CHAPTER 40

After about an hour, the snow let up a little, and with the help of radar, Paul guided the Arluk into Angmagssalik Fjord. The wind whistled through the rock canyons there even worse than at sea. The snow from the sky was mixed with that blown from shore. In such conditions Paul did not fear immediate enemy attack. As he crept closer to the wharf, he could see the Arluk’s whaleboat moored alongside the Danes’ heavy launch. No people were in sight and the red wooden cottages, now standing in deep snow, looked like a deserted village except for dark smoke from their chimneys and a few dimly lit windows.

“Maybe the Danes are hoping we are,” Paul replied. “I said. “Hell, we could be the damned German.”

“They probably don’t even know we’re here,” Nathan was going to anchor, but it doesn’t look like any boat is going to come out for us. We can unload the wounded easier if we go alongside the wharf.”

As the ship slowly approached the granite pier, about twenty Eskimos came running from the village. Perhaps they had been waiting to make sure of the nationality of the ship emerging through the snowstorm, Paul thought, but their round copper-colored faces were smiling as they caught the heaving lines. One figure in a fur parka who was taller than the rest hauled in the heavy bow line, and expertly made it fast to a bollard. As he jumped aboard Paul was surprised to see that it was Boats. His gaunt face was not smiling, and his expression of anger turned to astonishment when he saw the lines of splintered holes and smashed ports left by the machine-gun bullets. Running to the pilothouse, he said, “Christ, skipper, what happened to you?”

“We got jumped. Two dead and six wounded. Are the prisoners under control?”

“They are now, but the lieutenant escaped.”

“How did that happen?”

“I wanted to tie them all up before we let them get out of their boat, but Mr. Williams and Mr. Farmer wouldn’t let me. The Danes and a bunch of Eskies just surrounded us while we were trying to find a place for them. In all the confusion, the lieutenant just slipped away. We didn’t even find it out until we got them inside and I took a head count.”

Suddenly Paul imagined how old Mowrey would react to this news, to reports of his encounter with the Germans. “Jesus, I told you you’d fuck up!”

“Maybe it isn’t too bad,” Nathan said. “Where the hell can he go?”

“Back to his base,” Paul said grimly. “Probably with plenty of help.”

“The Danes sent an Eskie after him,” Boats said. “They think he’ll find him.”

“I bet. Where the hell are Mr. Williams and Mr. Farmer?”

“Mr. Williams is standing guard. He’s pretty sore at me. Mr. Farmer is sick. The Danes think he had a heart attack.”

“Show me where the prisoners are.”

Leaving the ship in charge of Nathan, Paul put on his pistol belt, checked his automatic and walked with Boats toward the house to which Brit had taken him. As they passed the little ketch on the ways, Paul saw that the snow had been shoveled off her deck and smoke rose from the Charlie Noble which vented her galley range.

“Mr. Williams is mad as hell with me because I said I couldn’t take responsibility for the prisoners if he didn’t let me tie up both their hands and their feet,” Boats shouted above the wind. “He wouldn’t even have tied up their hands if Mr. Farmer hadn’t taken my side. Christ, there’s no place to put the damned people here. They could smash their way right out of that house. Mr. Williams won’t even let me lash their wrists real tight. When I said me and my men couldn’t take responsibility, he took over the whole guarding operation himself.”

Paul said nothing. The snow and wind cut his face as they trudged through knee-deep snow toward the village.

Harley, a tall thin seaman so self-effacing that Paul had hardly been aware he was aboard the ship, was standing or rather sitting guard in the tiny vestibule of the house which Paul had visited with Brit. He was slumped on a bench under a row of parkas smoking a cigarette with his automatic rifle propped against his knees. Seeing his commanding officer, he stood up, grabbing the rifle just before it fell.

“Don’t sit down when you are on guard duty, damn it!”

Without more comment, Paul entered the livingroom of the house. It was a memorable sight. Twenty-three men were crammed together. About half stood and half sprawled on the floor. All had their wrists bound. On a chair in a corner by the stove, Williams sat like a host, except that he was gesturing with his pistol as he talked. When Paul came in there was an instant of silence, followed by complaints in German from everyone. Their wrist bindings hurt. There were no beds. The one toilet was stopped up. Two men shouted that they were sick. Above this din Williams shouted, “Skipper! Thank God you’re here!”

