The War with the Newts, by Karel Capek

BOOK ONE

ANDRIAS SHEUCHZERI

Chapter 1

THE STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF CAPTAIN VAN TOCH

If you looked up the little island of Tana Masa on the map you would find it just on the Equator, not far south of Sumatra; but if you were on the deck of the Kandong Bandoeng and asked its captain, J. van Toch, what he thought of this Tana Masa where you've just dropped anchor he would first curse for a short while and then he would tell you that it's the dirtiest hole all the Sunda Islands, even more loathsome than Tana Bala and easily as damnable as Pini or Banyak; that the only apology for a human being that lives there - not counting these louse-ridden Bataks, of course - is a drunken commercial agent, a cross between a Cuban and a Portuguese, and an even bigger thief, pagan and pig than the whole of Cuba and the whole of the white race put together; if there's anything in this world that's damnable then it's the damned life on this damned Tana Masa. And then, you might cautiously ask him why it is that he's just dropped his damned anchor as if he wanted to spend three damned days here; at which he would snort in irritation and grumble something about not being so damned stupid as to sail all the way to Kandon Bandoeng just to get this damned copra or palm oil, and there's nothing else here, but I've got my damned orders, and you will please be so kind as to mind your own damned business. And he would carry on cursing as widely and as fully as you might expect from a sea captain who was no longer young but still lively for his age.

But if, instead of asking all sorts of impertinent questions, you left Captain J. van Toch to grumble and curse by himself you might find out something more. Surely it's obvious the man needs a rest. Just leave him alone, he can sort out his foul mood by himself. "Listen!" the captain said suddenly. "Those damned Jew-boys back in Amsterdam, all they seem to think about is pearls. Have a look around you; can you see any pearls? They say the people are crazy round here for pearls and that sort of thing." At this point the captain spat in anger. "We know all about that, load up with pearls! That's because you people always want to start a war or something. All you're worried about is money. And then you call it a crisis." For a short while, Captain J. van Toch considered whether he ought to start discussing political economics, considering that that's all they ever do talk about nowadays. But it's too hot and languid to talk about that sort of thing here, anchored off Tana Masa; so the captain merely waved his hand and grumbled: "That's what they say, pearls! In Ceylon they've got enough pearls piled up to last them for five years, on Formosa they've put a ban on gathering them - and so they say to me, Captain van Toch, go and see if you can find somewhere new to gather pearls. Go on down to those damned little islands, you might find whole bays full of oysters down there ... " The captain pulled out his light-blue handkerchief and blew his nose in contempt. "Those rats in Europe, they think there's still something to find down here, something they don't already know about. God, what a bunch of fools they are! Next they'll be wanting me to look up the Bataks snouts to see if they don't have them full of pearls. New pearl fisheries! I know there's a new brothel in Padang, but new pearl fisheries? I know these islands like my trousers, all the way from Ceylon down to that damned Clipperton Island, and if anyone thinks there's anything new still left to find there that they can make any money out of, well good luck to them. Thirty years I've been sailing these waters, and now these fools think I'm going to discover something new!" This was a task so insulting it made Captain van Toch gasp. "Why can't they send some green kid to find something for them if they want to gape in astonishment; but instead they expect someone to do that who knows the area as well as Captain J. van Toch .. . Please try and understand this. In Europe there might still be something left to discover; but here - people only come here to sniff out something they could eat, or rather not even to eat, to find something to buy and sell. If in all these damned tropics there was still something they could double the price of there'd be three commercial agents standing there waving their snotty handkerchiefs at the ships of seven countries to stop for it. That's how it is. I know about these things better than the colonial office of Her Majesty the Queen, if you'll forgive me." Captain van Toch made a great effort to overcome his righteous indignation, and after a prolonged period of exertion he was successful. "D'you see those two contemptible layabouts down there? They're pearl fishers from Ceylon, Sinhalese, God help us, just as the Lord made them; but what He made them for, I don't know. I have them on board with me, and when we find any stretch of coast that doesn't have a sign up saying Agency or Bata or Customs Office down they go in the water to look for oysters. That small bugger, he can dive down eighty meters deep; in the Princes Islands he went down to ninety meters to get the handle from a film projector. But pearls? Nothing! Not a sniff of them! Worthless rabble, these Sinhalese. And that's the sort of worthless work I do. Pretend to be buying palm oil and all the time looking for new pearl fisheries. Next they'll be wanting me to find a new virgin continent for them. This isn't a job for an honest captain in the merchant navy. Captain J. van Toch isn't some cursed adventurer, no. And on he would go; the sea is wide and the ocean of time has no limits; spit in the sea, my friend, and it will not return, berate your destiny and you will never change it; and so on through many preparations and circumstances until we finally arrive at the point when J. van Toch, captain of the Dutch vessel, Kandong Bandoeng, will sigh and climb down into the boat for the trip to Tana Masa where he will negotiate with the drunken half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese extraction about certain business matters.

"Sorry, Captain," the half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese extraction finally said, "but here on Tana Masa there aren't any oysters. These filthy Bataks," he would inform him with boundless disgust, "will even eat the jellyfish; there are more of them in the water than on the land, the women here smell of fish, you cannot imagine what it is like - what was I saying? Ah, yes, you were asking about women."

"And is there not even any stretch of coastline round here," the captain asked, "where these Bataks don't go in the water?" The half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese shook his head.

"There is not. Unless you count Devil Bay, but that would not interest you."

"Why not?"

"Because .. . no-one is allowed to go there. Another drink, Captain?"

"Thanks. Are there sharks there?"

"Sharks and everything else besides," the half-cast mumbled. "Is a bad place, Captain. The Bataks would not like to see anyone going down there."

"Why not?"

"There are demons there, Captain. Sea demons."

"What is that, a sea demon? A kind of fish?"

"Not a fish," the half-cast corrected him. "Simply demons, Captain. Underwater demons. The Bataks call them tapa. Tapa. They say that that's where they have their city, these demons. Another drink?"

"And what do they look like, these sea demons?" The half cast of Cubanese and Portuguese shrugged his shoulders.

"Like a demon, Captain. I once saw one of them .. . or just its head, at least. I was coming back in a boat from Cape Haarlem .. . and suddenly, in front of me, a kind of lump stuck up out of the water."

"And what did it look like?"

"It had a head .. . like a Batak, Captain, but entirely without hair."

"Sure it wasn't a real Batak?"

"Not a real Batak, Captain. In this place no Batak would ever go into the water. And then .. . the thing blinked at me with an eyelid from beneath its eye." The half-cast shuddered with the horror of it. "An eyelid from beneath its eye, which reached up to cover the whole eye. That was a tapa." Captain J. van Toch turned his glass of palm wine around between his chubby fingers.

"And you hadn't been drinking, had you? You weren't drunk?"

"I was drunk, Captain. How else would I ever had rowed into that place. The Bataks don't like it when anyone .. . anyone disturbs these demons." Captain van Toch shook his head.

"Listen, demons don't exist And if they did exist they would look like Europeans. That must have been some kind of fish you saw or something."

"A fish!" the half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese spluttered. "A fish does not have hands, Captain. I am not some Batak Captain, I went to school in Badyoeng .. . I might even still know my ten commandments and other scientifically proven facts; and an educated man will know the difference between a demon and an animal. Ask the Bataks, Captain."

"Negro superstitions," the captain declared with the jovial confidence of an educated man. "This is scientific nonsense. A demon can't live in water anyway. What would he be doing in the water? You shouldn't listen to all the nonsense talked by the natives, lad. Somebody gave the place the name Devil Bay and ever since then the Bataks have been afraid of it. That's all there is to it," the captain declared, and threw his chubby hand down on the table. "There's nothing there, lad, that is scientifically obvious."

"There is, Captain," affirmed the half-cast who had been to school in Badyoeng. "But no sensible person has any business going to Devil Bay." Captain J. van Toch turned red.

"What's that?" he shouted. "You dirty Cuban, you think I'm afraid of these demons? We'll see about that," he said as he stood up with all the mass of his honest two hundred pounds. "I'm not going to waste my time with you here, not when I've got business to attend to. But just remember this; the Dutch colonies don't have any demons in them; even if there are in the French. There, there might well be. And now call the mayor of this damned Kampong over to speak to me."

It did not take long to find the aforementioned dignitary; he was squatting down beside the half-casts shop chewing sugar cane. He was an elderly man, naked, but a lot thinner than mayors usually are in Europe. Some way behind him, keeping the appropriate distance, the entire village was also squatting, complete with women and children. They were clearly expecting to be filmed. "Now listen to this, son," Captain van Toch said to him in Malay (he could just as well have spoken to him in Dutch or English as the honourable old Batak knew not a word of Malay, and everything said by the captain had to be interpreted into Batak by the half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese, but for some reason the captain thought Malay would be more appropriate). "Now listen to this, son, I need a few big, strong, powerful lads to go out on a fishing trip with me. Understand what I mean? Out on a fishing trip." The half-cast translated this and the mayor nodded his head to show he understood; then he turned round to face the wider audience and said something to them, clearly meeting with great success.

"Their chief says," translated the half-cast, "that the whole village will go out with the captain wherever the captain might wish."

"Very well. So tell him were going to fish for clams in Devil Bay."

There followed about fifteen minutes of animated discussion with the whole village taking part, especially the old women. Finally the half-cast turned to the captain. "They say it's not possible to go to Devil Bay, Captain." The captain began to turn red. "And why not?" The half-cast shrugged his shoulders.

"Because there are the tapa-tapa there. Demons, Captain." The captain's colour began to rise to purple.

"Tell them, then, that if they don't go ... . I'll knock all their teeth out .. . I'll tear their ears off .. . I'll hang the lot of them .. . and that I'll burn down their entire flea-ridden village. Understand?"

The half-cast dutifully translated what the captain had said, at which there was more lively discussion. The half-cast finally turned to the captain. "They say they intend to make a complaint to the police in Padang, Captain, because you've threatened them. There seem to be laws about that. The mayor says he can't allow that sort of thing." Captain J. van Toch began to turn blue.

"Tell him, then," he snarled, "that he is a .. . " and he spoke without pausing for breath for a good eleven minutes.

The half-cast translated what he had said, as far as his vocabulary was able; and then he once again translated the Bataks long, but objective, verdict back to the captain. "They say they might be willing to relinquish taking you to court, Captain, if you pay a fine into the hands of the local authorities. They suggest," here he hesitated, "two hundred rupees, Captain; but that seems rather a lot. Offer them five." Captain van Toch's complexion began to break out in purple blotches. First he offered to murder all the Bataks in the world, then the offer went down to giving them all three hundred good kickings, and finally he agreed to content himself with stuffing the mayor and putting him on display in the colonial museum in Amsterdam; for their part, the Bataks went down from two hundred rupees to an iron pump with a wheel, and finally insisted on no more than that the captain give the mayor his petrol cigarette lighter as a token. ("Give it to him, Captain," urged the half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese, "I've got three cigarette lighters in my store, even if they don't have wicks.") Thus, peace was restored on Tana Masa; but Captain J. van Toch now knew that the dignity of the white race was at stake.

That afternoon a boat set out from the Dutch ship, Kandon Bandoeng, with the following crew: Captain J. van Toch, Jensen the Swede, Gudmundson the Icelander, Gillemainen the Finn, and two Sinhalese pearl fishers. The boat headed straight for Devil Bay.

At three o'clock, when the tide was at its highest, the captain stood on the shore, the boat was out watching for sharks about a hundred meters offshore, and both the Sinhalese divers were waiting, knife in hand, for the signal to jump into the water.

"Now you go in," the captain told the farther of the two naked savages. The Sinhalese jumped into the water, waded out a few paces and then dived. The captain looked at his watch.

After four minutes and twenty seconds a brown head emerged to his left, about sixty meters away; with a strange, desperate shudder which seemed at the same time as if paralysed, the Sinhalese clawed at the rocks, in one hand he had the knife, in the other some pearl bearing oysters. The captain scowled. "So, what's wrong?" he asked, sharply. The Sinhalese was still slithering up the rock, unable to speak with the horror of it. "What has happened?" the captain shouted.

"Saheb, Saheb," said the Sinhalese as he sank down on the beach, gasping for breath. "Saheb ... Saheb .."

