I Will Fear No Evil

27

Harvard University Corporation voted to withhold all funds until the Student Government selected a new university president. Both of the rival student governments and the faculty senate sought court relief from this "reckless and irresponsible action." CONS BEST COPS SEZ FUZZ PREZ—the General Secretary of the Private Police, Guards, and Security Drivers (AFL) at its annual banquet congratulated Milwaukee on joining the growing list of municipalities that had abolished the "clean record" rule in hiring peace officers. "The outstanding success of parolees and probationers as licensed private security officers is finally teaching the politicians to ‘hunt ducks where the ducks are.' The Bible says ‘To catch a thief you set a thief,' don't it? Who knows more about hoods than a hood? Give a man incentives to keep his nose clean and put him on work he understands and you can count on him in the crunch. My Mom kept telling me that when I was just a punk knockin' over candy stores. Besides, like the Sec'etary of the Treasury told us earlier tonight, ‘Look what it's done for the economy!' In this great republic—"

"Today's Day" newscast interviewed a midwife who claimed to have delivered Miss Molly Maguire of child ten days before her sensational two-nation sky dive. The sensie star promptly sued newcaster, station, and videonet.

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The Lunar Commission made permanent its trial policy of screening out-migration solely on physical and mental examination with no percentage points either plus or minus from past record. The Director said: "In a new world a man must start with a clean slate. No other policy is practical." Under sharp questioning he admitted that contributions for unsubsidized vocations remained unchanged but insisted that this was a fiscal matter controlled by the condominium governments and in no way affected the basic principle.

HOT WORDS IN CAP-PUN DEBATE: "‘—does not deter!' So he tells us. Is the Senator from the great State of Puerto Rico aware that our major problem is recidivism? Can the Senator cite one case in which a killer committed still another murder after he was executed?"

"Whee! Joe, see how she runs before the wind!"

"Swell."

"Gets me clear down in my gizzard," Joan Eunice said happily. "Let's go aft. Winnie's got the wheel and be sure to be impressed; she's proud as can be that Tom has let her go on the watch list. She's a natural sailor, salt water in her veins. Gigi, what's the matter, dear? You aren't smiling. Feeling queasy?"

"A little, maybe."

"I must admit that the ‘Pussy Cat' does have a rocking-horse motion when she's running free. Love it myself but some don't. Never mind, dear; Doctor Roberto has a surefire pill for tipsy tummy. I'll fetch you one and in five minutes the motion won't bother you and you'll be hungry as a horse."

"I don't take pills, Joan. I'm all right."

"You aren't all right and when we go below you won't want lunch and Hester told me she was fixing something special in your honor. Look, darling, Roberto feeds these pills to Winnie—one before breakfast every day and he had her on them for morning sickness before they came aboard. He's a careful doctor, hon; he wouldn't give them to his own wife if they could hurt. Nobody ever gets a pill of any sort in the ‘Pussy Cat' unless our ship's surgeon dispenses it. Pretty please? Huh?"

"Gigi."

"Yes, Joe."

"Take pill."

"Yes, Joe. Thanks, Joan, I do feel fluttery. I guess you think I'm silly but I've seen so many kids hooked on pills I'm scared of ‘em."

"I don't like pills but I take ‘em when Doctor Roberto says to. He's got me on supplements right now for this little monster inside me. You stay up here in the breeze, dear, while I find Roberto."

"‘Sailing, sailing, over the bounding main!' "Mr. Jacob Salomon bellowed, as he swung up into the control console.

"Morning. Ski."

"Good morning, Captain. On port tack with basic course one five—"

"I see what it is. Beat it down below and get your breakfast." Salomon slid into the saddle and glanced at the compass as he took the wheel. "We didn't leave you anything but you can scrounge ship's biscuit out of the lifeboat."

"Hester won't let me starve, sir."

"Nor Olga. Now beat it." Jake eyed his sails, decided he could point a touch higher, reached out with his right hand to the running rigging controls, kept tapping a switch to shorten his main sheet, his eye on her mainsail, while he handled the wheel by touch till he had her settled down on a lighter tack. Then he adjusted his jibe and relaxed.

