We, the Drowned - Carsten Jensen [271]
He stopped, exhausted, and waited for a reply. Herman didn't react but remained standing, as calm as before. Bager wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, sweeping a few strands of sweat-soaked hair so they stood upright. His lost face took on a comical resemblance to a big question mark.
Herman said nothing, and Bager had to break the silence again. "You were at the helm, and the moment Ivar was out on the bowsprit, you changed course so the ship fell off and the stem dove under."
Herman took a step forward. Bager jumped. "Who says so?"
"That's none of your concern. Besides, it's not for you to ask the questions. I'm holding this inquiry. Remember your place!" Again Bager wiped his forehead with the handkerchief. For a moment he seemed to be listening to something that was going on elsewhere, and Herman began to wonder if it was this situation that was scaring him or something else altogether. Then Bager spoke again.
"Not only have you acted irresponsibly and contrary to all good seamanship, but everything suggests that you changed course on purpose."
"What are you trying to imply?" Herman could no longer control himself. Positioning his hands on the table, he leaned menacingly toward his captain.
Bager pressed one hand against his chest. He was panting now, and had completely given up on mopping the sweat from his forehead. His hair was still standing up. But his voice was calm. "I'm not implying anything. No, I'm putting it to you directly that you killed Ivar." He stopped to catch his breath, which was coming in long, wheezing gasps. Herman stood frozen, still pressing his weight on the table.
Bager got his breath back. "There will be a maritime inquiry in Copenhagen. The truth will come out there, I can promise you that."
"It's Miss Kristina, isn't it? She's been telling you a pack of lies! Fucking bitch. He panicked. That's why he drowned. He was a weakling. There's no room for his sort at sea. That's all there is to it. That's all I've got to say on the matter." Herman's face was now dangerously close to the captain's. He had to suppress the urge to grab hold of him and throw the skinny old man's body against the bulkhead.
Bager was looking at him, but his eyes seemed distant. The sweat was streaming down his pallid forehead. Again he looked as if he was listening to something far, far away, barely aware of Herman's presence.
"Are you even listening to what I'm saying?" Herman roared. "It was that bitch. She'd got the hots for him!" He didn't care what he said. He'd lost his head but still kept control of his hands, though the effort made his whole body shake. Surely the old fool knew he was playing with fire? How much more would he have to put up with? "Are you saying I'm a murderer?" he thundered, and felt how liberating it was to say the words out loud. A feeling of righteous indignation welled up in him, and he regained his self-control.
The captain's face remained unchanged. His gaze was still intensively fixed on some distant point: it seemed to preoccupy him. Suddenly he inhaled deeply and something like a hiccup or the beginning of a belch escaped him. His facial muscles tensed, his eyes widened, and his lower lip grew slack. Then he slumped forward, and his head thumped onto the table right between Herman's hands.
Herman leapt back. He stared down at the captain's hair, which fell in thin strands across a scalp as gray as parched earth. He stuck out his hand and checked Bager's pulse. He felt it fade and stop. Then he ran up the ladder and out onto the deck.
Vilhjelm was at the helm, with Knud Erik standing next to him. There was no sign of Miss Kristina. She was probably in the galley with Helmer. He went over to the two boys. "Do you have a problem with dead bodies?"
They stared at him, baffled. He pointed to Knud Erik. "You're coming