by Jack Vance
“Today I will prepare a tentative work-schedule. During the day I will maintain the look-out and supervise ship-board processes. Perhaps here I should mention that Madame Soldinck, by virtue of her years and social position, will not be required to act as ‘night-steward’. Now then, in regard to —”
Madame Soldinck took a quick step forward. “One moment! The ‘night-steward’— what are her duties and why should I be disqualified?”
Cugel looked off across the sea. “The duties of the ‘night-steward’ are more or less self-explanatory. She is assigned to the aft-cabin, where she looks to the convenience of the captain. There is prestige to the post; it is only fair that it should be shared among Meadhre, Salasser and Tabazinth.”
Again Madame Soldinck became agitated. “It is as I feared! I, Cugel, will be ‘night-steward’! Do not attempt to dissuade me!”
“All very well, madame, but your skills are needed at the helm.”
Meadhre said: “Come, Mama, we are not so frail and pathetic as you fear.”
Tabazinth said with a laugh: “Mama, it is you who deserves special consideration and not we. We can cope with Cugel very well.”
Salasser said: “We must let Cugel make the decisions, since the responsibilities are his.”
Cugel spoke. “There I suggest we let the matter rest. Now I must deal, once and once only, with a somewhat macabre concept. Let us assume that someone aboard this ship — let us call her Zita, after the Goddess of Unknowable Things — let us assume that Zita has decided to remove Cugel from the realm of the living. She considers poison in his food, a knife in his gullet, a blow and a push so that Cugel falls into the sea.
“Genteel persons are not likely to consider such conduct,” said Cugel. “Still, I have evolved a plan to reduce this likelihood to nothing. Deep in the forward hold I will install a destructive device, using a quantity of explosive, a candle, and a fuse. Every day I will unlock an impregnable iron-bound door and replace the candle. If I neglect to do so, the candle will burn down and ignite the wick. The explosive will blow a hole in the hull and the ship will sink like a stone. Madame Soldinck, you appear distrait; did you hear me properly?”
“I heard you all too well.”
“Then this completes my remarks for the moment. Madame Soldinck, you may report to the wheel, where I will demonstrate the basic principles of steering. Girls, you will first prepare our lunch, then see to the comfort of our various cabins.”
At the wheel Madame Soldinck continued to warn of dangers to the south. “The pirates are blood-thirsty! There are sea-monsters: the blue codorfins, the thryfwyd, the forty-foot water-shadow! Storms strike from all directions; they toss ships about like corks!”
“How do the pirates survive amid such dangers?”
“Who cares how they survive? Our fervent hope is that they perish.”
Cugel laughed. “Your warnings fly in the face of facts! We carry goods for Iucounu which must be delivered by way of Val Ombrio, on the coast of Almery.”
“It is you who are ignorant of facts! The goods are trans-shipped through Port Perdusz, where our factors make special arrangements. To Port Perdusz we must go.”
Cugel laughed once again. “Do you take me for a fool? On the instant the ship touched dock you would be bawling in all directions for the thief-takers. As before: steer south.” Cugel went off to his lunch, leaving Madame Soldinck glowering at the escalabra.
On the morning of the next day Cugel felt the first intimation that something had gone askew at the edges of reality. Try as he might, the exact discrepancy, or slippage, or unconformity evaded his grasp. The ship functioned properly, although the worms, on half-bait, seemed a trifle sluggish, as if after a hard stint, and Cugel made a mental note to dose them with a tonic.
A covey of high clouds in the western sky presaged wind, which, if favorable, would further rest the worms … Cugel frowned in perplexity. Drofo had made him aware as to variations in the ocean’s color, texture and clarity. Now it seemed as if this were the identical ocean they had crossed the day before … Ridiculous, Cugel told himself; he must keep a grip upon his imagination.
Late in the afternoon Cugel, looking astern, noticed a portly little cog approaching at its best speed. Cugel took up his lens and studied the ship, which was propelled by four splashing and inefficient worms being driven to their utmost. On the deck Cugel thought to recognize Soldinck, Captain Baunt, Pulk and others, while a tall pensive figure, surely Drofo, stood at the bow contemplating the sea.