"Sharks?"

"Djinns," groaned the Sinhalese. "Demons, Captain. Thousands and thousands of demons!" He pressed his fist into his eye. "Everywhere demons, Captain!"

"Show me those oysters," the captain ordered him, and began to open one with the knife. Inside, there was a small, perfect pearl. "Find any more of these?" The Sinhalese drew another three oysters out from the bag he had hanging round his neck.

"There are oysters down there, Captain, but they are guarded by these demons .. They were watching me as I cut them off ..." The curls on his head stuck out with shock. "Not here, Saheb, not here!"

The captain opened the oysters; two of them were empty and in the third there was a pearl the size of a pea, as round as a drop of mercury. Captain van Toch looked at the pearl and then at the Sinhalese collapsed on the ground.

"won't you," he said hesitantly, "dive in there one more time?" Without a word, the Sinhalese shook his head. Captain J. van Toch felt a strong urge to castigate and shout at the Sinhalese; but to his surprise he found that he was speaking quietly and almost gently: "Don't you worry, lad. And what did they look like, these ... demons?"

"Like little children," said the Sinhalese with a sigh. "They have a tail, Captain, and they're about this high," indicating about one meter twenty above the ground. "They stood all around me and watched what I was doing .. a sort of circle of them ..." The Sinhalese shuddered. "Saheb, not here Saheb, not here!" Captain van Toch thought for a while.

"And what about when they blink; was it with their lower eyelid or what?"

"I don't know, Captain," the Sinhalese croaked. "There are ten thousand of them there!" The captain looked round to find the other Sinhalese; he stood about fifty meters away, waiting without interest with his hands crossed over on his shoulders; perhaps because when a person is naked he has nowhere else to put his hands than on his own shoulders. The captain gave him a silent signal and the gaunt Sinhalese jumped into the water. After three minutes and fifty seconds he re-emerged, clawing at the slippery rocks.

"Come on, hurry up," the captain shouted, but then he began to look more carefully and soon he himself was jumping and clambering over the rocks to the Sinhalese; no-one would have thought that a body like that could jump so nimbly. At the last moment he caught hold of the Sinhalese hand and pulled him breathless from the water. Then he lay him on the rock and wiped the sweat off his brow. The Sinhalese lay without moving; his shin had been scraped and the bone underneath was exposed, clearly he had injured it on some rock, but he was otherwise unhurt. The captain raised the man's eyelid; all he could see was the white. There was no sign of any oysters or the knife. Just then, the boat and its crew came in close to shore.

"Captain," Jensen the Swede called, "there are sharks around here. Are you going to search for oysters any longer?"

"No," said the captain. "Come in here and pick up these two."

On the way back to the ship Jensen drew the captains attention to something; "Look how it suddenly becomes shallow just here. It goes on just like this as far as the shore." And he demonstrated his point by pushing his oar down into the water. "it's as if there were some kind of weir under the water."

The little Sinhalese did not come round until they were back on board; he sat with his knees under his chin, shaking from head to toe. The captain sent everyone away and sat down facing him with his legs wide apart. "Out with it," he said. "What did you see down there?"

"Djinns, Saheb," whispered the slender Sinhalese; now even his eyelids had begun to shake, and the whole of his skin came out in goosepimples.

"And ... what did they look like?" the captain spluttered.

"Like ... like ... " A strip of white appeared once more in the Sinhalese eyes. Captain J. van Toch, with unexpected liveliness, slapped him on both cheeks with his full hand to bring him back to consciousness. "Thanks, Saheb," the gaunt Sinhalese sighed, and the pupils re-appeared in his eyes.

"Alright now?"

"Yes, Saheb."

"Were there oysters down there?"

"Yes, Saheb."

With a great deal of patience and thoroughness, Captain J. van Toch went on with the cross questioning. Yes, there were demons down there. How many? Thousands and thousands. About the size of a ten year old child, Captain, and almost black. They swim in the water, and on the bottom they walk on two legs. Two legs, Saheb, just like you or me, but always swaying from side to side, like this, like this, like this ... Yes Captain, they have hands too, just like people; no, they don't have claws, they're more like a child's hands. No, Saheb, they don't have horns or fur. Yes, they have a tail, a little like a fish's tail but without the fins. And a big head, round like a Bataks. No, they don't say anything, Captain, only a sort of squelch. When the Sinhalese had been cutting an oyster off, about sixteen metres down, he felt something like little cold fingers touch his back. He had looked round and there were hundreds and hundreds of them all around him. Hundreds and hundreds, Captain, swimming around and standing on stones and all of them were watching what the Sinhalese was doing. So he dropped the knife and the oyster and tried to swim up to the surface. Then he struck against some of the demons who had been swimming after him, and what happened next he did not know.

Captain J. van Toch looked thoughtfully at the little diver as he sat there shivering. Hell be no good for anything from now on, the said to himself, he would send him to Padang and back on home to Ceylon. Grumbling and snorting, the captain went to his cabin, where he spilled the two pearls out onto the table from a paper bag. One of them was as small as a grain of sand and the other as a pea, with a shimmer of silver and pink. And with that, the captain of the Dutch ship, Kandong Bandoeng, snorted; and then he reached into the cupboard for his bottle of Irish whiskey.

At six o clock he had himself rowed back to the village and went straight to the half cast of Cubanese and Portuguese. "Toddy," he said, and that was the only word he uttered; he sat on the corrugated-iron veranda, clutched a thick glass tumbler in his chubby fingers and drank and spat and stared out from under his bushy eyebrows at the dirty and trampled yard where some emaciated yellow chickens pecked at something invisible between the palm trees. The half cast avoided saying anything, and merely poured the drinks. Slowly, the captain's eyes became bloodshot and his fingers began to move awkwardly. It was almost dark when he stood up and tightened his trousers.

"Are you going to bed, Captain?" the half cast of demon and devil asked politely. The captain punched his fist in the air.

"I'm going to go and see if there are any demons in this world that I've never seen before. You, which damned way is north-west?"

"This way," the half cast showed him. "Where are you going?"

"To Hell," Captain J. van Toch rasped. "Going to have a look at Devil Bay."

It was from that evening on that Captain J. van Toch's behaviour became so strange. He did not return to the village until dawn; said not a word to anyone but merely had himself taken back to the ship, where he locked himself in his cabin until evening. Nobody thought this very odd as the Kandong Bandoeng had some of the blessings of Tana Masa to load on board (copra, pepper, camphor, guttapercha, palm oil, tobacco and labourers); but that evening, when they went to tell him that everything had been loaded, he just snorted and said, "Boat. To the village." And he did not return until dawn. Jensen the Swede, who helped him back on board, merely asked him politely whether they would be setting sail that day. The captain turned on him as if he had just been knifed in the back. "And what's it to you?" he snapped. "You mind your own damned business!" All that day the Kandong Bandoeng lay at anchor off the coast of Tana Masa and did nothing. In the evening the captain rolled out of his cabin and ordered, "Boat. To the village." Zapatis, the little Greek, stared at him with his one blind eye and the other eye squinting. "Look at this lads," he crowed, "either the old mans got some girl or he's gone totally mad." Jensen the Swede scowled. "And what's it to you?" he snapped at Zapatis. "You mind your own damned business!" Then, together with Gudmundson the Icelander, he took the little boat and rowed down to Devil Bay. They stayed in the boat behind the rocks and waited to see what would happen. The captain came across the bay and seemed to be waiting for someone; he stopped for a while and called out something like ts-ts-ts. "Look at this," said Gudmundson, pointing to the sea which now glittered red and gold in the sunset. Jensen counted two, three, four, six fins, as sharp as little scythes, which glided across Devil Bay. "Oh God," grumbled Jensen, "there are sharks here!" When, shortly afterwards, one of the little scythes submerged, a tail swished out above the water and created a violent eddy. At this, Captain J. van Toch on the shore began to jump up and down in fury, issued a gush of curses and threatened the sharks with his fist. Then the short tropical twilight was over and the light of the moon shone over the island; Jensen took the oars and rowed the boat to within a furlong of the shore. Now the captain was sitting on a rock calling ts-ts-ts. Nearby something moved, but it was not possible to see exactly what. It looks like a seal, thought Jensen, but seals don't move like that. It came out of the water between the rocks and pattered along the beach, swaying from side to side like a penguin. Jensen quietly rowed in and stopped half a furlong away from the captain. Yes, the captain was saying something, but the Devil knew what it was; he must have been speaking in Tamil or Malay. He opened his hands wide as if about to throw something to these seals (although Jensen was now sure they were not seals), and all the time babbling his Chinese or Malay. Just then the raised oar slipped out of Jensen's hand and fell in the water with a splash. The captain lifted his head, got up and walked about thirty paces into the water; there was a sudden flashing and banging; the captain was shooting with his browning in the direction of the boat. Almost simultaneously there was a rustling and a splashing in the bay as, with a whirl of activity, it seemed as if a thousand seals were jumping into the water; but Jensen and Gudmundson were already pressing on the oars and driving the boat so hard that it swished through the water until it was behind the nearest corner. When they got back to the ship they said not a word to anyone. The northern races know how to keep silent. In the morning the captain returned; he was angry and unhappy, but said nothing. Only, when Jensen helped him on board both men gave each other a cold and inquisitive look.

"Jensen," said the captain.

"Yes sir."

"Today, we set sail."

"Yes sir."

"In Surabai you get your papers."

"Yes sir."

And that was it. That day the Kandong Bandoeng sailed into Padang. In Padang Captain J. van Toch sent his firm in Amsterdam a parcel insured for a thousand two hundred pounds sterling. At the same time he sent a telegram asking for his annual leave. Urgent medical reasons, and so on. Then he wandered around Padang until he found the man he was looking for. This was a native of Borneo, a Dayak who English tourists would sometimes hire as a shark hunter just for the show; as this Dayak still worked in the old way, armed with no more than a long knife. He was clearly a cannibal but he had his fixed terms: five pounds for a shark plus his board. He was also quite startling in appearance, as both hands, his breast and his legs were heavily scarred from contact with shark skin and his nose and ears were decorated with shark teeth. He was known as Shark.

With this Dayak, Captain J. van Toch set off back to the island of Tana Masa.

Chapter 2

MISTER GOLOMBEK AND MISTER VALENTA

As far as the newspapers were concerned, it was the sort of hot day when nothing, absolutely nothing, happens, when no politics is done and there aren't even any tensions in Europe; but it is just on days like this that newspaper readers, lying in an agony of boredom on the beaches or in the sparse shade of trees, demoralised by the heat, the view, the quiet of the countryside and all that makes up their healthy and simple life on holiday, hope in vain to find to find something in the newspapers, something that will be new and refreshing, some murder, some war or some earthquake, in short, anything; and when they are disappointed they throw the paper down and declare in irritation that there is nothing there, nothing whatsoever, that it is not worth reading and they will stop buying a newspaper in future.

Meanwhile in the editorial office, there are five or six people left by themselves, as their colleagues are also all on holiday, who throw the paper down in irritation and complain that there is nothing there, nothing whatsoever. And the type-setter comes out of the composing-room and warns them: "Gentlemen, we still don't have a leader for tomorrow's issue".

"Well how about, er, that thing about the economic situation in Bulgaria?" suggests one of the gentlemen in the abandoned office. The type-setter sighs deeply:

"And who's going to want to read that? Once again, there's going to be nothing in the whole paper worth reading." The six gentlemen left all by themselves raised their eyes to the ceiling as if they might find something worth reading about there.

"If only something would happen," said one of them uncertainly.

"Or what about, er, some kind of interesting reportage," suggested another.

"What about?"

"I don't know."

"We could think up ... some new vitamin or something," grumbled a third.

"What now? In the middle of the summer?" a fourth objected. "Look, vitamins are scientific things, that's more suitable for the Autumn."

"God it's hot!" yawned the fifth. "Whatever it is it ought to come from the polar regions."

"Such as what?"

"Something like that Eskimo story. Frozen fingers, eternal ice, that sort of thing."

"That's easy enough to say," said the sixth, "but where do we get the story from?" The silence of despair spread across the editorial office.

"Last Sunday," began the typesetter hesitantly, "I was in the Moravian hills."

