by Philip Roy
“Canada.”
“That’s a long way. And you’re a friend of Brian’s?”
“Sort of. We just met.”
“Well, you must be friends if he told you to drop in on me. Come into the house and have some French toast. I was just about to make some. Do you like French toast?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to impose.”
“It’s no imposition. We’ll be glad to have company.” He reached down and patted the cat. “This is Fritzi, the wonder cat.”
I looked at the cat and wondered what made him a wonder cat. “Your dragon is very cool. It looks like it really flies.”
Merwin turned around to look at the dragon, as if he didn’t even remember it was there. “Nope. The motors flap the wings, throw the tail around, raise the head, open and shut the mouth, but that’s it. It would take about a dozen rocket engines to get that thing into the air.” He stared at the dragon as if he were considering the possibility.
“Do any of your sculptures actually work?”
He sighed. “A few of them do. I wish they all did. I started out making sculptures, and then was asked to design monsters for film, for special effects. I build them here, and ship them off to studios in Sydney. It’s not a bad job, but I’m more interested in inventions that really work. My masterpiece is sitting down in the boathouse. Would you like to see it?”
“I would love to see it.”
“Come on, I’ll show you. Fritzi! My hat!”
Fritzi leapt onto a workbench, stretched up and grabbed Merwin’s cap off a hook, and brought it back in his mouth. Merwin took it from him and put it on his head. It was a sandy-coloured hat with a faded golden dragon on the front. Now I knew why Fritzi was a wonder cat.
“He doesn’t know he’s a cat,” said Merwin, patting Fritzi. “He thinks he’s a dog.”
“That’s funny, I have a seagull who thinks he’s an eagle,” I said.
Merwin stared, bewildered, and I didn’t think he believed me. He reached down and fed Fritzi a treat from his pocket, then patted him on the head again.
We followed him down to the boathouse. I kept Hollie in the tool bag the whole time because he was nervous around big cats. Merwin walked ahead, with Fritzi beside him. The boathouse was about the same size as the workshop, but sat on top of the water. We entered from one end, Merwin clicked on a light, and there, suspended in the air by cables, was an invention roughly the size of the dragon. At first glance I thought it was another dragon, except that it wasn’t cut into moveable parts, it was just one piece. Yet it had what looked like wings, or fins. They were wide, webbed appendages attached to bendable hydraulic arms. It had a tail made of discs, like a dinosaur spine, and one large moveable fin at the very back, as on a whale. There were several bubble windows, and it was hollow inside, with enough room for maybe two people. I would definitely want to see whatever film this creature was going to end up in. It was very, very cool.
“What is it?”
“What is it?” Merwin looked at me strangely, as if I should know what it was. “It’s a submarine!”
Chapter Fifteen
IT WASN’T LIKE ANYTHING I had ever seen before. The fins resembled enormous duck feet on either side of a skinny whale. They looked funny, yet oddly seaworthy. I was dying to know if they really worked. “Do they work?”
“Of course. Everything works. That’s the beauty of it. The fins are hydraulic, and they’re made from titanium. They’re hellishly strong, but lightweight. Come inside and I’ll show you.”
I followed Merwin up a stepladder and squeezed through a narrow portal hidden inside a dorsal fin. That was cool. I had to pull Hollie off my back to get inside. The sub swung side to side as we climbed in. Then we had to crouch down because there wasn’t enough room to stand. The hull was made of steel, which Merwin had cut and welded expertly, but hadn’t painted, insulated, or lined with wood, so it was pretty rough. It really felt like we were inside the stomach of a sea monster.
“You sit here, put your feet there, and pull back on the levers the way you’d row a boat. The webbed paddles open up against the water on the backstroke, then fold together like bat wings and rush to the front on the forward stroke, then open again on the backstroke. The hydraulic arms give you a powerful stroke.”
“It looks awesome. Have you tested it in the water yet?”
“No.”
