We, the Drowned - Carsten Jensen [268]
Even in this brief instant, Herman could see that Ivar was frozen. He'd have to fling himself onto the fo'c'sle right away: if he didn't and the ship plunged again, he'd never make it. This was as decisive a moment for Ivar as the one Herman had in Setúbal.
But Ivar clung on, his brain and body paralyzed. His fingertips dug in, as though his terror had turned him into an animal that could sink its claws into the hard wood. On impulse, Herman cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted out to him. "Jump, sailor, jump, damn you!"
He didn't know himself whether he intended to snap Ivar out of his trance or just taunt him. Then the ship dipped again. When she came back up, Ivar was gone. The bare bowsprit pointed briefly at the clouds, as if that was where he'd disappeared to, rather than down into the foam around the bow. Herman turned the wheel and let the ship run into the wind, halting the upward movement of the stem.
At this point everything happened very quickly. Miss Kristina ran up to him. "You bastard," she choked. "I saw what you—" Suddenly overcome with nausea, she vomited in a stream that hit him in the middle of the chest. She buckled from stomach cramps; this time the stream hit the deck. When she straightened up, gasping, a half-digested yellow-white substance dripped from her chin. She stared wide-eyed, her face distorted. "You swine, you monster, you disgusting ... you, you..." She collapsed in convulsive sobbing.
She'd seen what had happened, and as a skipper's daughter, Miss Kristina understood what it meant. She'd seen Herman change course. And she knew what that entailed, when there was a crewman on the bowsprit.
And it was true. He couldn't deny what he'd done. Yet he'd always claim she was mistaken. It wasn't he who'd taken Ivar's life. It was the sea. The sea had claimed Ivar because he'd failed at the crucial moment. The sea took him because he didn't belong on it. Herman had just been its tool.
There was a second witness: Helmer. The galley boy had been ready and waiting by the downhauler while Ivar took in the flying jib. But he understood nothing of what he'd seen, and even if he'd formed the opinion that something was wrong, Herman had the means to's shut him up. He couldn't be accused of anything, and for a very good reason. He hadn't done anything.
"Man overboard!" he yelled.
At once Miss Kristina stopped screaming and regained her senses.
She tore the life buoy from its housing and flung it into the sea to mark the spot where Ivar had disappeared. Knud Erik and Vilhjelm appeared from the fo'c'sle.
"Who? Who?" they yelled anxiously.
"Ivar," Helmer screamed, with panic in his voice.
Herman ordered him up the rigging to be on the lookout for Ivar in case he resurfaced. Then he gave the order to brace aback. Miss Kristina was standing by the rail, vomiting again. From shock this time, he thought.
Bager came rushing up from his cabin and Herman gave him a brief report. He made his voice deliberately calm and matter-of-fact. "Ivar went overboard from the bowsprit. He'd gone out to take in the flying jib."
"How could that happen? Didn't you sail into the wind?"
"Of course. But suddenly he wasn't there." Herman shrugged, a gesture that suggested the accident was Ivar's own fault.
Knud Erik and Vilhjelm were busy lowering the lifeboat into the water. Bager ran over and took command, jumping in himself. Herman watched as Miss Kristina too climbed up on the rail, then pushed off and disappeared over the side.
A moment later the boat appeared. Miss Kristina was standing at the stem, her hair whipping madly. Strings of vomit were still visible on her chin, but she kept her balance with ease. Bager sat slumped on the thwart. Knud Erik and Vilhjelm