correspondence when one of the girls brought in a visitor, and a most
welcome one. Geordie Wilkins had been my father’s sergeant in the
Commandos during the war and after my father had been killed he took an
interest in the sons of the man he had so greatly respected. Mark,
typically, had been a little contemptuous of him but I liked Geordie
and we got on well together.
He had done well for himself after the war. He foresaw the yachting
boom and bought himself a 25-ton cutter which he chartered and in which
he gave sailing lessons. Later he gave up tuition and had worked up to
a 200-ton brigantine which he chartered to rich Americans mostly,
taking them anywhere they wanted to go at an exorbitant price.
Whenever he put into England he looked me up, but it had been a while
since last I’d seen him.
He came into the office bringing with him a breath of sea air.
“My God, Mike, but you’re pallid,” he said. “I’ll have to take you
back to sea.” “Geordie! Where have you sprung from this time?” “The
Caribbean,” he said. “I brought the old girl over for a refit. I’m in
between charters, thank God.” “Where are you staying?” “With you – if
you’ll have me. Esmerelda’s here.” “Don’t be an idiot,” I said
happily. “You know you’re welcome. We seem to have struck it lucky
this time; I have to do a bit of writing which will take a week, and
then I’ve got three weeks spare.” He rubbed his chin. “I’m tied up
for a week too, but I’m free after that. We’ll push off somewhere.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said. “I’ve been dying to get away.
Wait while I check this post, would you?” The letter I had just opened
was from Helen; it contained a brief letter and the advisory note from
British Airways.
There was something to be collected from Heathrow which had to clear
customs. I looked up at Geordie. “Did you know that Mark is dead?”
He looked startled. “Dead! When did that happen?” I told him all
about it and he said, “A damned sticky end even for Mark.” Then he
immediately apologized. “Sorry – I shouldn’t have said that.” ,Quit
it, Geordie,” I said irritably. “You know how I felt about Mark;,
there’s no need to be mealy-mouthed with me “Aye. He was a bit of a
bastard, wasn’t he?
How’s that wife of his taking it? “About average under the
circumstances. She was pretty broken up but I seem to detect an
underlying note of relief.” “She’s best remarry and forget him,” said
Geordie bluntly.
He shook his head slowly. “It beats me what the women saw in Mark. He
treated ’em like dirt and they sat up and begged for more.”
“Some people have it, some don’t,” I said.
‘if it means being like Mark I’d rather not have it. Sad to think one
can’t find a good word to say for the man.” He took the paper out of
my hand. “Got a car I can use? I haven’t been in one for months and
I’d like the drive. I’ll get my gear from Esmerelda and go out and
pick this stuff up for you.” I tossed him my car keys. “Thanks. It’s
the same old wreck you’ll find it in the car park.” When he had gone I
finished up my paperwork and then went to see the Prof. to pay my
respects. Old Jarvis was quite cordial. “You’ve done a good job,
Mike,”he said. “I’ve looked at your stuff briefly and if your
correlations are correct I think we’re on to something.” “Thank
you.”
He leaned back in his chair and started to fill his pipe.
“You’ll be writing a paper, of course.” “I’ll do that while I’m on
leave,” I said. “It won’t be a long one; just a preliminary. There’s
still a lot of sea time to put in.” “Looking forward to getting back
to it, are you?” “I’ll be glad to get away.” He grunted suddenly.
“For every day you spend at sea you’ll have three in the office
digesting the data. And don’t get into a job like mine; it’s all
office-work.
Steer clear of administration, my boy; don’t get chair-bound.” “I
won’t,” I promised and then changed tack. “Can you tell me anything
about a fellow called Norgaard? I think he’s a Swede working on ocean
currents.” Jarvis looked at me from under busby eyebrows. “Wasn’t he
the chap working with your brother when he died?” “That’s the man.”
He pondered, then shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything of him
lately; he certainly hasn’t published. But I’ll make a few enquiries
and put you in touch.” And that was that. I didn’t know why I had
taken the trouble to ask the Prof. about Norgaard unless it was still
that uneasy itch at the back of my skull, the feeling that something
was wrong somewhere. It probably didn’t mean anything anyway, and I
put it out of my mind as I walked back to my office.
It was getting late and I was about ready to leave when Geordie
returned and heaved a battered, ancient suitcase onto my desk. “There
it is,”he said. “They made me open it – it was a wee bit difficult
without a key, though.” “What did you do?” “Busted the lock,”he said
cheerfully.
I looked at the case warily. “What’s in it? “Not much. Some clothes,
a few books and a lot of pebbles.
And there’s a letter addressed to Mark’s wife.” He untied the string
holding the case together, skimmed the letter across the desk, and
started to haul out the contents – a couple of tropical suits, not very
clean;. two shirts; three pairs of socks; three textbooks on
oceanography – very up-to-date; a couple of notebooks in Mark’s
handwriting, and a miscellany of pens, toiletries and small odds and
ends.
I looked at the letter, addressed to Helen in a neat cursive hand.
“I’d better open this,”I said. “We don’t know what’s in it and I don’t
want Helen to get too much of a shock.” Geordie nodded and I slit the
envelope. The letter was short and rather abrupt: Dear Mrs Trevelyan,
I am sorry to tell you that your husband, Mark, is dead, although you
may know this already by the time you get this. Mark was a good friend
to me and left some of his things in my care. I am sending them all to
you as I know you would like to have them.
Sincerely, P. Nelson I said, “I thought this would be official, but
it’s not.” Geordie scanned the short note. “Do you know this chap,
Nelson?” “Never heard of him.” Geordie put the letter on the desk and
tipped up the suitcase.
“Then there are these.” A dozen or so potato-like objects rolled onto
the desk. Some of them rolled further and thumped onto the carpet, and
Geordie stooped and picked them up. You’ll probably make more sense of
these than I can.” I turned one in my fingers. “Manganese nodules,” I
said.
“Very common in the Pacific.” “Are they valuable?” I laughed. ‘if
you could get at them easily they might be but you can’t, so they
aren’t.
They lie on the seabed at an average depth of about fourteen thousand
feet.” He looked closely at one of the nodules. “I wonder where he
got these, then? It’s a bit deep for skin-diving.”
“They’re probably souvenirs of the I.G.Y – the International
Geophysical Year. Mark was a physical chemist on one of the ships in
the Pacific.”
I took one of the notebooks and flipped the pages at random. Most of
it seemed to be mathematical, the equations close-packed in Mark’s
finicky hand.
I tossed it into the open suitcase. “Let’s get this stuff packed away,
then we’ll go home.” So we put everything back, higgledy-piggledy, and
carted the case down to the car. On the way home Geordie said, “What
about a show tonight?”On his rare visits to a city he had a soft spot
for big gaudy musicals.
“If you can get tickets,” I said. “I don’t feel like queueing.”
“I’ll get them,” he said confidently. “I know someone who owes me a
few favours. Look, drop me right here and I’ll see you at the flat in
half an hour, or maybe a bit longer.” I dropped him and when I got to
where I lived I took Mark’s suitcase first because it came handiest,
then I went’back to the car for Geordie’s gear. For some time I
pottered about estimating what I’d need for a trip away with him, but I
had most of what I needed and the list of things I had to get was very
short and didn’t take long to figure out.
After a while I found myself looking at the suitcase. I picked it up,