"So what?"

"Well, I heard something about some Captain Vantoch who was on holiday there. Seems he was born in the area."

"Vantoch? Who's he?"

"Fat sort of bloke. A sea captain or something. They said he'd been out looking for pearls." Mister Golombek looked at Mister Valenta.

"And whereabouts was he looking?"

"In Sumatra .. and the Celebese .. all round that sort of area. They said he'd spent thirty years out there."

"Now there's an idea," said Mister Valenta. "That could be a great reportage. Shall we go with it, Golombek?"

"Can give it a try, I suppose," Mister Golombek opined, and got off his chair.

"It's that gentleman, over there," said the landlord in Moravia. At a table in the garden sat a fat man in a white cap with his legs wide apart, he was drinking beer and seemed thoughtful as he drew broad lines on the table with his finger. Both men went over to him.

"I'm Valenta, editorial staff."

"I'm Golombek, editorial staff." The fat man raised his eyes:

"Eh, what?"

"Valenta, from the newspaper."

"And I'm Golombek. From the newspaper." The fat man stood up with dignity.

"Captain van Toch. Very glad. Take a seat, lads." Both men obligingly sat down and lay writing pads down in front of themselves. "What'll you have to drink, boys?"

"Raspberry juice," said Mister Valenta.

"Raspberry juice?" repeated the captain in disbelief. "What for? Landlord, bring them each a beer. - Now what was it you wanted?" he asked, putting his elbows on the table.

"Is it true that you were born here, Mister Vantoch?"

"Ja. Born here."

"And tell us, please, how come you went to sea?"

"I went via Hamburg."

"And how long have you been a captain?"

"Twenty years, lads. Got my papers here," he said, emphasising his point by tapping on his breast pocket. "Can show you if you like." Mister Golombek would have liked to see what a captains papers look like, but he restrained himself.

"I'm sure you must have seen a good part of the world in those twenty years, Captain."

"Ja, I've seen a bit, ja."

"And what places have you seen?"

"Java. Borneo. Philippines. Fiji Islands. Solomon Islands. Carolines. Samoa. Damned Clipperton Island. A lot of damned islands, lads. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just that it's all very interesting. Wed like to hear some more about it, you see."

"Ja. All just very interesting, eh?" The captain fixed his pale blue eyes on them. "You're from the police then, are you?"

"No, were not from the police, Captain, were from the newspapers."

"Ah ja, from the newspapers. Reporters, are you? We'll write this down: Captain J. van Toch, captain of the Kandong Bandoeng ..."

"What's that?"

"The Kandong Bandoeng, port of Surabai. Reason for journey: vacances ... how do you say that?"

"On holiday."

"Ja, dammit, holiday. So you can put that in your newspapers, who's sailed in. And now put your notes away, lads. Your health."

"Mister Vantoch, we've come to find you so that you might tell us something about your life."

"What for?"

"We'll write it down in the papers. People are very interested in reading about distant islands and all the things seen and experienced there by their compatriots, by another Czech ..." The captain nodded.

"That's all true, lads, I'm the only sea captain ever from this town, that's true. I've heard about one other captain from ... from .. somewhere, but I think," he added intimately, "that he's not a proper captain. It's all to do with the tonnage, you see."

"And what was the tonnage of your ship?"

"Twenty thousand tons, lads."

"You were a great captain, were you?"

"A great one," the captain said with dignity. "Have you got any money, boys?" Both gentlemen looked at each other a little uncertainly.

"We have some money, but not a lot. Are you in need of money, Captain?"

"Ja. I might need some"

"Well listen. If you tell us lots of things we'll write it up for the paper and you'll get money for it."

"How much?"

"It could be ... could be several thousand," said Mister Golombek generously.

"Pounds sterling?"

"No, only Czechoslovak koruny." Captain van Toch shook his head.

"No, that won't do. I've got that much myself, lads," and he drew a thick wad of banknotes out of his trouser pocket. "See?" Then he put his elbows back on the table and leant forward to the two men. "Gentlemen, I might have some big business for you. And that would mean you giving me fifteen ... hold on ... fifteen or sixteen million koruny. How about it?" Once again, the two gentlemen looked at each other uncertainly. Newspaper men have experience of all sorts of the strangest madmen, cheats and inventors. "Wait," said the captain, "I've got something here I can show you." His chubby fingers reached into a pocket in his waistcoat and he hunted out something which he placed on the table. It was five pink pearls, the size of cherry stones. "Do you know anything about pearls?"

"What might they be worth?" gasped Mister Valenta.

"Ja, lots of money, lads. But I carry them around just to show people, just as a sample. So how about it, are you in with me?" he asked, reaching his broad hand across the table. Mister Golombek sighed.

"Mister Vantoch, as much money as .."

"Halt," the captain interrupted him. "I realise you don't know me; but ask about Captain van Toch anywhere in Surabaya, in Batavia, in Padang or anywhere you like. Go and ask and anyone will tell you ja, Captain van Toch, he is as good as his word."

"Mister Vantoch, we don't doubt your word," Mister Golombek protested, "but ..."

"Wait," the captain ordered. "I know you want to be careful about where you give away your precious money; and quite right too. But here you'll be spending it on a ship, see? You buy a ship, that makes you a ship owner and you can come with me; ja, you can sail with me to see how I'm looking after it. And the money we make, we can share it fifty-fifty. That's honest business, isn't it?"

"But Mister Vantoch," Mister Golombek finally exclaimed anxiously, "we just don't have that much money!"

"Ja, in that case it's different," said the captain. "Sorry. But now I don't know why you've come to find me."

"So that you can tell us about yourself, Captain, you must have had so many experiences ..."

"Ja, that I have, lads. A damned lot of experiences."

"Have you ever been shipwrecked?"

"What? What shipwreck? No I haven't. Who do you think I am? If they give me a good ship then nothing can happen to it. You can even go and ask about my references in Amsterdam. Go there and ask."

"And what about the natives? Have you met many natives?" Captain van Toch snorted. "This is nothing for an educated man. I'm not going to talk about that."

"Then tell us about something else."

"Ja, tell you something else," the captain grumbled mistrustfully. "And then you can sell it to some other company which then sends its ships out there. I can tell you, my lad, people are all thieves. And the biggest thieves of all are these bankers in Colombo."

"Have you been to Colombo many times?

"Ja, many times. And Bangkok too, and Manila .. Lads," he suddenly interrupted himself, "I know of a ship. A very good ship, and cheap at the price. It's in Rotterdam. Come and have a look at it. Rotterdam is no distance," and he indicated over his shoulder with his thumb. "Ships are very cheap nowadays, lads. Like old iron. As soon as a ship is six years old they want to replace it with something with a diesel motor. Do you want to see it?"

"We can't, Mister Vantoch."

"You're very strange people," the captain sighed, and blew his nose noisily into a pale blue handkerchief. "And you don't know of anyone here who might want to buy a ship?"

"Here in Moravia?"

"Ja, here, or anywhere nearby. I'd like a big deal like this to come here, to my country."

"That's very nice of you, Captain ..."

"Ja. Those others are enormous thieves. And they don't have any money. People like you, from the newspapers, you must know some important people here, bankers and ship owners and the like."

"We don't know anyone, Mister Vantoch."

"Well, that's a pity," said the captain, sadly. Mister Golombek remembered something.

"You don't know Mister Bondy, do you?"

"Bondy? Bondy?" Captain van Toch tried to remember. "Wait, that name does sound familiar. Bondy. Ja, there's a Bond Street in London, where all the very rich people live. Does he have some business on Bond Street, this Mister Bondy?"

"No, he lives in Prague, but I think he was born here in Moravia."

"Jesus!" Captain van Toch burst out gaily, "you're right lads. Had a tailors shop on the square. Ja, Bondy, what was his name? Max. Max Bondy. So he's in business in Prague now, is he?"

"No I think that must have been his father. This Bondy is called G.H. President G.H. Bondy, Captain."

"G.H.," the captain puzzled. "There was never any G.H. here. Unless you mean Gustl Bondy - but he was never any president. Gustl was a sort of freckle-faced Jew. Can't be him."

"It can be him, Mister Vantoch. Don't forget it's many years since you've seen him."

"Ja, you could be right. It is many years," the captain agreed. "Forty years, lads. I suppose Gustl could have become important by now. And what is he?"

"He's the president of the MEAS organisation - you know? - that enormous factory making boilers and so on, and the president of abut twenty companies and cartels. He's a very important man, Mister Vantoch. They call him a captain of Czech industry."

"Captain?" said Captain van Toch in amazement. "So I'm not the only captain from this town! Jesus! That Gustl is a captain too. I suppose I ought to meet up with him. Has he got any money?"

"Has he? Enormous amounts of money, Mister Vantoch. He must have hundreds of millions. The richest man in Czechoslovakia." Captain van Toch became very serious.

"And a captain, too. Thank you, lads. I'll have to go and see him, this Bondy. Ja, Gustl Bondy, I know. Jewish boy, he was. And now its Captain G.H. Bondy. Ja, ja, things change," he added with a melancholy sigh.

"Captain Vantoch, we'll have to go soon so that we don't miss the evening train .."

"I'll come down to the harbour with you, then," the captain suggested and he began to weigh anchor. "Very glad to have met you, lads. I know a newspaper man in Surabaya, good lad, ja, a good friend of mine. Hell of a drinker. I could find you both a place on the paper in Surabaya if you like. No? Well, as you like."

And as the train drew out of the station Captain van Toch waved to them slowly and triumphantly with his enormous blue handkerchief. As he did so, one large, slightly mis-shapen pearl dropped down into the sand. A pearl which nobody ever found again.

Chapter 3

G. H. BONDY AND THE CAPTAIN

It is a well known fact that the more important a man is the less he has written on his door. Above his shop in Moravia, and all round the door and on the windows, old Max Bondy had to announce in big letters that here was Max Bondy, dealer in sartorial goods of every sort, wedding outfitter, sheets, towels, teatowels, tablecloths and coverings, calico and serge, silks, curtains, lambrequins, and all tailoring and sewing requisites. Founded 1885. His son, G.H. Bondy, captain of industry, president of the MEAS corporation, commercial adviser, brokering adviser, deputy president of the Confederation of Industry, Consulado de la República Ecuador, member of many advisory committees etc. etc. has nothing more on his house door than one small, black, glass panel with gold letters that spell the word:

BONDY

That is all. Just Bondy. Others might have Julius Bondy, Representative of General Motors on their doors, or Ervín Bondy, Doctor of Medicine, or S. Bondy and Company; but there is only one Bondy who is simply Bondy without any further details. (I think the Pope has simply Pius written on his door without any title or number. And God doesn't have a name plate at all, neither in Heaven nor on Earth. You have to work out for yourself who it is that lives where He lives. But none of this belongs to this story, and it is only mentioned in passing.)

One burning hot day, in front of the glass panel there stood a gentleman in a white sailors cap, wiping the massive folds of his neck with a blue handkerchief. Damned grand sort of house to live in, he thought, and somewhat uncertainly he pulled on the brass knob of the doorbell.

Mister Povondra, the doorman, appeared, took the measure of the heavy man at the door by looking him up and down from his feet to the gold braid on the cap, and with some reserve asked: "Can I help you?"

"Yes you can, lad," the gentleman replied loudly. "Does a Mister Bondy live here?"

"What is your business with Mister Bondy?" was Mister Povondra's icy reply.

"Tell him that Captain van Toch from Surabaya wants to speak to him. Ja," he remembered, "here's my card." And he handed Mister Povondra a visiting card bearing an embossed anchor and the name:

CAPTAIN J. VAN TOCH

E. I. & P. L. Co S. Kandong Bandoeng

Surabaya Naval Club

Mister Povondra lowered his eyes and considered this. Had he better tell him that Mister Bondy is not at home? Or that he was afraid that Mister Bondy is at an important conference? There are some callers who need to be announced, and there are some others that a good doorman will deal with himself. Mister Povondra felt a troubling failure of the instinct that normally guides him in these matters; this fat man at the door did not somehow fall into the usual class of unannounced visitors, he did not seem to be a commercial representative, or a functionary of a charitable organisation. Meanwhile, Captain van Toch was snorting and wiping his brow with his handkerchief; at the same time he was blinking ingenuously with his pale blue eyes. Mister Povondra suddenly decided to take the responsibility for this man onto himself. "Please come in Captain van Toch," he said, "I will announce you to Mister Bondy".

