“Goodnight.
Thank you for dinner.
Good luck to the excavations.”
On his way out of the club he noticed that John Beaver of Brat's Club was up for election.
“Who on earth would have expected the old boy to turn up like that?” asked Polly Cockpurse.
“Now I understand why they keep going on in the papers about divorce law reform,” said Veronica.
“It's too monstrous that he should be allowed to get away with it.”
“The mistake they made was in telling him first,” said Souki.
“It's so like Brenda to trust everyone,” said Jenny.
“I do think Tony comes out of this pretty poorly,” said Marjorie.
“Oh I don't know,” said Allan. “I expect your ass of a brother put the thing wrong.”
CHAPTER FIVE
In Search of a City
One
“ANY idea how many times round the deck make a mile?”
“None, I'm afraid,” said Tony.
“But I should think you must have walked a great distance.”
“Twenty-two times.
One soon gets out of sorts at sea if you're used to an active life.
She's not much of a boat.
Travel with this line often?”
“Never before.”
“Ah. Thought you might have been in business in the islands.
Not many tourists going out this time of year.
Just the other way about.
All coming home, if you see what I mean.
Going far?”
“Demerara.”
Ah.
Looking for minerals perhaps?”
“No, to tell you the truth I am looking for a city.”
The genial passenger was surprised and then laughed.
“Sounded just like you said you were looking for a city.”
“Yes.”
“That was what you said?”
“Yes.”
“I thought it sounded like that … well, so long.
I must do another few rounds before dinner.”
He paced off up the deck, straddling slightly in order to keep his balance and occasionally putting out a hand to the rail for support.
Regularly every three minutes for the last hour or so, this man had come by.
At first Tony had looked up at his approach and then turned away again out to sea.
Presently the man had taken to nodding, then to saying
“Hullo” or
“Bit choppy” or
“Here we are again”; finally he had stopped and begun a conversation.
Tony went aft to break this rather embarrassing recurrence.
He descended the companion-way which led to the lower deck.
Here, in crates lashed to the side, was a variety of livestock — some stud bulls, a heavily blanketed race-Horse, a couple of beagles, being exported to various West Indian islands.
Tony threaded a way between them and the hatches to the stern, where he sat against a winch watching the horizon mount above the funnels, then fall until they stood out black against the darkening sky.
The pitch was more sensible here than it had been amidships; the animals shifted restlessly in their cramped quarters; the beagles whined intermittently.