And the deep blue sea

‘I’d be glad to,’ Goddard said.

He watched moodily as the bos’n pulled the remaining canvas up over Egerton’s face and matched the corners. The two men went on stitching up the edges of the white anonymous sack.

6

There were poisonous-looking squalls on the horizon on both sides of them, but here the sun bore down with leaden weight and there was a dead stillness to the air like the feeling of vacuum before a tornado. It was oppressive, and Goddard found himself wishing nervously that Captain Steen would advance the service a few minutes so they could complete it before one of the squalls came screaming down on them and wrecked Egerton’s chances of departing from the visible world with a little grace and dignity. But he’d said four p.m., and apparently four it would be.

A single wooden horse had been set five feet in from the bulwark on the port side of the after well-deck, and all the crew not on watch on the bridge or in the engine room were gathered in a semicircle about it, most of them in shore-going trousers and white shirts that were already limp with perspiration by the time they’d got them on. Lind was wearing tropical whites, the first time Goddard had seen him in uniform. In the background were two or three of the black gang, just come up from below and still in singlets and sweat rags. Goddard was standing by the horse with Lind, the bos’n, and the two English members of the crew, the only ones of the whole assemblage wearing ties.

There was a growl of thunder from one of the squalls. Then Goddard saw Karen Brooke and Madeleine Lennox coming down the ladder from the deck above, followed by Captain Steen in full uniform with jacket, carrying his Bible. The two women were in simple white summer dresses. Four bells struck, followed immediately by the jingle of the engine room telegraph. The engine stopped, and in a moment the ship began to go astern as the second mate backed her down to take the way off her.

Lind nodded to the bos’n. ‘All right, Boats.’

The dogs had been knocked loose and the steel door opening onto the well-deck pulled back and latched. Goddard followed the bos’n and the two Englishmen into the passageway. The door to the small cubicle was open, and the white burial sack still lay upon the door supported by the two horses, now with the Union Jack draped across it. The vibration of the reversed engine ceased and there was silence as they picked up the door by its four corners and carried it down the passageway into the sullen glare of afternoon. They put it down with one end on the wooden horse and the other extending out over the bulwark about a foot, the weighted end of the sack toward the sea. They stepped back, Goddard positioning himself next to the bulwark. He looked over the side. The Leander was still ghosting through the water, but slowing as she gradually came to rest.

‘Let us bow our heads,’ Captain Steen said. The sun beat down, and there was another roll of thunder as he intoned the prayer. When he said, ‘Amen,’ at last, they straightened and there was a general shuffling of feet. Lind stepped to the bulwark and looked down. He turned and nodded to the captain. The Leander was stopped.

Lind and the bos’n positioned themselves at opposite corners of the door where it rested on the horse. Captain Steen stood before it, opened the Bible, and began to read the sea burial service.

‘Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live and is full of misery; he cometh up and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as if he were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay. For as much as it hath pleased the Almighty God in His great mercy to take unto Himself the soul of our dear brother here departed: we therefore commit his body to the deep.’

With the last words, Lind and the bos’n raised the end of the door, holding the upper edge of the Union Jack clamped against it. The weighted burial sack slid from under the flag and dropped over the bulwark into the sea. It splashed below them. Goddard looked down. The top of the sack was ballooned with the air trapped inside it, and it sank slowly at first, trailing bubbles, as it began its long slide into the abyss. He followed it moodily, being very careful not to think of Gerry’s funeral five months ago, and considered that Egerton would have liked it. ‘Good show; didn’t drag on with a lot of silly eulogies and bore the chaps, what?’

It began to fade from view. There was another growling reverberation of thunder along the horizon, and Lind turned and signed to the captain. It was well below the propeller now. Captain Steen spoke to one of the crew. ‘Tell Mr. VanDoorn he can get under way.’ Goddard looked around at Karen Brooke and Madeleine Lennox. They both had tears in their eyes

Dinner began quietly. Goddard had had three martinis but could get no lift from them at all. Depression weighed on everybody except possibly Lind, and even he was less than his usual vital self. The weather did little to improve their mood, Goddard thought. They still hadn’t run into a squall, but the stillness and the muggy, oppressive heat continued. The typewritten menu was as limp as a piece of cheesecloth, and cigarettes, ten minutes after a pack was opened, were almost too damp to bum. Both fans whirred at full speed in the dining room, circulating air that was already too saturated with moisture to have any cooling effect at all.

‘One more day and we should be out of this,’ Lind said. ‘When we pick up the trades we’ll be all right.’ He turned to Goddard. ‘Must drive you crazy, trying to get across it under sail.’

Goddard grinned. ‘The secret of it is don’t eat grapefruit.’

Even Lind looked mystified. Then Karen Brooke said, ‘All right, I’ll be the goat. Why?’

‘The rinds float,’ Goddard said. ‘It does something to you when you can throw today’s overboard and hit yesterday’s with it.’

The wireless operator came in. He handed Captain Steen a message. ‘I just got this from KPH in California. Manila’s calling us too, but I think it may be the same message.’

‘Thanks, Sparks.’ Captain Steen tore it open, read it, and stood up abruptly. ‘If you’ll excuse us. Mr. Lind, will you come up to my office?’

They hurried out, followed by the wireless operator. Goddard and the two women looked at each other, puzzled and vaguely uneasy, and Madeleine Lennox asked, ‘What on earth could that be?’

‘Nothing serious,’ Goddard said. ‘My check bounced, and they’re going to bill Mrs. Brooke for my passage.’ ‘That’s the code of the sea?’

‘It’s invariable. Harsh, I’ll admit, but the sea demands it. Well, I always wanted to be the pampered plaything of a beautiful woman.’

‘I should warn you then,’ Karen said, ‘that my standard contract with pampered playthings has a clause they have to address me by my first name.’

It was no use; the banter fell flat. It was too hot to eat, the place weighed on their spirits, and they were all thinking of the radiogram. There was something very urgent about it for Captain Steen to depart that way. As if on cue, they got up and went out. Karen apologized to the dining room steward.

‘It’s no reflection on the food, Karl. It’s just too hot.’

They went on deck on the port side and walked forward. The sun had disappeared behind another ominous mass of clouds in the west and there was a faintly sulfurous cast to the light. It was twenty minutes later when Goddard saw Lind come around the corner of the deckhouse aft and disappear into the passageway. Something was happening, all right, if he hadn’t gone back to his watch; the third mate relieved him only long enough for dinner. They walked back, and as they came abreast of the porthole of Egerton’s cabin they saw the mate inside.

‘What is it?’ Goddard asked.

‘All hell’s breaking loose. Tell you about it in a minute.’ Lind closed the porthole, and they could see him tightening down the dogs. They went around into the passageway. He was just emerging from the cabin. He locked the door and dropped the key in his pocket. ‘Come on into the lounge.’

They followed him, completely mystified and conscious of a vague foreboding. When the women were seated, he said, ‘You’re already involved, so the skipper decided there’s no point in any cloak-and-dagger secrecy about it. We’re all going to be hit by a wave of police and newspaper reporters when we dock in Manila, and you might as well be prepared.’