"Good morning, Captain."

"Tom, save that for witnesses. It's all very well for Mrs. Salomon to want me dubbed with an honorary title but we all know who's the sailing master by our ship's papers. You're skipper and have the responsibility; I'm just the owner and unlicensed first mate. Eunice ought not to do it—but we have to cater to the little darlings. Speaking of little darlings, how are your two this fine morning? Didn't see Eve at breakfast."

"She ate before you got up, sir. Seen her and told her she's goin' to have to wear pants from now on, except in the pool or near it."

"Don't see why she should, the other gals don't unless it happens to suit them. I just don't want her swarming into my lap, naked as an eel and twice as lively. Gives me delusions of youth."

"I'll clamp down on her, sir."

"Tom, I don't want the child ‘clamped down on.' I want everybody to enjoy this cruise—one big happy family. Ask Hester to tell her quietly that old Uncle Jake loves her but doesn't like to be pawed. A lie, that last, but an official lie. Speaking of the pool, how's the filter?"

"Filter's okay, was just a clog in makeup feed line. Kelp. No huhu."

"Has the surgeon tested the water?"

"Safe."

"That's good. Tom, when I was a kid, striking for quartermaster third, we used to swim off the boat booms and thought nothing of it. But today even the Pacific Ocean can't soak up all the crud they dump into it. You can put swimming call on the bull horn and take the Skull-and-Crossbones sign off the pool."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Half a second while I make eight bells." Jake reached out with his left hand, picked the last touchplate of a row of eight; the quadruple double Bong! marking the beginning of the forenoon watch rang through the vessel. He then picked still another touchplate and sounded swimming call himself. "Tom, if a man didn't have to eat or sleep, he could sail this wagon around the world by himself. Three men could do it easily. Even two."

"Maybe."

"You sound doubtful, Tom."

"Even one man could, sir—if nothin' never went wrong. Something always does."

"I stand corrected. And with two pregnant women aboard—three if you don't keep a close eye on Eve—"

"Oh, Dr. Garcia got her on the junior pill. I don't take no chances, sir."

"So? Tom, my respect for you—high—has just increased. She's safe from her Uncle Jacob... but I make no promises about any other male in this bucket. There is something in salt air that hikes up the metabolism. And there is much truth in the old saw about ‘when they're big enough, they're old enough and nothing can be done about it.' Better to roll with the punch."

"She is and she has and we did—I had this here talk with the Doc. Hester and me don't expect no more from Eve different than we did ourselves. Anybody knows when a broad starts getting broad she's goin' to land on her back."

"Yes, everybody knows it—yet most parents don't believe it when it comes to their own kids. I know, I had a family law practice for years. Tom, you're such an all-around sensible man I'm surprised that you ever got in trouble."

His sailing master shrugged. "Comes o' believing what I was told, sir. ‘M chief officer of this rust bucket and Captain says keep my lip tight and see nothin' and we make ten times as much on one voyage. All fixed. Only he got smart and hung onto the bribe money hisself. Thought he could run it in the dark. You'da thought he'd never heard of radar. Wham. Coast Guard." Finchley shrugged again. "No complaints, sir, I was a fool. But two years and four months and I get this much better job driving for Mr. Smith-as-was. Smellin' like a rose. Not so trusting now, is all. Don't trust too much, you don't get your ass burned."

"Yet you don't seem cynical. Tom, I think the major problem in growing up is to become sophisticated without becoming cynical."

"That's over my head, Counselor. I just think people are okay, mostly—even that silly skipper—if you don't strain ‘em more than they're built for. Like that piece of standing rigging there. Rated three tons. Pro'ly take five and no trouble. Don't put six tons on it."

"We've said the same thing, I think, but your illustration is vivid. Beat it, Tom. If there's no work to be done, grab sack time. Or pool time."

"Yes, sir. I want to inspect the starboard hull; it's making extra water. Pump can handle it but I want to know why." He touched his cap and swung down off the platform.

