“I am here to apologise on behalf of the god Neptune for his ungentlemanly behaviour, and also on behalf of my galley staff because they are unable to prepare a meal at the moment. I will have Jack bring some sandwiches for you and the other two passengers very shortly.”
Sybilla had risen as the two seamen entered. Hess rushed to her side, holding onto her shoulders, just in case the rolling of the vessel caused her to fall, of course. She took the captain’s outstretched hand and shook it warmly.
“Please don’t apologise, Captain, and I can certainly use a sandwich, but I suspect my fellow travellers may have lost their appetite.”
The captain laughed. “Probably! And you, querida señora, you do not suffer the mal de mer?”
“Of course not, Captain, I am a Viking and have weathered storms on a fishing boat in the Arctic. My father used to tell me it was just Thor’s way of telling us he had drunk too much the night before in Valhalla.”
Roaring with laughter, the captain turned to go, then turned back and shook Sybilla’s hand again. “Gracias, señora, I will remember that! You have taught me something today.”
By late afternoon the storm had all but abated. Hess appeared in the mess, smiling broadly. “The captain has sent me to check on the passengers. I’ll check on the two gentlemen first,” he said, pointing to the passageway leading to the passenger cabins.
He was only gone a few minutes before he reappeared, chuckling to himself.
“Are they okay?” asked Sybilla, smiling. Hess’s good humour was infectious.
“No! They are definitely not okay. I could only get grunts out of one of them, and the other one informed me that he didn’t want to see food again as long as he lived, which he said was not likely to be very long.” Hess sat down in one of the easy chairs alongside Sybilla. “You’ve certainly put them to shame, they won’t be able to look you in the eye when they emerge from their cabins,” he chuckled again.
“Oh, and by the way, the captain has retold your ‘Thor’ story several times to other members of the crew and he now refers to you as the ‘Viking Princess’. He’s quite taken by you.”
Sybilla laughed. “That’s nice! It was good of you both to come and check we were okay, and to come again now, thank you.”
“My pleasure, and in any case, there’s something I want to show you.”
“Oh, what is it?” asked Sybilla eagerly.
“May I escort you on deck, madam? It’s safe now,” he said with mock courtesy, extending an elbow.
“Why, thank you, sir,” Sybilla said, rising and taking his arm.
Hess walked her to the starboard side of the ship, circling her shoulders with his arm, and pointed.
“See? It’s land. That’s South America!”
“Is it Brazil?” asked Sybilla.
“Not yet—a little way to go still—that’s Venezuela, but there’s a special treat for you tomorrow.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“You will have a chance to see God’s own country, Suriname, my home!” Hess said proudly.
“That’s wonderful. Will you get a chance to go ashore?”
“I’m pretty sure I will. We’ll have to lay up for a couple of days to repair storm damage, but I should be able to get ashore perhaps on the second day. I’ll be needed to organise and supervise repairs on the first day.” After a pause, he said, “Perhaps you’d come ashore with me this time, Billa?”
“Yes please, I’d love to,” said Sybilla enthusiastically.
The following day was one of noise and chaos as workmen bustled around the vessel carrying out the necessary repairs. Sybilla seized the opportunity to go ashore to the town centre to look around and buy a few items of clothing.
Towards evening as she looked out over the rail, she was startled by a voice from behind.
“Goedenavond.” Sybilla knew exactly who it was. Standing there in grubby coveralls, the top open to the waist, his skin sweaty and smeared with oil, was Hess. Magnificent!
“The work is all done,” he explained. “I’m on watch tomorrow morning from six till ten, but the skipper says I can go ashore for a couple of hours after that. Would you still like to come?”
“Of course, thank you. I’ve seen the city centre and the waterfront, so could we go somewhere else?”
“Of course, we’ll sort something out tomorrow. I’ll see you at ten.”
At ten to ten the following morning, Sybilla, wearing the new shorts and blouse she had bought in the town, made her way to the gangplank. Hess was already there in his whites.
They picked up a taxi at the dock gates and made their way upriver to the bridge. Sybilla thought it would be a good opportunity to sound him out about other passengers who had travelled to Argentina on the Miranda. She thought she was being subtle, but clearly not subtle enough.
“Billa, why don’t we stop beating about the bush. You want to know if we have carried other Nazis to Argentina, right?”
“Other Nazis? You think I’m a Nazi?”
His directness had knocked her off balance.
“Well, aren’t you? ‘Young woman suddenly leaves the US and travels to Argentina’ can only mean one of three things. You’re a business-woman—I don’t think so, that would have come up in conversation; you’re looking for a husband—definitely not. A woman with your looks wouldn’t have to leave the States to find a husband; or you’re running away from something. The fact that you’re running away to Argentina suggests only one thing. Am I right?”
Sybilla nodded gloomily. “I did work for the Germans during the war. Does it make a difference?”
“To me?” he asked, laughing. “Hell, no! I didn’t support either side. I was only a teenager when the Netherlands
