The officer at the wheel cut the throttle and the launch drifted neatly to a halt beside a wooden jetty. A moment later it was secured, and Lee stood up to follow the Customs men ashore.
There was a huddle of low buildings around the Company offices, and they took Lee first to sign for the return of his balloon. The clerk looked at him without surprise.
'You found someone to fight with, then,' he said.
Lee saw that the storage fee had already been paid, and so had the bill for the gas. He pushed the release form back across the counter without a word; the fact was that he could think of nothing to say.
'This way, Mr. Scoresby,' said the Lieutenant.
He led Lee to a washroom, where Lee painfully stripped to the waist, cleaned himself as best he could, and with Hester's help examined the damage. He was glad to see that McConville's bullet had gone through the muscle of his shoulder and out again; it might have clipped the bone on the way, but at least he wouldn't have to dig the damn thing out. As for his ear, that was too bad. He could still hear with it.
'Wasn't all that pretty anyway,' said Hester.
'Prettiest one I had,' said Lee.
The officer knocked on the door. 'Mr. Scoresby,' he called, 'there is a medical man here who will look at you.'
Lee opened the door, shivering in the brisk wind, and found Lieutenant Haugland, smiling, standing on the cinder path next to Iorek Byrnison.
The bear was carrying a bundle of dark green in his mouth, which he dropped into the officer's hands.
'Bloodmoss,' he said. 'Let me see your wounds.'
'A truly remarkable specific,' said the officer as Lee turned to show the bear his shoulder. 'It has antiseptic and analgesic properties superior to anything in our hospitals.'
Iorek took a few strands of the moss and chewed them briefly. He dropped the pounded mess into Lee's right hand.
'Lay it in the wound and bind it up,' he said. 'It will heal quickly.'
'Well, thank you kindly, York Byrnison,' said Lee. 'I appreciate that.'
He did his best with the soggy moss. The Lieutenant tore off a strip of adhesive tape and bound the wound for him, and Lee pulled his shirt on again.
While his head was still inside it, he heard quick footsteps on the path, and another man's voice: one he recognized. He held still a moment to think what to do, and then he pulled the shirt down to see the dark-suited figure of the poet and journalist Oskar Sigurdsson, notebook in hand, talking eagerly to the Lieutenant.
'... and it occurred to me that— Ah! The hero himself! Mr. Scoresby, I congratulate you on your safe escape! Would it be too much trouble to ask you for an interview about this remarkable episode?'
Lee looked around. The jetty was only a few yards away.
He said, 'Why, certainly, Mr. Sigurdsson, but I think we need a little privacy. Come with me.'
He led the way out, and Sigurdsson followed eagerly. When they were at the end of the jetty, Lee pointed out to sea.
'You see that spot on the horizon? Might be a ship?'
Sigurdsson peered, sheltering his eyes.
'I think so—' he began, but he got no further, because Lee stepped behind him and swung his foot hard against the poet's backside. With a cry of alarm Sigurdsson shot forward and into the sea, arms flailing.
Lee walked back to the washroom and said, 'Mr. Sigurdsson seems to have fallen into the water. He might need a hand to get out. I'd oblige myself, but unfortunately I'm indisposed.'
'I think it is lucky for us that you are leaving, Mr. Scoresby,' said Haugland. 'Petersen! Bring him ashore and wring him out, if you would.'
Another man ran to the end of the jetty with a life belt, but before Lee could see Sigurdsson rescued, there was the sound of yet more footsteps, and in a hurry this time; and as Lee was pulling on his coat, around the corner of the buildings came another of his acquaintances.
'Mr. Vassiliev!' Lee said. 'You come to say goodbye?'
The economist was out of breath, and his eyes were wide with anxiety.
'They are coming this way—the Larsen security men—they have orders to kill you and the bear— Poliakov is furious—'
Iorek Byrnison growled and turned to the sea, but Vassiliev went on:
'They have a gunboat on its way too. There's no way out.'
'There's one way,' said Lee. 'You ever flown in a balloon, York Byrnison?'
'Iorek,' growled the bear. 'No, Mr. Scarsby, I have not.'
'Iorek. Got it. And I'm Scoresby, but make it Lee. Well, now's the time, Iorek. Mr. Vassiliev, good day, and thanks.'
He shook hands with the economist, and the officer accompanied Lee and the bear to the balloon, which was shivering with impatience to be free of its tether and take to the sky. Lee checked everything: it was all in good order.
'Go,' said Haugland, and shook his hand. 'Oh— take your rifle.'