“I see you have an engine, too.”
“Yeah.”
“Does it burn vegetable fat?”
“It does.”
“Is there a propeller?” I didn’t see one.
“It’s underneath the tail. It’s just a small one.”
I stared all around. There was nothing as fascinating to me as a submarine, especially one with mechanical invention. I couldn’t help wondering what this thing would look like cutting through the water. What would whales and dolphins think? What would the coast guard think? “What will you use it for?”
Merwin rubbed his hands together anxiously. “My dream is to join the Sea Shepherd Society, and help save whales, but I know that’s probably unrealistic in a vessel this size. If this proves seaworthy, I’ll make a bigger one.”
“Cool. Where are your air compressors?”
Merwin looked surprised that I asked that. “It’s here.” He pointed to a blue tank. It was pretty small.
“Is there only one?”
“Yeah. Why would you need more than one?” He looked a little confused.
“For safety. Do you have a heating system?”
“A heater? No, I didn’t think to put in a heater. I figured I’d just dress warmly. I suppose a heater’s not a bad idea.” He took a notepad out of his pocket and scribbled it down.
“The ocean gets really cold. What about an air-conditioner?”
“An air-conditioner? Why on earth would you need an airconditioner inside a submarine?”
“Because of the sun, and the heat of the engine, and to circulate the air.”
Merwin looked at me strangely, then wrote it down in his notepad. I looked around some more. “Where are your batteries?”
“There aren’t any. That’s why I have the hydraulic paddles. I’ll use the engine on the surface, and the paddles when I submerge. I don’t see the need to complicate things with batteries. I don’t like the idea of running electricity inside a submarine.”
That meant that the sub could only move under water when he rowed. But what if he broke his arm when he was at sea? Or what if he got sick, or ran out of food, like we had, and had no energy? And I guess he wasn’t concerned about speed. The duck fins looked pretty cool, but they’d be awfully slow. He hadn’t tested them in the water yet anyway, so he didn’t even know if they worked.
“What about your casings? These ones are just temporary, are they?” Everywhere that he had cut holes in the hull—for windows, paddle arms, and valves—were casings that might have been suitable for a machine on land, to keep the dust and rain out, but none of them would hold up against water pressure for more than a few seconds. They looked really neat, like out of a spaceship movie, but if he ever went to sea in this submarine, he would drown before he got out of sight of his boathouse.
“What’s wrong with my casings?” He looked a little wounded.
“They won’t keep the sea out. You’ll drown.” I hated to be so critical, but he didn’t appear to realize how dangerous it actually was to go under the water in a machine. The sea doesn’t care if you are sincere, and it doesn’t care what your submarine looks like. It only cares if it’s watertight.
Merwin stared at me intensely: partly curious, partly defensive. “How come you know so much about submarines, Alfred?”
I hesitated. “Because I live in one.”
“You’re kidding.”
I shook my head. “Did you hear about an incident in Perth a couple of weeks ago, where a tanker was sabotaged, and everyone thought it was someone in a submarine?”
“Yeah, of course. Everybody has seen that. It w
as big news.”
“Well, the guy they’re looking for is me.”
His mouth dropped. “No.”
“Yes, but I didn’t do it. Honestly. Somebody else did; but I don’t know who.”
“But…you travel in a submarine?”
“Yes. I’ve been living in one for a couple of years now. It’s my home.”
Merwin looked stunned. Then he drifted off in a trance, probably lost in his imagination, and it took him quite a while to come back. I leaned against the inside of the hull with one arm, and held Hollie in the tool bag with the other. The sharp, biting odour of metal reminded me of Ziegfried’s workshop back in Newfoundland, where we had built the sub. Then Hollie sneezed, and Merwin snapped out of his trance. “Boy, have we got things to talk about, Alfred. Please come in and have French toast with me.”
“Okay.” That sounded pretty good to me.