“Silence!” Paul bellowed in German, but there was only a short lull before the voices rose again. Williams stood up and kept yelling in English for quiet. His high, piercing voice was drowned in the uproar. Pushing toward him, Paul grabbed his chair. Raising it high above his head, he brought it down on the floor so hard that it broke. The splintering crash produced a sudden hush.

“When I say silence I want silence,” Paul said in German. “If you can’t keep quiet, I’m going to put the stove out and see if the cold can shut you up.”

The Germans stared at him, their faces stolid. The youngest looked about seventeen, the oldest about fifty. They could have been the crew of another American trawler.

“Boats, you take charge here,” Paul said. “If one man speaks, shut down the drafts of the stove and open the door. Make sure you stand guard in it.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Come with me,” Paul said to Williams and led the way to a tiny kitchen adjoining the main room. As soon as he shut the door, he turned to the ensign and said, “Those men could rush you any second. You’ve let the lieutenant escape. This is the worst fuck-up I ever saw.”

“Sir, they don’t want to escape. Where the hell would they go? The lieutenant was crazy. If he’s not dead by now, the Eskies will bring him back.”

“Maybe, but I want them hog-tied. I want them bound hand and foot until I find a better place to keep them.”

“Sir, you can’t do that. Where the hell are they going to run to?”

“How do you know who might help them? Maybe that Eskie who went after the lieutenant is showing him the way to his base right now. They could take over this whole damn village if you give them a chance to think it out. Where are the rest of your guards?”

“I’ve got two men posted upstairs at the windows. They could shoot anyone who ran out.”

“If they’re awake and if the Krauts didn’t take you hostage. Where are the rest of your men?”

“They have to sleep, sir. And Mr. Farmer’s in the dispensary. He had a heart attack.”

“Get everyone but him here. I want everyone here with drawn guns while Boats hog-ties these bastards.”

“Sir, two of them are sick.”

“Tough. Mr. Williams, the Krauts killed the men from the Nanmak because they were too smart to take prisoners aboard a small ship. Now I haven’t been that smart, but I’ll get exactly that smart if I see one chance in a thousand that these people can take us over. So for their own good you better get them hog-tied until I can find a safe place to keep them.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now get all your men.”

Paul waited until he had armed guards lining the walls of the room before he told Boats to start tying up the prisoners, hands and feet. As Boats moved toward them with his hands full of short lines, which he had already prepared for the purpose, the prisoners again started to yell. Paul went to a window, forced it open by hammering it with the palm of his hand, and fired his .45 automatic twice into the drifts outside. The reports of the gun were deafening in the small room, and they were followed by silence.

“I’ll shoot the next man who opens his mouth and who doesn’t hold still while he’s being tied up,” Paul said in German. “You people shot all the survivors of the Nanmak, and all I want is an excuse to shoot one of you.”

The prisoners stared at him as indignantly as innocent men, but said nothing. Boats swiftly proceeded with his job, tying his knots so tightly that the men flinched.

“You’ll cut off their circulation,” Williams said.

“Two men aboard my ship just had their circulation cut off,” Paul said. “Blake and Sparks are dead. Don’t talk to me about circulation.”

When the prisoners had been hog-tied, Paul had them laid out like cordwood on the floor. Leaving Boats and four armed men to watch them, he said, “Now Mr. Williams, find the governor of this place. His name is Swanson. Tell him I want to see him aboard my ship right now. Bring him aboard at the point of a gun if you have to. I’m taking over this town.”

“Sir, that’s not necessary. Mr. Swanson has been doing everything he can to help.”

“Help who? Get him, now.”

Storming out the door, Paul cringed as the snow and wind hit him, but ducking his head, ploughed toward the wharf. A dozen Eskimos followed him. There were no dogs. Eskimo settlements were almost always swarming with sled dogs. Had all the dog teams left this place, and if so, where were they going?

As Paul came abreast the ketch on the ways, he saw what looked like an Eskimo coming to meet him. He guessed that it was Brit before he saw her white narrow face. “Paul!” she said. “Thank God you’re here.” She put a heavily mittened hand on his arm.

“I’m not sure what side you’re on—”

“I understand that, I respect it … I have to talk to you.”

“Not now. I have wounded to take care of, prisoners, and I have to bury the dead.”

“I can help you.”

