He shook his head. 'No. He wouldn't let me come into the call box with him.'
'Has Dahler come round?'
'Yes, he's all right. Got a hangover, that's all.'
I got up and went into the saloon. Dahler and Sunde were there facing each other over the remains of a rice pudding. And again I heard the name Max Bakke mentioned — this time by Sunde. His voice was nervous and pitched a shade high. He glanced round as I entered and I was aware of a sense of relief at my interruption.
'Who is Max Bakke?' I asked as I settled myself at the table.
Dahler rose to his feet. 'A business acquaintance of Mr Sunde,' he said quietly. And then to the diver: 'We will talk of Max Bakke later.' He turned to me. 'Has the weather cleared yet, Mr Gansert?'
'I don't know,' I said. 'I haven't been up top.'
He went out then and I was left alone with Sunde. 'Who is Max Bakke?' I asked again as I helped myself to bully beef.
'Just somebody Mr Dahler and I know,' he replied. Then with a muttered excuse he got up and hurried out of the saloon.
When I had finished my lunch, I went up on deck. It was raining. The ship was shrouded in a thick mist. The mountains on either side were a vague blur. The wind was abeam, coming in gusts as it struck down invisible gullies in the mountain sides. Dick was at the wheel, his black oilskins shining with water and little beads of moisture clinging to his eyebrows. Jill and Dahler were standing in the cockpit.