rock.
We went down the cinder track towards the flensing deck. By the boiler house we stopped. The path was narrow here with buildings on either side. Dick and I slipped into the warm darkness of the boiler-room. Curtis stationed himself in a doorway opposite. We agreed a signal for action and waited.
We could hear the sound of their feet on the rock. But they didn’t enter by the gate we had used. They kept outside the wire, moving along behind the factory. Curtis slipped out from his hiding-place. ‘There’s another gate,’ he whispered. ‘I saw it this afternoon when Kielland was showing us round. It’s at the back of the factory. And there’s a door leading into the place where the oil vats are.’
‘Then we’ll have to get them inside the factory,’ I said. ‘We must stop them getting to the catcher,’
