Zero response…
But the truth was the truth… some sailor out there bouncing around, my life hanging in the balance! On the raging seas!… A hero yet one more time! To be blunt about it… Ah! Their sorry-looking mugs were driving me up the wall… I found the pair of them disgusting, ungrateful… they had no inkling about what sort of risks I was running… how I was sacrificing myself for everybody’s sake… ready to go off and play the fool in the yards… me with my neuritis, my bum arm… my slowpoke peg… my spinning head… I was running huge risks… all out of courageous kindness… But since it wasn’t worth the trouble… and nothing touched their hearts of stone… I’d lost my reason to exist… I might as well let myself be snatched away by a tornado… throw myself in the drink, that’s all… be swept off by a storm…
“You’ll be sorry!”
There, I said it.
They weren’t particularly moved… They just kept walking along, pitiful as hell from one sidewalk to the next… goddamn it! They were really getting to be a pain in my ass!…
Plain and simple pig-heads!…
They could drop dead for all I cared! Distinguished sulkers! They were getting on my nerves! I couldn’t stand the sight of them any more! Selfish jerks! They were bugging the hell out of me! Lying low, sitting pretty, lucky devils in short, they weren’t running my big risks! They had it easy, just sit back and wait for me!… I’d be up there high-flying in the masts!… I’d be braving the hurricanes! It’d be me down there cooking through the storms! They would be living high on the hog! Spared the blows of fate! They just had to worry about showing the old man a good time, playing nice-nice with his masks, dragging out the tests, slowpoking around, every little rigmarole they could think of in order to keep stalling… to kill time… until I could send them word, set myself up in the pampas… bring them over, and save the whole situation. It was a valorous plan of action. Just let me show you my triumphs of courage! I was going to outdo myself like never before! Swear, cross my heart it’d happen in no time! They’d be following me in a few short weeks. I’d reserve two cabins for them on a Plutus Company liner, touted for its ritziness, non-stop for La Plata. Famous superduper comforts, not some sub-ass-wetter with torpedoes like the Kong Hamsün… a picturesque bucket with halyard and sails, docked here all nice and cushy, but you can bet your life once cast off she’d turn into the crummiest slave ship around, all hands hard on the oars, prow ploughing storm-whipped waves, foam up her ass. Damned both north and south, a floating hell.
The skipper must have really let loose once he was out at sea! You could tell just by seeing him up there on his barrel! Already roaring mad! He must have turned into a whirligig once he revved up, whipping the riff-raff along with his tongue-lashings, from stem to stern! Ah! So think about that one minute, why don’t you?!
Plus, talking about my courage, you really had to keep in mind that an old tub like the Kong is big as life out at sea, all decked rigged out in white, a gust-blown cathedral, harum-scarum in the waves, a sitting target for all pirates. A powder keg, this huge billowing pirouette down into the deep.
I painted a nice picture of the danger for my confederates… explained how fragile a ship really is!…
It was all lost on them… I was looking for a pub, a bar, a tea room, any place at all with a roof over it, so I could spell it out for them a little clearer… A hot drink, black coffee, maybe a Bovril with a spot of rum… so we’d be able to sit down at least… and not have to keep on the move… What’s more, the time was going by… it was starting to get dark… There was a strict air-raid curfew in effect ever since the Zeppelins entered the war. It wouldn’t have taken much for us to lose our way between Millwall and Romney Dock. Nothing but dead-end streets and detours… brick cliffs everywhere… warehouse fortresses… and not a single pub!… In the end we had no idea where we were… We kept running up against the backs of courtyards… I didn’t want to knock on a door… The English don’t need a reason to start fretting as soon as they see somebody lurking around like that in the twilight, especially Frenchmen… and with a little girl to boot… in a short skirt… they sure as hell must have been flapping their lips in this neck of the woods, the hospital was around the corner, the black and raspberry building where we met Clodo that time… gossip travels fast… news of rapes… screw-ups… from pubs to dead-end streets… whether true or false… One thing you never do is ring somebody’s bell at twilight…
“Bear left!” I shout… “Bear left! Hey, what about Prospero? What about Prospero?”
