'He won't talk without his partner's there,' I answered angrily. 'He's phoning him in the morning.'
The others came up then and we hoisted sail. Hellesoy light was already astern, the black bulk of Fedje Island standing in silhouette against the swinging beam. On the starb'd bow another light winked. 'Utvaer Fyr?' Jill asked.
'Yes,' I said, looking up at the set of the sails as we leaned over to a fine reaching breeze. 'Another eight by the log and we'll alter course. We'll be headed straight for the entrance to Sognefjord then.' I called to Dick who was slacking off the weather topping lift. 'You and Curtis better turn in and get some sleep. You too, Jill,' I said.
'What about you?' she asked.
'I'll sleep in the chartroom bunk.'
I packed them off below — Carter, too. I wanted them to get as much sleep as possible. There would be work to do tomorrow if we were going to try and sail up the Sognefjord. Finally I was alone on deck with Wilson. I stood in the cockpit and leaned my arms on the chartroom roof, gazing up to the tall mainmast where canvas and rigging showed in a dim blur against the night. The whole ship was leaning gracefully, roaring through the water with the lee rail well under the water seething along the scuppers. It was a fine night for sailing. But there was a frozen bite in the wind. I shivered and went down into the chartroom. 'What's your course, Wilson?' I asked.
'North thirty west,' he answered.
I checked it on the chart. We were well clear of all the countless islands that dotted the coast to starb'd of us. 'Wake me when you turn on to your new course,' I said and climbed into my bunk. The slight movements of the ship and the rhythmic creak of the rigging lulled me into instant sleep.
When we altered course, I took the wheel and sent Wilson below for some sleep. It was four o'clock and bitterly cold. The wind blew right through me. It seemed incredible that men ever sailed round the Horn. I felt numbed with the cold. The wind was on our port quarter now and the ship rode upright, main and mizzen booms pressed well out to starb'd. I watched Utvaer light come abeam and move across the quarter till it was lost behind a lump of land. The dawn came up out of the east, cold and grey and clear. The mountains emerged from the darkness of the night and gathered round. They were grey and heavy-looking. But except for one, shaped like an enormous sugar loaf, they were not exciting. I might have been in Ireland or sailing up a Scottish loch. There was little sign of snow. These were but the foothills of the giant snow-fields inland. As the light increased the mountains grew blacker. Clouds gathered all across the sky. Grey scuds rolled up and wrapped themselves around the tree-clad slopes. The sky reddened till it blazed in fiery red and then the sun rose like a flaming cannon ball over the mountain tops. The sea boiled red along our sides. Then the scuds gathered thick like fiends of misery to drench all warmth and the bright fire died out of the sky. Suddenly the sun was gone and all was grey again — grey and drab as the mist rolled over us.
And yet it was then that I felt the excitement of the place.