Jake cocked his own cap against the sun, relaxed and started to sing:

"‘A sailor's wife a sailor's star shall be!

"‘Yo ho, we go, across the sea!

"‘A sailor's wife a sailor's star shall be,

"‘A sailor's wife his star... shall be!"

His wife climbed up behind him and kissed the back of his neck. "Is that for me, dear? Or for ‘Nancy Lee'?"

"Always for you, my darling. Besides, I can't remember the part with ‘Nancy Lee' in it."

"I wonder if you ever remember a girl's name. You call all of us ‘darling.'

"Merely because it's true. But you are the only one I call ‘my darling.' And I do remember your name—it's ‘Salomon.'"

"Jacob, you must have been a prime menace when you were a bluejacket. With that Hebrew blarney you could talk your way into anything. Then out of it, with no trouble."

"No, Ma'am, I was a sweet, innocent lad. I simply followed the ancient code of the sea: ‘When the hook's up, all bills are paid.'

"Leaving little Jewish bastards behind in every port...and thereby improving the breed. How about Gigi? Going to improve the breed there?" She dug her thumb into a spot over his hip where his slight pot bulged out from sitting. "Some dish, eh, keed?"

"Madam," he said haughtily, "I do not know what you are talking about."

"‘Tell that to the Marines, the old sailors won't believe you.' Jacob my love, I feel certain that you know the second Mrs. Branca almost as well as you knew the first. But I have no wish to prove it; I simply offer my congratulations. Gigi is a darling, I love her to pieces. I was not throwing asparagas." (Tell him she squeals, twin.) (I will not!)

"Woman, you get your exercise jumping at conclusions."

(Then tell him it happened where Troy Avenue crosses Gay Street, near the Square—a neighborhood you know well, twin.) (Eunice, I want Jacob to feel easy about such things—I am not trying to harpoon him.) (You aren't equipped to, Joan; Jake is the original Captain Ahab.) (Eunice, you have a dirty mind.) (Whose mind? I don't have one. Don't need one.)

Mrs. Salomon dropped the subject, opened her sextant case, took it out.

"Will you give me a time tick, darling?"

"Are you going to shoot the defenseless Sun?"

"I'm going to do better than a Sun sight, dearest. The Sun, the upper limb of the Moon, and—if I'm lucky and can spot it again—Venus, for a three-star fix. Want to bet on how small a triangle I get?"

"Even money on fifty miles for the short side."

"Beast. Brute. Cad. And me an expectant mother. I was more than ten times that close yesterday evening; I'm getting the hang of it. I could cheat—I could get a point fix by querying Point Loma, then fudge it on the chart."

"Eunice, why this passion to emulate Bowditch? One would think that radio and satellites and the like had never been invented."

"It's fun, darling. I'm going to hit that nay exam for a flat four-oh and get my limited license. After I've unloaded this pup in the hopper and we no longer have to stick to coastal water, I'm going to do a ‘Day's Work' every day all the way to Hawaii. Betcha I make landfall at Hilo under three miles. Oh, it's not necessary, dear—but what if it turned out to be? Suppose war broke out and everything went silent? Might help to have a celestial navigator aboard. Tom admits that he's hardly taken a sight since he got his mate's ticket."

"If he ever took one. Yes, it could be useful, my darling because if war broke out in earnest and we were at sea, we would not go on to Hilo. We would make a sharp left turn and go south and get lost. The Marquesas. Or farther south, the farther the better. That way our kid might live through it. Easter lsland if you think you can hit it."

"Jacob, by then I'll split it right down the middle. Or any island you pick. Sweetheart, I wasn't playing games when I asked for the whole old-fashioned works—all the charts, all the pilots, three key-wind chronometers and a hack, this lovely sextant and a twin like it in case I drop this one . .and please note that I always put the lanyard around my neck. All the H.O.s and the Almanac. I'm no use as a deckhand now—so I decided to beconie a real navigator. Just in case, just in case."

"Minm. My darling, I hope we never have to run for it, but have you noticed that I keep this vessel fully stocked at all times even though we anchor almost every night and can shop for supplies any time we wish?"

