“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.
Cugel ate at leisure. A most pleasant harmony existed between himself and the world: an interlude to be prolonged, cherished and savored to the utmost. To memorialize this special condition Cugel lifted his exquisitely delicate tea-cup and sipped the limpid nectar brewed from Soldinck’s choicest blend of herbs.
“Just so!” said Cugel. The past was gone; the future might end tomorrow, should the sun go dark. Now was now, to be dealt with on its own terms.
“Precisely so!” said Cugel.
And yet … Cugel glanced uneasily over his shoulder. It was right and proper to exploit the excellences of the moment, but still, when conditions reached an apex, there was nowhere to go but down.
Even now, without tangible reason, Cugel felt an eery strain in the atmosphere, as if, just past the edge of his awareness, something had gone askew.
Cugel jumped to his feet and looked over the port rail. The worms, on half-bait, worked without strain. Everything seemed in order. Likewise with the starboard worm. Cugel slowly went back to his breakfast.
Cugel applied the full force of his intellect to the problem: what had aroused his uneasiness? The ship was sound; food and drink were ample; Madame Soldinck and her daughters had apparently come to terms with their new careers; and Cugel congratulated himself upon his wise, kindly but firm administration.
For a period immediately after departure Madame Soldinck produced a furious torrent of abuse, which Cugel finally decided to abate, if only in the interests of ship-board morale. “Madame,” said Cugel, “your outcries disturb us all. They must cease.”
“I name you an oppressor! A monster of evil! A laharq, or a keak!”*
Cugel replied: “Unless you desist I will order you confined in the hold.”
“Bah!” said Madame Soldinck. “Who will carry out your orders?”
“If necessary I will implement them myself! Ship’s discipline must be maintained. I am now captain of this vessel, and these are my commands. First, you are to hold your tongue. Second, you will assemble aft on the midship deck to hear the address I am about to deliver.”
With poor grace Madame Soldinck and her daughters gathered at the spot which Cugel had designated.
Cugel climbed halfway up the companionway ladder. “Ladies! I will be grateful for your complete attention!” Cugel looked smilingly from face to face. “Now then! I am aware that today has not yielded optimum rewards to us all. Still, now is now, and we must come to terms with circumstance. In this regard I can offer a word or two of advice.
“Our first concern is for marine regulation, which stipulates quick and exact obedience to the captain’s orders. Shipboard work will be shared. I have already accepted the duties of command. From you, my crew, I will expect good will, cooperation and zest, whereupon you will find me lenient, understanding and even affectionate.”
Madame Soldinck called out sharply: “We want neither you nor your lenience! Take us back to Pompodouros!”
Meadhre, the oldest daughter, said in a melancholy voice: “Hush, Mama! Be realistic! Cugel does not dare return to Pompodouros, so let us find where in fact he plans to take us.”
“I will now provide that information,” said Cugel. “Our port of destination is Val Ombrio on the coast of Almery, a goodly sail to the south.”
Madame Soldinck cried out in shock: “You cannot be serious! In between lie waters of deadly peril! This is common knowledge!”
Cugel said coldly: “I suggest, Madame, that you place your faith in someone like myself, rather than the housewives of your social circle.”
