'Course 'e did,' he replied. 'Lovaas goes where the money is. Why d'yer s'pose 'e's a'ter Olsen now?'
The catcher had disappeared. 'I suppose he is bound for Aurland,' I said.
'Why else would 'e be racin' up the Sognefjord?' Sunde answered. 'Ain't no whales in the Sogne. An' every minutes 'e's away from the whaling' gra'nds, is money lost. That means there's bigger money up 'ere — an' from wot Oi've gathered, that means 'e's a'ter Bernt Olsen. 'Course 'e's makin' fer Aurland.'
As we rounded the headland, the catcher came in sight again.
But she was stem on and fast disappearing into a light haze. The best Diviner could do was eight knots. Hval 10 was doing a good twelve.
I stayed on at the wheel, wondering why Dahler had phoned Lovaas. What did he hope to gain? What was going on in that warped mind of his? I'd have stopped and dumped him ashore at Leikanger or Hermansvaerk if I could have spared the time. But I felt that every moment was vital. The hours passed slowly. Jill came up on deck as we reached Solsnes and turned south into Aurlandsfjord. Her face was a white mask. She didn't say anything. She just stood gripping the rail for a long time and then went below again. Clouds had gathered. The sun had vanished and the day was cold. The mountains in Aurslandsfjord were different. There were no tree-clad slopes and deep gullies full of water roaring down from the melting snows. The mountains were a wall of rock, rising sheer for 5,000 feet on either side of us. Their tops were bald and rounded, the ice-worn rock smooth and grey. And behind, the snow piled up like sugar icing.
Aurland was kinder than Fjaerland. It wasn't so wild. No vast ice fields stood over the little wooden town and it was set at the bottom of a fertile valley. But all round it were the mountains, a gloomy background of black rock and cold, grey-looking snow. It was raining and the clouds swept down like a curtain across the fjord. It was just short of midday as I picked up the glasses and focused them on the town. A steamer was moving into the quay. A plume of steam showed at the funnel-top and the sound of her siren echoed and re-echoed through the mountains till it died away in the stillness of distance. For a moment I thought Lovaas wasn't there. Then I saw the grey lines of the catcher, barely visible in the mist, emerge from behind the steamer.
I left Dick to run Diviner in to the quay farthest away from Hval 10. Sunde was with me in the bows and as we slid into the wooden piles, I jumped. He followed me. 'Which way?' I asked. I knew we were too late. But I was still in a hurry to get there.
'Up there,' he said and led me through a cutting between wooden warehouses.
We reached the main street and turned right into a small square with an old stone church. We crossed it and reached a bridge spanning a wide river, that sucked and eddied round the wooden piles of the bridge. The water was a cold green and very clear. The bed of the river was all boulders torn down from the mountains and the water curled in a thousand little white-caps as it bubbled over the rocks. Our feet made a hollow, wooden sound as we hurried across the bridge plankings. Sunde turned in at the gate of the second house on the right past the bridge. Two kittens, one white and one ginger, stopped their play and watched us out of wide, interested eyes. They ran mewing towards us as we knocked on the door.