"I've noticed, sir."

"Nor is it an accident that I gave Doctor Bob an unlimited budget and saw to it that he equipped for any conceivable obstetrical problem."

"I did not notice that, quite."

"You weren't meant to, nor was Winnie—no need to give you gals something to worry about. But since you have been doing the same sort of planning ahead, I decided to tell you. Bob used the time the ‘Pussy Cat' was being refitted in taking a refresher in O.B. And he spent twenty times more money on our sick bay than one would expect for a seagoing yacht."

"I'm pleased to hear it, sir. With such foresight, money can do almost anything. Except turn back the clock."

"It even did that in your case, beloved."

"No, Jacob. It gave me added years... and a wonderful body... and you. But it did not turn back the clock. I'm still almost a century old. I can never feel young the way I once did—because I'm not. Not the way Winnie is young. Or Gigi. Jacob, I have learned that I don't want be young."

"Eh? Are you unhappy, dear?"

"Not at all! I have the best of two worlds. A youthful, vital body that makes every breath a sensuous joy...a century of rich experience, with the wisdom—if that is the right word—that age brings. The calmness. The long perspective. Winnie and Gigi still suffer the storms of youth, which I don't have and don't want. I've forgotten the last time I had a tranquilizer but I think it was the day they unstrapped me. Jacob, I'm a better wife for you than either of those two lovely girls could be; I'm older than you are, I've been where you are now and understand it. I'm not boasting, dear; it's simply true. Nor would I be happy married to a young man—I'd have to spend my time trying desperately not to upset his delicate, youthful, unstable balance. We're good for each other, Jacob."

"I know that you are good for me, my darling."

"I know I am. But sometimes you have trouble remembering that I am not truly ‘Eunice,' but ‘Johann.'" (Hey! What is this, Boss? We're both.) (Yes, beloved, always—but Jake needs to be reminded of Johann— because all he ever sees is Eunice.) "For example, Jacob, a while ago you thought I was twitting you about Gigi."

"‘Thought,' hell—you were."

"No, dear. Close your eyes and forget that I have Eunice's voice. Think back at least ten years when I was still in passable health. If your older friend Johann had twigged that you had kicked the feet out from under some young and pretty woman, would he have twitted you?"

"Huh? Hell, yes. Johann would have slipped me the needle and broken it off."

"Would I have, Jacob? Did I ever?"

"You never caught me."

"So? I might have congratulated you, Jacob, just as I did today—had I felt that I could do so without offending you. But I would not have twitted ‘you. Do you recall a young woman whose first name was—or is—Marian? Last name had the initial ‘H'—your pet name for her, ‘Maid Marian.'"

"How in the hell?"

"Steady, darling—you let your helm fall off. That was sixteen years ago, just before I asked you to spend all your time on my affairs. So I ordered a fresh snoopsheet on you before I put the deal up to you. May I say that the fact that you had dealt so carefully with her reputation was a strong factor in my deciding that I could trust you with anything, too?—including my power of attorney, which you have held ever since and never abused. May I add, too, that I wanted to congratulate you on both your good taste and your success as a Lothario?—for of course I then had to have her snooped, too, and her husband as welt, before I could entrust my grisly secrets to you. But—also of course—I could not say a word."

"1 didn't think any part of that ever showed."

"Please, Jacob. Do you recall that you once told Eunice that you could hire a man to photograph her in her own bath—and she would never know it? As we've noted, money can do almost anything that is physically possible. Part of that snoop report was a photograph of you and Marian in what you lawyers call a ‘compromising position.'

"Good God! What did you do with it?"

"Burned it. Hated to; it was a good picture and Marian looked awfully pretty—and you looked all right yourself, you lovable old goat. Then I sent for the head of the snoop firm and told him I wanted the negative and all prints now and no nonsense—and if it ever turned out that even one print had escaped me, I would break him. Get his license, bankrupt him, put him in jail. Were you or Marian ever embarrassed by such a picture? Blackmail, or anything?"