The guy’d slipped my mind! I was beat from all the walking! Oh! Yeah, great idea! There’d be some java there!
“Let’s go, gang! Don’t just stand there!”
We cross back over where we came! On our way! I wasn’t thinking about Prospero any more. We had some business to settle, and how! Ah! I’m going to whip up a little taste for them! Prospero’s Loffeekee!
“Take it from me! Nice and hot, bubbling away! Genuine mocha java!”
I was firing them up.
I want to extend him my congratulations! Two pennies! Two pennies! For the cashier! Just to be nice! House of hot tips! Ah! What a first-class way to set sail! I just want a chance to pay him back! That mug on Jovil! A real distinguished gentleman!
They’re back smiling.
They’re taking things better. Truth is, it got to me too, all of a sudden, the way that gang of scumballs puked all over us, treated us worse than dogs, plastered us with ridicule. OK, so Prospero didn’t have anything to do with it, that was crystal-clear, he hadn’t misled, cheated, lied to me… all well and good… his info was right on the money, proved by the fact that I’d be setting sail at 8.15!… And on the spur of the moment… on his word! Without a red cent!… That was nothing to sneeze at!… A rock-solid recommendation… a result!… It was just that maybe if I sweet-talked him… pressed hard… pestered him to death… I’d manage to convince him to take the little one too… plus even old gramps… First, I had to go back on the attack, act horribly offended, damn unhappy, my friends insulted that way, what a total disgrace!
Fair enough, the Port Authorities were keeping an iron grip on the boatswains, really hunting down smugglers, so that you might think twice… and on top of that, the boat was so crammed… so packed to the gills for the crews… squashed in their quarters like sardines… that it was inevitable three extra boneheads… wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms… the Ministry of Munitions didn’t fool around… Any cut in your roll… means the skipper’s pulled in… the tub impounded! No ifs, ands or buts!
That was all the out-and-out thugs in the crew needed to hear… Fires were child’s play. A splitting hull, a hole in the waves, a cross mark over at Lloyd’s, cut the applause!
Ah! I was feeling sorry for myself! for my bag of bones ready to set sail! I was thinking it over hard! A victim, that’s what I was, nothing less, at the mercy, tossed by the perverse quirks of fate!… Ah! My personal destiny! And these friends of mine, what louts! They saw me on a bed of roses! The monsters! Never in my life dealt with characters more deaf! More blind! Grousing under my breath while groping our way along the Albert Embankment… the dock opposite Prospero’s place… Ah! My personal fate! Ah! and how! Pains! Sacrifices! Who from? Me from, that’s who! Fucking hell!…
I couldn’t stand any more tears! Ah! It was too damn unfair! Ah! I was sick and tired of their faces! Ah! The smug jerks! I told them off as we walked along… enough already with the sighs!
“I’m the one who’s going to be the acrobat up there in the Kong Hamsün’s shrouds! My ass is on the line! My bones! I’m the one who’s going to be somersaulting around fifty yards up in the atmosphere, above the raging elements! Cheers to you all! Tirralirra! I’m the dumb jerk every time something needs to get done! Ah! You’ve got zero self-respect, feeling sorry for yourselves and all that! I’m the one you should be feeling tremendously sorry for! I’m the one coping with emergencies! Ah! your cool-customer act stinks!”
My ranting didn’t disturb them in the least!
At one spot the bank turned treacherous… You could slip right into the drink just like that… Splash!… Straight off the deck of the footbridge… plus there was the rigging that kept tripping you up… Sosthène tangles his foot, stumbles, sprawls!… Sits on an anchor!… Howls… he hurt himself… Got banged up pretty bad… Fortunately it’s a good omen… running into an anchor!… It brings instant luck… Got to admit it, that’s all. Chance runs the show. He said so himself.
