Philip Jose Farmer (18 page)

Fogg spun around, hoping that Nemo had not passed him going aft ward while he was going forward. But he had. He was running barefoot, as swiftly and as silently as a tiger. He was only about ten feet from the Frenchman’s back.

Fogg gave his first yell in years and ran toward the two. Passepartout, half-deafened, did not hear him. Nemo struck him on the back of his neck with his left fist. The Frenchman was hurled face forward into the deckhouse wall. He crumpled, and Nemo picked up the revolver. Grinning, he turned toward Fogg. Triumphant he might look, but he was pale, and blood ran down his right arm and dripped from his hand. His right arm seemed to be useless, since it hung down at his side and, though right-handed, he held the revolver in his left.

Fogg half-spun to port and raced toward the deckhouse. If Nemo was firing at him he could not hear the reports, but the knowledge that he probably was made him increase his speed. He went around the side of the deckhouse and then to its forepart. Hidden momentarily from the two enemies, he stood there, breathing hard. So now events were suddenly in Nemo’s favor. Passepartout was out of the action, perhaps forever, and Nemo and the sailor each had a revolver.

After making sure that Passepartout could not imitate 
Nemo’s feat, the two would proceed toward the bow. One would come along the port rail; one, by the starboard rail. Their paths would converge at the place where Fogg now stood. He could attack one with his sword, but the other would quickly join the man he attacked. At point-blank range, they would not miss.

The fore deckhouse was about thirteen feet square and six feet above the deck. It would contain the fo’c’sle or crew’s quarters, the galley, and, perhaps, a cabin for the second mate. It would not afford a good hiding place or even a mediocre one.

Fogg looked upward. He could still run to one of the rope ladders formed of transverse ropes called ratlines and attached to the shrouds, pairs of ropes from the mastheads which gave lateral support to the masts. If he went up a ladder, he could at least get away from them for a while. If he then went out onto the yards, he would force them to use both hands while getting close enough to him so they would not waste their bullets. Perhaps he could attack them then with his sword. If he were an acrobat such as Passepartout, he might go up the main mast to one of the middle triangular sails and ascend by its ropes to the aft mast. If he could get down quickly enough, while the two were still aloft, he could seize the wheel and change the direction of the ship. If it swung around violently enough, it might dislodge the two.

Fogg did not, however, follow his desperate plan.

Instead, he slid open the wooden door on the forward cabin and darted inside. This was on the port side of the deckhouse and seemed to be the second mate’s. It held a sea chest the examination of which Fogg deferred. He went through another sliding door into the crew’s quarters, placed closest to the bow. His log does not mention his feelings at this point, but 
we may suppose that even the face of the imperturbable Fogg lit up with delight.

There, as he had hoped, was the watch, taped to the ceiling of the fo’c’sle. He tore it loose and, holding it to his ear, ran out of the entrance onto the deck of the bow.

The watch was emitting, in Eridanean code, a stream of ringing sounds. Aouda had set her distorter on 
receive.

If he set the Capellean distorter for 
transmit
 he could escape. That meant leaving the enemy distorter, Passepartout, and the explanation of the mystery of the ship behind him. As for the first, he must submit to it if he were transmitted. As for the third, it was better to survive at the price of ignorance. As for the second, it was probable that Passepartout was dead. He was doomed even if Fogg stayed here and tried to fight with only the sword.

He stood for about five seconds, five seconds during which his enemies would be approaching.

Six seconds after this, the two Capelleans were dismayed—and deafened again—when nine clanging sounds seemed to tear the air around them and buffet their eardrums. Both, we may presume, swore at the same time they turned pale. Both, we know, started to run into the cabin under the assumption that they would find only the device. The foxy Eridanean had undoubtedly taken the only way out. He must have removed the distorter from the ceiling and taped it to the underside of a table and been transmitted back to the 
General Grant.

Nemo must have been blaming himself for not having first retrieved the device. But he could console himself with the thought that if he had done so, he, instead of Fogg, might have been trapped in the deckhouse.

