The Land God Made in Anger. John Davis Gordon

had sat in the back row and cribbed the homework of the likes of Roger. At university they had had even less contact, where Roger had done political philosophy, law and spent his vacations on archaeological digs, whereas McQuade did marine biology and spent his university vacations on the whaling boats. But when McQuade had returned to Walvis Bay and found that Roger Wentland had a law practice in town, they had greeted each other like long-lost buddies and McQuade had immediately given Roger all his legal business out of a vague loyalty. They only saw each other on business but it was always conducted over a row of beers and Roger hardly ever sent McQuade a bill. That afternoon they met in the bar of the Atlantic Hotel in Walvis Bay. They sat where nobody could hear them.

      ‘This is absolutely confidential, right?’

      ‘Of course.’ Roger was a fleshy, bespectacled, untidy man with thick lips who looked like an absent-minded professor.

      ‘I want to know my legal rights if I salvage valuables from a German submarine that was sunk off the coast of South West Africa forty-odd years ago.’

      Roger looked at him. ‘You’ve found such a shipwreck?’

      ‘Not yet. But I think I know where one is.’

      Roger sat back. ‘Boy … You’d better tell me the story.’

      McQuade gave him as much of the facts as he needed to know.

      Roger stared pensively across the bar. ‘Boy … Look, I’m not the best guy to consult on this. You need a maritime law specialist. I’d better write to a firm in Cape Town for an opinion.’

      McQuade said: ‘That’s exactly what I don’t want you to do. In case the word gets out. I don’t want any of this written down for clerks to read. I’d have every treasure hunter in the world up here trying to beat me to it – they’re all fucking pirates.’

      The lawyer sighed. ‘Well, then I’ll have to do some research. But, in general principle … In principle, a sunken ship and its contents belong to whoever salvages it if the original owner has abandoned it. That’s if the vessel is sunk in international waters. If it’s sunk in a nation’s territorial waters, that nation’s laws apply. Now, because South Africa administers Namibia, I think you’d have to register a salvage claim with the maritime authorities.’

      ‘Could they refuse my claim?’

      Roger spread his hands. ‘A submarine is a warship. Indeed an enemy warship, because Germany was South Africa’s enemy at the time. And it may come under the peace treaty signed by the Allies and Germany at the end of the war.’

      ‘Oh boy …’

      ‘And if they granted your claim, I think the government would demand part of the salvage.’

      ‘How much?’ McQuade demanded.

      ‘I don’t know. Never had a case like this. It would probably depend on your effort and expense, and the risks you took.’

      McQuade did not like the sound of that. ‘And if they refused my claim?’

      ‘Well, you could appeal to the courts, but that’s expensive, and you may end up appealing to The Hague, the International Court of Justice, because the United Nations and Germany may get in on the act.’

      ‘The United Nations?’ McQuade said indignantly. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because,’ Roger said, ‘of Resolution 435. This submarine lies in Namibian waters. Well, Namibia is governed by South Africa as a trusteeship territory, under the Treaty of Versailles, which ended the First World War. Under that treaty Namibia was confiscated from Germany and given temporarily to South Africa to govern. Well, the United Nations, which is dominated by black states, passed Resolution 435 in 1978, demanding that South Africa grant independence to Namibia immediately. South Africa refuses because of the thousands of Cuban troops in Angola, et cetera, et cetera. Well, if you end up appealing to the courts, the United Nations may decide to make this a cause célèbre, take the opportunity to argue that the salvage belongs neither to you nor South Africa, but to the people of Namibia who should be independent. Et cetera, et cetera.’

      McQuade sat back. ‘Oh Lord …’ He signalled for two more beers. He waited until the barman was out of earshot again. ‘And why might Germany get in on the case?’

      ‘Look, until I’ve researched these points I can only outline the potential snags. But this submarine is technically the property of the present German government. I remember reading some years ago about a German frigate that was found off the coast of Denmark by a Dutch salvage company. The Dutchmen got inside it and found a few skeletons. They filed their salvage claim with the Danish authorities. The Danes refused because the frigate was in their territorial waters and the Danish government began to salvage it. Whereupon the German government intervened through the courts and stopped the Danes, because they said it would be the desecration of a German war grave. So? Nobody got the ship.’

      ‘Oh God! So what might they do with a treasure trove involved?’

      ‘Exactly. Now, if you want me to do the research, I will. But it’ll be expensive.’

      McQuade shook his head. ‘No, you’ve told me enough to worry the shit out of me. Let’s see if I find the submarine first.’

      ‘And how does one look for it?’

      ‘With my trawler’s depth-sounder. The depth of the ocean bed registers on a graph. If I go over the area in a pattern, the graph will jump when I pass over something as big as a submarine. Go over it again, in the next leg of the pattern. Do it often enough and the whole outline of the submarine should show on the graph.’

      ‘Clever. And then? Send a diver down? Who?’

      ‘Me. If it’s not too deep. It can’t be very deep if two men escaped from it.’

      ‘Can you dive? Yes, of course you can.’

      ‘I’ve done a bit of scuba-diving. But only in shallow water. But Kid Childe can dive. And Tucker, if he has to. We keep a couple of scuba-kits on board for emergencies with propellers and nets and things.’ He added: ‘But I don’t like doing it any more. Sharks and similar.’

      Roger shook his head. ‘Rather you than me. But then you always were one of the boys, going on the whaling ships and all that when we were students – the girls were always vastly impressed. Made the rest of us look rather wet.’

      ‘The rest of you got nice wives and got rich.’

      ‘And the rest of us got grey hair and paunches. You don’t look a day over thirty-five. What about visibility down there?’

      McQuade smiled. ‘The visibility down there will depend on the current, the amount of plankton, weed, sunlight, the depth and so on. It could be clear or it could be like pea-soup.’ It gave him the willies to think about it.

      ‘And? How do you get inside?’

      ‘Worry about that after I’ve seen it. Maybe there’s a nice big hole in the side. I may have to get a professional diver to help me, and I’ll have to read up about submarines, so I know what to expect.’

      ‘Somebody at the naval base here should be able to advise you. But be careful, if you want to keep this a secret. Say you’re writing a story. And if you employ a diver, don’t go near Straghan Salvage Limited – Red Straghan is a bad bastard, he’ll steal you blind. Go to Alan Louw, he’s honest.’

      ‘I hope I won’t have to use any diver.’ He took a tense breath. ‘Okay. Send me a bill for this consultation.’

      Roger smiled. ‘You pay for the beers. When you crack that submarine I’ll send you a whopper.’ He added: ‘And? You said there were two things you wanted to ask me about.’

      McQuade nodded. He produced the book he had borrowed from the Swakopmund library.

      ‘That looks complicated legal stuff for a marine biologist. Can