Carter was at the wheel as I came out on deck. The wind was dying away and we were gliding over a long, oily swell. The sun had set and against the darkness of the eastern horizon was the darker line of Norway. 'Dinna think we'll get much wind the nicht,' Carter said to me.
I glanced at the speed of the water slipping past the lee rail. 'We're still doing about four knots.'
'Aye,' he replied. 'She's a fine boat in a light wind. Slips along easy as a swan.'
'Where's Mr Jorgensen?' I asked.
He nodded towards the chartroom. 'Doon there, sir,' he said.
I stepped down into the cockpit and entered the chartroom. Curtis was lounging on the chartroom bunk. Jorgensen was seated at the table. He looked up as I entered. 'Just been checking the distance,' he said, nodding towards the chart. 'If the wind holds we should be in by dawn.'
'In where?' I asked.
He smiled. 'I am presuming, Mr Gansert, that you are obeying orders and proceeding to Bovaagen.'
'You heard the message then?' I asked.
'I could not help it,' he answered. 'I was sitting right beside Mr Everard. I was very intrigued to know just how George Farnell had contacted you. As you said, his method was a shade unorthodox. Does that suggest anything to you?'