“Splendid. And there’s one thing more.”
“I’m at your service.”
“In freeing Ichthyander youll be doing me an immense service -“
“But you, Professor, you’ve done a lot for me, too.”
“All right, well consider we’re quits,” Salvator interrupted him. “Now, I want to help your family. Here, take this note. It’s just an address, signed with the letter ‘S’ for Salvator. If you’re ever in need of shelter or money remember the address. You can trust the man.”
“But-
“No buts, please. Now take me to Ichthyander.”
Ichthyander was surprised to see Salvator entering his cell for a second time that day. He was even more surprised when he caught his glance, at once sad and tender as never before.
“Ichthyander, my son, listen to me,” said Salvator. “We’re going to part soon, sooner than I expected, and perhaps for very long. Youll get your freedom tonight but I’m still worried about you. If you stay here you might become the slave of Zurita or some other brute like him-” “But what about you, Father?”
“Ill be convicted, of course, and tucked away for a stretch of two or more years. You must tide over it in a place both safe and far away. There is such a place, but very far from here, beyond South America, on one of the Tuamotu or Low Archipelago islands in the Pacific. Youll not find it easy getting there and locating the spot but all the hazards you’re likely to encounter will be nothing compared to the risks you’d run dodging your enemies’ traps here, in the Rio de la Plata.
“Now about your route. You can get there, travelling round South America, either the southern or the northern way. Both routes have their advantages and disadvantages. The northern route is somewhat longer. Besides, you would have to pass through the Panama Canal, which is dangerous. You may be caught, particularly in the locks, or crushed to death by a ship. The canal is rather narrow and shallow. It is 500 feet at the widest and only 45 feet deep, so that the modern ocean-going vessels all but scrape the bottom with their keels.
“On the other hand, you’d be travelling in warm seas. Besides, three major shipping lines run westwards from the Panama Canal: two of them to New Zealand, the third to the Fiji Islands and farther. Choosing either of the New Zealand lanes and following the ships or even getting a ride on them would bring you almost to your destination. You’d only have to head a little more to the north and you’d be there.
“Now the southern route is shorter but you’d swim in colder waters, near the northernmost ice floes, especially if you went round Cape Horn. And you’d be ill advised to try to negotiate the Strait of Magellan. It’s much too stormy. It used to be a veritable graveyard for sailing-ships and is still considered very dangerous, particularly on the western side where it’s narrower and reef-ridden. Constant westerners of gale force drive the water before them so you’d have to swim upstream and across whirlpools that even for you might prove fatal.
“And that brings us back to the Cape Horn variant, even if it is longer. There’s the cold-water snag, too, but I hope you’ll get conditioned as you go and remain in good health. As for food youll have plenty of that in any part of the ocean.
“And then, of course, it’ll be a bit more difficult for you to find your way to the Tuamotu Archipelago from down there than from the Panama Canal. There’ll be no busy shipping lines to guide you. But youll have the place’s bearings and will be able to get sun fixes with a set of instruments I made specially for you. I’m afraid they might be quite a burden-“
“I’ll take Leading with me. Hell carry anything there is to carry. I don’t want to leave him behind, anyway. He must be missing me awfully.”
“I wonder who’s missing whom worse,” Salvator smiled. “Well, that’s settled. Splendid. When you get to the Tuamotu Islands, look for a solitary coral-fringed island. You will know it by a long mast with a big fish for a weathercock on its top. You can’t miss it. It might take you one, two or even three months to find it but never mind-youll strike it in the end. The water’s warm there and oysters plentiful.”
Salvator had taught Ichthyander to listen to what he said patiently, without interrupting, but here Ichthyander could not resist the sudden temptation to ask a question.
“But what shall I find on that island?”
“Friends. Kind and loyal friends,” said Salvator. “My old friend, Armand Villebois, the famous French oceanographer, lives there. I got to know and love him many years ago when I was in Europe. He’s a most interesting man but there’s no time to go into that now. I hope youll be able to make friends with him yourself and learn the story of what brought him to that lonely atoll in the Pacific. He’s far from lonely there though. His wife, a fine woman, and their two children live with him. His daughter was born on the island and should be about seventeen now, his son is older, about 25, I should think.
“They know all about you from my letters and I’m sure will receive you like one of the family—” Salvator stopped short. “You’ll ‘have to spend most of your time in the water, of course. But youll be able to go ashore for a few hours every day. Perhaps, your health permitting, youll be able in the long run to stay as long on land as in the water.
