"That's a dangerous game you're playing," Ryan said with delib- erate calmness. "A bad shot could miss us and sink some of those fish- ermen you're trying to protect."
Petersen said, "I don't think we would miss at this range, but I want to avoid bloodshed. You've given the TV cameras plenty of footage. Many pilot whales have escaped, and the hunt has been dis- rupted. You've made your point and are no longer welcome."
Ryan chuckled. "Nice to deal with a reasonable man. Unlike your gun-happy predecessor. Okay, I will pull out of the way, but we're not leaving Faroe waters. We've got other business."
"You are free to do as you please, as long as it doesn't break our laws or endanger our people."
Ryan breathed a sigh of relief, his outward serenity only an act- he was aware of the danger to his crew and the p
ress people. He turned the helm back to his first mate and gave the order to move off slowly. Once beyond the hunt area, the Sea Sentinel headed out to sea. Ryan's plan was to anchor the ship a few miles offshore while he pre- pared for the protest against the fish farm.
Chastened by the Sea Sentinel's earlier move, Petersen made sure the cruiser stayed slightly behind, ready to dart in and cut off the ship if it tried to break away.
Therri broke the tension in the pilothouse. "Captain Petersen doesn't know what a narrow escape he just had," she said, with a grin.
"One shot and I would have dragged him into court and slapped a property lien on his ship."
"I think he was more afraid of our garbage gun," Ryan said. Their mirth was cut short by the sound of Mercer swearing. Ryan said, "What's wrong, Chuck?"
"Damnit, Mark." Mercer was standing with both hands on the wheel. "You must have messed up the steering pushing this ship around like a Jet Ski." He frowned, then stepped back. "Here, you try it."
Ryan tried to turn the wheel. It gave for an inch on either side, but it seemed locked into place. He exerted a slight pressure, then gave up. "The damned thing is locked into place," Ryan said, with a com- bination of anger and puzzlement.
Ryan picked up the telephone, ordered the engine room to stop and turned his attention back to the wheel. Instead of slowing down, the ship inexplicably picked up speed. Ryan swore and called down to the engine room again.
"What's wrong, Cal?" he barked. "Those engines finally made you deaf? I said cut speed, not increase it."
Ryan's engineer, Cal Rumson, was a topflight seaman. "Hell, I know what you said," Cal replied. The frustration in his voice was obvious. "I did reduce speed. The engines are acting crazy. The con- trols don't seem to be working."
"Then kill the power," Ryan said.
"I'm trying, but the diesels are work ing harder
"Keep trying, Cal."
Ryan slammed the phone in its cradle. This was insanity! The ship seemed to have a mind of her own. Ryan's eyes swept the sea ahead of the ship. Good news. No vessels or land masses in the way. The worst that could happen would be to run out of fuel in the At- lantic. Ryan picked up the radio microphone to inform the cruiser of their predicament. But he was interrupted by a yell from Mercer.
"The wheel's turning!"
Mercer was trying to hold on to the wheel, which was gradually spinning slowly to the right, bringing the ship around toward the cruiser. Ryan grabbed the rim, then he and Mercer tried to bring the ship back on course. They used every ounce of strength they could muster, but the wheel slipped out of their sweaty hands and the Sea Sentinel moved closer to the warship.
The Danish ship had taken notice of the course change. A famil- iar voice crackled over the radio.
"Come in, Sea Sentinel. This is Captain Petersen. What is the in- tention of your course change?"
"We're having problems with our steering. The wheel is locked and we can't shut down our engines."
"That's impossible," Petersen said.
"Tell that to the ship!"
A pause. Then Petersen said, "We'll bear off to give you plenty of sea room. We'll issue a warning as to any ships in your way."
"Thanks. Looks like you'll get your wish about us leaving the Faroes."
The cruiser began to peel away.
But before the Danish ship could veer off, the Sea Sentinel made a sharp turn and drove toward the cruiser's exposed side like a water- borne guided missile.