The Complete Simon Iff

by Aleister Crowley

  "We have a very young, enthusiastic person, with a passionate love of an apparently wronged person, and an almost insanely chivalrous attitude. But of course you will object that we have here another impossibility. I have spoke of an infamous wrong--nothing less would justify the action even of Number 1, still less of Number 2. Now since the radiogram had to be intelligible to the captain, he must know well what that wrong was, and he must fear revenge. But on the other hand, we who know him know, that he is not at all the man to wrong anyone, even in the most trifling manner. Whatever the events were that are associated, in the minds of these people, with the words of the radiogram, we are bound to think that McVea's share in them was justified in his own eyes, and misinterpreted by Number 1. The captain, however, certainly knew that Number 1 had so misinterpreted that action, but he was unable to clear the mater up because the man was either dead, or thought by him to be so. I have made these remarks in public, not without apprehension that I may have bordered on indiscretion; but, generally speaking, it is safe to look for truth. And the conclusion has justified me. When I saw how my analysis was turning, I began to hope that Number 2 might be within hearing of my voice--he would want to be where he could watch the effect of the receipt of the radiogram. And in this sheltered portion of the deck we are not visible by anyone outside our little circle of a dozen persons. I will therefore ask Number 2 to talk to me privately before he proceeds with what I make no doubt to be his very admirable plan."

  The men looked at each other wondering. The younger members of the party became exceedingly self-conscious.

  "I think," said Simon Iff, finishing his drink, "that Iwill go and see the captain, while you think it over. Perhaps he may be able to speak by now. Shall we run along and see, Doc?"

  He took the surgeon's arm, and they walked away, leaving the crowd in a very curious state of mind.

  "I should really tell him," lisped Lord Juventius Mellor. "I know it will save an awful lot of trouble."

  Camilla Craig rearranged the pillows under his head, and stole a sly kiss in the shadows.

  II

  Except in German Universities, it is held to be a decided disadvantage to a theory if it will not work. Nobody replied to simon Iff's advertisement. The matter was quietly dropped. The captain had completely recovered, but it was understood that he did not care even for expressions of sympathy.

  "He had recovered his speech, when we got there the other night," said Simon Iff to his pupil, "but all he would say was, that there was no danger to the ship. His silence confirmed my general view. There is something in the past which the captain supposed closed forever; something whose revelation means tragedy for him. I cannot believe that he is to blame, and yet I'm sure that Number 2 at least would acquiesce in Bacon's definition of revenge as 'wild justice'."

  "Do you still think that Number 2 is on the ship?" asked the boy.

  "The alternative is that he is waiting for us at Colombo, but I think he is on board, and if so, we need not look for violence. I am beginning to think of Number 2 as in some way or other legitimately armed. He does not fear the consequences of his act, whatever act he may have in contemplation. He may be a person absolutely wedded to his fixed idea. His subtlety may be a lunatic's cunning, but I don't think so. McVea knows something of my reputation. If it were possible to avert the fall of the axe, he would have asked me to help him. But he keeps silence--he does his duty like a haunted man. One can see that he is sinking under the anticipation of the blow. It is 'the one thing as certain as death'. That alone makes me certain that Number 2 does not propose to do anything illegal. Even a Camorra cannot carry out every assassination with the punctuality of an omnibus service."

  The conversation was interrupted by Camilla Craig, who wanted Lord Juventius to play at the ship's concert and Simon Iff to tell one of his stories.

  "I think not," said Simon Iff. "I know better than to challenge a supreme artist in the line which has made her famous through-out the world. What are you going to do, my dear?"

  "I think I will try out a dramatic monologue," said the girl. "I haven't told it before--I should like to see how it goes."

  "Try it on the dog," said Simon. "You know we are bound to applaud, especially when every cheer means an extra sovereign for the Seamen's Home. I am really very anxious for that concert. Your devotion to Juventius has driven me to Pirate Bridge."

  "Well, it's not long till to-morrow night," smiled Camilla, "and twenty-four hours after that you will be eating curry at the Grant Oriental."

  "I wish I could do something to help that poor old boy," said Simon, when she had gone. "If he would talk--well, all things are possible--but I am certain that he doesn't deserve what's coming to him. I see only one chance. If I were present when the blow was struck, I might be able to parry it. Who knows--who knows?"

  The following night, the saloon of the Urquhart Castle was crowded. by special request, the Second Class passengers had been invited to the concert. The purser was in his glory. Hardly any one noticed how weak and ill the captain was as he sat in his chair on the platform, but people with a little psychology could read him easily; a simple, desperate man, knowing himself doomed, and determined to do his duty to the end. The concert went off more pleasantly than such functions usually do. Every one acquiesced in the general mediocrity, content to wait for the treat in store for them, when Camilla Craig, with her red hair ravishingly emphasized by a frock of rich, soft blue, would do her turn.

  "I am going to tell you a story," she began, and her inimitable smile flashed round the crowded saloon. "It is called 'The End of the Voyage'. Once upon a time..."

