But that’s what I’ve tried to do, Vanderdecker contradicted himself, by enlisting Jane as an ally. Well, someone had to do the job; we can’t and she was prepared to, so don’t knock it. On the other hand, it was no end of a pleasant change to say more than three words together to someone I hadn’t been through the War of the Spanish Succession with. But what about when the novelty wore off? It’s different talking to Antonius; in our various conversations over the years, we must have used every conceivable combination of the few thousand words that make up his simian vocabulary. I can predict exactly what Antonius will say in any given situation, and I have got through the phase of wanting to push him in the sea every time he opens his mouth. Nothing he can say can do more than mildly bewilder me. That’s a rather comforting thought, in a way, and to a greater or lesser extent it goes for everyone else on the ship. Why throw all that away and jeopardise a unique relationship, just for the chance of a chat or two with someone who’ll be dead and gone in another seventy-odd years? Seventy years, after all, is no time at all; it took Antonius longer than that to do his last jigsaw puzzle.
“Captain.” Talk of the Devil. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Good for you, Antonius. How do you like it?”
Antonius looked at him. “Like what, captain?”
“Thinking.”
The great brows furrowed, the massive boom of the beam-engine slowly began to move. “How do you mean, captain?”
“Nothing, Antonius,” Vanderdecker said. “Forget I spoke. What were you going to say?”
“Well,” said the first mate diffidently, “me and the lads were asking ourselves, what’s going to happen? If that Montalban actually has invented something. I mean, what do we all do then?”
Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings, muttered the Eying Dutchman to himself, not to mention idiots. “That’s a very good question, Antonius,” he replied, “a very good question indeed.”
“Is it?” Antonius looked pleased. “Well, what
“Has it occurred to you,” Vanderdecker said, “that I don’t know?”
“No,” Antonius replied, and Vanderdecker believed him. He discovered a lump in his throat that hadn’t been there before. “I mean,” said Antonius, “it isn’t going to change things, is it?”
“Certain things, yes,” Vanderdecker said.
“Oh.” Antonius’s face crumbled. “How do you mean?”
“For a start,” Vanderdecker said, “more shore leave. Less getting thrown out of pubs. That sort of thing.”
Antonius’s eyes lit up. “I’d like that,” he said.
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Antonius leaned forward on the rail, and Vanderdecker could hear him imagining what it would be like not to be thrown out of pubs. “Antonius,” he said.
“Yes, captain?”
“Do you like…Well, all this?”
“All what, captain?”
Vanderdecker made a vague, half-hearted attempt at a gesture. “All this being stuck on a ship in the middle of the sea and everything.”
“I suppose so,” Antonius replied, “I mean, it helps pass the time, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Vanderdecker said, “I suppose it does. Do you know, I’d never looked at it like that before.”
“Like what, captain?”
“Like you just said.”
Antonius turned his head, surprised. “Hadn’t you?” he asked.
“No,” Vanderdecker replied. “Not exactly like that. Well, thanks a lot, Antonius, you’ve been a great help.” Spurred on by a sudden instinct, Vanderdecker put his hand in the pocket of his reefer jacket. “Have an apple?”
“Thanks, captain.” Antonius took the apple and studied it carefully, as if weighing up whether to eat it now or wait till it grew into a tree. “I like apples, for a change.”
“That’s what they’re there for,” Vanderdecker said, and hurried away before the first mate could ask him to enlarge on his last remark. On his way to his cabin, he met Sebastian.
“Hello there, Sebastian,” he said, “how’s things?” Sebastian frowned. “How do you mean?” he said. Vanderdecker smiled. “You know,” he said. “How are you getting on?”
“Same as usual, I suppose.” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at, skip?” he asked suspiciously.
“Nothing, nothing,” Vanderdecker reassured him. “How have the suicide attempts been going lately? Making any headway?”
“No,” Sebastian replied.
“Never mind,” he said. “Stick with it, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. Not that I want you to, of course. Mind how you go.” Then he slipped past and leaped up the steps to his cabin two at a time. Sebastian stared after him, tapped his head twice, and got on with his work.
♦
Had Danny Bennett been there, he would have sympathised. As it was, he was back down in the cellar, after an entirely fruitless interview with the Professor.