“Move your ass, you loafer! Move it! Look where it is!”
We were going to come back out on Prospero’s place… We could make out the dim glow at the end of the pebble path… the canteen… the fanlight… We walk up to it. Enter. It’s already full of customers. Swirling with smoke so thick it was like a mauve aquarium! The sea-green fellows were drifting under the ceiling lamps! Garlands of tiny red lights around the tables, their pipes. I jostle two ornery characters… threats fly back and forth… I move along my way, stepping quick… I want to break the news to Prospero… that fine friend of mine!… Good as gold!… Tell him I’m off… he’ll never see me again!… That it’s all signed and sealed for America!
Such a racket at the counter, got to scream to make myself heard. I bellow at the top of my lungs.
“Hey! Prospero! It’s OK! Boom! Dee-aaa!…”
My rallying cry. He can see me wending my way… through the mauve pipe smoke… so thick you could cut it with a knife… I think I’m catching him by surprise… Wrong. He’s rinsing glasses… and just keeps on… He’s chatting with an Eyetie, a chauffeur from the Majorio.
He introduces me: “José de Majorque.”
“Hey, you know what?” I break the news. “I’m shipping out!”
“Shipping out on what?
“Why, on that old tub of yours!”
“What old tub of mine?”
“Why, on the Hamsün, you dolt!”
Gets a snigger from him.
“Must have been dreaming, fella,” he goes to me…
“Dreaming? What do you mean? It’s a done deal!”
“Come off it now!”
“You can fuck off, Prospero, that’s all I got to say! I set sail at eight o’clock, that good enough for you?”
Felt like killing him the way he kept shrugging.
“Tonight? You imbecile, tonight’s your party!”
What a comeback!
“My party? Party for what?”
“St Ferdinand, sweetheart!”
“Ferdinand?”
It didn’t make any sense to me.
“Sure is!” he responds emphatically… “Didn’t you know anything about it?…”
What the hell did my party have to do with anything?
“Come off it, everybody wants to give you the bash you deserve! You don’t leave on your name day! Just unheard of!”
Of course his buddy was in total agreement, José de Majorque.
They were both rolling their eyes in horror over how I could even think about leaving on such a day! My name day! Unbelievable!
I didn’t have a calendar, he neither of course!
Smelled fishy…
So then, he starts talking to me about Cascade, working girls, friends, who all wanted to offer me special wishes, and how they’d be offended to death if I just upped and left without so much as a ta-ta because they were all gearing up for a terrific blowout, this would be everybody’s chance to drown their blues in rivers of champagne, wash them away once and for all, it would be one hell of a victory celebration! For the speedy homecoming of our fighting men! So I just couldn’t skip out. Jesus Christ Almighty, an out-of-this-world wild binge, big bash, asshole, the whole shebang! A hookers’ holiday, the whole houseful! All for St Ferdinand! You don’t leave on your name day!… Even so it took me aback… I didn’t want to come across like too big an ignoramus… What if it was true… I’d be able to see what they were about… whether they honestly meant to be friendly…
I wanted to stand him to a drink… He’s a step ahead of me.
“My round!”
He foists himself on our little group.
“Miss? A glass of Banyuls? And what about you, granddad?”
Drinks all around.
He was pulling the rug out from under me.
Ah! I wondered what was going on… I’d never before seen anybody so concerned about my name-day party… St Ferdinand…
They all start kissing me… the round of drinks gets their juices flowing… Prospero… the driver… Sosthène… the girl… exploding in merriment… They wish me all the happiness in the world… I ask how the old gang’s been doing… back at the boarding house… asked about those who’d been called up… two dead already…
“Ah! Cascade phoned.” It suddenly comes back to him!