“From now on I trust no one but my own men. Where are the dogs?”

“Peomeenie took two teams to look for the escaped prisoner. Not many are left. The dogs usually stay with the natives over by the sod huts. We try to keep them away from here.”

“Christ, I don’t know whether to believe you or not.”

“I won’t try to convince you now. But I can tell you a good place for the prisoners.”

“Where?”

“There’s a little island out in the fjord with three sod huts on it. They put people with infectious diseases there. It’s empty now and the huts have stoves. The prisoners could survive and they never could escape.”

“Not without help, maybe.”

“Your guns could cover the whole island from the shore.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“Let me tell you about Swanson. You don’t have to believe me now, but you should think about this.”

“What?”

“He’s not really on the side of the Germans. He’s just scared to death. The Americans come and they go, but the Germans are always there, just up the coast.”

“You knew that then.”

“No, I didn’t, not until yesterday. I won’t try to convince you of that. But Swanson knew it. They told him they’d move in and butcher everyone here, Danes and natives, if they thought we were giving you people any help.”

“If he’d told me that, we could have called in planes.”

“Would they get all of them? What will happen when you leave?”

“It’s a war, Brit. You have to take sides.”

“That’s easy for you. You have strength enough—”

“I suppose I could expect you to make a case for Swanson.”

“I suppose. Come see me in my boat when you want. I’ll be waiting there.”

Turning, Brit ran toward the ketch, moving with astonishing speed through the deep snow.

Paul continued to the Arluk. Nathan met him in the pilothouse. “Skipper, I want to move the dead ashore right away. I’ve got them in the wardroom.”

“The old Dane is coming here. I’ll make arrangements.”

“One of the Eskies told me they have a place to put the dead until they can dig graves. They even have a special dog sled for a hearse. They’ve gone to get it.”

“Fine. Move the dead off as soon as you can.”

Paul went to his cabin. He was chilled to the bone and his talk with Brit had left him even more tense than his dealing with the prisoners. From a drawer under the desk he took a pint of apricot brandy that he had found hidden under the mattress. He had already opened it when he was hit by the thought that he needed it too much. A man who wouldn’t drink while he was playing cards had no right to touch alcohol while dealing with life and death. He poured the brandy down his sink and went to the forecastle for coffee.

The men were playing checkers again as though nothing whatsoever had happened. Two of the German wounded were watching the tournament, despite assorted bandages. Christ, even here we’ve got unguarded prisoners, Paul thought, and ran to the bridge. Nathan was not there. “He’s in the wardroom,” Flags said.

Nathan sat imperturbably writing at the wardroom table. Two bodies wrapped entirely in blankets lay crowded together like a companionable couple in the forward starboard bunk, one in the after one.

“I’m just putting their names and serial numbers in the log,” Nathan said. “Sparks was a Catholic and Blake was a Baptist. I don’t know what the German was—not a Jew, I presume. Do you want to hold services?”

“They have a church in there,” Paul said. “They must have a minister. I suppose we should have a service of some kind.” Pulling himself back to what seemed more important matters, he said, “I want to get the Kraut wounded off of here right now.”

“How about our own wounded?”

“They have a dispensary up there. Check into that, but I want the Kraut wounded under guard. Christ, they’re sitting up there watching the men play checkers.”

“I don’t think there’s much fight in them,” Nathan said.

“How the hell can you be sure? They could blow up this whole ship. Bring them up there to Boats and let him tie them up with the others.”

“One of them is pretty bad hurt, skipper.”

“I can’t assign all my men to guard duty. Do you want to take chances?”

“No, you’re right. I’ll take care of them.”

Flags appeared at the companionway. “Captain, a Dane is here to see you, a Mr. Swanson.”

“Show him to my cabin,” Paul said and hurried there.

Swanson climbed the steps to the pilothouse with difficulty. A fat old man who wore several sweaters under a rumpled blue greatcoat, he stood as straight as he could near the ship’s wheel. Everything about him drooped—his mustache, his triple chins and his belly. A defrocked Santa Claus, he still managed to achieve the dignity of suffering.

“You wanted to see me, captain,” he said in his strong Danish accent.

“I want to get a few things straight,” Paul said without bothering to ask him into his cabin. “First of all you’re a traitor to your own government and an enemy of mine. You knew the Germans had a base just up the coast and you didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sure that’s the way the world will judge me.” His voice was flat, beyond emotion.