“Armand Villebois will be like a father to you and. you in turn may prove indispensable for him in his scientific work. As it is, you know more about the ocean and its inhabitants than a dozen professors rolled in one.” Salvator smiled ironically. “Those cranks of experts questioned you—all according to the usual rigmarole—and you couldn’t answer because it didn’t happen to concern you. Now had they asked you, say, about the currents, water temperature and salinity in the Rio de la Plata and thereabouts, they would have been able to compile a fat volume of sound science out of your answers. Imagine the amount of facts you could gather-and then pass onto people-were your underwater excursions directed by such a brilliant scientist as Armand Villebois. Between him and you, I’m quite certain of it, you’ll produce a work on oceanography that will be a milestone in the development of that science. And your name will stand on the cover side by side with that of Armand Villebois—hell insist on it, or I don’t know him. Here you’d be forced to serve the base interests of ignorant grabbing people. There youll be serving science, that means the whole of humanity. And I’m sure that in the clear waters of the lagoon and at the Villebois’ you will find a haven and happiness.
“One more piece of advice. As soon as you’re in the ocean-and that should be tonight-go home immediately via the tunnel-there”s only Jim at home-get the navigation instruments, knife and the rest, find your Leading and start on your way there and then, not even waiting for dawn to break.
“Farewell, Ichthyander, or rather, good-bye.”
Salvator embraced and kissed Ichthyander, which he had never done before. Then he smiled, patted Ichthyander on the shoulder, and saying, “Youll make it all right,” he left the cell.
THE ESCAPE
Just back from the factory after the day’s work Olsen was sitting down to his - dinner when there was a knock at the door.
“Who’s there?” Olsen shouted resenting the interruption. The door opened to admit Gutierrez.
“Why, it’s Gutierrez! Well, well! ” Olsen exclaimed, at once surprised and pleased, getting up from his chair.
“Hullo, Olsen,” she said. “Go on with your dinner, never mind me,” and leaning against the closed door, she said: “I couldn’t live any longer with my husband
and his mother. Zurita-he dared to strike me. So I left him. I’ve left him for good, Olsen.”
The news made Olsen stop his hand in mid air.
“I must say, this is unexpected,” he said. “Here, take a seat; you can hardly keep on your feet. But what about that what-God-hath-joined-together-let-no-man-put-asunder thing you told me? So that’s over? Good for you. Came back to your father, did you?”
“Father doesn’t know about what happened. Zurita’s sure to look for me at Father’s so I’m staying with a frie
nd of mine.” “Well, what are your plans?”
“I want to get a job. I came to ask you whether you could help me find a job at your factory-any job.”
Olsen shook his head worriedly.
“It’s not easy at the moment. But, of course, 111 try and do my best for you,” he said, and after a pause, added:“How will your husband take it?” “I don’t care.”
“But he will,” Olsen said with a smile. “Hell try to run you down. Don’t forget you’re still in Argentina. When he does he won’t let you be, you know. Hell have the law and public opinion on his side, too.”
Gutierrez thought a while and said with determination;
“Well, what of it? Ill go to Canada, Alaska-“
“Greenland, the North Pole! ” Olsen caught her up and, in aserious tone, added, “Well think about it together. It’s not safe for you to stay here, that’s for sure. I’ve been thinking about quitting the place myself. It’a pity we couldn’t make it that time. But Zurita kidnapped you and we lost our fares and our money. And I’ve got a hunch you can’t afford your fare to Europe now any more than I can. But then who says we must go straight across the water. If we-I’m stressing ‘we’, because I’m not going to leave you before I’m satisfied you’re safe-if we get at least across the border into Paraguay, or, still better, into Brazil, Zurita 11 find it much more difficult to locate us. And that’ll give us enough leeway to prepare for a passage to the States of Europe. Do you know that Dr. Salva tor’s in prison, and Ichthyander too?”
“Ichthyander? So he’s found? Why is he in prison? Can I see him?” came a salvo of questions.
“Yes, he’s in prison and Zurita’s been appointed his guardian. You can’t imagine what a rotten frame-up the Salvator case was! “
“How terrible! But can’t he be saved?”
“I tried my best but it wasn’t good enough. Then all of a sudden, I found a powerful ally, the prison governor himself. We’re to free Ichthyander tonight. I’ve just received two notes, one from Salvator, the other fronn the prison governor.”
“I want to see him! ” said Gutierrez. “May I go with you?”
Olsen pondered. “I don’t think you should,” he said at last. “Nor should you see him at all, I’m afraid.”
“But why?” “Because he’s ill; ill as a man, though all right as a fish if you get me.”
“I don’t.”
“He can’t breathe air any longer. Think what will happen iff he sees you. Hell want to see a great deal more of you, but life on land can only kill him.”
Gutierrez hung her head.
“Well, you must be right, I suppose-” she said, after a long pause.
“There’s a barrier now-the ocean-between him and the rest of people. His fate’s sealed. From now on it’s only the ocean for him and nothing but the ocean.”