  Simon Iff suddenly stood up.

  "We have with us to-night," cried Camilla, "a very distinguished gentleman who very wisely observed on the night that we left Durban, that as a general rule, it was safe to look for truth. I crave that gentleman's inculgence for my little fiction."

  Lord Juventius Mellor looked very swiftly at Simon Iff. Camilla's mouth had shut like a trap. The boy seemed to understand that a duel had been in progress; and he was amazed to see that his master, having tried to cover his movement by pretending to adjust his trousers, sat down again and folded his arms. Camilla's smile was radiant as sunrise on soft snowy mountains.

  "Once upon a time," she began again, "it was just three and twnety years ago, a wealthy lawyer whom I will call James Smith, finding himself threatened with consumption, had gone to an island in the South Seas, which I will call Friendly Island."

  The audience shuddered. An incredibly bitter sneer was in the tone with which she pronounced 'friendly'.

  "James Smith was accompanied by his wife and their infant daughter. Friendly Island is an earthly Paradise; only two or three Europeans live there, in the regular way. I do not mean that this circumstance alone would constitute a paradise. There was the inevitable missionary--there was a romantic German who sold stores--there was a rascally pearler who was always getting drunk and raising trouble, and besides James Smith, there was another stranger whom I will call William Brown. He was a man of good breeding, manners and education, and he was undeniably handsome. He had arrived there about six weeks after Smith had settled down. He had come from the port of the neighbouring island where steamers occasionally put in, in a small fishing boat, a boat with a big square sail easily handled by one man.

  "Smith and Brown became the greatest friends possible. The lawyer was passionately fond of fishing, and would often go out in Brown's boat, to an island some four hours' sail distant, where were tall crags, within whose shadow lay a pool which enjoyed a tremendous reputation for big fish. Lawyer though he was, he had not lost faith in humanity. He never guessed that Brown would soil honour and betray friendship.

  "It happened that Mrs. Smith was a true woman. She told Brown to cease his insults, but she was too good a woman for this world. She ought to have warned her husband; and she did not.

  "Brown pretended to acquiesce in the situation, but the devil had entered into him. His gu
ilty passion decided him to override all obstacles. Smith was in his way--then Smith must go. Most of us who sail these seas believe that there is something in the sun's heat which tends to intoxicate the passions. It is as if the brain boiled into madness. When Brown finally decided to put Smith out of the way, he was not content to choose a simple accident. He resolved upon a death by torture.

  "One night, it had been arranged that Smith should sail over to the little island for the fishing. Starting at mid-night, he would arrive comfortably at dawn, catch is fish, and be back in time for dinner. Mrs. Smith had retired early to bed that night, with a slight touch of fever. But Brown took his friend" (again the sneer rang out) "to the boat. He pushed it off from the little warf. waved his hand cheerfully to Smith, and cried, 'A pleasant voyage to you!'"

  The audience sat as if hypnotized. Not one but was too appalled even to shudder.

  "Drowsing at the helm, Smith sailed past a long, low key of coral, which extends some two miles eastward from the island. It lies almost flush with the water. It has neither a hut nor a tree; but it serves to break the freshness of the Trade Winds. Smith was hardly beyond the point, about two miles from shore, when he was awakened from his pleasant lethargy by the sudden fall of the mainsail. He jumped up, amazed, for the rope was nearly new. An examination revealed something absolutely astounding. The main haul had been treated with sulphuric acid--the stain was on smith's fingers. I suppose he thought this was Brown's idea of a joke. He looked for the oars. they had been taken out of the boat. There was absolutely nothing for him to do but wait for rescue. It never entered his mind that this was a plot against his life. the sun came up--it began to be very hot--not a breath stirred. He began to be thirsty. He went to the locker for water--the bottles had been filled from the sea!

  "'This is beyond a joke,' he cried angrily to the unsympathetic universe. And then he laughed. There was a melon in the locker. He cut it open. A bright blue liquid flowed--copper sulphate! The melon was uneatable! An hour or two later, what with bewilderment, anxiety and torture, he began to wander in his mind. He had made endless efforts to rehoist the sail by cutting away the rotten part of the rope; but he was a poor hand at climbing, and he was not strong enough to take down the mast and fix the sail. Ultimately he drove a spike into the mast as high as he could reach and fixed the boom to it, so that he was able to get a little way on the boat. Of course he headed her for the nearest shore visible. But the breeze was very light, and he made poor progress. The heat of the sun was intense and his thirst maddening. In vain he scanned the sea for any sail.

  "Then he discovered that smoke was rising from the forehatch. He hastened to investigate the cause. Again sulphuric acid! Three carboys had been placed upside down and stoppered with some material that would resist the action of the acid for a number of hours. The time had expired--the bottom of the boat was awash with vitriol, and the fumes began to choke him. He knew that to throw water upon it would only quicken the action of the acid. It was only a question of time, and a short time at that, before the sea rushed in. Swimming was out of the question--too many sharks. He might conceivably construct a raft, but that was not a very simple job for a lawyer, single-handed, with he knew not how few minutes to spare.

