Troubling a Star (16 page)

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Authors: Madeleine L'engle

BOOK: Troubling a Star
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High lifts my heart in warmth and cold,
Moonlight and starlight, cloud and sun,
Sea spray and salt and the land's fold,
Lamb and fledgling, and love begun
In the heart that dares not warm
But cannot chill. Stars! Stay my heart
And keep my borning love from harm,
For love will start, oh, love will start.
When we got back to the
Argosy
, there was a big tub of water and a brush with a long handle at the top of the metal steps, and we were to step in the water with our boots on to wash the guano off. We certainly didn't want to bring that smell onto the ship. I cleaned my boots, went to my cabin, and took off all my heavy outdoor garments, and then the bell rang for lunch and I was starved.
The lunch line on the
Argosy
reminded me of the lunch line in the cafeteria at school. Jorge and Otto stood near Cook and me, and Jack Nessinger joined us, and Otto left the smokers' side to sit with us at lunch. Jorge and Jack questioned him about Zlatovica, and remarked on how it's not much bigger than Rhode Island.
After lunch, there was a German-language lecture. German seemed to be the common language of the European contingent, though I heard some French, and there were some other languages I couldn't identify. During the lecture the rest of us were given a tour of the ship; the others would be given the tour later. We went to the engine rooms, to the kitchen, where a very young chef in a high white hat was baking vast quantities of wonderful-smelling bread; we went up to the bridge with all its instruments, and I looked through the depth sounder and the captain pointed out his new sonar
and some other instruments I knew John and Adam would understand but which were too technical for me. We were shown the captain's quarters. The cabin with his bunk was even smaller than our cabins, but he had a large cabin for a living room, where sometimes he entertained dignitaries. There were two wide and long bunks which were piled with pillows to make them couches. There was a round table in the center of the room with a beautiful, hammered-copper top, and a couple of heavy, comfortable chairs.
After the tour I went down to my cabin and described what I had seen, and then copied out the poem in my journal and caught up on the letter I was writing to Aunt Serena. Maybe I'd copy the poem for her, too, when I'd worked on it a little more.
“You didn't prepare me for the guano smell,” I told her. “It's a smell, not a stink, because it isn't decaying or putrid, but you certainly don't want to bottle it and bring it home.
“There are some interesting people on the
Argosy
. Cook and I usually sit with Sam and Siri, but we've also got to know Leilia, a teacher from Alaska, and I'd really like to be in her classroom. Then there's Dick, the ship's doctor, and Angelique, his wife. Dick's an orthopedic surgeon who walks with a cane, and Angelique is a librarian and one of the most glamorous women I've ever seen. And I've met a prince who lives in a fairy-tale castle on top of a mountain. The staff is terrific. Quimby is the one who tells us all what to do. Benjy is the penguin expert, Gary is the paleontologist, Todd knows all about whales, and Jason is a geologist. They're all good-looking and couldn't be nicer. I'm learning a lot.”
As soon as the German-language lecture was over, we got back in the Zodiacs and set off for Carcass Island. Again we smelled the penguins before we heard them, and heard them before we saw them. When we landed, we had a two-mile walk, each way, over terrain that would have been lots easier in sneakers than in heavy boots. Otto walked with me, and talked about being in boarding school in England and spending holidays with school friends because it wasn't safe for him to go home. It was nice being with him and enjoying the rockhoppers with the funny tufts on the crests of their heads. The day was like an early April day at home, with a fresh breath of spring, before all the snow has melted. There was no snow here, but Otto said there was often sleet and icy drizzle.
I had time for a shower before we gathered together for Wrap-Up and instructions for the next day. The Alaska teachers were sitting near us, and Leilia told us how much it had meant to them to hear Siri playing for the penguins, and how excited Benjy had been. “I use a lot of music with my kids at school. I try to expose them to as much variety as possible, and to expand their tastes. How about you, Vicky? What kind of music do you like?”
I smiled. “I've got pretty eclectic tastes. My mother vacuums to Beethoven and Brahms, and my sister Suzy and I wash dishes to rock or country. I thought Siri's song was marvelous.”
Quimby, beaming, said that we'd be going to Volunteer Beach in the morning, where we'd see Magellanic penguins, gentoo penguins, and probably king penguins. We'd come back to the
Argosy
for lunch, and then in the afternoon we'd
dock at Port Stanley, where the governor's wife had invited us for tea, thanks to an elderly lady in the States who was a friend of the governor's mother. Yay, Aunt Serena! Cook and I looked at each other and smiled, and he winked.
And then I would get to meet Cook's brother.
 
