crash-land at Stanley. The incident was finally smoothed over diplomatically but it's left a nasty aftertaste.'
Brockton laughed. 'Just wait and see what you've stirred up by mucking about with their Almirante Storni, Peter.' 'Just an unfortunate accident.' 'You tell Argentina that’ he replied wryly.
'What Washington is deeply concerned about is that the Russians may attempt to instal a pro-Red Argentinian puppet regime in the Falklands. Then, with the cooperation of Argentina, a 'friendly' Soviet Navy would effectively seal the Drake Passage. The last major link in their global choke point chain would then be complete. The United States and Britain would then have been totally out-manoeuvred.'
'There's a price tag to everything’ I replied. 'What is it in this case?'
'The price of Argentinian cooperation would be support by Russia for her claims to the Falklands-Cape Horn area as well as for her claims against Chile in the same region -backing for the principle of sole access to the South Atlantic by Argentina.'
'You've mentioned only Argentina’1 said. 'What about the attitude of Chile?'
'From the Upited States' point of view, Chile seems safe enough,' answered Brockton. 'The reactionary regime there is unlikely to cooperate with the Reds. There are no naval or air bases of any significance on Chile's western Pacific coast – it's too wild and rugged southwards – which could counter closure of the Drake Passage by the Soviet Navy.'
I eyed both men. 'Since we're putting our cards on the table, let me ask you both something. Paul, why were you so keen to travel aboard Jetwind?’
He hesitated a fraction of a second. 'I had to know exactly what you saw when the Orion went in.'
'That doesn't mean you had to make the run from the Falklands to the Cape.'
'True,' he answered. 'But as I said before, a crack team from Naval Securities Group Activities was specially moved from the Azores to Tristan because of a build-up of Red signals emanating from the Southern Ocean. We lost out over the Orion's deep probe. There are no ships at all in these waters, no aircraft routes. Jetwind is a once-only chance that something might turn up.' 'Why should it?'
'Your route stakes us right across the area we're interested in.'
'You weren't to know that when you first came aboard Albatros. You didn't even know then that I had been given command of Jetwind.'
He seemed a little taken aback by my cross-questioning. 'All I had to go on was that last sighting by the Orion of a yacht whose description fitted Albatros. I played it by ear from there.' 'What do you hope to learn still?' 'Who knows?'
I turned to Tideman. By hindsight later, I realized that he had had time to work on his story while Brockton was explaining his.
'John, your stamping-ground is Cape Horn, by your own from it. What do you hope to get out of Jetwind? You, plus four paratroopers?'
'Our Navy got tipped off by the U.S. Navy of a build-up in the South Atlantic,' he replied. 'We're even more handicapped by lack of ships and aircraft than the U.S. We're a shoestring outfit. Like Paul, I'm also taking a chance on something turning up.' There was an imperative knock at the door. 'Come in!’
It was Arno, his face expressionless. He gave me a half-formal salute as if to underline the importance of the signal he handed to me. It was in plain language. It was from the Argentinian Navy.
TO RAINIER, JETWIND, JWXS, POSITION…'
I gasped – our position was stated exactly as it was half an hour before! I thought I had.brushed Jetwind’s tracks clean! RETURN TO PORT STANLEY IMMEDIATELY. SURRENDER TO ALMIRANTE STORNI. NONCOMPLIANCE WITH THIS ORDER WILL BE FOLLOWED BY APPROPRIATE AIR AND NAVAL ACTION.
I read the signal over to Tideman and Brockton. Tideman noted the position fix give-away even before Brockton.
'How the hell could the Argentinian Navy possibly know our position?'
'It tallies with the satellite navigator's read-out barely half an hour ago,' I replied. 'I mean to find out more about this.'
'Do you intend to comply with the order?' asked Brockton.
'What the hell do you think?' I retorted. 'It's a bluff. 'Appropriate air and naval action'!' I snorted derisively. 'In this kind of storm? This is the sort of weather to exploit the sailing ship's built-in advantage over power. We're doing better all the time. I mean to get even more out of this ship still once I get on the bridge!' 'Good man!' Tideman said with warm sincerity.
Brockton paced the cabin excitedly. 'We'll lick these Red sonsofbitches yet – just the three of us! No goddam Soviet Fleet is going to seal the Drake Passage!'
My reply was aimed at throwing a bucket of water over his fervour. 'Both of you talk as if there's a war on.'
My remark had the desired effect on Brockton. His excitement vanished. The gravity which took its place was all the more striking by contrast. Tideman nodded agreement when he said,
'The war is on, Peter. It's not a shooting war – yet. It's a silent war. It's a war of move and counter-move deep under the oceans – deep as the nuclear subs run. The Drake Passage is the West's last great bastion. I am at war, John is at war’ I indicated the Argentinian signal. 'It looks as if Jetwind is also at war.'
Chapter 19
A radio phone call I had put through to Thomsen in Cape Town broke up our meeting. Brockton and Tideman left the cabin, Tideman under orders to get some rest as soon as I could relieve him on the bridge.
My news left Thomsen ecstatic. He brushed aside the implications of the Almirante Storni. His enthusiasm was unbounded when he heard Jetwind's progress and speed. There was a tough, Pll-show-them admiration in his voice when I told him the route I was taking. Fastest, but most perilous – the Trolltunga route. I cut short his congratulations. A lot could happen in 2100 miles to Gough, I told him before I rang off. What I wanted most now was to icoax Jetwind up to her maximum.
I made for the door. As I reached it, it was thrown open as if the gale had suddenly burst its way below- decks. It was Sir James Hathaway.
The impetus of his entry and a lurch from the ship caused him to stagger and trip over the old ship's bell on the floor which Robbie Lund had given me at Comodoro Rivadavia. Sir James stood glaring at me and the bell, as if torn between which he should curse first.
'Rainier! Why the devil do you hide yourself away? I've been trying to get hold of you all morning!' I bit back my retort; he was Jetwind's potential purchaser.
I said as civilly as I could, 'My job is to keep this ship moving. That comes first.'
Maybe he wasn't used to being answered back, but what I had to say seemed to mollify him. He reached for my hand. His grip was like a welter-weight's at a fight weigh-in.
It cost him an effort to say, 'Congratulations! You've done well, Rainier. Yesterday I couldn't have imagined myself saying that to any skipper who took over this ship.' 'Thanks.'
'Everyone on board is full of what you did to that bloody dago warship.'
'There may be more people than those aboard talking about it soon,' I said. 'The Argentinian Navy, for example.'
'The hell with them,' he rejoined cheerfully. 'The United Nations included., They'll blow it up and make capital of the incident before the international forum, make no mistake. Lots of tub-thumping from the Reds into the bargain. That's my view. Take it or leave it.' 'They won't leave it, you can be sure.'
His attention seemed divided between me and the old bell. 'Where'd you get this from? Ship's bells are my hobby.'
I was surprised that he admitted to having any weakness. I explained and he bent down and examined it.