The Capelleans met at the forward entrance of the deckhouse. The sailor arrived first and so was ahead of Nemo in entering the fo’c’sle. He halted because, to his astonishment, the watch was still taped to the ceiling. That was all he saw. The edge of Fogg’s sword struck the top of his head. He dropped; the revolver fell from his hand. And Fogg picked up the revolver.

And Nemo? After the first moment of chagrin, not unmixed with panic, he backed out of the companionway.

The affair had not suddenly become reversed. It had just evened out. Neither side held a particular advantage at this moment. Both were armed. Fogg was shut up in the deckhouse, but Nemo was losing blood and strength.

The gray-eyed man got onto the top of the deckhouse and proceeded to remove his coat and his shirt. He tore his shirt into strips and bound them around the arm. The wound, fortunately, was only a flesh wound, and blood seemed to stop flowing after a few moments. Nevertheless, he might as well have had only one arm, and the gorilla-like power of his muscles had drained out of him.

He decided that he could afford to desert his post for a few minutes. Fogg would not dare to make a dash for the outside. At least, not for a while. Nemo would finish off the other fellow and then return to the deckhouse. Fogg would still be crouching near a bulkhead or under some furniture. He would know that Nemo could break the deckhouse windows and fire from there. If he had not been so overwhelmed by the thought of Fogg escaping, he would have done that at once. Of course, if he did use the windows, he stood a good chance of receiving Fogg’s bullets in his face. It would be discreet to remain away from them.

Eventually, Fogg would be driven out of the deckhouse by thirst and hunger. He would not have access to the galley. Nemo had ascertained from his chief that the galley was partitioned off from the fo’c’sle and second mate’s cabin. Even if Fogg knocked a hole through the partition, he would not find much food. Most of the supplies were kept in the pantry, which was in the deckhouse aft.

Nemo moved softly away from the roof of the deckhouse only because it was his nature to do so. He did not have to fear that Fogg would hear him. Fogg would still be deafened by the clangings.

Nemo had proceeded about thirty feet toward the stern when the nine clangings struck again. He whirled. What the devil was Fogg doing now?

Had he indeed departed this time? Or was he setting the same trap? And, if he had gone, would he not be quickly back with help? There was nothing to prevent Fogg from setting the distorter to revert automatically to 
receive
 within a certain time.

But Fogg might be hoping that he would think just this and so rush in to turn the distorter off before Fogg & Company would return.

Nemo was in a highly indecisive state, a foreign one to this man of great intelligence and speedy action. If he entered either entrance to the fore deckhouse, he would be exposed to fire from a man whose coolness and accuracy with arms had been proven in Bundelcund.

Moreover, Fogg would be in semidarkness. The windows were covered by shutters, and while he could destroy these to let some light in, he would be exposed. Fogg would expect him to try 
that and so would be ready for him. The deckhouse was built of thin planking through which Fogg’s bullets could find him even if Nemo stood to one side while tearing off the canvas coverings.

He stood on the deck for a minute, and then he turned away. If only Fogg did not find the papers on the chief. The distorter itself would have to be abandoned. That could not be helped.

And if only Passepartout were not dead.

Nemo did not expect Fogg to surrender to save Passepartout. That happened only in novels. Fogg would know that he would be killed if he did surrender. Nemo would no longer consider keeping him as a prisoner. The two of them might possibly be able to sail the ship to some port, but Nemo could not stay awake long enough for this. And he could not take any more chances on a live Fogg. The Englishman was too wily.

Passepartout was sitting with his back against the bulkhead of the main cabin. His forehead and nose were bloody, and his eyes were dull.

Nevertheless, he spat at Nemo.

“Good! You are still alive!” Nemo said.

Passepartout did not reply.

Nemo searched him but found no weapons. He picked up Passepartout with his left hand, his revolver stuck in his belt, and propelled him forward. The Frenchman sprawled out onto the deck, but, after being raised again, he managed to stay on his feet.

“If your master is willing to make a bargain by which we will all gain, though some loss by all is inevitable, then you will stay alive,” Nemo said.