So we climbed out and followed him back up the hill to his house, which was even messier inside than out. But it was cosy. And Merwin made probably the best French toast in the world. He bought the bread from an organic bakery, the eggs from an organic farm where the hens had the run of the place; the milk from cows that were grass fed; the salt, cinnamon, butter, and yogurt from a local organic store. Everything was organic, and grown or made in Tasmania, except the brown sugar, which was imported, but was organic, too. I had never had yogurt on French toast before, and was kind of doubtful, until I tried it. Then, I couldn’t stop eating it. While we ate, Merwin asked me a lot of questions about my experiences in the sub, and I answered them, including telling him how I was hoping he might be able to convert the engine to burn vegetable fat.
After a while, Hollie had to go outside. “I have to let my dog out to use the bathroom,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
I opened the back door and let Hollie out. “Don’t go far, Hollie. Just scratch on the door when you want in, okay?” Hollie looked up at me as if to say, “When are we leaving this place?”
“Soon,” I said, and went back inside.
When I sat down, Merwin looked alarmed. “Did you let that little dog outside by himself?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Fritzi’s out there. He hates dogs. He gets very aggressive around them. He’ll hurt a little dog like that. You’d better hurry.”
I jumped up. The next thing we heard was a cat hissing loudly, Hollie barking, and a terrible sound of animals fighting in the yard. We rushed out. “I’m sorry,” Merwin said. “I should have warned you about Fritzi.”
I searched for Hollie in the dark, and saw him running over from a tree. He looked okay to me. But Fritzi was up in the tree. At the trunk of the tree was Seaweed, his wings spread almost five feet across, his beak wide open, like a giant lobster claw. Fritzi was clinging to the branch, hissing in fright. Merwin was frightened, too. “What the heck is that?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s Seaweed. He’s my first mate. I should have warned you about him. He hates cats.”
“What kind of bird is that?”
“A seagull.”
“He doesn’t look like any seagull I’ve ever seen, he looks like a monster!”
“Sorry about that. Seagulls from Newfoundland are bigger than the ones around here. And Seaweed has always been really aggressive. I don’t know why. He’s very protective of Hollie. They’ve been through a lot together.” I went over and tossed Seaweed a dog biscuit I had in my pocket. He gobbled it up, folded his wings, and twisted his head at me, looking for more.
“That’s your crew?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.”
Merwin helped Fritzi down from the tree and put him in the shop. I brought Hollie back into the house. Seaweed went up on the roof. We came back to the table, sat down, and continued eating. Merwin was quiet for a while. I could tell he was thinking about something. I shared my French toast with Hollie. By the time we had finished eating, Merwin said he had an offer to make me. He sounded serious.
“Okay?”
“Here’s my offer, Alfred. You take me out on your submarine, and teach me everything you know about submarines, and I’ll convert your engine to burn vegetable fat, and teach you everything I know about environmentalism. What do you think?”
I sat back in my seat. It was an interesting offer, but I had to think about it. I had a rule about not taking passengers on my sub, except for emergencies, because I didn’t feel I could truly protect them. The sea was too dangerous. On the other hand, it would be very helpful if Merwin taught me everything he knew about environmentalism. And I did want to convert the engine to burn vegetable fat.
I’d have to think about it. As captain, I was responsible for all passengers and crew on my sub. That was the law of the sea, and I explained it to Merwin. He listened carefully, but had a quick answer. “Okay, but look at it this way: I am the captain of another submarine, in training, and I am requesting your help in order to be safer at sea. Doesn’t that put me in a special category?”
It was a good point. But there was something else: Merwin was probably sixty years old. I was just turning seventeen. If he came on my submarine, he would have to obey my orders. Could he do that? He nodded his head and said no problem.
I still didn’t know. I told him I’d have to think about it. “Fair enough. Where’s your submarine anyway, Alfred?”
“In a tiny cove, in the mouth of the harbour. It’s hidden.”
“Why don’t you bring it up here? Would it fit in the boathouse?”
