Night of Terror by Desmond Bagley

that in the end Suarez-Navarro will be sorry they ever heard of him.

It’s happened to him before and he’s always bounced back. I still work

for him. I-‘ JL “Whatever it is, say it.” “I had you checked out in

London, when you were preparing for this trip. I didn’t want Pop stung

again.

Besides.

“My name was Trevelyan?” “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. “But I had

to.

You checked out fine, you know.”For the first time since I’d known her

she was a little shy. She went on. “That’s enough about the

Campbells.

What about the Trevelyans – about you?” “What about me? I’m just a

plodding scientist.” We both laughed. Plodding certainly didn’t

describe this airy swooping progress, and it eased her tension.

“Most scientists seem to be looking up these days, not down.” “Ah,

space stuff,” I said.

“You don’t seem very enthusiastic.” “I’m not. I think it’s a waste of

money. The Americans are spending thirty billions of dollars to put

man into space; in the end it could cost ten times that much.

That works out at about twenty thousand dollars for every square mile

of airless lunar surface. You could get cheaper and better land on

earth and if you poured that much money into the sea the returns would

be even better. I think the sea is our new frontier, not space.” She

smiled at the missionary note in my voice. “So that’s why you became

an oceanographer.” “I suppose so – I was always in love with the

sea.”

“And Mark? What made him one? I don’t think I’ve ever known two

brothers more different.” I said, “Mark was eaten up with ambition.

How he got that way I don’t know – I think some of it was jealousy of

me, though God knows what he had to be jealous about. When my father

died Mark seemed to go wild; mother couldn’t control him. Since she

died I’ve had nothing to do with him – he went his way and I mine. It

hasn’t always been easy having a brother like that in my line of

work.

People sometimes confuse us – to my detriment.” “And his advantage.”

“Why, thank you, lady,”I said and bowed; and our relationshin suddenly

took a step forward.

“Trevelyan; that’s Cornish, isn’t it? Are you Cornish?” “Yes.

We’re descended from the Phoenician and Carthaginian tin traders.

Hannibal is still a popular name in Cornwall, though not in our family,

thank God.” “You’re kidding.” “No, I’m not. It’s a fact.”

We had a long, relaxed and easy conversation that night, talking about

everything under the sun and moon, and by the time she went back to her

cabin I had a better idea about both Clare and her father. Campbell

was a difficult man to assess, not very forthcoming about himself and

sticking to business most of the time. This talk with Clare had given

me something of his background and I felt more than ever that he was a

man to be trusted.

And then there was Clare herself – I found myself wondering if she

could bring herself to trust another Trevelyan, or whether Mark had

soured her on Trevelyans for life. I mentally chalked up another

stroke against Mark. I spent a long time thinking about Clare before I

turned in.

And then I suddenly thought of what she had said about Mark – of his

death hand pushing people around like pawns on a chessboard. It was

true; everything we had done or were doing stemmed from Mark and his

character. It was as though Mark had been a showman and we were his

puppets as his skeletal hands pulled the strings.

It was a shuddery thought to go to sleep on.

We entered a region of small revolving storms as Kane had predicted.

They ranged from mere waterspouts, ten yards across, to monsters fifty

feet in diameter. These squalls provided exhilarating sailing as long

as care was taken.

Esmerelda would be foaming along beneath a brilliant blue sky when the

horizon would darken and within minutes the water would be dark and

wind lashed, and when the storm AL had gone there would be rainbows

plunging into the sea and the faithful trade wind would pick up again,

driving us deeper into the heart of the Pacific towards the south-east

corner of French Oceania.

Sixteen days after leaving Panama Geordie figured out the midday sights

and announced, “We’re nearly there. We’ll enter the search area this

afternoon.” We had decided not to tell the crew too much, and so

Geordie gathered them and merely said that I wanted to stooge about

looking for a particular sort of water condition, but that everyone was

to be on the watch for shoals. Everyone knew there wasn’t much land

out here and his request may have sounded strange, but they willingly

organized for extra ees on each watch, and we had a man up the foremast

with binoculars a lot of the time. To my mind that was just a token

that a search was in progress as I didn’t think they’d spot anything,

but for everyone else it perked up interest. We arranged for some

dredging, to give the teams practice as we went along.

I was in the chart room early the next morning with Campbell and

Geordie, going over the chart and the Pilot.

I said, “The Erato spotted Minerva here – that was in 1890.

In 1920 another ship placed Minerva here, stretching eastnorth-east for

two miles. As Robinson points out, there’s a difference of ten

miles.”

Campbell said, “It’s strange that there should only have been two

sightings in thirty years.” “Not so strange,” said Geordie. “These

waters are pretty quiet, and they’re quieter now that power has taken

over from sail. There’s no need for anyone to come here just for

commerce.” He put his hand on the chart. “There are several

possibilities. One of these sightings was right and the other wrong

take Your pick of which was which. Or they were both wrong.

Or they were both right and Minerva is a moving shoal which happens

sometimes.”

“Or they were both wrong – and Minerva is still a moving shoal,” I said

dubiously.

“Or there are two shoals,” offered Campbell.

We all laughed. “You’re getting the idea,”said Geordie. He bent to

the chart again. “Now, we’ll put each of these sightings; into the

middle of a rectangle, ten miles by twenty. That’ll give us two

hundred square miles to search, but it’ll be sure.

We’ll start on the outside and work our way in.” Campbell said, “Let’s

get to the heart of the matter. Let’s go right to each of these

positions and see what’s there.” But Geordie decided against that.

“It

depends on the weather. I’m not going anywhere near those two

positions unless the sea is pretty near calm. You read what Robinson

said about not being able to distinguish breakers from storm waves. We

might find her too quickly and rip the bottom out of Esmerelda.”

“We’ve got the echo sounder,” I said. “They should tell us where the

water’s shoaling.” “Damn it, you’re the oceanographer,” said

Geordie.

“You should know that these islands are the tops of undersea

mountains.

There’ll probably be deep water within a quarter of a mile of

Minerva.

And we could be sailing in twenty fathoms and a spire of coral could

rip our guts out.” “You’re right, Geordie. Minerva’s probably a

budding atoll. Give her another million years and she’ll be a proper

island.” “We can’t wait a million years,” said Campbell acidly. “All

right, you’re the skipper. We’ll do your square search.” So we got on

with it. Geordie estimated that we’d have to pass within a mile of

Minerva in order to see it. That meant we’d have to cover about 100

miles in order to search a 200 square mile area. We used the engine as

sparingly as possible, confined our speed to about five knots and less,

and that way a daylight search would take about two days.

The first leg of the search gave us nothing and in the evening we

hove-to, knowing that it would be the devil of a job to assess our

actual position the next morning because of the rate of drift in this

area, and an uncertainty factor of at least one knot.

Geordie pointed this out to Campbell to make him realise that this

wasn’t like searching a given area of land which, at least, stays

put.

Campbell hated it.

That evening, relaxing on deck, I was bombarded with questions by the

crew as we ate our evening meal. They were all curious and I thought

that this was not a satisfactory way to deal with them – they’d be more

use and have more enthusiasm if they were in the know, of one piece of

the story at least. And I was also curious myself as to Kane’s

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