“But how is he to live there, I mean, all alone among all those sea-creatures?”
“He was quite happy among them until —”
A blush mounted to Gutierrez’s face.
“He won’t be as happy as before, of course.”
“Oh, stop it, Olsen,” Gutierrez said sadly.
“Time’s a good healer, though. Perhaps hell regain his former peace of mind and live till ripe old age among all those creatures of the sea, unless a shark brings him an untimely end. And as to death-well, it’s the same everywhere.”
Twilight had set in outside and the room was dark. “Well, I must be off,” Olsen said, rising from his chair. Gutierrez also rose.
“But may I at least see him from a distance?” said Gutierrez. “Of course, provided you keep there.” “It’s a promise.”
It was already quite dark when, clad as a water-carrier, Olsen drove into the prison court through the gates that faced Calle de Coronel Diaz. The guard challenged him.
“Sea-water for the ‘devil’,” Olsen answered as the prison governor had taught him.
The guards knew about the prison’s unusual inmate—the “sea-devil”—who was kept in a tank full of sea-water as he couldn’t stand the tap kind, and were accustomed to the sight of the water cart.
Olsen drove up to the prison building and round the corner that housed the kitchen and stopped at the staff entrance. The prison end of the matter had already been seen to by the governor. The sentries at the entrance and in the corridor, having been sent away on various pretexts, he walked Ichthyander out into the court.
“Get into the barrel, quick! “
Ichthyander wasted no time.
“Off you go! “
Olsen jerked at the reins, drove out of the prison court and proceeded unhurriedly on his way along Avenida de Alvear and past Retire Station.
A woman could be seen following the cart at a distance.
It was dark by the time Olsen had cleared the city and taken the road that skirted the beach. The wind was picking up. Surf pounded the shore, breaking noisily against solitary boulders.
Olsen looked around. There was nobody in sight, except for the distant headlights of a town-bound car. He waited for it to pass.
Hooting, the car shot dazzlingly past and was gone.
Now’s the time for it, Olsen thought, and turned round to motion Gutierrez out of view. Then he knocked on the barrel and called:
“Here we are! Climb out! “
Ichthyander’s head bobbed out of the water and swivelled round. Then he clambered out and sprang down on the ground, his breath fast and strained.
“Thanks a lot, Olsen,” he said giving him a firm wet handshake.
“Forget it. Good-bye and be careful. Don’t swim too close inshore. Look out for people or you 11 get back into jail before you know how.”
Even Olsen knew nothing of the instructions Salvator had given Ichthyander.
“Yes, yes,” Ichthyander panted heavily. “I’ll swim away, very far away, to
quiet coral islands, where ships don’t sail. Many thanks, Olsen! ” and he ran to the water’s edge.
When almost there he turned.
“Olsen! If you ever see Gutierrez give her my love and tell her I shall remember her all my life! “
And calling, “Farewell, Gutierrez! ” he plunged in.
“Farewell, Ichthyander…” came Gutierrez’s soft response.
The wind had gained in strength and was forcing the man and the girl to bend to resist it. The ocean roared, undertoned by the hiss of sand and the clatter of shingle.
A hand closed on Gutierrez’s arm.
“Let’s go, Gutierrez,” came Olsen’s gentle command.
He led her onto the road.
Throwing a last glance at the ocean Gutierrez leaned on Olsen’s arm and they headed for the city.
*
After serving his term Dr. Salvator returned home and again took up research. At present he’s getting ready for a distant journey.
Cristo is still in his service.
Zurita has acquired a new yacht and goes pearling to the Gulf of California. And though he hasn’t become the richest man in America he’s no cause to complain either. The tips of his moustache, like the needle of a barometer, indicate fair weather.
Gutierrez has divorced her husband and married Olsen. They live in New York where they work in a cannery.
The “sea-devil” seems to be forgotten on the seaboard of the Rio de la Plata. Only on sultry nights, on hearing some unusual sound in the sea, the older fishermen say to the greenhorns, “That’s the way the ‘sea-devil’ used to blow on his shell,” and start a yam about him.
But there is a man in Buenos Aires who can’t forget Ichthyander.
All the urchins of Buenos Aires know the old beggar, the half-wit Indian.
“Here comes the ‘sea-devil’s’ father,” they call after him.
But he doesn’t pay the slightest attention to them.
Meeting a Spaniard, the old man invariably glares after him, spits on the ground and mutters an oath.
The police leave old Baltasar alone. He is not raving mad, h
is insanity does no one any harm.
But when a storm starts at sea a strange agitation seizes the old Indian and drives him out of town to the very water’s edge where, risking being washed away, he calls, “Ichthyander! Ichthyander! ” as long as the storm lasts.
But he gets no answer.
Table of Contents
PART I
PART II
Alexander Beliaev Page 18