“Penguins aren't all alike!” Otto exclaimed the next morning at Volunteer Beach. The Magellanic penguins there were very different from the rockhoppers. For one thing, they didn't hop. “See,” Otto said, “they have holes in the dunes for nests, completely different from the little circles of stones the rockhoppers use.”
Benjy said, “Rockhoppers tend to steal each other's stones. Sometimes they get so reckless about it they get picked off by a skua.”
Greta was carrying one of Jorge's big camera cases for him. I wondered if Sam would notice that she appeared to be smitten with Jorge. Like some of the other women, she wore full makeup. I heard one woman explaining that it protected her skin.
We climbed up cliff-like dunes. Angelique and Jason helped Dick, who was having a hard time because the dunes were slippery. Cook was with me, and occasionally took my elbow as we walked over green peat and clumps of tussock grass and more yellow sea cabbages to an amazing scene of gentoo penguins among sheep and lambs. Benjy pointed out how to distinguish gentoos from rockhoppers by the flashing of white across their foreheads from eye to eye.
We walked along in shifting groups. Jack Nessinger took
Otto off, pointing out something ahead of us. Jorge and Greta were well behind, and Jorge did not seem to be taking pictures, despite all the equipment he was carrying. The two of them did not keep up with the rest of us, but turned back toward the beach. We plowed on, farther inland, past a lake, and there we saw a colony of king penguins, considerably taller than the rockhoppers or the Magellanics, with a hornlike toot. Benjy called it a bray. He told us that you can tell what penguins have been eating by the color of their guano. “If they've been eating fish, it's white, and if they've been eating krill, it's pink.” What we saw was mostly pink. The wind blew the guano smell in our faces. Pink rhymes with stink.
We tramped across rough terrain to a large crèche of baby king penguins, most of whom were making their funny, chirpy, whistling sounds. They certainly didn't look undernourished. Their little bellies were round from all the regurgitated food their parents had fed them, and I watched one mother bending over her fat baby, whose beak was wide open, waiting for food. Not the way I'd want to be fed.
Benjy tapped me on the shoulder, indicating that I should follow him and Siri. We walked away from the others, around to the far side of the crèche, until Benjy stopped. Siri got her harp out of the canvas case and began to play. Nursery rhymes this time, “Jack and Jill,” and “Little Bo Peep,” and “The Man in the Moon.” She had placed herself the recommended fifteen feet from the crèche, but before she had sung for more than a minute, several little ones crowded up to her, and then two of them crawled onto her lap. One of them began pecking at her harp, so she lifted it high above her head, and Benjy
took it. Siri kept on singing, and the little chicks cuddled in to her, and she put her arms around them, still singing, and held them close.
Benjy turned away, as though to protect Siri's harp, but I thought I saw tears in his eyes.
Well, it was pretty amazing. And I felt enormously privileged to have been part of it. Otto would really have liked it, I thought, but he was off with Jack Nessinger, and, anyhow, Benjy didn't want a crowd.
He said, “We'd better get going before we're discovered. Quim will be gathering us at the Zodiacs.” Gently he lifted the chicks from Siri's lap and put them back in the crèche.
Siri put her harp in its case, and we started back. I walked a little behind, not wanting to butt in, but they included me in the conversation.
Siri laughed, a pure little bubbling of joy. “Benjy, thank you. I don't know when I've had such a glorious time. Now I can't wait to see them in the water.”
“People think penguins can't fly because they're such waddlers on land,” Benjy said. “But they're made to fly in water, not air. When we get a chance, we'll go off in one of the Zodiacs and maybe you can play for them while they swim. They use their flippers to paddle at amazing speeds, up to fifteen miles an hour. They steer with their feet and their funny little tails, which they also use for balance when they sit. A lot of the penguin's life is at sea, so its sea skills are more important than its land ones. When you've looked at enough of them, you'll understand how they've evolved over the centuries the way they have.”
The wind had come up and the water was rough, and Siri cradled her harp rather than slinging it across her back. When we sidled up to the ship, the Zodiacs were going up and down, up and down, so I was glad of sailors waiting by the ladder to help us. Sam had not come ashore; he said he was saving his energy for Port Stanley, and I thought it was just as well. Quim had taught us to reach for the helping sailor's forearm, rather than hand, which would give us more purchase, and when the Zodiac dropped into a trough just as I was leaping from the rubber side to the metal stairs, I needed a strong heave to keep me from falling.
 