Cugel looked around the sky. Night was two hours distant. Without urgency he ordered double-bait for all worms and a half-gill each of Rouse’s Tonic. The Galante moved easily away from the pursuing ship.
Madame Soldinck had watched all with interest. She asked at last: “Who sailed that ship?”
“They seemed to be Sarpent Island traders,” said Cugel. “A rough lot, by all accounts. In the future give such ships a wide berth.”
Madame Soldinck made no comment, and Cugel went off to ponder a new mystery: how had Soldinck come at him so swiftly?
With the coming of darkness, Cugel changed course and the pursuing ship was lost astern. Cugel told Madame Soldinck: “In the morning they’ll be ten leagues off our course.” He turned to go below … A gleam of light, from the black iron stern lantern, caught his eye.
Cugel uttered a cry of vexation and extinguished the light. He turned angrily to Madame Soldinck: “Why did you not tell me that you had lit up the lantern?”
Madame Soldinck gave an indifferent shrug. “In the first place, you never asked.”
“And in the second place?”
“It is prudent to show a light while at sea. That is the rule of the cautious mariner.”
“Aboard the Galante it is unnecessary to light lights except upon my orders.”
“Just as you like.”
Cugel tapped the escalabra. “Keep to the present course for one hour, then turn south.”
“Unwise! Tragically unwise!”
Cugel descended to the midship deck and stood leaning on the rail until the soft chime of silver bells summoned him to his dinner, which tonight was served in the aft cabin on a table spread with white linen.
The meal was adequate to Cugel’s expectations and he so informed Tabazinth who tonight was on duty as ‘night-steward’. “There was perhaps a trace too much fennel in the fish sauce,” he noted, “and the second service of wine — I refer to the Pale Montrachio — was clearly taken up a year before its fullest bounty. Still, all in all, there was little to be faulted and I hope you will so inform the kitchen.”
“Now?” asked Tabazinth demurely.
“Not necessarily,” said Cugel. “Why not tomorrow?”
“Soon enough, I should think.”
“Exactly so. We have our own business to discuss. But first —” Cugel glanced out the stern window “— as I half expected, that crafty old woman has again put light to the stern lantern. I cannot imagine what she has in her mind. What good is a great flare of light astern? She is not steering backward.”
“She probably wishes to warn off that other ship which was following so close on our heels.”
“The chances of collision are small. I want to avoid attention, not attract it.”
“All is well, Cugel. You must not fret.” Tabazinth approached and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Do you like the way I dress my hair? I have put on a special scent; it is called ‘Tanjence’, who was a beautiful woman of fable.”
“Your hair is charming to the point of distraction; the scent is sublime; but I must go up and set things right with your mother.”
With pouts and smiles Tabazinth tried to restrain him. “Ah, Cugel, how can I put faith in your flattery if at the first pretext you run off helter-skelter? Stay with me now; show me the full measure of your interest! Leave the poor old woman to her steering.”
Cugel put her aside. “Control your amiability, my bountiful little poppet! I will be gone no more than an insta
nt, and then you shall see!”
Cugel ran from the cabin, climbed to the quarter-deck. As he had feared, the lantern burned with a blatant glare. Without pausing to chide Madame Soldinck, Cugel not only extinguished the light, but removed glow-box, spurts and lumenex, and threw them into the sea.
Cugel addressed Madame Soldinck: “You have seen the last of my kindly forbearance. If lights again show from this ship, you will not enjoy the aftermath.”
Madame Soldinck haughtily held her tongue, and after a final inspection of the escalabra, Cugel returned to his cabin. After more wine and several hours of frolicking with Tabazinth, he fell soundly asleep and did not return to the quarter-deck that night.
In the morning, as Cugel sat blinking in the sunlight, he again felt that strange sense of displacement which had troubled him on other occasions. He climbed to the quarter-deck, where Salasser stood at the wheel. Cugel went to look at the escalabra; the claw pointed directly to the south.