  "As God willed it, however," (Camilla's voice grew very solemn) "he was not to die that day. Out of His treasury, the Great Father let forth a squall, a little local squall scuddling across a tiny strip of ocean. It struck the sinking boat, lifted her almost out of the water, drove her furiously toward the key. She was not two hundred yards from land when she sank under his feet. He had seen his chance, and thrown off his clothes. He never knew how he did it, but he reached the shore. The squall had passed--he lay there naked in the blazing sun--a raving lunatic. Night calmed him. He began to crawl over the razor edges of the coral towards the village. He probably fainted from loss of blood, for the coral cut him cruelly. He said afterwards that he thought his mental and physical agony had made him dance in madness. He passed a second day upon the key--a shadless day--a day of blazing torture--a day without water. But by dawn on the third day, he had reached one of the paths about the village. There he was ound by some of the natives. They did not recognize him. His face was scarred by coral, and twisted by agony. He himself did not know who he was, but his wife and his child knew him. There was no one to suspect anything beyond the most ordinary accident. Brown exhibited the proper sympathy, and even renewed his abominable intrigues. But Mrs. Smith, with her man wounded, was a lioness. She may or may not have suspected something wrong, but however that may be she told Brown--in front of the other white men of the island--to get out and stay out, which he did. A month after that, Smith came to himself with full clear memory of every incident. One thought was uppermost in his mind; revenge upon the fiend! A lawyer's idea of revenge is not to stick a knife into someone when he isn't looking, and trust to luck to get away with it; a lawyer knows a trick worth two of that.

  "Brown was a pretty well known person--a capable and ambitious man--a man easy to find--a man without suspicion that he was being hunted--and he was a man moreover on whom the law could put its grip. Smith went to work in a perfectly clear headed way. He found it easy enough to establish the proofs of guilt. He got sworn statements from the trader who had sold Brown the acid--the pearler had been on the warf when Brown arranged the provisioning. Even the missionary was able to contribute a detail to the case. He had been pleading with Brown, begging him to change his manner of life and the sailor had replied, 'I'll come to Jesus when Ella comes to me.' Ella being the name of Mrs. Smith. The missionary had replied that he understood perfectly that Brown's evil passions were in his way, and Brown had replied, 'Hell, no! Smith's in the way--but it won't be for long.'

  "Armed with these weapons, Smith and his family went to London to begin the search. All this took over a year, for Smith's activities were interrupted by continually increasing ill-health. A shock more terrible than all was yet in store for the unhappy man. They had not been a month in London before Ella Smith disappeared! No trace of her was ever found, though of course Smith set every wheel in motion. One must not say so, since one does not know, but one can have little doubt that Brown found some means to kidnap her, or perhaps to make away with her. The shock completely wrecked the brain of the unhappy lawyer. Two days after his wife's disappearance, he had to be placed in a private asylum for the cure of the insane. His little daughter was left in the care of her father's unmarried sister. Three years of treatment restored Smith to health. He returned to his house, and his daughter, who by this time was old enough to understand things, heard from him the story of his wrongs. He had prepared a long and formidable statement, supported by the affidavits of his wife and of the other people on the island. 'Yvonne,' he said to her one day, 'there is a spot in my brain not quite healed. I can forget everything but one thing, and that one thing is Brown's Judas smile and false words--"A pleasant voyage to you!" I think he must remember them too. They sealed the triumph of his malice. Now I will burn them in his brain. I will not have him arrested--not just yet. I'm going to change my name, and travel. I shall send him a copy of this statement and these affidavits, so that he may know that I have got him by the short hair, and whenever I find him starting on a voyage, for he is a sea captain, I shall telegraph to him these words, "A pleasant voyage to you." He will know from whom they come.'

  "This programme was duly carried out. Smith and his daughter travelled in many delightful places of the earth. He took great pains to have her well brought up; but he himself was the only real influence in her mind. Almost from infancy she had been fed by day and night with this tale of infamy and horror. She began to have a fixed idea about it--almost as strong as her father; and he, poor man, was slowly sinking into chronic madness. He developed ideas of persecution--he lived over again and again those hours of agony on the boat--his mind grdually became confused. In his last years, he even ranged his wife among his persecutors."

  "Ah," cried Simon Iff on a high n
ote, "what did I tell you? Or, more accurately, what should I have told you if I had had a chance?"

  Captain McVea immediately asserted his authority; though, if he were a king, it was surely in some Hell unthinkable. "I must request silence," he said sharply and angrily.

  Simon Iff shrugged his shoulders and subsided, murmuring something about an obstinate man doing himself no good.

  "I beg your pardon for being interrupted," said Camilla sweetly. "It proves how much I have been boring you."

  In point of fact the audience had been breathless ever since she had first pronounced the words "A pleasant voyage to you!"