Cook came out of his cabin as I left mine to go to the fo'c'sle. “Had a good time this morning, Vicky?”
“Wonderful.”
“Feeling comfortable with Benjy?”
I nodded vigorously. “He's wonderful. Thanks for letting me go off with him and Siri.”
“In this case, three was company and four would have been a crowd. I wanted you to get to know Benjy without my hovering presence.”
“You don't hover.”
“No more than necessary. But I'll be leaving you this afternoon, and I want to make sure you're not worried.”
I had almost forgotten my anxieties about those anonymous warnings and Adam's ambiguous ones, though they lurked just under the surface. “I'm okay.”
“If anything bothers you, anything at all, go straight to Benjy. He will take whatever you say seriously.”
“Thanks.”
“Not that I expect any problems, not on the
Argosy
. I just want you to feel secure.”
“I'm fine, really.”
“Good.”
“Yesterday—you heard Siri's song?”
“Beautiful.”
“Do you think it's true? Every action has inevitable consequences?”
“I'm not sure about inevitable. Actions do have consequences, and not all of them are bad. Some of them are miraculously good.”
I looked at him questioningly. We went out onto the fo'c'sle and stood at the rail.
He said, “I believe in a pattern for the universe, a pattern that affirms meaning, and perhaps especially when things seem meaningless. Everything we do has a part in the weaving of the pattern, even our wrong decisions. But I believe that the beauty of the pattern will not be irrevocably distorted. That is a hope we learn to live with.”
I looked out at the water, thinking.
He glanced at me briefly, then back out to sea. “When the pattern is torn, there is a healing power that can mend. Let me make a metaphor. Sometimes our angels come and give us a nudge and we go in a direction we might have missed otherwise, and so we are helped to make a right step, or to avoid doing something which might have terrible consequences. Sometimes we are not able to or choose not to heed the nudge. We are creatures who have been given the terrible gift
of free will, and that means we are responsible for our actions and have to suffer the consequences. Without our angels, I believe we would be in a worse state than we are.”
I thought of Aunt Serena and Owain both asking angels to watch over me.
I looked at Cook and he smiled. “I believe in angels. I can't give you any proof or any further explanations, because angelic guidance is not to be understood by our finite minds. But I believe in it.”
“Okay. Thank you. I get it. Sort of.”
“Sort of is good enough.”
 
When we anchored off Port Stanley, the wind had dropped and the weather was calm and beautiful. We lined up to go ashore and Quimby handed out several letters. I had one from my mother. Everybody was fine, and they missed me. She'd have a letter waiting for me when we landed in Puerto Williams. I gave Quimby some cards to mail. I didn't exactly miss my family. I just felt that I'd traveled further away from them than in ordinary space and time.

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