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Updated: June 7, 2025
Karl Ericksen, called down from the maintop where his range of view had become limited through the increasing darkness and snowstorm, was placed between the knight-heads; a man on each bow; Frank Harness on the fore scuttle; Mr McCarthy and Adams on the port and starboard quarters; and Ben Boltrope at the wheel Captain Dinks being here, there, and everywhere to see that everybody was on the qui vive, even ascending the mizzen rigging sometimes into the top, to have an outlook from there and try whether his eyes could pierce the misty vapour that hung over the sea by dint of looking down into it.
"Yes," he replied, "but these fifty millions are nothing but a small fraction compared with the great number that are not caught." After our talk on the cod was finished, Captain Ericksen spoke about herrings as follows: "If the number of codfish caught is great, the number of herring is far greater.
Here again I perceived a case of a notable man succumbing unexpectedly in a public place a case parallel to that of the Grand Duke, of Ericksen, of Van Rembold! it seemed as though some strange epidemic had attacked men of science yes! they were all men of science, even including the Grand Duke, who was said to be the most scientific soldier in Europe, and the admiral, who had perfected the science of submarine warfare.
"Ericksen was as eminent in electrical science as the Grand Duke Ivan was eminent in the science of war. Both were stricken down in the prime of life and under almost identical circumstances." "That is true," I said thoughtfully.
Three years ago he had walked a score of times to the cabin of old Olaf Ericksen, half a mile up the shore, and he knew Ericksen would still be there, where he had squatted for twenty years, and where he had sworn to stay until the sea itself was ready to claim him. So he felt his way instinctively, while a crash of thunder broke over his head. The forces of the night were unleashing.
Only Ben Boltrope and Karl Ericksen, amongst the hands, were up and awake; and they were engaged in playing a game of chequers with a set of counters which the Norwegian had skilfully carved out of black basalt and white pumice-stone, both of which had been found lying close together at the bottom of the creek.
He stared for a moment, and Alan flung off his hat, and as the storm broke, beating upon the cabin in a mighty shock of thunder and wind and rain, a bellow of recognition came from Ericksen. They gripped hands.
It was not Karl Ericksen this time, whose word he would have implicitly taken, but Bill Moody, one of the worst of the crew, and who, it may be remembered, had already evinced an unsailorlike spirit by his insubordination on an occasion when the pluck and endurance of everyone required to be tested. From this fact alone, Captain Dinks was the less inclined to trust him.
What possible motive could there be in assassinating these people? The case of the Grand Duke might be susceptible of explanation, but those of Henrik Ericksen and Sir Frank Narcombe were not. Furthermore he could perceive no links connecting the three, and no reason why they should have engaged the attention of a common enemy. Such crimes would seem to be purposeless.
In the dusk of that first day Alan found himself ten miles up the coast. He was alone, for Olaf Ericksen had gone in the opposite direction. It was a different Alan who watched the setting sun dipping into the western sea, with the golden slopes of the mountains reflecting its glory behind him.
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