'All right,' he said. 'Bit stiff, that's all.'
'Dahler in his cabin?'
'Yes. He's come round. Cut lip and bruised cheekbone, that's all. What did Jorgensen want to go and hit him for? There's something funny about those two. They hate each other's guts.'
I went into Dahler's cabin. The light was on and he was sitting propped up in his bunk, dabbing at his lip, which was still bleeding. I shut the door. He turned at the sound, holding his handkerchief to his face. 'Well?' he asked. 'How much damage have I done?'
'Quite enough,' I said. 'Why did you take the wheel if you didn't know how to sail?'
'I was right beside Wright when you told him to give a hand for'ard,' he replied. 'I couldn't help. Jill Somers could. So I took Wright's place at the helm. And I do know how to sail, Mr Gansert. Unfortunately I haven't done any sailing since — since this happened.' He waved his withered arm at me. 'The ship heeled to a gust of wind and the wheel was torn out of my hand.'
'Jorgensen thinks you did it purposely,' I told him.
'I had gathered that.' He dabbed at his lip. 'Is that what you think?' His dark eyes were watching me. The cabin lights were reflected in the over-large pupils.
'I'm prepared to take your word for it,' I told him.
'I asked you, Mr Gansert, whether you thought I had done if purposely?'