They left Deep Fjord in moderately rough seas, the wind out of the southeast at first, shifting round to the east, then to the north of east. Thus the SS Agate Cliffs took the seas more or less broadside. She rolled heavily, and in their hidden compartment, the troopers were crowded. Most of them were seasick, too, a condition contributed to by the sickness and stink of those who got sick first, and by the honey pots.
For there was no fresh sea air where they were. Their narrow compartment had been built into the starboard trim-tank, hurriedly and specifically to accommodate them. At the dock in Deep Fjord, in a single night, by the chief engineer, no less, with the help of his first assistant and four Oselbenti. Most of the crew had been ashore or asleep.
The idea was that no one, especially no crewmen, should know who didn't have to. Light was provided by two drop cords. Sanitary facilities were three steel drums, each cut off at about twenty-two inches, with a top welded on, and baffles, and a seat and hinged lid. Handles of steel rod had been welded to the sides for carrying. Drinking water came from pails with dippers. Holes had been cut in a bulkhead, opening into the portside fuel bunker, thus what air they got smelled of coal dust.
It hadn't been feasible to bring mattresses aboard, not secretly. So for beds they had folded tarpaulins—old, worn hatch tarps stored overhead in the boiler room to supply tarp patches, and hand rags for the firemen. They were softer than the bare steel plates.
Their only heat was body heat. When they'd first slipped aboard, about three o'clock one morning, the night had been chill. The seawater was cold too, and the ship. But after a time their compartment warmed up, from their bodies and the poor ventilation.
Food, for those who could eat, and water was passed to them through a hatch by the four a.m. to eight a.m. deck watch. Twice a day: once before dawn, just after he came on his morning watch, and once after dark, not long after he got off his evening watch. At first, he was the only one aboard who had any contact with them, and one of only five who knew they were there. For obvious reasons, the food required no preparation. It was loaves of sliced bread, cans of jelly, a pot of beans, and fruit. On his own, the deckwatch passed them an unofficial jug of whiskey, too. He was also the ship's medic, and the whiskey was part of the closely guarded medicinal supply. They ate little, even those who weren't sick, and drank almost none of the whiskey. Mostly they slept and meditated, waiting.
Coyn Carrmak was one of those who hadn't gotten seasick. What he had gotten was a chest cold, one of several, before the ship had ever left the dock. Faintly the deck watch heard their coughing as he crossed overhead, and passed a warning message to them later. From that point the coughers huddled under a piece of tarp and did their coughing there. They still could be heard, but the sound was faint, and not easily identified.
What worried the Agate Cliffs' captain was Komarsi paranoia from the Day of Destruction. In Komars, the authorities didn't even allow ship's crew ashore, not even to handle lines on the dock! Longshoremen were assigned to that. He'd been warned to expect ship inspectors aboard as soon as the Cliffs tied up, hunting for possible infiltrators. If they heard the coughing, they'd surely investigate.
The chief engineer provided a possible solution. He personally strung a cable over the grating close above the boilers, tightened it with a turnbuckle, and hung a tarpaulin over it to form a sort of tent. There were two boxes to sit on. In the dark of night, the coughers were led from their hideout two at a time, and hustled to the makeshift sauna to spend an hour baking. It was hotter than a summer afternoon on Tyss, and weakened them temporarily, but their coughing lessened.
This project required that two more crewmen become privy to the secret: the stoker on the twelve-to-four watch, and his coal trimmer. It was unavoidable. They were told only that these were four Smoleni spies, and were sworn to secrecy. No one else must know, not their messmates, no one. Not now, not later. Their grandchildren perhaps, if they ever had any. Like Archipelagons in general, the crew didn't like Komars, and liked even less their assault on Smolen, so the two swore willingly, and their oath was readily accepted. They didn't know about the other thirty-six troopers.
On the third day, the rolling ceased. Carrmak was awake, and noticed it at once. The ship still rose and fell, but the seas were from the stern now, and he realized they'd turned, were headed west into the Komar Gulf. To the southwest would lie Komars, to the northwest what had been the Smolen coast. A few hours later, all wave motion was gone; they'd entered the Komar River. Occasionally, through the deck plates, he heard the ship's whistle as they met outbound ships in the river. Then he slept.
