The small man closed his eyes, as if that were a signal for ‘yes.’

‘Captain Heikefelt, isn’t it? Captain Erik Heikefelt?’

The small man closed his eyes again.

Collis stepped forwards. ‘I believe you’re carrying some cargo that I might be interested in buying.’

Captain Heikefelt took off his cap and wiped around the inside of the headband with a green handkerchief. His hair was as blond and fuzzy as his beard, and it blew in the soft sea breeze like a dandelion.

‘Coffee, I’m carrying,’ he said, in a strong Swedish accent. ‘Coffee and blankets and mining tools. That’s all.’

‘Do you want to discuss prices?’ asked Collis.

Captain Heikefelt set his cap back on his head, as neat and straight as if he’d used a spirit level. ‘Come to my quarters,’ he said. ‘I don’t like to talk prices out on the deck.’

Collis followed him along the deck, up the companionway, and across to a varnished mahogany door with a fog-dulled brass plate which said Kapitän. Heikefelt nodded towards the plate and said, ‘This came from Lower Saxony, this vessel, out of Bremerhaven. The first owner lost her when he divorced his wife.’

Collis followed him into a conspicuously neat cabin, with maps and shining brass lamps and a green-leather-topped desk. ‘I shouldn’t worry too much,’ he said, as brightly as he could. ‘I mean, think of all the fresh air you’re getting.’

Heikefelt looked at Collis oddly. ‘You want schnapps?’ he asked. ‘You look like maybe you’ve had too much fresh air yourself already.’

‘That would be splendid,’ said Collis.

The captain unlocked a tantalus that stood on a small oak table under the porthole and poured out two tiny glasses of pungent, oily schnapps. He handed one to Collis, said ‘Skoal,’ and knocked back his own glass as if someone had punched him under the chin.

‘Skoal,’ Collis echoed hesitantly and did the same. The schnapps was surprisingly tasty, and very warming. In fact, Collis could feel the fumes rising out of his stomach like the fumes from a ship’s boiler. His eyes watered, and he had to take off his silk hat and wipe them.

Captain Heikefelt pointed across to an upright wooden chair. ‘Sit down,’ he invited Collis. ‘Then we can do some business.’

Collis pulled up the chair and sat down, while the captain sat in his revolving leather-backed chair in front of the desk. Collis noticed that there were no family portraits on the desk, no keepsakes or souvenirs. Only pens, pencils, dividers, compasses, and maps. Either Captain Heikefelt preferred to keep his home life out of his mind when he was at sea, or else he was married to the Aria, and no one else.

‘I was surprised to hear that you were carrying blankets,’ said Collis, in an offhand way. ‘I would have thought it much more profitable to carry nothing but coffee.’