“It might.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. Can I sleep on it?”
“Of course. Would you like the couch?”
“No, thank you. We’ll be more comfortable outside. We’ve spent so much time at sea lately; anywhere on land is nice.”
“I envy you. It must be nice to spend so much time at sea. Pick any spot you like, but watch out for sharp edges of the sculptures in the dark. I can tell that you’re a cautious fellow, Alfred. Were you always like that, or did you learn that at sea?”
“I learned it at sea.”
“I suppose I’d have to learn it, too.”
I nodded. He sure would.
Hollie and I slept under the stars. My belly was so full I couldn’t even remember the hungry feeling I had had for the past week. Hollie climbed onto the bottom of the sleeping bag, lay flat the way he sometimes lay in the sun, and went into a deep sleep. Seaweed appeared a little while later. I heard the rush of his feathers just before I drifted off.
I slept well, except for a couple of times when I woke to see the stars shining between the pointy treetops, and fell back to sleep with a pleasant feeling. But then, I had a bad dream. It was probably because I had eaten too much. I dreamt that Merwin was in the sub in the middle of a storm. He was panicking in the small space, trying to escape. He climbed up the ladder and opened the hatch. I yelled at him to come back down, but he wouldn’t listen. Then he climbed out, fell overboard, and drowned. I woke with the image of his body drifting away, and a strong feeling that it would not be a good idea to agree to his plan. I’d be happy to share whatever I could about submarines, and grateful for whatever he could teach me about the environment, but we’d have to do it on land. Besides, Hollie and I really needed a break from being at sea.
But when I told Merwin my decision, he was ready for me again. He didn’t take no for an answer.
“Alfred?”
“Yes?”
“You’ve come here to become an environmentalist, right?”
“Right.”
“And that’s because the oceans are in trouble and need our help, right?”
“Right.”
“Because we’re destroying them, aren’t we?”
“Yes, I guess so.” Where was he going with this?
“Okay then, how can it make sense for you to worry about my safety when the oceans and the whole world is being destroyed? What’s the point of trying to save my l
ife if we’re going to lose everything anyway? Wouldn’t it make more sense to help me become a more effective environmentalist, too, danger and all?”
How could I argue with that? He was right. Why did I feel so responsible for his safety anyway? He was a grown man; he ought to be able to look after himself.
“Okay. You’re right. I will agree to your plan.”
“You will? Great!”
“I just need to know a couple of things first.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
“Do you have claustrophobia?”
“No.”
“Can you swim?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, or just a little?”
“I’m a strong swimmer.”
“When was the last time you went swimming?”
“I don’t know, maybe ten years ago. What’s that got to do with sailing a submarine?”
“Everything.” He was not a strong swimmer; he was out of shape. “If you come to sea with us, you’ll have to swim. Your life will depend on it. If you’re not in good shape, you might drown.”
“That may be so, but that’s a risk I am willing to take.”
Yah, I thought to myself, but I’m the one who will have to deal with your dead body.
“You’re thinking it will be harder than it will be, Alfred.”
I shook my head. “You’re thinking it will be easier than it will be.”
Chapter Sixteen
BEFORE WE COULD GO anywhere, we had to pick up the sub, stock it with food, and fill it with fuel, which I was hoping would be vegetable fat once Merwin had modified the engine to burn it. I hoped that wouldn’t be too difficult to do. Though he was highly skilled at making machinery look amazing, I didn’t know if he was any good at making it work. If his choice of casings were any example, then I’d say we were in trouble. But perhaps he just had no experience with water pressure. In the back of my mind, I knew that Ziegfried wouldn’t be pleased to know that anyone was fiddling around with the engine of the sub that he had built, and I knew that I had to tell him before we did anything, which I planned to do from a phone booth on my way back to the sub. But first, we would go for a ride in one of the vans, and I would have a chance to see a vegetable-fat engine in action, which I was really keen to do.