Captain J. van Toch wiped his brow with his blue handkerchief and looked round the ante-room. Hell, this Gustl has got things alright; it's like the saloon on one of those ships that sail from Rotterdam to Batavia. It must have cost a fortune. And all that by a freckly little Jew, the captain thought in admiration.

Meanwhile, in his study, G.H. Bondy was contemplating the captain's visiting card. "And what does he want with me?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm afraid I don't know, Sir," mumbled Mister Povondra unctuously. Mister Bondy was still holding the card in his hand. And embossed ships anchor. Captain J. van Toch, Surabaya - where actually is Surabaya? Is it somewhere in Java? that seemed a very long way away to Mister Bondy. Kandong Bandoeng, that sounds like a gong being struck. Surabaya. And it feels just like the tropics here, today. Surabaya.

"Well, you'd better show him in," Mister Bondy ordered.

The heavy man in the captain's cap stood in the doorway and saluted. G.H. Bondy went over to welcome him. "Very glad to meet you, Captain. Please, come in," he said in English.

"Hello, hello Mister Bondy," proclaimed the captain cheerfully in Czech.

"Are you Czech?" asked Mister Bondy in surprise.

"Ja, Czech. And we even know each other, Mister Bondy. From Moravia. Vantoch the grain merchant, do you remember?"

"That's right, that's right," G.H. Bondy replied with enthusiasm, although he did feel a little disappointment that this was not a Hollander after all. "Vantoch the grain merchant, on the town square, wasn't it. And you haven't changed at all, Mister Vantoch! Still just the same! And how's the grain business going?"

"Thanks," the captain replied politely. "It's been a long time now since Dad ... how do you say ..."

"Since he died? Oh, of course, you must be his son ..." Mister Bondy's eyes came alive with a sudden memory. My dear Vantoch! You must be that Vantoch who used to fight with me when we were lads!"

"Yes, that will have been me, Mister Bondy," agreed the captain seriously. "In fact that's why they sent me away, to Ostrava, up in the north."

"You and I were always fighting. But you were stronger than me," Mister Bondy acknowledged sportingly.

"Ja, I was stronger than you. You were such a weak little Jew-boy, Mister Bondy. And you were given Hell for it."

"I was, that's true," mused G.H. Bondy, somewhat moved. But sit down, my friend! How nice of you to think of me! What brings you here?" Captain van Toch sat down with dignity into a leather armchair and laid his cap on the floor.

"I'm here on holiday, Mister Bondy. That's so."

"Do you remember," asked Mister Bondy as he sank into his memories, "how you used to shout at me: Jew-boy, Jew-boy, you go to Hell.

"Ja," the captain admitted, and he trumpeted with some emotion into his blue handkerchief. "Oh yes, they were good times, lad. But what does it matter now? Time passes. Now were both old men and both captains."

"That's true, you're a captain," Mister Bondy reminded himself. "Who'd have thought it? A Captain of Long Distances."

"Yessir. A highseaer. East India and Pacific Lines, Sir."

"A wonderful career," said Mister Bondy with a sigh. "I'd change places with you straight away, Captain. You must tell me about yourself."

"Alright then, " said the captain as he became more lively. "There's something I'd like to tell you about, Mister Bondy. Something very interesting, lad." Captain van Toch looked around uneasily.

"Are you looking for something, Captain?"

"Ja. Don't you drink beer, Mister Bondy The journey here from Surabaya made me so thirsty." The captain began to rummage in the copious pockets of his trousers and drew out his blue handkerchief, a canvas bag containing something, a bag of tobacco, a knife, a compass and a wad of banknotes. "I think we should send someone out for some beer. What about that steward who showed me in here to your cabin." Mister Bondy rang a bell.

"Nothing to worry about, Captain. Meanwhile you could light a cigar .. " The captain took a cigar with a red and gold band and drew in the aroma.

"Tobacco from Lombok. Bunch of thieves there, for what it's worth." And with that, to Mister Bondy's horror, he crumbled the costly cigar in his massive hands and put the it into a pipe. "Ja, Lombok. Lombok or Sumba." By this time, Mister Povondra had made his silent appearance in the doorway.

"Bring us some beer," Mister Bondy ordered. Mister Povondra raised his eyebrow.

"Beer? And how much beer?"

"A gallon," the captain grumbled as he stepped on a used match on the carpet. "In Aden, the heat was awful, lad. Now, Mister Bondy, I've got some news for you. From the Sunda Islands, see? There's a chance there to do some fantastic business. But I'll need to tell you the whole story. Wait." The captain's eyes turned to the ceiling as he remembered. "I don't really know where to begin." (Yet another business deal, thought G.H. Bondy to himself. God, this is going to be boring. He's going to talk to me about exporting sewing machines to Tasmania or boilers and safety pins to Fiji. Fantastic business, yes, I know. That's what I'm good for. But I'm not some junk dealer, damn it! I'm an adventurer. I'm a poet in my own way. Tell me about Sinbad, sailor-man! Tell me about Surabaya or the Phoenix Islands. Have you never been pulled of course by a magnetic mountain, have you never been captured by the bird, Noh, and taken up to its nest? Don't you come back to port with a cargo of pearls and cinnamon and hardwoods? No? Better start your lies, then.) "I suppose I could start with these lizards," the captain began.

"What lizards?" asked the businessman in surprise.

"Well, these astonishing lizards they have there, Mister Bondy."

"Where?"

"On one of these islands. I can't tell you the name, lad. That is a big secret, worth millions." Captain van Toch wiped his brow with his handkerchief. "Where the Hell has that beer got to?"

"It will be right here, Captain."

"Yes, that's good. And you ought to know that these are very decent and likable animals, these lizards. I know them, lad." The captain slammed his hand down on the table; "and if anyone says they're demons they're a liar, a damned liar, Sir. You and me are more like demons than they are, me, Captain van Toch, Sir. You can take my word for it." G.H. Bondy was startled. Delirium, he thought. Where is that damned Povondra? "There are several thousand of them there, these lizards, but a lot of them are eaten by sharks. That's why these lizards are so rare and only in one place, in this bay that I can't give you the name of."

"You mean these lizards live in the sea?"

"Ja. In the sea. But at night they come out onto the shore, although after a while they have to go back into the water."

"And what do they look like?" (Mister Bondy was trying to gain time before that damned Povondra came back.)

"Well, about as big as a seal, but when they walk on their hind legs they'd be about this high," the captain demonstrated. "I won't tell you they're nice to look at, they're not. And they haven't got any scales. They're quite bare, Mister Bondy, naked, like a frog or a salamander. And their front paws, they're like the hands on a child, but they've only got four fingers. Poor things," the captain added in sympathy. "But they're nice animals, Mister Bondy, very clever and very likable." The captain crouched down and, still in that position, began to waddle forward. "And this is how they walk, these lizards."

The captain, with some effort and still squatting down, carried his body along in a wave-like movement; at the same time he held his hand out in front of himself like a dog begging for something and fixed his eyes on Mister Bondy in a way that seemed to beg him for sympathy. G.H. Bondy was deeply touched by this and almost felt ashamed. While this was going on, Mister Povondra appeared in the doorway with a jug of beer and raised his eyebrows in shock when he saw the captain's undignified behaviour. "Give us the beer and get out," Mister Bondy exclaimed. The captain stood up, wheezing.

"Well, that's what these animals are like, Mister Bondy. Your health," he added as he took a draught of the beer. "This is good beer you've got here, lad. But in a house like this ..." The captain wiped his moustache.

"And how did you come across these lizards, Captain?"

"That's just what I wanted to tell you about, Mister Bondy. It happened like this; I was looking for pearls on Tana Masa ..." the captain stopped short. "Or somewhere round those parts. Ja, it was some other island, but for the time being that's still my secret. People are enormous thieves, Mister Bondy, you have to be careful what you say. And while those two damned Sinhalese were under water cutting away the oysters - the oysters hold as fast to the rocks like a Jew holds to his faith and have to be cut away with a knife - the lizards were there watching them, and the Sinhalese thought they were sea monsters. They're very ignorant people, these Sinhalese and Bataks. Anyway, they thought they were demons. Ja." The captain trumpeted noisily into his handkerchief. "You know, lad, it's a strange thing. I don't know whether us Czechs are more inquisitive than other people but whenever I've come across another Czech he's always had to stick his nose into everything find out what's there. I think, us Czechs, we don't want to believe in anything. So I got it into my stupid, old head that I should go and get a closer look at these demons. True, I was drunk at the time, but that was only because I couldn't get these stupid demons out of my mind. Down there on the equator, lad, down there anything's possible. So that evening I went down and had a look at Devil Bay. .." Mister Bondy did his best to imagine a bay in the tropics, surrounded by cliffs and jungle.

"And then?"

"So there I was sitting by the bay and going ts-ts-ts so that the demons would come. And then, lad, after a while, a kind of lizard crawled up out of the water. It stood up on its hind legs, twisting its whole body. And it went ts-ts-ts at me. If I hadn't been drunk I probably would have shot it; but, my friend, I was sloshed as an Englishman, so I said to it, come here, hey you tapa-boy come here, I won't harm you."

"Were you speaking to it in Czech?"

"No, Malay. That's what they speak most down there, lad. He did nothing, just made a few steps here and there and looked sideways at me like a child that's too shy to talk. And all around in the water were a couple of hundred of these lizards, poking their paws up out of the water and watching me. So I, well yes I was drunk, I squatted down and began to twist about like these lizards so that they wouldn't be afraid of me. Then another lizard crawled out of the water, about the size of a ten year old boy, and he started waddling about too. And in his front paw he had an oyster." The captain took a draught of beer. "Cheers, Mister Bondy. Well it's true that I was very drunk, so I said to him, what a clever lad you are, eh, what is it you want then? Want me to open that oyster for you, do you? Come here then, I can open it with my knife. But he just stood there, still didn't dare come any closer. So once again, I started to twist about like I was a shy little girl. Then he pattered up closer to me, I slowly held out my hand to him and took the oyster from his paw. Now, you can understand we were both a bit afraid, but I was drunk. So I took my knife and opened that oyster; I felt inside to see if there was a pearl there but there wasn't, only that vile snot, like one of those slimy molluscs that live in those shells. Alright then, I said, ts-ts-ts, you can eat it if you like. And I tossed the open oyster over to him. You should have seen how he licked it up, lad. It must have been a wonderful titbit for these lizards. Only, the poor animals weren't able to get into the hard shells with their little fingers. Life is hard, ja!" The captain took another drink of beer. "So I worked it out in my head, lad. When these lizards saw how the Sinhalese cut away the oysters they must have said to themselves, aha, so they eat oysters, and they wanted to see how these Sinhalese would open them. One of these Sinhalese looks pretty much like a lizard when he's in the water, but one of these lizards was more clever than a Sinhalese or a Batak because he wanted to learn something. And a Batak will never want to learn anything unless it's how to thieve something," Captain J. van Toch added in disgust. "So when I was on that shore going ts-ts-ts and twisting about like a lizard they must have thought to themselves that I'm some kind of great-big salamander. That's why they weren't really scared of me and came closer, so that I would open the oysters for them. That's how intelligent and trusting these animals are." Captain van Toch went red. "When I'd got to know them better I took all my clothes off, so that I'd look more like them, naked; but they were still puzzled at the hairs on my chest and that sort of thing. Ja." The captain wiped his handkerchief over his blushing neck. "But I hope I'm not boring you, Mister Bondy." G.H. Bondy was enchanted.

"No, no. Not at all. Please carry on, Captain."