“Secondly, I am taking charge of this whole area. You have no more authority. My guns say that now. We’ll let our governments argue about it later.”

“My own government has already told me nearly that.”

“Will the Eskimos do what you tell them to?”

“The Eskimos are free, perhaps the last free men on earth.”

“They won’t stay free long if you don’t help me fight the Germans. Are they working for them?”

“We have tried to make the Eskimos hate the Germans. It is hard for them to understand. There isn’t really a word for hate in their language.”

“Do they know that the Germans gunned down the survivors of the Nanmak?”

“We got that news on our radio. I’m not sure that the Eskimos believe it. I’m not sure they believe anything we hear on the radio these days. Who could believe it all? The Eskimos just like the radio for music.”

Shouts and the snarling of dogs on the wharf interrupted the old man. Looking out the pilothouse window, Paul saw an astonishing spectacle. A fan-shaped team of dogs was towing a long black sled with black strips of cloth streaming like plumes from short staffs on each corner. The dogs were fighting with each other, and an Eskimo with a short-handled whip was lashing and shouting them into order.

“Those are young dogs,” Swanson said. “Peomeenie took the trained ones.”

“Do they always use that thing for funerals here?”

“Yes. The Eskimos are very good at funerals. We have had a great many lately. Measles took nineteen adults and eight children last spring. Perhaps the Germans brought it.”

German measles, Paul thought, but he said nothing. He watched while the men of the Arluk carried the three blanket-shrouded bodies to the sled. The Eskimos tied them in place and the driver cracked his whip over the dogs. They set off at a run and three Eskimos rushed to hold them to a dignified pace. Soon they disappeared into the swirling snow. Almost immediately Nathan appeared on the well deck, pistol in hand. He and two armed seamen helped the German wounded to the wharf and marched them toward the village. When one of them fell, a seaman helped him up, put his arm around his waist and walked beside him like a lover.

“Do you have a doctor here?” Paul asked.

“Only a nurse. She is old and not very well, but good as most doctors.”

“How many beds do you have in your dispensary?”

“Six with twelve more mattresses for emergencies.”

“I’ll send my four wounded there right away, maybe five. Your nurse can check the wounded Germans. They’re with the other prisoners.”

“I’ll tell her.”

“Have the Eskimos make the island you have for contagious diseases ready for about twenty-five prisoners. You have huts out there with stoves?”

“Yes.”

“Will they hold twenty-five?”

“They have accommodated more than that, I am afraid.”

“Can you get them ready tonight, now?”

“The Eskimos can. Perhaps I shall tell them that the Germans have an infectious disease. Then they will understand and move fast.”

“Do you have a minister who can give a funeral service tomorrow?”

“I am a minister. What time?”

“About noon. We’ll bury two Americans and one German, Protestant and Catholic. I don’t care how you handle it.”

“How many will attend? Your whole crew? The prisoners?”

“A third of my crew and one witness from the prisoners. I’m not going to have them making a break in the church.”

“The church will be big enough then.”

There was the sound of many dogs barking in the direction of the village. Soon an Eskimo came running to the ship. He called from the wharf in his language and Swanson went to the bridge to answer. They talked for about a minute before Swanson returned to the pilothouse.

“Peomeenie has returned,” he said. “He caught the German lieutenant. The man is nearly frozen to death. They’re taking him to the dispensary.”

“The hell with that. I can’t stand guard in two places. Tell your man to put him with the other prisoners. Your nurse can tell my guards how to take care of him.”

“He may die, captain. Cases of severe exposure need skilled care.”

“It was his idea to try to escape. Go up and have him put with the other prisoners now. My men will check on him in a few minutes.”

“Yes, captain. Is that all?”

“One more thing. I hear you’re afraid of what the Germans will do to your people when we leave.”

“I am very much afraid of that.”

“Don’t be. I promise you that when I leave, not one German will be alive anywhere near here. You can count on that.”

“How can you stop more from coming?”

“We’ll have more and more ships patrolling this coast and more planes. The Germans will get so much kicked out of them at home before long they’ll forget about Greenland. Don’t you know that we’re winning the war?”

“Yes, I suppose you are, but the Germans are a very resourceful, determined people. They can do a lot more killing.”

“So can we,” Paul said.