The figure roused itself from the tangle of bedding.
The mate moved to another. “Up, you dog face. Up, you fish fodder. We’re sailing.” Turning around, he saw Geo watching him. “And what’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “We’re sailing, didn’t you hear? Naw, you go back to sleep. Your turn will come, but we need experienced ones now.” He grinned briefly, and then went on to one more. “Eh, you stink like an old wine cask. Raise yourself out of your fumes. We’re sailing!”
IV
“That dream,” Geo said to Urson a moment after the mate left. Urson looked down from his bunk.
“You had it too?”
Both turned to Snake.
“I guess that was your doing, eh?” Urson said.
Snake scrambled down from the upper bunk.
“Did you go wandering around the deck last night and do some spying?” Geo asked.
By now most of the other sailors had risen, and one suddenly stepped between Urson and Geo. “ ’Scuse me, mate,” he said and shook the figure in the second berth. “Hey, Whitey, come on. You can’t be that soused from last night. Get up or you’ll miss mess.” The young sailor shook the figure again. “Hey, Whitey.” The figure in the blankets was unresponsive. The sailor gave him one more good shake, and as he rolled over, the blanket fell away from the blond head. The eyes were wide and dull, the mouth half open. “Hey, Whitey,” the black sailor said again, and then he stepped back, slowly.
Mist enveloped the ship three hours out from port. Urson was called for duty right after breakfast, but no one bothered either Snake or Geo that first morning. Snake would slip off somewhere and Geo would be left to wander the ship alone. He was walking beneath the dories when the heavy slap of bare feet on the wet deck materialized in Urson. “Hey,” greeted his friend. “What are you doing under here?”
“Nothing much,” Geo said.
Urson was carrying a coil of rope about his shoulder. Now he slung it down into his hand and leaned against the support shaft and looked out toward the fog. “It’s a bad beginning this trip has had,” he said. “What few sailors I’ve talked to don’t like it at all.”
“Urson,” said Geo, “have you any idea what actually happened this morning?”
“Maybe I have and maybe I haven’t,” Urson said. “What ones have you?”
“Do you remember the dream?” he asked.
Urson scrunched his shoulders as if suddenly cold. “I do,” he said.
“It was like we were seeing through somebody else’s eyes, almost.”
“Our little four-armed friend sees things in a strange way if that’s the case.”
“Urson, that wasn’t Snake’s eyes we saw through. I asked him, just before he went off exploring the ship. It was somebody else. All he did was get the pictures and relay them into our minds. And what was the last thing you saw?”
“As a matter of fact,” Urson said, turning, “I think he was looking at poor Whitey’s bunk.”
“And who was supposed to be sleeping in poor Whitey’s bunk?”
“Snake?”
“Exactly. Do you think perhaps Whitey was killed?”
“Could be, I guess. But how, and why, and who?”
“Somebody who wanted Snake killed. Maybe the same person who cut his tongue out a year and a half ago.”
“I thought we decided that we didn’t know who that was.”
“A man you know, Urson,” Geo said. “What man on this ship have you sailed with before?”
“Don’t you think I’ve been looking?” Urson asked. “There’s not a familiar face on deck, other than maybe one I’ve seen in a dockside bar, but never one whose name I’ve known.”
“Think, Urson, who on this ship you’ve sailed with before,” Geo asked again, more intently.
Suddenly Urson turned. “You mean the mate?”
“That’s just who I mean,” said Geo.
“And you think he tried to kill Snake. Why didn’t Snake tell us?”
“Because he thought if we knew, we’d get in trouble with it. And he may be right.”
“How come?” asked Urson.
“Look, we know something is fishy about Argo. The more I think about it, the less I can put my hands on it. But if something is fishy about the mate too, then perhaps he’s in cahoots with her. What about when he came into Argo’s cabin last night when we were there?”
“Maybe he was just doing what we said we were; walking by when he heard a noise. If it was his eyes we were seeing through, then he sees things awfully funny, then.”
“Maybe he’s a strange one too, like Snake who ‘hears’ things funny. Not all strangeness shows,” Geo reminded him.
“You could be right,” said Urson. “You could be right.” He stood up from where he had leaned against a lifeboat support. “Well, you think some more friend, and I’ll listen. I’ll see you later.” He hauled up his rope again and started off in the mist.
Geo decided to search for Snake. A ladder led to the upper deck, and climbing it, he saw across the deck a tall, fog-shrouded figure. He paused, and then started forward. “Hello,” he said.
The captain turned from the railing and looked at him.
“Good morning sir,” Geo said. “I thought you might be the mate.”
The captain was silent for a while, and then said, “Good morning. What do you want?”
“I didn’t mean to disturb you if you were …”
“No disturbance,” said the captain.
“How long will it take us to get to Aptor?”
“Another three weeks. Shorter if this wind keeps up.”
“I see,” said Geo. “Have you any idea of the geography of Aptor?”
“The mate is the only one on board that has ever set foot on Aptor and come off it alive. Except Priestess Argo.”
“The mate, sir? When?”
“On a previous voyage he was wrecked there. He made a raft and drifted into the open sea where he had the good fortune to be picked up by a ship.”
“Then he will lead whatever party goes to the place?”
“Not him,” said the captain. “He’s sworn never to set foot on the