Cugel returned to the midship deck and inspected the worms; they eased and lolled through the water on half-bait, apparently healthy save for what seemed to be fatigue and a touch of timp on the port outboard beast.
Today there would be wet work along the sponsons, from which only the ‘night-steward’ might hope to be excused.
A day passed, and another: for Cugel a halcyon time of ease, zestful refreshment in the sea air, splendid cuisine, and the unstinting attention of his ‘night-stewards’. A single source of disturbance were those strange displacements in time and space which he now thought to be no more than episodes of déjà vu.
On the morning that Tabazinth served him breakfast on the quarter-deck, his meal was interrupted by the sighting of a small fishing vessel. Beyond, to the south-west, Cugel made out the dim outline of an island, which he studied in perplexity. Déjà vu, once again?
Cugel took the wheel and steered so as to pass close by the fishing-boat, which was worked by a man and two boys. As he passed abeam, Cugel went to the rail and hailed the fisherman: “Halloo! What island lies yonder?”
The fisherman looked at Cugel as if he lacked intelligence. “It is Lausicaa, as you should well know. If I were in your shoes, I would give this region a wide berth.”
Cugel gaped toward the island. Lausicaa? How could it be, unless magic were at work?
Cugel went in confusion to the escalabra; all seemed in order. Amazing! He had departed toward the south; now he returned from the north, and must change course or run aground upon the place from which he had started!
Cugel swung the ship to the east and Lausicaa faded over the horizon. He then changed course again, and steered once more to the south.
Madame Soldinck, standing by, curled her lip in disgust. “South again? Have I not warned of dangers to the south?”
“Steer south! Not an iota east, not the fraction of an iota west! South is our desired direction! Put north astern and steer south!”
“Insanity!” muttered Madame Soldinck.
“Insanity, not at all! I am as sane as yourself! Admittedly this voyage has given me several queasy moments. I am unable to explain our approach to Lausicaa from the north. It is as if we had completed a circumnavigation!”
“Iucounu the Magician has put a spell on the ship to safeguard his shipment. This is the most reasonable hypothesis and yet another reason to make for Port Perdusz.”
“Out of the question,” said Cugel. “I am now going below to think. Report all extraordinary circumstances.”
“The wind is coming up,” said Madame Soldinck. “We may even have a storm.”
Cugel went to the rail, and indeed cat’s-paws from the northwest roughened the glossy black surface of the sea. “Wind will rest the worms,” said Cugel. “I cannot imagine why they are so spiritless! Drofo would insist that they have been over-worked, but I know better.”
Descending to the midship deck, Cugel dropped the blue silk mainsail from its brails and sheeted home the clews. The sail bellied to the breeze and water tinkled under the hull.
Cugel arranged a comfortable chair where he could prop his feet on the rail and, with a bottle of Rozpagnola Amber at his elbow, settled himself to watch Meadhre and Tabazinth as they dealt with an incipient case of gangue on the port inboard worm.
The afternoon passed and Cugel drowsed to the gentle motion of the ship. He awoke to find that the cat’s-paws had become a soft breeze, so that there was a surging motion to the ship, a modest bow wave and a gurgle of wake at the stern.
Salasser, the ‘night-steward’, served tea in a silver pot and a selection of small pastries, which Cugel consumed in an unusually abstracted mood.
Rising from his chair, Cugel climbed to the quarter-deck. He found Madame Soldinck in a testy mood. “The wind is not good,” she told him. “Better that you pull in the sail.”
Cugel rejected her advice. “The wind blows us nicely along our course and the worms are able to rest.”
“The worms need no rest,” snapped Madame Soldinck. “With the sails pulling the ship, I cannot steer where I want to steer.”
Cugel indicated the escalabra. “Steer south! That is the way you want to steer! The claw shows the way!”
Madame Soldinck had no more to say, and Cugel left the quarter-deck.
