Free In The Wreckage: A Tale of Two Brothers by Simon J. Townley Page B

his face.  
    He owed the captain the truth. “We heard talk, in the hold, when we were hiding. About a map.”
    He stopped.  
    The captain’s eyes bored into him. “Go on.”  
    “Sailors, talking, about treasure. The treasure of Spitsbergen, they called it, and said you were carrying a secret map that shows where it’s buried.”  
    A broad grin spread across the captain’s face. He laughed, louder and deeper than Conall had ever heard anyone laugh. Conall opened his mouth to speak, stared at the captain, unbelieving. Why would he laugh? He paused, thrown off by the captain’s strange behaviour. “It was a game to Faro, to find the treasure map, that’s all, he meant no harm. An adventure.”  
    “And the names of the sailors?”  
    Conall paused. He’d said enough. “It was dark.”  
    The captain skewered him with a stare. “I see. So you’re along for the treasure, is that it? Fools. But thank you, for being honest, at last. Go.” He waved his hand in dismissal.  
    Conall stopped, holding the door handle. “There’s no map? No treasure?”
    “Oh yes,” the captain said, laughter in his voice. “There’s treasure, but buried too deep for you to find. Or the first mate, either, for that matter. Leave me, I’ve work to do.”  
    In the companionway he met Heather, Rufus cradled in her arms. She handed him the dog. “Been walking him round the deck,” she said. “He gets bored in the cabin all day.”
    The terrier licked Conall’s face, clawing at his chest and wriggling with delight. “Thanks for looking after him.”  
    “How’s your brother?”  
    “Don’t know, haven’t seen him. Not allowed.”  
    On deck, Jonah yelled Conall’s name. He was late for his watch. He handed the dog back to Heather, ruffling his ears.  
    “Don’t worry,” she said, “we’ll be at Svalbard soon. Everything will be better there, you’ll see.”

    ≈≈≈≈

    When The Arkady reached Hammerfest in northern Norway, the captain gave the order to anchor offshore. He’d take no chances with the ship being moored alongside the dock, where it could be stormed by a mob. He assembled the crew on deck and gave guns and knives to those going to the town. Conall was the only one not given any weapon.
    “Captain doesn’t trust you,” Jonah told him. “Not enough to leave you on board. Not enough to give you a gun.” Conall’s long knife had been confiscated the day Faro was arrested. He had nothing but his wits, and the protection of Jonah Argent.  
    “It’s a wild town,” the captain told the men as they tied up the row-boats on the dockside. “Take care. Be back here, in two hours, no delays, stay out of trouble. If you’re not here, we sail without you. We’ll wait for no one. Understood? And no drinking, no whoring.”  
    The crew had been talking about Hammerfest for days. It was a town of legend, the untamed capital of northern Norway. A small settlement in the old days, as people fled north it had turned into a staging post to the melting arctic, a lawless place, where slavers roamed the streets and alleyways, where crooks, thieves and gangsters preyed on anyone who let their guard down.  
    One sailor remained at the dockside to watch over the boats. The captain set off towards the harbour-master’s offices with his men. Jonah told the others to follow him. Their task was to buy fresh food for the cook, then get news of Svalbard, find people who had been there, gauge the talk around the town. And finally, if they could, to take on a new member of crew, a guide who had sailed to Spitsbergen recently, who knew the waters and safe landings.
    Jonah held the list of supplies. He called at the first shops he found, rattling off his orders and haggling over payment. They lugged the boxes and bags down to the boats. Jonah ordered the sailors to make return trips out to The Arkady until everything was stowed on ship.  
    “Conall, with me,” he said. “Rest of you, keep working. Once