THOUGH THE DARK NIGHT and fog masked the sea, Bill Stenseth attentively tracked every movement of the icebreaker. With his radar operator absent, one of the many crewmen sent ashore in Tuktoyaktuk, Stenseth sat down and monitored the radar set himself. He had become alerted when he noted the distant radar image slowly split in two. Correctly guessing that the barge had been separated from the tow ship, he carefully began to track both images.

He anxiously watched the icebreaker close to within three miles on an intercept course when he reached for the marine VHF radio.

“Unidentified vessel approaching south at 69.2955 North, 100.1403 West, this is the research vessel Narwhal . We are presently conducting an underwater marine survey. Please give clearance of two kilometers, over.”

Stenseth repeated the call but received no reply.

“When’s the Bloodhound due up?” he asked the helmsman.

“Dahlgren’s last report was that they were still on the wreck site. So they are at least twenty minutes off.”

Stenseth watched the radar screen closely, noticing a gradual increase in speed by the icebreaker as it approached to within two miles. There looked to be a slight change in the ship’s course, drifting off the Narwhal’s bow as if to pass on her starboard beam. Whatever their intent, Stenseth was not in a trusting mood.

“Ahead a third,” he ordered the helmsman. “Bearing three hundred degrees.”

Stenseth well knew that the prospect of a collision in thick fog was one of a mariner’s worst nightmares. With visions of the Stockholm striking the Andrea Doria in his mind, he powered his ship to the northwest, in order to avoid a similar head-on collision. With a minute degree of relief, he saw that the other vessel was holding to its southeast course, widening the angle between their paths. But the appearance of a safe passing was short-lived.

When the two vessels approached within a mile, the icebreaker suddenly accelerated, nearly doubling its speed in short order. Driven by a massive pair of gas turbine engines capable of towing a string of heavy barges, the icebreaker was a behemoth of torque. Freed to run unencumbered, the tow ship turned into a greyhound, capable of slicing through the water at over thirty knots. Under Zak’s order, the ship found its full legs and blasted through the waves under maximum throttle.

It took only a few moments for Stenseth to detect the change in the icebreaker’s speed. He held his course steady until the radar told him that the other vessel was sharply veering to the west.

“Ahead flank speed!” he ordered, his eyes glued to the radar screen.

He was aghast at the track of the icebreaker as it swept in a short arc toward his own vessel. He shook off any doubts about the intent of the other vessel. It clearly intended to ram the Narwhal.