"Yes, yes alright then. So when this lizard had licked out the shell with all the others watching him they climbed up onto the shore. Some of them even had oysters in their paws - something odd about this, lad, is that they were able to pull them off the cliffs when they only had these little fingers without a thumb, like a child's fingers. At first they were too shy, but then they let me take the oyster out of their hands. True, they weren't proper oysters with pearls in them, all sorts of things it was they brought me, the sort of clams and the like that don't have pearls in them, but I threw them back in the water and told them, that's no good children, they're not worth opening, I'm not going to use my knife on them. But when they brought me a pearl-oyster I opened it with my knife and checked carefully to see if there wasn't a pearl there. Then I gave it back to them for them to lick it out. So by then there was a couple of hundred of these lizards sitting round me and watching to see how it was I opened the oysters. Some of them tried to do it themselves, tried to cut round the oyster with the bits of shell that were lying around. I found that very strange, lad. No animal knows how to use tools; all that an animal knows is what's been shown to it by nature. I admit, I once saw in Buitenzorg a monkey that could open a tin can with a knife; but a monkey, that s not really a proper animal. But I did find it strange." The captain took a drink of beer. "That night, Mister Bondy, I found about eighteen pearls in those shells. Some of them were small and some were bigger and three of them were as big as the stone in a peach, Mister Bondy, as big as the stone in a peach." Captain van Toch nodded his head earnestly. "After I'd got back to my ship in the morning I said to myself, Captain van Toch, sir, it was all just dream, you were drunk, and so on. But I couldn't believe what I told myself, not when I had eighteen pearls in my pocket. Ja."

"That is the best story I've ever heard," said Mister Bondy, with a sigh. Captain van Toch was pleased at this and said,

"There, you see, lad. I thought about what had happened all that day. I would tame these lizards, wouldn't I. Ja. Tame them and train them to bring me these pearl oysters. There must have been an enormous number of them down there in Devil Bay. So that evening I went down again, but a bit earlier. When the Sun began to go down the lizards began to stick their noses out from the water, one here, then one there, until the water was full of them. I sat on the shore and went ts-ts-ts. Then I looked and saw a shark, just its fin poking up from the water. And then there was a lot of splashing and one of the lizards had had it. I counted twelve of those sharks cruising into Devil Bay in the sunset. Mister Bondy, in just one evening those monsters ate more than twenty of my lizards," the captain exclaimed and blew his nose angrily. "Ja! More than twenty! It stands to reason, a naked lizard like that with those little paws, he can't defend himself. It was enough to make you cry to see a sight like that. You should have seen it, lad ..."

The captain stopped and thought for a while. "I'm quite fond of animals, you see," he said finally, and lifted his blue eyes to G.H. Bondy. "I don't know what you think of all this, Captain Bondy ..." Mister Bondy nodded to show his agreement, and this pleased Captain van Toch. "That's alright, then. "They're very good and intelligent, these tapa-boys; if you tell them something they pay attention like a dog listening to its master. And most of all, these little hands they have, like children's hands. You know lad, I'm an old man and I have no family ... Ja, an old man can be very lonely," the captain complained as he overcame his emotion. "It's very easy to become fond of these lizards, for what it's worth. But if only the sharks didn't keep eating them like that! Then when I went after them, after those sharks, and I threw stones at them, then they started throwing stones too, these tapa-boys. You won't believe it, Mister Bondy. True, they couldn't throw the stones very far because their hands were so small, but it was all very strange. As you're so clever, I said to them, you can try and open some of these oysters yourselves with my knife. So I put the knife down on the ground. They were a bit shy at first, but then one of them tried it, pushing the point of the knife between the two halves of the shell. You've got to lever it open, I told him, lever it, see? Twist the knife round, like this, and there, that's it. And he kept on trying, poor thing, until it gave way and the shell opened. There, you see, I said. Not that hard, is it. If some pagan Batak or Sinhalese can do it then why shouldn't a tapa-boy do it too, eh? Now, Mister Bondy, I wasn't going to tell these lizards how it was wonderful, marvellous, astonishing to see what an animal like that could do, but now I can tell you that I was .. I was ... well simply thunderstruck."

"As I can see," answered Mister Bondy.

"Yes, that's right. As you can see. I was so confused at all this that I stayed there another day with my ship, and then in the evening went back to Devil Bay and once more I watched how the sharks were eating my lizards. That night I swore that I would put an end to that, lad. I even gave them my word of honour. Tapa-boys, I said, Captain J. van Toch hereby promises, under the majesty of all these stars, that I will help you."

Chapter 4

CAPTAIN VAN TOCH'S BUSINESS

While Captain van Toch was saying this the hair on the back of his neck had risen with his anger and excitement. "And so I swore. And ever since then, lad, I've not had a moments peace. In Padang I took some leave due to me and sent a hundred and seven pearls to those Jew-boys in Amsterdam, everything those animals of mine had brought me. Then I found a kind of lad, Dayak he was, a shark-killer, they go in the water and kill the sharks with a knife. Terrible thief and murderer he was, this Dayak. And then with him on a little tramp-steamer, we went back to Tana Masa, and now, lad, in you go and kill these sharks with your knife. I wanted him to kill the sharks so that they'd leave my lizards in peace, but this Dayak was such a cut-throat and pagan he didn't do a thing, not even for those tapa-boys. He didn't give a damn about the job. And all this time I was making my own observations and experiments with these lizards - just a minute, I've got a ships logbook here where I noted everything down every day." The captain drew a voluminous set of notes out from his breast pocket and began to leaf through them . "What's the date today? I know, the twenty-fifth of June. Now, the twenty-fifth June for instance - last year, this was - I was here and the Dayak was out killing sharks. These lizards have a real big liking for carrion. Toby - that was one of the lizards, a smallish one, clever though," explained the captain. "I had to give them some sort of a name, didn't I, so that I could write about them in this book. So, Toby pushed his fingers into the hole the knife had left. Evening, they brought a dry branch for my fire. No, that's nothing," the captain grumbled. "I'll find another day. Lets say, the twentieth of June, shall we? The lizards continued building their jetty. This was some kind of dam. They were building a new dam at the north-western end of Devil Bay. And this was a fantastic piece of work, lad," the captain explained, "a proper breakwater. And they brought their eggs down to this side of it where the water would be quiet. They thought it up all by themselves, this dam; and I can tell you, no clerk or engineer from Waterstaat in Amsterdam could have made a better plan for a submerged breakwater than they did. An amazingly skilled piece of work. And they dug out, sort of, deep holes in the banks under the water and lived in them during the day. Amazingly clever animals, just like beavers, those great big mice that build dams on a river. And they had a lot of these dams in Devil Bay, big ones and small ones, lovely smooth and level dams, it looked like a city. In the end they wanted to put a dam right across the whole of Devil Bay. That's how it was. They can now lift boulders with a lever, " he read on. " Albert - that was one of the tapa-boys - crushed two of his fingers. Twenty-first: The Dayak ate Albert! But it made him ill. Fifteen drops of opium. Promised not to do it again. Rain all day. Thirtieth of June: Lizards finished building dam. Toby did not want to work. Now, he was clever, Toby," the captain explained with admiration. "The clever ones never want to do anything. He was always working things out with his hands, this Toby. For what it's worth, there are big differences between lizards just like between people. Third of July: Sergeant got the knife. This Sergeant, he was a big strong lizard. And very clever with it. Seventh of July: Sergeant used knife to kill a cuttle-fish. Tenth of July: Sergeant killed big jelly-fish with knife. Strange sort of animal, a jelly-fish is. Looks like jelly but stings like a nettle. And now, Mister Bondy, listen to this. I've got it underlined. Sergeant killed a small shark with the knife. Seventy pounds weight. So there you see it, Mister Bondy," Captain J. van Toch declared in triumph. "Here it is in black and white. That was the big day, lad. To be precise, the thirteenth of July last year." The captain closed his notes. "I'm not ashamed to admit it, Mister Bondy; I knelt down on the shore by that Devil Bay and wept for sheer joy. I knew then that my tapa-boys would not give up. Sergeant got a lovely new harpoon as a reward - a harpoon is best if you're going to go hunting sharks, lad - and I said to him, be a man, Sergeant, and show these tapa-boys they can defend themselves. And do you know," here the captain raised his voice, jumped up and thumped the table in his excitement, "within three days there was a dead shark floating in the bay, horribly mutilated, full of gashes. And all the gashes made by this harpoon." The captain gulped down some more beer. "That's just how it was, Mister Bondy. It was then that I made a kind of a contract with these tapa-boys. That is, I gave them my word that if they would bring me these pearl oysters then I would give them these harpoons and knives for them to defend themselves, see? That's fair business. Whatever he does, a man should be honest even to animals like these. And I gave them some wood too, and two iron wheelbarrows for them to carry the stones for the dam. And the poor things had to pull everything in those tiny hands of theirs. Terrible for them, that's how it was. And I wouldn't have wanted to cheat them. Hold on, lad, I'll show you something." Captain van Toch lifted his belly with one hand and with the other pulled a canvas bag out of his trouser pocket. "Look what I've got here," he said, and emptied it out onto the table. There was a thousand pearls there of all different sizes: some as small as a seed, some the size of a pea and some of them were the size of a cherry; perfectly round pearls, lumpy and irregular pearls, silvery pearls, blue pearls, yellowish pearls like persons skin and pearls of all colours from black to pink. G.H. Bondy's jaw dropped; he could not help himself and had to touch them, roll them around in the tips of his fingers, cover them in both his hands.

"These are beautiful," he sighed in wonder and amazement. "Captain, this is like a dream!"

"Ja," said the captain without emotion. "They are nice. And that year that I was down there they killed about thirty of those sharks. I've got it written down here," he said, tapping on his breast pocket. "And all with the knives I'd given them, them and the five harpoons. Those knives cost me nearly two American dollars a piece. Very good knives, lad, stainless steel, won't go rusty in the water, not even sea water. And those Bataks cost me a lot of money too.

"What Bataks?"

"Those native Bataks on that island. They think the tapa-boys are some kind of demon and they're terribly afraid of them. And when they saw me talking with these demons of theirs they just wanted to kill me. All night long they were banging on a kind of gong so that they would chase the demons away from their village. Made a Hell of a noise. And then in the morning they wanted me to pay them for it. For all the work they'd had in doing it. For what it's worth, I can tell you that these Bataks are terrible thieves. But the tapa-boys, the lizards, you can do honest business with them. Very good honest business, Mister Bondy." To Mister Bondy it seemed like he was in a fairy tale.

"Buying pearls from them?"

"Ja. Only there aren't any pearls left now in Devil Bay, and on other islands there aren't any tapa-boys. And that's the whole problem, lad." Captain J. van Toch looked up as if in triumph. "And that's the big business that I thought out in my head. "Listen lad," he said, stabbing the air with his chubby finger, "there's a lot more of those lizards there now than when I first found them! They can defend themselves now, you see. Eh? And there are going to be more and more of them! Now then, Mister Bondy, don't you think this is a fantastic business opportunity?"

"I still don't quite see," replied G.H. Bondy uncertainly, "what exactly it is you have in mind, Captain."

"To transport these tapa-boys to other islands where there are other pearl-fishing grounds," the captain finally exclaimed. I saw myself how these lizards can't get across the deep and open sea. They can swim for a little way and they can walk a little way along the seabed, but where the sea is very deep the pressure there is too much for them; they're very soft, you see. But if I had some sort of ship with some kind of tank built into it for them I could take them wherever I wanted, see? And there they could look for the pearls and I would follow behind and provide them with the knives and harpoons and anything else they need. The poor lads increased their population so much in Devil Bay that they soon won't have enough there to eat. They eat the smallest of the fish and molluscs, and those water insects they have there; but they can eat potatoes too, and rusks and ordinary things like that. So that means they could be fed while they're in the tanks on the ship. And I could let them out into the water in suitable places where there aren't many people and there I could have sort of .. sort of farms for these lizards of mine. And I'd want them to be able to feed themselves, these animals. They're very likable, Mister Bondy, and very clever too. And when you see them, lad, you'll say, Hullo Captain, useful animals you've got here. Ja. And they're mad about pearls now, just like people. That's the big business I thought up."

All this left G.H. Bondy in some embarrassment and confusion. "I'm very sorry, Captain," he began hesitantly, "I ... I really don't know ... " The clear blue eyes of Captain J. van Toch filled with tears.

"That is not good, lad. I could leave you all these pearls here as .. as collateral for the ship, but I can't buy the ship all by myself. I know of a very good ship here in Rotterdam ... it's fitted with a diesel engine .."

"Why did you not suggest this business to someone in Holland?" The captain shook his head.

