“The mind plays strange tricks,” observed Captain Baunt. “I am anxious to meet this remarkable individual.”

Pulk called out: “Here he comes now, with Drofo! At last we shall have an explanation, and perhaps a suitable apology.”

“I want neither!” cried Madame Soldinck. “I want only to see the last of this dismal island!” Turning on her heel, she swept off across the plaza and back aboard the Galante.

Marching with vigorous steps, Fuscule approached the group, with Drofo strolling a pace or two behind. Fuscule halted, and raising his veil, surveyed the group. “Where is Soldinck?”

Keeping a tight grip on his temper, Soldinck said coldly: “You know very well who I am! I know you as well, for a scoundrel and a blackguard. I will not comment upon the poor taste of your prank, nor your insufferable conduct toward Madame Soldinck. I prefer that we conclude our business on the basis of absolute formality. Drofo, why are you not taking our worm to the Galante?”

“I will respond to that question,” said Fuscule. “Drofo will be allowed the worm after you have paid me my five thousand terces, plus eleven terces for my double-cambered fluke-chister which you discarded with such cavalier ease, together with another twenty terces for your attack upon my person. Your account therefore stands at a total of five thousand and thirty-one terces. You may pay me on this instant.”

Cugel, mingling with a group of others, came from the club-house and stood watching the altercation from a little distance.

Soldinck advanced two pugnacious steps toward Fuscule. “Are you mad? I bought your worm for a fair sum and paid you cash on the spot. Let us have no more dancing and dodging! Deliver the worm to Drofo at once, or we will take immediate and drastic measures!”

“Needless to say, you have forfeited your post as worminger aboard the Galante,” Captain Baunt pointed out. “So deliver the worm and let us have an end to the business.”

“Pah!” cried Fuscule in a passion. “You shall not have my worm, not for five thousand terces nor yet ten! And as for the other items on the account —” stepping forward he struck Soldinck smartly on the side of the head “— that will pay for the chister and this —” he dealt Soldinck another blow “— must settle for the remainder.”

Soldinck rushed forward to settle his own accounts; Captain Baunt attempted to intervene but his intent was misunderstood by Pulk, who with one mighty heave threw him to the ground.

The confusion was eventually controlled by Drofo, who put himself between the opposing parties and held out his arms to induce restraint. “Peace, every one! There are peculiar aspects to this situation which must be analyzed. Fuscule, you claim that Soldinck offered you five thousand terces for your worm, then threw your chister into the water?”

“That indeed is my claim!” cried Fuscule furiously.

“Are those likely events? Soldinck is notorious for his parsimony! Never would he offer five thousand terces for a worm worth at best two thousand! How do you explain such a paradox?”

“I am a worminger, not a student of weird psychological mysteries,” grumbled Fuscule. “Still, now that I reflect on it, the man who called himself Soldinck stood a head taller than this little toad. He also wore an unusual hat of several folds, and walked with his legs bent at the knees.”

Soldinck spoke excitedly: “The description might well fit the villain who recommended me to the hut of Terlulia! He walked with a stealthy gait, and called himself Fuscule.”

“Aha!” said Pulk. “Affairs are starting to sort themselves out. Let us find a booth in the club-house and approach our inquiry properly, over a jug of good black beer!”

“The concept is sound but in this case unnecessary,” said Drofo. “I can already put a name to the individual at fault.”

Captain Baunt said: “I also have an intuition in this regard.”

Soldinck looked resentfully from face to face. “Am I then so dense? Who is this person?”

“Can there be any more doubt?” asked Drofo. “His name is Cugel.”

Soldinck blinked, then clapped his hands together. “That is a reasonable deduction!”

Pulk spoke in gentle admonition: “Now that the guilty person has been identified, it appears that you owe Fuscule an apology.”

The memory of Fuscule’s blows still rankled with Soldinck. “I will feel more generous when he returns the six hundred terces I paid him for his worm. And never forget: it was he who accused me of throwing away his chister. Apologies are due from the other direction.”

“You are still confused,” said Pulk. “The six hundred terces were paid to Cugel.”

“Possibly so. Still, I feel that careful inquiries are in order.”