He catches me up on a few others… this one… that one… on Carmen with the stitches in her ass… He was in a chatty mood… So what was the big deal about this party of mine? I wanted to ask him, it was a screwy idea. Funny how it happened to come up just now… I didn’t really get it… What was this palsy-walsy business all about? I hadn’t seen anybody for months… I’d beat it the hell away from them… Why were they coming back to bug me? Curlers was to blame. She’d spread tales, worked up the gang… My skipping-out didn’t exactly thrill them… They had something up their sleeve… Right, my bash!… Best wishes?… Wishes that… that… that… the whole thing stinks to high heaven!… I’d find out what their game was!… Or should I throw in a monkey wrench right now?… Tear out of here?… But what if it was all a con back at the ship? And signing me on was just a big bunch of bull!… Just for laughs too?… And I’d got diddled everywhere?… Ah! Fucking hell!… Enough was enough… At ease! Start over again from the top! A seat! Let’s tough it out! Maybe I should clear the hell off again?… They wouldn’t take me in… They all wound up making me laugh! Tough guys my ass! Reason enough for me! I get sloshed! I tell Sosthène: “Do like me! The little one too! Sit down!…”
We take Prospero up on his offer! Let him fill ’er up! On the house! Since it’s my name-day party! Cheers! And here’s one to all the blabbermouths at the bar! To all the blabbermouths in the world! Let them all spit, jabber and swear, God be damned! Burp and burn their tongues! Bah! Breathe fire, it packs such a punch! A knockout wallop of alcohol. To my name day! St Ferdinand! Let the good times roll! Let’s celebrate! My act bowls Prospero over, he thought I was going to skip out! Run off with my tail between my legs under the nasty digs! No way! Full of piss and vinegar, and that’s that! All drinks on the house! He introduces me to another friend, an ice-cream man from Soho, who was likewise angling for a way out of the country, some gimmick for getting over to Argentina… From what I could make out he’d jumped ship a year and a half ago already… the Regina Marina…
He wasn’t too bad on guitar… he even had a permit to give concerts in Soho… Now you don’t just pick up a music permit from under some cop’s foot… in fact, it’s a pretty damn difficult piece of paper to get your hands on… the sort of thing that’s passed down in the family… which goes to say it was a golden goose you’d never swap for anything… This gets us onto the topic of permits… The thousand and one ways of faking them… how you can turn one into three or four… in short, all the crooked ins and outs of the business…
We got to chatting about Boro, how he’d finagled his own permit for playing piano in pubs from a pedlar, then sold it to Guédon for two pounds fifty to pay off the fine for disturbing the peace that’d been dogging him… But Guédon was a real screw-up, a few days later he gets lured into a raid over at the La Reale bar… Trying to escape, he tears along, charging ahead of the cops, the strain makes him see blurry, he falls right over into the water at the foot of the bridge, at the Embankment, he sinks to the bottom, the river traffic, the crabs devour him in less than a week, the permit along with him, those are the kind of crabs they got down by Victoria Embankment, not a shred left behind, th
e most voracious along the entire bank, “walking sewers” they call them, a special species, in with the tide, scads and scads, such huge heaping layers, so dense so compact they look like part of the real embankment, you can actually walk across them unawares… Those are the kind of crabs they were.
Virginia closed her eyes, the whirl of talk had really tuckered her out… plus all the hustle and bustle… she fell fast asleep…
“Beddy-bye!…” I cradle her, my darling… “Beddy-bye!…’’
True, she was as little as could be, especially like this in my arms, a teeny tiny little kid who’d been way too bouncy.
“That floozie of yours isn’t too friendly!” Prospero observes. “She’s asleep on the night of your name-day party!”
A crack to get under my skin.
“Ah! You’re a pain in the ass with this party of mine!”
I was being too patient.
“See ya!”
I got up… They were boring the hell out of me with this party of mine! “You just wait and see what we’ve got planned for you!”
Bunch of stubborn pricks!
London Bridge Page 51