"I know these people, lad. I can't talk about this sort of thing with them. They," he said thoughtfully, "would make me carry all sorts of other things on the ship, and I'd have to sell them all round these islands. Ja. That's something I could do. I know a lot of people, Mister Bondy. And at the same time I could have the tanks on board with my lizards in them..."

"That's something it might well be worth thinking about," considered G.H. Bondy. "As it happens, you see ... Well you see we need to find new markets for our products, and I was talking about this with some people not long ago. I would need to buy one or two ships, one for south America and the other for these eastern places ..." The captain became more lively.

"That's very wise of you, Mister Bondy. Ships are very cheap right now, you could buy a whole harbour full of them ..." The captain launched into a deep and technical explanation of what vessels are for sale where and at what prices and boats and tank-steamers; G.H. Bondy did not listen to him but merely watched; G.H. Bondy was a good judge of character. He had not taken Captain van Toch's story about the lizards seriously for one moment; but the captain himself was somebody worth taking seriously. Honest, yes. And he knew his way around down there. Mad, obviously. But very likeable. All this struck a chord in G.H. Bondy's heart and chimed with his love of fantasy. Ships carrying pearls and coffee, ships with spices and all the scents of Arabia. There was a particular, indescribable feeling that G.H. Bondy had before each major and successful decision he made; a sensation which might have been expressed in words thus: It's true I don't really know why, but I think I'll go along with this. He had this feeling now. Meanwhile Captain van Toch was waving his enormous hands in the air to outline ships with awning decks or quarter decks, fantastic ships, lad ...

"I'll tell you what, Captain Vantoch," G.H. Bondy suddenly said, "come back here in two weeks time. We can talk about this ship again then." Captain van Toch understood just how much these words meant. He blushed in happiness and said,

"And what about the lizards, can I take them on my ship too?"

"Yes, of course. Only please don't mention them to anyone. People would think you've gone mad - and so would I."

"And can I leave these pearls here with you?"

"Yes, if you want to."

"Ja, but I'll choose two of the nicest of them that I need to send off to someone."

"Who's that?"

"Just a couple of newspaper men I know, lad. Oh Hell, wait a minute."

"What is it?"

"What the Hell were their names?" Captain van Toch blinked his blue eyes thoughtfully. "This head of mine is so stupid, lad. I've completely forgotten what those two lads were called."

Chapter 5

HOW CAPTAIN J. VAN TOCH TRAINED THE LIZARDS

"Well I'm blowed," said a man in Marseille. "It's Jensen, isn't it?" Jensen, the Swede, raised his eyes.

"Wait," he said, "and don't say a word until I've placed you." He put his hand to his brow. "The Seagull, wasn't it? No. Empress of India? No. Pernambuco? No. I've got it. Vancouver. Five years ago on the Vancouver, Osaka Line, Frisco. And your name is Dingle, you rascal, Irish." The man grinned and exposed his yellow teeth as he sat down to join Jensen.

"Dat's right, Jensen. And if there's a drink goin I'll have it, whatever it is. What brings you to dese parts?" Jensen nodded toward the dock.

"I do the Marseille to Saigon route these days. And you?"

"I'm on leave," said Dingle with a swagger. "I'm on me way home to see how many children I've got now." Jensen nodded his head earnestly.

"So they sacked you again, did they? Drunk on duty were you? If you went to the YMCA like I do then ..." Dingle grinned cheerfully.

"Dey've got a YMCA here, you mean?"

"Today is Saturday," Jensen grumbled. "And where have you been sailing?"

"On a kind of a tramp steamer," said Dingle evasively. "All the islands you can tink of down under."

"Captain?"

"Some fella called van Toch. Dutchman or sometin." Jensen the Swede became thoughtful.

"Captain van Toch. I have travelled with him also, brother, some years back. Ship: the Kandong Bandoeng. Line: from demon to Devil. Fat, bald and able to swear in Malay for better effect. I know him well."

"Was he already such a lunatic in dem days?" The Swede shook his head.

"Old man Toch is all right."

"And had he started carrying dem lizards of his about wid him by den?"

"No." Jensen thought for a while. "I heard something about that ... in Singapore. Someone was talking all that rubbish there." The Irishman seemed somewhat offended.

"Dat is not rubbish, Jensen. Dat's de holy truth about dese lizards."

"This man in Singapore, he said it was true as well," the Swede grumbled. "So I gave him a smack in the teeth," he added in triumph.

"Well just you listen to me," Dingle defended himself. "I ought to know about dese tings, cause I've seen dese brutes wid me own eyes."

"So have I," mumbled Jensen. "Almost black, with a tail about six feet long, and they run about on two feet. I know."

"Hideous brutes," shuddered Dingle. "Notting but warts. Holy Mary, I wouldn't touch em for anyting. And I'm sure dey must be poisonous and all!"

"Why not?" grumbled the Swede. "Listen. I served once on a ship that was full of people. All over the upper deck and the lower deck, nothing but people, full of women and all that sort of thing, dancing and playing cards. I was the stoker there, see. And now you tell me, you idiot, which do you think is more poisonous?"

Dingle spat. "Well if it's Caymans you're talking about, den I won't say notting against you. There was one time I was takin a shipload of snakes to a zoo, from Bandjarmasin they were, and God how they stank! But dese lizards, Jensen, dese are some very strange animals were talkin about. All through the day they stay in that tank o water o theirs; but in the night they climb up out of it - tip-tap tip-tap tip-tap - and the whole ship was crawlin wid em. Stood up on their hind legs, they did, twistin their heads round to get a good look at you ..." The Irishman crossed himself. "And they'd go ts-ts-ts at you, just like dem whores in Hong Kong. God forgive me, but I tink there's sometin funny going on there. If it wasn't so hard to get a job I wouldn't have stayed there a minute, Jens. Not one minute."

"Aha," said Jensen. "So that is why you are running home to your mummy, is it?"

"Well, dat's part of it. Just to stay there at all a fella had to keep drinking a Hell of a lot, and you know the captains got a ting about that. And the funny ting is, they say that one day I kicked one o the horrors. D'ye hear dat, kicked one o dem, and kicked it so hard that I broke its spine. You should have seen how the captain went on about it; he turned blue, lifted me up by the neck and he would have thrown me overboard into the water if Gregory, the mate, hadn't been there. D'ye know Gregory?" The Swede merely nodded. "That's enough now, Captain, says the mate, and he pours a bucket of water over me head. So in Kokopo I went on shore." Mister Dingle spat in a long, flat curve. "The old man cares more about dem vermin then he does about people. D'ye know he taught em how to speak? On my soul, he used to shut himself in wid em and spend hours talking to them. I tink he's trainin em for a circus or sometin. But the strangest ting of all is that then he lets them out into the water. He'd weigh anchor by some pathetic little island, take a boat out to the shore and check how deep it is there; then he'd come back to these tanks, open the hatch in the side o the ship and let these vermin out into the water. And you should see them jumpin out through this hatch one after the other like trained seals, ten or twenty o them. Then in the night old Toch would row out to the shore again with some kind o crates. And no-one was ever allowed to know what was in them. Then we'd sail on again somewhere else. So that's how it is wid old Toch, Jens. Very strange. Very, very strange." Mister Dingle's eyes lost their sparkle. "Almighty God, Jens, it gave me the creeps! And I drank, Jens, drank like a lunatic; and in the night, when there was this tip-tappin all over the ship, and you could hear them going ts-ts-ts, sometimes I'd tink it was just because of the drink. I'd already had that once in Frisco, well you already know about that, don't you Jensen; only in them days it was just millions of spiders I saw. De-li-rium, the doctors called it in the sailor-hospital. Well, I don't know. But then I asked Big Bing about it, whether he'd been seein tings in the night and all, and he said he had been. Said he'd seen them wid his own eyes how one o these lizards turned the handle on the door and went into the captains cabin. Well, I don't know; this Joe, he was a Hell of a drinker and all. What do you tink, Jens, do you tink Bing had this de-lirium too? What do you tink?" Jensen the Swede merely shrugged his shoulders. "And dat German fella, Peters, he said that when they rowed the captain down to the shore in the Manihiki Islands they hid behind some boulders and watched what the old man was doing wid dem crates of his. Now he says them lizards opened the crates all by themselves, that the old man gave them the chisel to do it with. And d'you know what was in them crates? Knives, he said. Great big long knives and harpoons and that sort o ting. Now I don't believe a word of what Peters said meself cause he has to wear them glasses on his nose, but it's very strange all the same. Now what do you tink of all this?"

The veins on Jensen's brow bulged. "What I think of this," he growled, "is that this German of yours in sticking his nose into things that are none of his business, understand? And I can tell you I don't think that's wise of him."

"You'd better write and tell him, then," smirked the Irishman. "The safest address to write to would be Hell, you can get hold of him there. And d'you know what it is that I find strange about all o dis? That old Toch goes and visits those lizards of his now and then, down in whatever place he's set them down in. 'Pon my soul, Jens. He has himself put down on shore in de middle o de night and doesn't come back till mornin. Now you tell me, Jensen, what is it he goes down there for? And you tell me, what is it he's got in dem parcels he sends off to Europe? Parcels as big as this, look, and he has them insured for up to a thousand pounds."

"How do you know that?" asked the Swede, scowling even more.

"A fella knows what he knows," replied Mister Dingle evasively. "And do you know where old Toch got dese lizards from? From Devil Bay. Now there's a fella I know down there, an agent he is, and an educated man, like, and he told me that dese tings are not trained lizards. Nottin o de sort. And if anyone says dese are nottin more than animals you can go and tell dat to the fairies. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise, lad." Mister Dingle gave a significant wink. "Dat's how it is, Jensen, just so's you know. And are you gonna tell me now that Captain van Toch is alright?"

"Say that again," grunted the big Swede threateningly.

"If old man Toch was alright he wouldn't be carrying demons round the world wid him ... and he wouldn't be settlin em down in all the islands he can find like lice in a fur coat. Listen, just in the time that I was on board wid him he must have settled a good couple o thousand o them. The old mans sold his soul, man. And I know what it is that these devils are givin him for it. Rubies and pearls and all o that sort o ting. And you can well believe he wouldn't be doin it for nottin."

Jens Jensen turned a deep red. "And what business is it of yours?" he yelled, slamming his hand down on the table. "You mind your own damned business!" Little Dingle jumped back in alarm.

"Please," he stuttered in confusion, "what's suddenly ... I was only telling you what it was I'd seen. And if you like, ... it was just the impression I got. This is you, Jensen, I can tell you it's all just delirium if dat's what you want. You needn't get cross wid me like dat, Jensen. I've already had that meself once in Frisco, you know about that. Serious case it was, that's what the doctors in the sailor-hospital said. You have me word of honour I saw these lizards or demons or whatever they were. But maybe there weren't any."

"You did see them, Pat," said the Swede gloomily. "I saw them too."

"No Jens," answered Dingle, "you were just delirious. He's all right, old man Toch, only he shouldn't be carryin demons about all round the world. Tell you what, once I get back home I'll have a mass said for the good of his soul. Hang me if I don't."

"We don't do that in our faith," said Jensen, deep in thought and quieter now. "And do you really think it would help someone to have a mass said for him?"

"Enormous help," exclaimed the Irishman. "I've heard of lots of cases in Ireland when it's been of help, even in the most serious cases. Even when it's involved demons and the like."

"Then I shall also have a Catholic mass said for him," Jens Jensen decided. "Only I'll have it done here in Marseille. I think they'll do it cheaper in the big church here, factory prices."

"You could be right there, but an Irish mass is better. You see, in Ireland they've got these priests that really can work magic. Just like some fakir or pagan."

"Listen Pat," said Jensen, "I would give you twelve francs for this mass here and now. But you are riff-raff, brother; you would just drink it."

"Now Jens, man, d'ye tink I'd take a sin like dat on meself? But listen, just so that you'll believe me I'll write you out an IOU for that twelve francs, will that do you?"

"That would be all right," thought the Swede, who liked to see things done properly. Mister Dingle borrowed a pen and a piece of paper and laid it out flat on the table.

"Now what am I to write down here?" Jens Jensen looked over the Irishman's shoulder.

