Night of Terror by Desmond Bagley

keep cropping up, and that was the question of vulcanism.” “You

mentioned that before,”said Geordie. “Are you going to put me in the

picture?” “I think another little lecture is in order- and I’ll

deliver it to

Campbell and Clare as well. It’ll give him something else to think

about. Get the three of you together in here after dinner, Geordie,

and put a lad on watch, to keep Kane away.

They’ll be expecting a council of war anyway.” And so later that same

evening I faced my small class, with a physical map of the seabeds of

the world unrolled on the chart table.

“You once asked me where manganese came from and I told you from the

rivers, the rocks and from volcanic activity.

And I’ve been doing a bit of serious thinking about the latter class.

But to start with, the Pacific is full of nodules while the Atlantic

hasn’t many. Why?” The professorial method, involving the class in

the answers always works. “You said it had something to do with

sedimentation,” Geordie recalled.

“That’s the orthodox answer. It’s not entirely wrong, because if the

sedimentation rate is high then the nodules stop growing – they get

covered up and lose contact with the seawater – the colloidal medium.

The sedimentation rate in the Atlantic is pretty high due to the Amazon

and Mississippi, but I don’t think that’s the entire explanation. I

want to show you something.” We all bent over the map.

“One fact about the Pacific stands out a mile; it’s ringed with

fire.”

My pencil traced a line, beginning in South America.

“The Andes are volcanic, and so are the Rockies.” It hovered over the

North American Pacific coast. “Here’s the San Andreas Fault, the cause

of the San Francisco earthquake of 1906.” My hand moved in a great arc

across the North Pacific.

“Active volcanoes are here, in the Aleutians and all over Japan.

New Guinea is very volcanic and so are all the islands about there;

here is Rabaul, a town surrounded by six cones all active. There used

to be five, but things stirred up a bit in 1937 and Vulcan Island built

itself up into a major cone in twenty-four hours and with three hundred

people killed.” I swept my hand further south. “New Zealand

volcanoes, geysers, hot springs – all the indications. South again to

the Antarctic and you have Mount Erebus and Mount Terror, two bloody

big volcanoes. And that completes the circle – a round trip of the

Pacific.” I turned my attention eastward. “The Atlantic is pretty

quiescent, volcanically speaking, except perhaps for the Icelandic

area. There was the enormous Mount Pelde eruption JL_ down here in the

Caribbean but as you can see that’s only just off the Pacific ring and

Krakatoa is in it, over Java way. The only place you find nodules in

any quantity is on the Blake Plateau – and the interesting thing about

that is that the Plateau is exactly where the current runs from the

Caribbean, which I’ve already mentioned as being volcanic.” Geordie

straightened up from the map.

“You’ve got a hell of a lot of places to choose from.” “That’s the

problem. And there are vents in the ‘ Pacific seabed which we don’t

know about – hell, we’re almost on top of one now. But I know that

high-cobalt area exists and I’ll stake my reputation that we find it in

a volcanic area.”

Campbell said, “As I understand you correctly, the nodules in the

Pacific, the ordinary ones which occur in the greatest number of

places, have been slowly growing through millions of years as a result

of long-ago volcanic activity. But you think there are places where

certain nodules might grow faster due to specific and recent volcanic

activity.” “That’s it – and they’ll be high-cobalt, high-nickel and so

on because of the fast growth. The metals will be entrapped while

they’re still around, before they’re dispersed into the general waters

of the Pacific.” “Mmm. That still doesn’t tell us where to look.” “I

want to stick around the Western Pacific,” I said intensely. “There

are plenty of known undersea vents here, and it’s better fossicking

round here than wasting our time.”

I had other reasons, of course – I wanted to begin my investigation

into my brother’s death, but I was only too well aware that in

Campbell’s eyes the commercial venture was the main, perhaps the only

reason for our carrying on. He had some personal stake but not

necessarily enough.

There was a lot to think about, and talk fell away. Presently Geordie

spoke up. “All right, let’s get on to Papeete and see what we can

decide on the way,”he said with finality.

We sailed for Tahiti, first heading south to skirt the Tuamotus, and

then on a direct course. Geordie didn’t want to sail through the

Tuamotus unless he had to; the name, he told us, meant “The Dangerous

Isles’ and they were every bit as dangerous as the name implied, a vast

area of coral atolls and sharp-toothed reefs, not all of them

charted.

I judged we should arrive in Papeete just about the same time as the

Eastern Sun, if she kept to her published schedule.

I certainly hoped we would arrive first – I didn’t relish leaving Paula

there without protection.

Campbell perked up on this leg of the voyage, gradually returning to

his old aggressive self, abetted by Clare ‘ We had talked further about

the possibilities ahead of us and I had tried to persuade him that I

wasn’t taking him on any wildgoose chases, but in fact I had nothing

much to go on myself, and was feeling very bothered by this.

Clare was back to poring over Mark’s diary, trying to unravel a few

more mysteries. I almost hoped she wouldn’t – we’d had enough trouble

over the Recife de Minerve. She had hidden the transcript and the

photostatted drawings, but had first made copies of these into her own

notebook, and studied them covertly from time to time.

It was pleasant enough sailing but not as invigorating as the first

part of the trip out from Panama. In spite of the decision to make a

new beginning we were all a little depressed, and had all been at sea

for a long time. We felt the urge to tread firm ground again.

So it was with relief that everyone heard Geordie’s announcement that

Tahiti was within easy reach and would be sighted at any time. We were

having lunch on deck and conversation was relaxed and easy. Clare sat

a little way from the rest of us, still studying those damned

drawings.

“Land – dead ahead!” Taffy Morgan hailed, and we all scrambled to our

feet to get our first sight of Tahiti. There was only a small smudge

on the horizon and we had a long while to go before we would see any

more detail. We praised Geordie’s navigation and then stood lounging

at the rails watching the smudge gain sharpness when Kane came over to

Clare.

“You left this on deck, Miss Campbell. It could blow over the side.”

And he held out her open notebook, with many of Mark’s drawings in full

view. We were all very still, looking at it.

Clare said coolly, “Thank you, Mr Kane.” “I didn’t know you could

draw, Miss.” “I can’t, ndt very well.” Kane grinned’and flicked at

the open pages. “Doesn’t look like it,” he agreed. “That’s a pretty

cow, mind you, but it’s a pretty scraggy-looking falcon.” Clare

managed a smile as she took the book from him.

“Yes, I’ll never be an artist,” she said.

Geordie said harshly, “Kane, have you spliced that new halliard yet?”

“Just going to, skipper, no sweat.” He walked away briskly and I let

my breath out. Clare said in a soft voice, “God, I’m sorry.”

Campbell watched Kane out of sight and made sure we were out of anyone

else’s hearing. “Clare, of all the damn silly things to do.” “I said

I was sorry.” “I don’t think it matters,” I said calmly. “It’s not

the actual diary – none of Mark’s handwriting shows. And for all we

know Kane isn’t aware that the diary ever existed.” “Somebody

might,”said

Clare. “That man Ramirez, he sent people to steal Mark’s things – he

may have known about it.” “If Kane is a low man on the totem pole then

he wouldn’t know everything. I don’t think it makes a bit of

difference what Kane saw. Forget it.” Clare looked at the drawings

again, and suddenly a smile displaced her air of tension. “Now that

he’s mentioned the cow, I think I may have one of Mark’s awful puns

figured out. Don’t get excited though, Pop – it’s only a wild

guess.”

She pointed to the cow and its companion, the squashed semi-circle.

“I’ve been reading things, and I read somewhere that another name for

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