Captain Baunt turned to look around the bystanders. “I thought that I saw him a few minutes ago … He seems to have slipped away.”

For a fact, as soon as he had seen which way the wind was blowing, Cugel had taken himself in haste to the Galante. Madame Soldinck was in the cabin, acquainting her daughters with the events of the day. No one was on hand to interfere as Cugel ran here and there about the ship. He dropped the gang-plank, threw off the mooring-lines, pulled hoods from the worms and placed triple bait in the hoppers, then ran up to the quarter-deck and threw the wheel hard over.

At the club-house Soldinck was saying: “I distrusted him from the start! Still, who could imagine such protean depravity?”

Bunderwal, the supercargo, concurred. “Cugel, while plausible, is nonetheless a bit of a scoundrel.”

“He must now be summoned to an accounting,” said Captain Baunt. “It is always an unpleasant task.”

“Not all that unpleasant,” muttered Fuscule.

“We must give him a fair hearing, and the sooner the better. I fancy the club-house will serve as well as any for our forum.”

“First we must find him,” said Soldinck. “I wonder where the rascal has taken cover? Drofo, you and Pulk look aboard the Galante. Fuscule, glance inside the club-house. Do or say nothing to alarm him; merely indicate that I want to put a few general questions … Yes, Drofo? Why are you not off about your errand?”

Drofo pointed toward the sea. He spoke in his usual pensive voice: “Sir, you may look for yourself.”

3

The Ocean of Sighs

The red morning sun reflected from the dark sea in exact replica.

The worms idled effortlessly at half-bait; the Galante drifted through the water as softly as a boat sliding through a dream.

Cugel slept somewhat later than usual, in that bed formerly enjoyed by Soldinck.

The crew of the Galante worked quietly and efficiently at their appointed tasks.

A tap at the door aroused Cugel from his rest. After stretching and yawning Cugel called out in a melodious voice: “Enter!”

The door opened; into the cabin came Tabazinth, the youngest and perhaps the most winsome of Madame Soldinck’s daughters, though Cugel, had he been pressed for judgment, would have stoutly defended the special merits of each.

Tabazinth, who was gifted with a buxom chest and robust little haunches while still retaining a slender and flexible waist, showed to the world a round face, a mop of dark curls and a pink mouth chronically pursed as if in restraint of a smile. She carried a tray which she set on the bedside table. With a demure glance over her shoulder she started to leave the chamber. Cugel called her back.

“Tabazinth, my dear! The morning is fine; I will take my breakfast on the quarter-deck. You may instruct Madame Soldinck to lash the wheel and take her relief.”

“As you like, sir.” Tabazinth picked up the tray and left the cabin.

Cugel arose from the bed, applied a scented lotion to his face, rinsed his mouth with one of Soldinck’s select balsams, then wrapped himself in an easy gown of pale blue silk. He listened … Down the companion-way ladder came the thud of Madame Soldinck’s steps. Through the forward port-hole Cugel watched as she marched forward to that cabin formerly occupied by Chief Worminger Drofo. As soon as she had disappeared from view, Cugel stepped out upon the midship deck. He inhaled and exhaled deep breaths of the cool morning air, then climbed to the quarter-deck.

Before sitting down to his breakfast Cugel went to the taff-rail, to survey the state of the sea and assess the progress of the ship. From horizon to horizon the water lay flat, with nothing to be seen but the image of the sun. The wake astern seemed adequately straight — a testimony as to the quality of Madame Soldinck’s steering — while the claw of the escalabra pointed due south.

Cugel gave a nod of approval; Madame Soldinck might well become a competent helmswoman. On the other hand, she showed small skill as a worminger, and her daughters here were marginal at best.

Cugel seated himself to his breakfast. One by one he raised the silver covers to peer into the platters. He discovered a compote of spiced fruit, poached sea-bird livers, porridge of drist and raisins, a pickle of lily-bulbs and small black fungus-balls with several different kinds of pastry: a breakfast more than adequate in which he recognized the work of Meadhre, oldest and most conscientious of the daughters. Madame Soldinck, on the single time she had been pressed into service, had prepared a meal so quietly unappetizing that Cugel had refrained from again assigning her to the galley.