The time was sunset. Cugel went forward to the bow and stood under the lantern, as Drofo was wont to do. Tonight the western sky was dramatic with a high array of cirrus wisps scarlet on the dark blue sky. At the horizon the sun lingered and hesitated, as if reluctant to leave the world of daylight. A sour blue-green corona rimmed the edge of the globe: a phenomenon which Cugel had never noticed before. A purple bruise on the sun’s surface seemed to pulse, like the orifice of a polyp: a portent? … Cugel started to turn away, then, struck by a sudden thought, looked up into the lantern. The glow-box, spurts and lumenex, which Cugel had removed from the stern lantern, were not to be seen here either.
It seemed, thought Cugel, as if fertile minds worked hard aboard the Galante. “Nonetheless,” Cugel told himself, “it is with me whom they deal, and I am not known as Cugel the Clever for nothing.”
For still a few minutes Cugel stood at the bow. On the quarter-deck the three girls and Madame Soldinck drank tea and watched Cugel sidelong. Cugel put an arm to the lantern-post, creating a gallant silhouette against the sky of sunset. The high clouds now showed the color of old blood, and were clearly the precursors of wind. It might be wise to tuck a reef into the sail.
The light of sunset died. Cugel pondered the strange events of the voyage. To sail south all day and wake up the next morning in waters farther north than the starting point of the day before: this was an unnatural sequence … What sensible explanation, other than magic, existed? An ocean swirl? A retrograde escalabra?
One conjecture followed another across Cugel’s mind, each more unlikely than the last. At one especially preposterous notion he paused to voice a sardonic chuckle before rejecting it along with other more plausible theories … He stopped short and returned to review the idea, since, oddly enough, the theory fitted precisely to all the facts.
Except in a single crucial aspect.
The theory rested on the premise that Cugel’s mental capacity was of a low order. Cugel chuckled once again, but less comfortably, and presently he stopped chuckling.
The mysteries and paradoxes of the voyage were now illuminated. It seemed that Cugel’s innate chivalry and sense of decency had been exploited and his easy trustfulness had been turned against him. But now the game would change!
A tinkle of silver bells announced the service of his dinner. Cugel delayed a moment for a last look around the horizon. The breeze was blowing with greater force and piling up small waves which slapped against the Galante’s bluff bows.
Cugel walked slowly aft. He climbed to the quarter-deck where Madame Soldinck had only just come on watch. Cugel gave her a crisp nod which she ignored. He looked at the escalabra; the claw indicated ‘South’. Cugel went to the taff-rail and casually glanced
up into the lantern. The glow-box was not in place, which proved nothing. Cugel said to Madame Soldinck: “A nice breeze will rest the worms.”
“That may well be.”
“The course is south, fair and true.”
Madame Soldinck deigned no response. Cugel descended to a dinner which in all respects met his critical standards. The meal was served by the ‘night-steward’ Salasser, whom Cugel found no less charming than her sisters. Tonight she had dressed her hair in the style of the Spanssian Corybants, and wore a simple white gown belted at the waist with a golden rope — a costume which nicely set off her slender figure. Of the three girls, Salasser possessed possibly the most refined intelligence, and her conversation, while sometimes quaint, impressed Cugel by reason of its freshness and subtlety.
Salasser served Cugel his dessert: a torte of five flavors, and while Cugel consumed the delicacy, Salasser began to remove his shoes.
Cugel drew his feet back. “For a time I will wear my shoes.”
Salasser raised her eyebrows in surprise. Cugel was usually ready enough to seek the comforts of the couch as soon as he had finished his dessert.
Tonight Cugel put aside the torte half-finished. He jumped to his feet, ran from the cabin and climbed to the quarter-deck where he found Madame Soldinck in the act of putting light to the lantern.
Cugel spoke angrily: “I believe that I have made myself clear on this subject!” He reached into the lantern and despite Madame Soldinck’s cry of protest removed the functioning parts and threw them far into the dark.
He descended to the cabin. “Now,” he told Salasser, “you may remove my shoes.”
An hour later Cugel jumped from the couch and wrapped himself in his gown. Salasser raised to her knees. “Where are you going? I have thought of something innovative.”
“I will be back at once.”