away towards the towering stern quarters, out of the rude and blustering
wind and the helicopter engine roar.
Duncan Alexander followed her down to the deck, shook hands quickly with
the First Officer.
Captain Randle's compliments, sir. He is unable to leave the bridge
while the ship is in the inshore channel. I understand.
Duncan flashed that marvelous smile.
The great ship drew almost twenty fathoms fully laden and she had come
in very close, as close as was prudent to the mountainous coastline of
Good Hope with its notorious currents and wild winds.
However, Chantelle Christy must not be exposed to the ear-numbing
discomfort of the helicopter flight for a moment longer than was
necessary, and so Golden Dawn had come in through the inner channel,
perilously close to the guardian rocks of Robben Island that stood in
the open mouth of Table Bay.
Even before the helicopter rose and circled away towards the distant
glow of Cape Town city under its dark square mountain, the tanker's
great blunt bows were swinging away towards the west, and Duncan
imagined the relief of Captain Randle as he gave the order to make the
offing into the open Atlantic with the oceanic depths under his
cumbersome ship.
Duncan smiled again and reached for Peter Berg's hand.
Come on, my boy. I'm all right, sir. Skilfully Peter avoided the hand
and the smile, containing his wild excitement so that he walked ahead
like a man, without the skipping energy of a little boy.
Duncan Alexander felt the customary flare of annoyance. No, more than
that - bare anger at this further rejection by Berg's PUPPY. They went
in single file along the steel catwalk with the child leading. He had
never been able to get close to the boy and he had tried hard in the
beginning. Now Duncan stopped his anger with the satisfying memory of
how neatly he had used the child to slap Berg in the face, and draw the
fangs of his opposition.
Berg would be worrying too much about his brat to have time for anything
else. He followed Chantelle and the child into the gleaming chrome and
plastic corridors of the stern quarters. It was difficult to think of
decks and bulkheads rather than floors and walls in here. It was too
much like a modern apartment block, even the elevator which bore them
swiftly and silently five storeys up to the navigation bridge helped to
dispel the feelings of being ship-borne.
On the bridge itself, they were so high above the sea as to be divorced
from it. The deck lights had been extinguished once the helicopter had
gone, and the darkness of the night, silenced by the thick double-glazed
windows, heightened the peace and isolation. The riding lights in the
bows seemed remote as the very stars, and the gentle lulling movement of
the immense hull was only just noticeable.
The Master was a man of Duncan Alexander's own choosing. The command of
the flagship of Christy Marine should have gone to Basil Reilly, the
senior captain of the fleet. However, Reilly was Berg's man, and Duncan
had used the foundering of Golden Adventurer to force premature
