baby because he answers a Mayday. And David Allen was silent as the
Warlock turned away into the fog, every revolution of her big
variable-pitch propellers carrying her directly away from her prize, and
La Mouette's triumphant transmissions taunted them as the Frenchman
raced across the last of the open water that separated her from Cape
Alarm, bargaining furiously with the owners in London.
The fog seemed so thick that it could be chopped into chunks like
cheese. From the bridge it was not possible to see Warlock's tall bows.
Nick groped his way into it like a blind man in an unfamiliar room, and
all around him the ice pressed closely.
They were in the area of huge tabular icebergs again. The echoes of the
great ice islands flared green and malevolently on the radar screen and
the awful smell and taste of the ice was on every breath they drew.
Radio Officer? Nick asked tensely, without taking his eyes from the
swirling fog curtains ahead.
Still no contact/ the Trog answered, and Nick shuffled on his feet. The
fog had mesmerized him, and he felt the shift of vertigo in his head.
For a moment he had the illusion that his ship was listing heavily to
one side, almost as though it were a space vehicle. He forcibly
rejected the hallucination and stared fixedly ahead, tensing himself for
the first green loom of ice through the fog.
No contact for nearly an hour now/ David muttered beside him.
Either the battery on the DF has run down, or they have snagged ice and
sunk volunteered the Third Officer, raising his voice just enough for
Nick to hear.
or else their transmitter is blanketed by an iceberg/ Nick finished for
him, and there was silence on the bridge for another ten minutes, except
for the quietly requested changes of course that kept Warlock zigzagging
between the unseen but omnipresent icebergs.
All right, Nick made the decision at last. We'll have to accept that
the raft has floundered and break off the search., And there was a stir
of reawakening interest and enthusiasm. Pilot, new course to Golden
Adventurer, please, and we'll increase to fifty percent power. We could
still beat the frog. Again speculation and rising hope buoyed the young
officers. She could run into ice and have to reduce -'They wished
misfortune on La Mouette and her Captain, and even the ship beneath
Nick's feet seemed to regain its lightness and vibrancy as she turned
back for a last desperate run for the prize.
All right, David/ Nick spoke quietly. One thing is certain now, we
aren't going to reach the prize ahead of Levoisin. So we are going to
play our ace now -I he was about to elaborate, when the Trog's voice
squeaked with excitement.
New contact, on 121,5 he cried, and the dismay on the bridge was a
tangible thing.
Christ! said the Third Officer. Why won't they just lie down and die!
The transmission was blanked by that big berg north of us/ the Trog
guessed. They are close now. It won't take long., Just long enough to
make certain we miss the prize,, The berg was so big that it formed its
own weather system about it, causing eddies and currents of both air and
water, enough to stir the fog.