"So write down at the top that this is a receipt." And Mister Dingle, slowly and with his slimey tongue protruding from his mouth with the effort of it, wrote:

RECEET

I CONFERM THAT I HAVE RECEEVED FROM
JENS JENSEN THE SOM OF 12 FRANCS FOR
A MASS FOR THE SOUL OF CAPTAIN TOCH

PAT DINGLE

"Is dat all right, like dat?" asked Mister Dingle uncertainly. "And which of us is going keep dis piece o paper?

"You are of course, you fool," said the Swede. "A receipt is so that a person won't forget he has been given money."

Mister Dingle drank those twelve francs away in Le Havre. He also, instead of going to Ireland, sailed off down to Djibouti; in short, that mass was never said, with the result that no higher power ever did interfere in the course of the events to follow.

Chapter 6

THE YACHT IN THE LAGOON

Mister Abe Loeb squinted into the setting sun; he would have like in some way to express how beautiful it was, but his sweetheart, Li, alias Miss Lily Valley, whose real name was Miss Lilian Nowak and who was known in short as golden-haired Li, White Lily, Lily Longlegs and all the other names she had been called during her seventeen years, slept on the warm sand, nestled in a fluffy bathing gown and curled up like a sleeping dog. That is why Abe said nothing about the beauty of the world and merely sighed, scratching his naked feet because there was sand on them. Out there on the ocean was the yacht named after Gloria Pickford; Abe had been given the yacht by his father for passing his university entrance exam. His father was a great guy. Jesse Loeb, film magnate and so on. Abe, said the old man, go and get to know something of the world and take a few of your friends with you. Jesse Loeb was a truly great guy. Gloria Pickford lay out there on the pearly waters and next to him, in the warm sand, lay his sweetheart, Li. Abe sighed with happiness. She was sleeping like a little child, poor thing. Abe felt a yearning to protect her somehow. I really ought to marry her, thought the young Mister Loeb to himself, and as he did so he was tortured with the beautiful feeling in his heart that comes when a firm decision is mixed with fear. Mamma Loeb would be unlikely to agree to it and Papa Loeb made decisions with his hands: You're crazy, Abe. His parents would be unable to understand it, and that was all there was to it. And Mister Abe, sighing with tenderness, covered the white ankle of his sweetheart with the tip of her bathing gown. How come I've got such hairy feet? he thought, absent mindedly.

God it's beautiful here, so beautiful. It's a shame that Li can't see it. Mister Abe looked at her charming outline, and through some vague association began to thing about art. This was because his sweetheart, Li, was an artist. A film artist. True, she had never actually been in any films, but she was quite certain she would become the greatest film actress ever; and when Li was certain of something that was what happened. That was what Mamma Loeb couldn't understand; an artist is simply an artist, and she can't be like other girls. And anyway, other girls were no better than she was, Mister Abe decided; that Judy on the yacht, for instance, a rich girl like her - and Abe knew that Fred went into her cabin. Every night, in fact. Whereas Li and I ... well Li just isn't like that. I want Baseball Fred to have the best, Abe thought generously, he's a friend from university, but every night .. a rich girl like her oughtn't to do that. I think that a girl from a family like Judy's ... and Judy isn't even an artist. (That's what these girls sometimes gossip about, Abe remembered; with their eyes shining, and giggling ... I never talk about that sort of thing with Fred.) (Li oughtn't to drink so many cocktails, she never knows what she's talking about afterwards.) (This afternoon, for example, she didn't need to ...) (I think she and Judy were arguing about who has nicer legs. Why, it clearly has to be Li. I know these things.) (And Fred didn't have to have that dumb idea about a beautiful legs contest. They might do that kind of thing on Palm Beach, but not in private company. And the girls didn't have to lift their skirts so high. That was more than just legs. At least, Li didn't have to. And right there in front of Fred! And a rich girl like Judy didn't have to do it either.) (Maybe I oughtn't to have called the captain over to be the judge. That was dumb of me. The captain went so red, and his mustache stuck out, and he excused himself and slammed the door. Awful. Just awful. The captain didn't have to be so coarse about it. And anyway, it's my yacht, isn't it?) (True, the captain doesn't have a sweetheart with him on board; so how's he going to look on that sort of thing, poor man? Seeing as he's got no choice but to be alone, I mean.) (And why did Li cry when Fred said Judy has nice legs? And then she said Fred was a brute, that he was spoiling the whole trip ... Poor Li!) (And now the girls aren't talking to each other. And when I wanted to talk to Fred Judy called him over like a dog. Fred is my best friend after all. And if he's Judy's lover of course he's going to say she has nicer legs! True, he didn't have to be so emphatic about it. That wasn't very tactful towards poor Li; Li is right when she says Fred is a self centered brute. A heck of a brute.) (I really didn't think the trip was going to turn out like this. Devil take that Fred!)

Mister Abe realised that he was no longer looking blissfully out at the pearly ocean, but that he was scowling, scowling very hard. He was anxious and no longer in a good mood. Go out and see something of the world, Papa Loeb had said. Well have we seen something of the world? Mister Abe tried hard to remember what exactly it was he had seen, but he wasn't able to remember anything except how Judy and Li, his sweetheart, had shown their legs to Fred, big shouldered Fred, squatting down in front of them. Abe scowled even harder. What's this coral island called anyway? Taraiva, the captain had said. Taraiva, or Tahuara or Taraihatuara-ta-huara. How about if we go back now, and I can say to old Jesse; Dad, we've been to Taraihatuara-ta-huara. (If only I hadn't called the captain over, Mister Abe frowned.) (I have to talk to Li so that she won't do that sort of thing. God, why do I love her so much! I'll talk to her as soon as she wakes up. I'll tell her we ought to get married ...) Mister Abe's eyes were full of tears; oh God, is this love or pain, or is this endless pain just part of me being in love with her?

Sweetheart Li's eyes, made up in blue like a tender shell, fluttered. "Abe," she called sleepily, "know what I've been thinking? I've been thinking that on this island you could make a fan-tas-tic film." Mister Abe sprinkled fine sand over his unfortunately hairy feet.

"Excellent idea, sweetheart. And what sort of film?" Sweetheart Li opened her boundless blue eyes.

"Well how about .. Imagine I was stuck on this island like Robinson Crusoe. A female Robinson Crusoe. Don't you think that's a great new idea?"

"Yeah," said Mister Abe uncertainly. "And how would you have gotten onto this island?"

"Easy," came her sweet reply. "Our yacht would just have been shipwrecked in a storm, and all of you would have been drowned, you and Judy and the captain and everyone."

"And how about Fred? Fred's a very strong swimmer." Li's smooth brow became furrowed.

"In that case, Fred will have to be eaten by a shark. That'd be a great piece of detail," said Abe's sweetheart, clapping her hands as she did so. "And Fred has a really beautiful body for it, don't you think?" Mister Abe sighed.

"And what happens after that?"

"And then I'd be thrown unconscious onto the shore by a big wave. I'd be wearing those pyjamas, the ones with the blue stripes you liked so much the other day." She narrowed her eyes and looked at him in the tender way she had seen used to depict female seductiveness. "And the film really needs to be in color, Abe. Everyone says how much the color blue goes with my hair."

"And who would find you here?" asked Mister Abe objectively." His sweetheart thought for a while.

"No-one. I wouldn't be a Robinson Crusoe if there were people here," she said with a surprising grasp of logic. That's what would make it such a great role, because I'd always be on my own. Just imagine it, Abe, Lily Valley in the title role and only role!"

"And what would you be doing all through the film?" Li leant up on her elbow.

"I've got that all thought out. I'd swim in the lagoon and I'd climb up on the rocks and sing."

"In your pyjamas?"

"Without my pyjamas," said Abe's sweetheart. "Don't you think that'd be a great success?"

"Well you can't do the whole film naked," grumbled Abe, who felt strongly opposed to the idea.

"Why not?" answered his sweetheart in innocent surprise. "Who'd be there to see me?" Mister Abe said something that could not be properly heard. "And then," Li considered, "and then ... I've got it. Then I'd be captured by a gorilla, you know? A gorilla that's really big and black and hairy." Mister Abe went red, and tried to hide his damned hairy feet even deeper in the sand.

"They don't have any gorillas on this island," he objected, not very convincingly.

"Yes they do. They've got every possible kind of animal here. You have to look at it scientifically, Abe. And a gorilla would go so well with my complexion. Have you noticed how Judy has hairs on her legs?"

"No," said Abe, somewhat displeased at this change of subject.

"Awful legs," thought Abe's sweetheart as she looked down at her own. "And as the gorilla carries me away in its arms a young and handsome wild man would come out of the jungle and knock it down."

"How would he be dressed?"

"He'd have a bow and arrow," was his sweethearts unhesitating reply, "and a wreath on his head. And this wild man would pick me up and take me to the cannibals' campfire."

"There aren't any cannibals here," said Abe in defence of the island of Tahuara.

"There are too! And the cannibals would want to sacrifice me to their idols and they'd be singing like they do in Hawaii, you know, like those negroes in the Paradise Restaurant. But one of the young cannibals would fall in love with me," sighed Abe's sweetheart, her eyes wide open in amazement, "and then another of the savages would fall in love with me, it could be the cannibal chief this time, and then a white man ..."

"Where did this white man come from?" asked Abe, just to be sure.

"Hell have been there from the start. He could be a famous tenor who's fallen into the savages clutches. That's so that he can sing in the film."

"And what would he be wearing?" Abe's sweetheart looked at her big to.

"He should be ... he should be naked, just like the cannibals." Mister Abe shook his head.

"Sweetheart, that wouldn't work. Famous tenors are always horribly fat."

"Oh, that's such a shame," lamented Abe's sweetheart. "Maybe Fred could play that part and then the tenor could just do the singing, you know how they do that dubbing in films."

"But Fred was eaten by a shark!" Abe's sweetheart frowned.

"You don't need to be so realistic all the time, Abe. I just can't talk about art with you. And then this king of the cannibals would put strings and strings of pearls around my neck ... "

"Where does he get them from?"

"Why there's lots of pearls here," Li insisted. "And then Fred gets jealous and boxes with him on the rocks overlooking the sea as it crashes on shore. Don't you think Fred would have a fantastic silhouette against the sky? Isn't that a great idea? And then the two of them would fall into the sea ..." This thought cheered Abe up slightly. "And then you could have that detail with the shark. Think how mad it would make Judy if Fred played in a film with me! And I'd get married to this beautiful wild man." The golden-haired Li jumped up from where she lay. "I'd be standing here on the shore like this, outlined against the setting sun, entirely naked, and the film would slowly come to a close." Li threw off her bathing gown. "And now I'm going to go for a swim."

"... You haven't got your bathing suit," pointed out Abe in alarm, looking out to the yacht to see if anyone was watching; but Li, his sweetheart, was already dancing across the sand to the lagoon.

Suddenly, Abe heard a voice: "Actually, she does look better with her clothes on." The voice was brutally cool and critical. Abe felt crushed at his lack of erotic admiration, he even felt almost guilty about it. But, well, when Li is wearing her clothes and stockings she does, well, seem more beautiful somehow. In his own defence, Abe considered that what he meant was more decent. Well, that as well. And nicer. And why's she running like that? And why do her thighs wobble like that? And why ... Stop this! Abe told himself in horror. Li is the most beautiful girl that ever lived. And I'm terribly in love with her. "Even when she's got nothing on?" asked the cool and critical voice. Abe turned his eyes away and looked at the yacht in the lagoon. It was so beautiful, every line was perfect! It's a shame that Fred isn't here. If Fred were here we could talk about how beautiful the yacht is.

Meanwhile, Abe's sweetheart had reached the water and was standing in it up to her knees, her arms were stretched out to the setting Sun and she was singing. She can go and swim in Hell, thought Abe in irritation. But it had been nice while she was lying there curled up in a ball, wrapped in her bathing gown and with her eyes closed. Dear Li. And with a touching sigh, Abe kissed the sleeve of her bathing gown. Yes, he was terribly in love with her. So much in love it hurt.

