headed by Poliakov was being held at bay by Iorek Byrnison, whose bulk stood foursquare on the flagstones, confronting them. Poliakov was addressing the crowd; Lee could hear the muscular drone of his voice, but not the words. He was trying to get them to move forward and—well, attack the schooner, Lee supposed, but the bear would have stopped a madder, braver crowd than this.
Lee could also hear the chug of the schooner's auxiliary engine and see the exhaust smoke puffing from the pipe amidships. She was nearly ready to leave.
He made his way carefully down the stairs. On the ground floor he found a chaos of torn bundles of skins, broken spars and lengths of timber, and the great steel sheet of the door lying flat beside the entrance.
He walked out into the sunlight and made his way to the bear's side.
'Well, York Byrnison, the trouble's gone from upstairs,' he said.
The bear's head swung round to look at him, the black eyes glinting under the great iron ridge.
And then Lee's head swam and he lost his balance for a moment, but the bear's head moved in a flash and seized his coat between his teeth, and gently pulled him upright again.
And then things became confusing.
There was someone shouting from the crowd, or did it come from beyond them? Loud voices bellowing commands, anyway, and then the disciplined quick tramp-tramp-tramp of running feet in heavy boots coming along the quay. Behind him, Lee heard a splash, and then turned carefully to see the bear's helmeted head emerging from the water and moving swiftly away.
But he had to turn round again, because an angry voice was shouting, 'You! Drop your weapon! Drop it now!'
And he saw it came from the man in charge of the squad of running men in Larsen Manganese uniforms, who had arrived at the head of the crowd now and stood, rifles aimed, facing him like a firing squad. Poliakov was standing safely behind them, frowning his approval.
Lee considered that he didn't feel inclined to drop that nice rifle, and he was about to say so when another layer of confusion was added the mix. A different voice from behind him said, 'Mr. Lee Scoresby, you are under arrest.'
Cautiously, in case he fell over, Lee turned once more. The man who'd spoken was one of three: young, armed with a pistol, and in a different uniform.
'Who the hell are you?' Let? said.
'Never mind him!' yelled the Larsen Manganese leader. 'Do as I say!'
'I am Lieutenant Haugland. We are from the Customs and Revenue Board, Mr. Scoresby,' said the young man calmly, 'and I repeat, you are under arrest. Put down your rifle.'
'Well, you see,' said Lee, 'if I do that, the Senator over there will suddenly regain his courage, and order those marionettes of his to come and take over Captain van Breda's ship. And after all me and York Byrnison went through to help him load his cargo, that seems kind of a pity. I don't know how to resolve this situation, Mr. Customs Officer.'
'I will resolve it. Put your rifle down, please.'
The young officer stepped past Lee and faced the line of riflemen without a tremor.
'You will all leave the harbor now, and go about your lawful business,' he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. 'If there is (one person left on this quayside by the time the Customs House clock strikes twelve, they will be arrested. All of you move.'
The Larsen Manganese men looked uncertain. But Poliakov, still taking care to remain behind them, shouted:
'I protest! This is an outrage! I am the leader of a properly constituted political party, and this is a blatant attempt to deny my freedom of speech! You should be enforcing the law, not flouting it! That criminal Scoresby —'
'Mr. Scoresby is under arrest, and so will you be if you do not turn round and leave the harbor. You have two minutes.'
Lieutenant Haugland's fox-daemon said something quietly to Hester. Poliakov drew himself up to his full height, and gave in.
'Very well,' he said. 'Under strong protest, and cheated of the justice we have a right to expect and a duty to demand, we shall do as you say. But I give you notice that—'
'Less than two minutes,' said Haugland.
Poliakov turned, and the crowd behind parted to let him through, and sullenly followed him away. The Larsen Manganese riflemen were the last to turn, but the implacable stillness of the Customs officer outfaced them, and finally their leader muttered an order, and they turned and walked back down the quay—walked, until he snapped another order and they clumsily organized themselves into a march.
'Mr. Scoresby, your rifle, if you please,' said the young man.
'I would rather give it back to Captain van Breda,' Lee said, 'seeing that it belongs to him.'
He heard hasty footsteps behind him, and turned carefully again to see the Captain hurrying towards them. He had evidently heard the last exchange, because he said:
'Mr. Scoresby, I must thank you—I have nothing to pay you with except the rifle itself—please take it, please. It is yours.'
'Very handsome, Captain,' said Lee. 'I'll accept it with thanks.'
'And now put it down,' said Haugland.
Lee bent to lay it on the ground.