He pushed Passepartout ahead of him with the end of his 
revolver until they had reached the fore deckhouse. Standing by the entrance to the second mate’s cabin, Nemo shouted out the terms. His own voice sounded distant, and he was not sure that Fogg was yet able to hear him. Or, for that matter, that he was even in the cabin. Fogg could have slipped out while he was busy with the Frenchman, but he did not think so.

After a short silence, Fogg’s voice came faintly.

“Very well! Provided that you tell me what happened to the people on this ship. I don’t expect you to tell me anything about your own people which might reveal your secrets.”

“I can’t tell you much because our man didn’t have much time to impart anything but a bare outline.”

To hear him, Fogg had to be close to the door. Perhaps if he were to make two quick shots, one on either side of the door? The bullets would go through the thin planking. But no, it was too risky.

“It all seems mysterious,” Nemo said. “But similar things have happened before and doubtless will happen again. As you may have observed, there are signs of a hasty departure but none of violence. The vessel has a cargo of seventeen hundred barrels of alcohol contained in spruce and red oak barrels. This is highly volatile, and any rupture of barrels could be a source of explosion or fire. But such was not the case. This ship was not abandoned because of that.

“The sailors left their clothing, sea boots, oilskins, and their tobacco pipes. So the situation was of such a nature that it let no time for taking articles which a sailor would normally not leave behind. Especially the pipes. It is obvious that the misfortune did not occur during meal time, since there are no places set for meals.

“According to... to our man...”

“His name was Edward W. Head, and he was the cook and steward,” Fogg said. “He had his papers on him. That his name was Head is significant, I believe. He must be your chief.”

“Only a coincidence,” Nemo said. “We have abandoned that ancient, but useless, custom of using names which indicate a person’s function.”

“Perhaps,” Fogg said.

Nemo wondered what else he had found on Head.

“Is he dead?” Nemo said.

“Yes.”

“You may have noticed that the navigation book, sextant, and chronometer are missing,” Nemo said. “Evidently the captain—his name was Briggs, by the way—had time to grab these. Other articles, such as clothes, were left behind. Nor were provisions from the pantry stored on the yawl.”

“The yawl? What about the main lifeboat, the longboat?”

“That was left behind at New York. It was damaged during the loading of the barrels. Several fell out of the sling on it, and Captain Briggs did not want to delay the ship while it was being repaired. The yawl could hold ten people, but it was smaller and not as seaworthy as the longboat.”

“The last hour marked on the deck log was eight a.m., November twenty-fifth,” Fogg said. “And after that?”

“Between nine and ten o’clock, the 
Mary Celeste
 was within several miles of the Dollabarat shoals,” Nemo said. “Those are dangerous shoals about three and a quarter miles southeast of the Formigas rocks. The Formigas are, it is thought, the peaks of submerged mountains. The 
Mary Celeste
 was not close enough 
to be in any peril and would have passed on safely, but...”

Nemo wondered why Fogg was having him give this lengthy explanation. Was he hoping to drag out the time before their departure because he had planned some trick which required time to prepare?

Well, there was nothing he could do about it. But if things suddenly went wrong for him, he would kill Passepartout at once. And perhaps this prolonged talk might turn to his advantage, if he could think of something.

“One of those inexplicable but frequently occurring calms befell the ship. At any other place, the 
Mary Celeste
 could have ridden it out. But now, her sails sagging, the ship was borne by the currents toward the Dollabarat shoals. These have taken many a victim. And it looked as if they would soon fasten their teeth into the hull of another. Captain Briggs had the light sails furled and the mainsail lowered and the ship hove to on the starboard tack. This was to ensure that, if the wind should rise in time, it would blow against the sails and stop its headway. Then the yawl might catch up with the ship, and the crew could board it.

“After this, the captain ordered that the ship be abandoned.”

“The yawl lay across the main hatch. This was unsecured while a section of the port rail, which you no doubt saw is missing, was removed. There was no time for a leisurely departure; everything was done in a few minutes. The yawl was lowered without tackle, and the main peak-halyard was unroven. It was used as a towline for the yawl with an end still attached to the gaff.”