There was a sudden, piercing scream from the lagoon. Abe lifted himself up on his elbow so that he could see better. Li, his sweetheart, was screaming, waving her arms in the air and rushing through the water to the shore, floundering and splashing water all around. Abe jumped up and ran to her. "What is it, Li?" (Look at that stupid way she runs, the cool and critical voice remarked. She throws her legs about. She flaps her arms about. It just isn't nice. And she's even squawking as she does it, yes, she squawks.) "What's happened, Li?" called Abe as he ran to her assistance.

"Abe, Abe," squawked his sweetheart, and all of a sudden she was there hanging, cold and wet, around his neck. "Abe there's some kind of animal out there!"

"Why that's nothing," laughed Abe. "It must be some kind of fish."

"Not with an awful head like that," his sweetheart howled, and pressed her wet nose against Abe's breast. Abe wanted to pat her on the shoulder like a father, but on her wet body it would have sounded more like a slap.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, "look out there, there's nothing there any more." Li looked out to the lagoon.

"It was awful," she sighed, then suddenly started to howl again. "There, there, you see it?" There was the black head of something above the water slowly coming in to shore, its mouth opening and closing. Abe's sweetheart Li screamed hysterically and set off in desperate flight away from the water.

Abe did not know what he should do. Should he run after Li so that she would not be so afraid? Or should he stay where he was to show that he had no fear of this animal himself? He chose, of course, the second option; strode towards the sea until he was up to his ankles in water and, his fists clenched, looked the creature in the eye. The black head stopped coming closer, it swayed oddly, and said: Ts-ts-ts. Abe was somewhat uneasy about this, but he could not possibly let it be seen. "What is it you want?" he said sharply.

"Ts-ts-ts," the head replied.

"Abe, Abe, A-a-abe," sweetheart Li shrieked.

"I'm coming," Abe replied, and he slowly (so that nobody would get the wrong idea) went back towards his girl. He stopped and turned to look severely at the sea. At the waters edge, where the sea never stops tracing its lacey patterns in the sand, there was some kind of dark-coloured animal standing on its hind legs. Its head was round and its body swayed. Abe stood where he was with his heart beating fast.

"Ts-ts-ts," said the animal.

"A-a-abe" wailed his sweetheart, close to fainting. Abe walked backwards, step by step, without letting the animal out of his sight. The animal did not move but merely turned its head to watch him. At last, Abe was once more with his sweetheart, who was lying with her face to the ground and howling and blubbering with the horror of it.

"It's ... it's some kind of seal," said Abe uncertainly. "We really ought to go back to the ship, Li." But Li merely shuddered. "There's nothing there to be frightened of," Abe insisted. He wanted to kneel down beside Li, but it was his duty to stand like a knight in armour between her and the beast. He wished he were wearing more than just bathing trunks, or that he had at least something like a penknife with him, or that he could find a stick.

It was beginning to get dark. The animal came closer again and stopped about thirty paces away. And behind it were five, six, eight of the same animal appearing out of the sea and hesitantly, swaying and tip-tapping, they made their way to where Abe was protecting his sweetheart, Li. "Don't look, Li," gasped Abe, although this was quite unnecessary as Li would not have looked for anything in the world. More of the shadows came out of the sea and formed into a broad semi-circle. By now there was about sixty of them, Abe reckoned. That light patch was his sweetheart Li's bathing gown, the gown she had been asleep in only a short time before. The animals had come as far as this light patch, which lay carelessly thrown down on the sand.

Then Abe did something as natural and as nonsensical as the knight in the Schiller story who went into the lion's cage to fetch his lady's glove. There are many natural and nonsensical things that men will keep on doing for as long as the world is still spinning. Without thinking, and with his head erect and his fists clenched, Mister Abe Loeb went in among the animals to fetch the bathing gown belonging to his sweetheart, Li.

The animals stepped back slightly but did not run away. Abe picked up the gown, threw it over his arm like a toreador and remained standing where he was. "A-abe," came the desperate whine from behind him.

Mister Abe felt a sense of boundless strength and nobility. "What then?" he said to the animals, taking a step closer. "What exactly is it you want?"

"Ts-ts," hissed one of the animals, and then, in a rasping voice like an old mans, it barked, "Knife!" The other animals, a little way away joined in, barking like the first: "Knife, knife, knife!"

"A-abe!"

"Don't be afraid, Li," Abe called back.

"Li," came a bark from in front of him. "Li." "Li."

"A-a-abe!" To Abe it seemed like he was dreaming.

"What is it?"

"Knife!"

"A-a-abe!" wailed his sweetheart. "Come back here!"

"Right away. - I don't have a knife. I'm not going to hurt you. What is it you want?"

"Ts-ts," hissed another of them as it swayed its way across to him. Abe stood with his legs apart, the gown still over his arm, but he did not retreat. "Ts-ts," it said.

"What is it you want?" The animal seemed to be offering Abe its front paw, but Abe did not like this at all. "What?" he said, somewhat sharply.

"Knife," barked the animal, and dropped something whitish, like a beads, from its paw. But they were not beads as they rolled across the sand.

"A-abe," stammered Li. "Don't leave me here!"

By now, Mister Abe was no longer afraid. "Get out of the way," he said, waving the bathing gown at the animals. The animals made a sudden and hasty retreat. It would now be possible for Abe to withdraw with honour, but so that Li would see what courage he had he stooped down to pick up the white things the animal had dropped from its paw and see what they were. There were three of them, hard, smooth and round and with a dull sheen to them. As it was getting dark, Mister Abe brought them up close to his eyes.

"A-abe," wailed his abandoned sweetheart, "Abe!"

"I'm coming," Mister Abe called back. "Li, I've got something here for you! Li, Li, I'll bring it right over!" With the bathing gown whirling above his head, Mister Abe Loeb ran across along the shore like a young god.

Li was squatting a little way off and shaking. "Abe," she sobbed as her teeth chattered. "How could you, ... how could you ..." The triumphant Abe knelt down in front of her.

"Lily Valley, the gods of the sea, the Tritons, come to pay you homage. I am to tell you that ever since Venus emerged from the foaming deep no artist has ever impressed them like you. As proof of their awe they send you this." Abe held out his hand. "Look, three pearls."

"Don't talk garbage, Abe," snorted his sweetheart, Li.

"Honest, Li. Take a look, they're genuine pearls!"

"Let me see them," she whined, and with trembling hands reached out to touch the whitish spheres. "Abe," she gasped, " they really are pearls! Did you find them in the sand?"

"But Li, Sweetheart, you don't just find pearls in the sand!"

"Yes you do," his sweetheart insisted. "You wash the sand off in a pan and there they are. Didn't I tell you there must be lots of pearls round here?"

"Pearls grow in kind of clams under the water," said Abe, almost sure of himself. "But listen, Li, it was the tritons, they brought them for you? They must have seen you while you were bathing. They wanted to give them to personally, but you were so afraid ..."

"But they're so ugly," exclaimed Li. "Abe these are wonderful pearls. I'm really fond of pearls!" (Now she's beautiful, said the critical voice. Kneeling here in the sand with the pearls on the palm of her hand ... yes, beautiful, it has to be said.) "And those, those animals, did they really ..."

"They're not animals, sweetheart. They're the gods of the sea, they're called tritons." This did not surprise his sweetheart in the slightest.

"Why, that's so nice of them. They really are very sweet. What do you think, Abe, do you think I ought to thank them in some way."

"Aren't you afraid of them any more?" Abe's sweetheart shuddered.

"Yes. Abe, please, get me out of here!"

"Well that means," said Abe, "we've got to get to our boat. Come with me and don't be afraid."

"But what if ... what if they're standing in our way, Abe?" shuddered Li. "Couldn't you go out there to them on your own? But you can't leave me here all by myself!"

"I'll carry you in my arms," offered Mister Abe, the hero.

"That would be all right," his sweetheart sighed.

"But put your bathing gown on," grumbled Abe.

"Right away." Miss Li rearranged her famously golden hair with both hands. "I must look an awful mess! Abe, do you have any lipstick on you?" Abe lay the bathing gown over her shoulders.

"I think it's best just to go, Li!"

"But I'm afraid," gasped his sweetheart. Mister Abe took her up in his arms. Li thought she was as light as a cloud. Hell, she's heavier than you thought, isn't she, said the critical voice. And now you've got both hands full, haven't you; if those animals do come at us, what then? "Can't you run any faster?" his sweetheart suggested.

"Sure," gasped Mister Abe, hardly able not to get his legs in a tangle. By this time it was getting dark very fast. Abe was getting closer to the broad semi-circle formed by the animals.

"Hurry Abe, faster, faster," whispered Li. The animals began to sway and gyrate the upper half of their bodies in their peculiar wave-like way. "Quick, Abe, hurry, faster," his sweetheart whined as she kicked her legs about hysterically and jagging her silver-lacquered nails in Abe's neck.

"For Gods sake, Li, give it a rest," Abe muttered.

"Knife," came a barking voice from just beside them.

"Ts-ts-ts."

"Knife."

"Li."

"Knife."

"Li."

They had already got past the semi-circle of animals, and Abe felt he could run no further through the damp sand. "You can put me down, now," said his sweetheart, just as Abe's legs were about to give way. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he panted for breath.

"Get into the boat, quick," he ordered his sweetheart. The semi-circle of dark shapes had turned to face Li and was coming closer.

"Ts-ts-ts."

"Knife."

"Li."

But Li did not scream. Li did not run away in terror. Li raised her arms to the sky, the bathing gown slipped off her shoulders, and naked and with both hands she waved to the swaying forms, blowing kisses to them as she did. On her trembling lips there appeared something which could only be called a charming smile. "You're so sweet," she stuttered in her squeaky voice, and stretched her white hands out once again to the swaying shadows.

"Come and give me a hand, Li," Abe ordered somewhat sharply as he pushed the boat out into the water. Sweetheart Li picked up her bathing gown.

"Goodbye, my darlings!" There was a sound of splashing as the shadows made their way into the water. "So hurry up, Abe," hissed his sweetheart as she paddled out to the boat. "They've nearly reached us!" Mister Abe Loeb was making desperate exertions to get the boat out into the water when sweetheart Li stepped into it to add to the weight, still fluttering her hand about. "Go over to the other side, Abe, they can't see me."

"Knife."

"Ts-ts-ts."

"A-abe."

"Knife, ts, knife."

"Ts-ts."

"Knife!"

At last the boat was bobbing on the waves. Mister Abe clambered into it and leant with all his strength on the oars. One of the oars struck against something slippery.

Sweetheart Li made a deep sigh. "Aren't they so sweet? And wasn't I just perfect?" Mister Abe rowed out to the yacht with all the strength he had.

"Put your bathing gown on, Li," he replied somewhat drily.

"I think I was a great success," asserted Miss Li. "And those pearls, Abe, what do you think they're worth?" For a moment, Mister Abe stopped rowing.

"I think you needn't have shown so much of yourself, sweetheart." Miss Li felt slightly offended.

"Well what if I did? Anyone can see that you're not an artist, Abe Loeb. And now, if you don't mind, keep rowing; I'm getting cold in just this gown!"

Chapter 7

THE YACHT IN THE LAGOON (continued)

On board the Gloria Pickford that evening there were no personal quarrels, but scientific theories were bandied noisily. Fred (loyally supported by Abe) judged that it must certainly have been some kind of lizard, whereas the captain decided on a mammal. There aren't any lizards in the sea, the captain insisted angrily; but the young men from the university gave him no credence; and lizards are somehow more of a sensation. Sweetheart Li contented herself with the belief that they were tritons, that they were so sweet, and it was altogether such a success; a

The War with the Newts

by

Karel Čapek

Table of Contents

BOOK ONE

ANDRIAS SHEUCHZERI

(Supplementary Chapter)

BOOK TWO

THE RISE OF CIVILISATION

BOOK THREE

THE WAR WITH THE NEWTS

BOOK ONE

ANDRIAS SHEUCHZERI

Chapter 1

THE STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF CAPTAIN VAN TOCH

Chapter 2

MISTER GOLOMBEK AND MISTER VALENTA

Chapter 3

G. H. BONDY AND THE CAPTAIN

Chapter 4

CAPTAIN VAN TOCH'S BUSINESS

Chapter 5

HOW CAPTAIN J. VAN TOCH TRAINED THE LIZARDS

Chapter 6

THE YACHT IN THE LAGOON

Chapter 7

THE YACHT IN THE LAGOON (continued)