The trimmer, on break from his wheelbarrow, came to take them again to the dark boiler room. On deck, Carrmak saw sparse lights on both sides of the river, but mostly on the south where Komars lay. They moved silently to the boiler room door, heat flowing sluggishly from it as from the entrance to hell. Inside was scarcely less dark than night. They entered, and descended a ladder to the grating and their sauna tent.
Inside the tent, Carrmak relaxed, became semicomatose. Soaking up the heat, breathing the dry hot air, he lost track of time. From the other side of the bulkhead, the dull booming of pistons lulled him. From the boiler room itself came little more than the sound of the shovel ringing on the deadplates, as the stoker fed the fires, and the sound of coal being dumped from a wheelbarrow.
At one point he heard bells jangle. The ship slowed, stabilizing at half speed. He'd almost dozed again when the jangling repeated. The speed slacked even more, and he became aware of another change in sound: the great induction fan had ceased turning, ceased sucking air through the boiler fires. Close at hand, a chuffing sound began, somehow alarming.
Abruptly the safety valves blew, first on the starboard boiler, a second later on the port. The sound was stupendous, overwhelming, driving both troopers to their knees, hands over their ears. Seconds later the deckwatch was crouching in the opening of their tent, face a twisted grimace at the sound, beckoning them to come.
They followed him quickly, down another ladder into the stoke-hole. Usually it was semidark, lit only by two small tubes. Now the four big fire boxes added to the light, their doors open to cool the backheads and help draw down the steam pressure. The stoker stood alone, eyes squinched, jaw set against the sound, frowning questioningly at them. Speech was hopeless in the thunder of the safety valves. In response, the deckwatch gestured and shook his head, then hurried the two troopers to the far bulkhead and into the bunker alley. There a single tube gave light enough to work by. At the far end, the sinewy coaltrimmer stood by his big-bellied wheelbarrow. Speech was possible there by shouting.
A Komarsi guard boat had pulled alongside, the deck watch told them. They were going to put inspectors aboard now; that's why the ship had slowed to slow-ahead. Unexpectedly, which had caused the valves to blow. The two troopers would pretend to be trimmers. "Get in the stokehole," he told the trimmer. "Grab a shovel and pretend to be a stoker." The trimmer, a teenage boy, grinned, nodded, and hurried out.
"You!" the deckwatch said, gesturing at Carrmak, "take the shovel!"
Then he left the alley, shooing the other trooper ahead of him. The trimmer had been filthy with coal dust, so Carrmak buried his hands in slack, then rubbed them on his face, his shirt, his thighs. Behind him the safety valves cut off, the sudden silence a lifting of oppression. He heard clashing then, as the stoker and trimmer closed the heavy furnace doors. After a couple of minutes he heard voices, one interrogating, the others answering. With his shovel he began to load the wheelbarrow, tossing the coal to make a maximum of dust. It billowed 'round him. He became aware of someone blocking the door to the bunker alley, and looked up. A strong flashlight caught him in its glare. He grimaced, and raised a hand to shield his eyes. Then the light was gone. He finished filling the barrow and stood for a long two or three minutes. The trimmer came back in, still grinning.
"They've gone," he murmured. "Stupid fookin' Komarsi lubbers! They think it takes two to fire a watch on this bucket!" He shook his head at such ignorance. "Stay here awhile, till we go to half speed. That'll mean they've left the ship."
He grinned again, and thrust out a filthy hand. They gripped and shook.
Ten minutes later, the deck watch led the two troopers back to their covert, and came inside long enough to talk. "They took us by surprise," he told them. "It's occurred to them that a ship could send someone ashore by boat or raft, so now they check when you first enter the Linna.
"Be ready. I 'spect the skipper'll want to unload you before too long. In case there's more surprises ahead."
Actually they didn't leave till near dawn. The freighter slowed briefly to slow ahead, and put a life raft into the water through the fantail gangway. Half a dozen troopers got onto it, and the deck watch let go with the boat hook. The ship was passing only fifty feet from the channel's edge, so they didn't have to row. They were on a rope end, which gave them velocity, and used the steering oar to slant them ashore. Then the raft was pulled back to the gangway for another load.
It was the right side of the river, too. Linnasteth was upstream on the far side, and that's where security would be strongest.
They were spread along a mile of riverbank, of course. But they didn't need to rendezvous; in fact, to do so would be unwise. And they all knew what they were supposed to do.