"No. Not me—and I'm morally certain she wasn't, either."

"I guess he believed me. Jacob, do you still think I was twitting you about Gigi? Or was I congratulating you?"

"Uh... maybe neither. Maybe trying to wring a confession out of me. It's no go, wench."

"Please, Jacob. Stipulating that I was mistaken but sincere—which was it? Now that you know how I behaved about Marian."

"Eunice—Johann! You should have been a lawyer. Subject to that stipulation, I concede that it must have been a sincere congratulation. But one I can't accept, I haven't earned it. Now, damn it, tell me how you came by this delusion."

"Yes, dear. But not this minute; there comes Gigi herself." Joan put her sextant back into its box. "Sights will have to wait anyhow; this reach has taken us in so close I've lost my horizon for the Sun. Hi, Gigi, you pretty, pretty thing! Give us a kiss. Just me, Jake is on watch;"

"I'm not all that busy. Eunice, hold the wheel." He accepted a kiss while still seated, then took the helm back from his wife.

Joan said, "Been swimming, dear?"

"Uh, yes. Joan Eunice, could I see you a minute? Mr. Salomon, would you excuse us?"

"Not by that moniker I won't; you'll have to call me ‘Jake.'

"Stuff it, dear," his wife said cheerfully. "She wants a hen conference. Come along, dear. Captain, try to keep us afloat."

They found a spot in the lee of the lifeboat. "Got troubles, dear?" (Eunice, are we about to have a beef over Jake? Surely not!) (Can't be, twin. That affair started over two weeks ago... and both Gigi and Joe were relaxed about it from scratch. Which means just what we thought: It actually is a return engagement—and Jake lied to protect a lady's reputation. Predictable.)

"Well, sort of," admitted Mrs. Branca. "Uh, might as well say it bang. Next time you anchor and send a boat in

Joe and I want off."

"Oh, dear! What's wrong, Gigi? I did so hope you would stay at least the month we talked about—then as much longer as you wished."

"Well... we did expect to. But I got this seasickness problem and Joe—well, he has done some painting but... the light's not right; it's too bright and..." She trailed off. (Twin, those are excuses.) (Jake?) (Can't be, I tell you. You've got to make her come clean.)

"Gigi."

"Yes, Joan?"

"Look at me. You haven't missed a meal since Roberto put you on the seasick pill. If Joe prefers floodlights to sunlight, we'll clear out the dining saloon and it can be his studio. Put your arms around me and tell me what's really wrong."

"Uh—Joan, the ocean's just too darn big!" Gigi blinked tears and said, "I guess you think I'm a baby."

"No. It's big. Biggest ocean in the world. Some people don't like oceans. I do. That doesn't mean you have to."

"Well, I thought I would like it. I mean, you hear about it. What a wonderful thing it is to make an ocean trip. But it scares me. Uh, it scares Joe, too; he just doesn't say so. Joan Eunice, you've been awful good to us—but this isn't our scene. Joe and I, we aren't fish—we're alley cats. Always lived in cities. It's too quiet here. Especially at night. At night the quiet is so loud it wakes me up."

Joan kissed her. "All right, darling. I knew you weren't having quite the happy time I wanted you to have. Didn't know why. I'll have to visit you at your place—where it's nice for all of us. I don't like the city, it scares me. But I like it, loads, in your studio—as long as 1 don't have to go outside. But is that all that's wrong? Has anyone upset you? Or Joe?"

"Oh, no! Everybody's been swell."

"You called Jake ‘Mr. Salomon.'"

"That was because I was upset—knowing I had to tell you."

"Then you both feel easy with Jake? I know he's impressive, he even impresses me. Nothing uptight there?"

"Oh, not a bit! Uh; knowing we were walking out on Jake upset us as much as knowing we were walking out on you."

"Then may Jake and I both come visit you? Stay a few days?" (Will she duck this, Eunice?) (Why ask me, Boss? You just asked her.)

Mrs. Branca dropped her eyes, then looked up and said bluntly, "You mean a Quartet? All the way?"

"All the way."

"Well, we would, I guess you know that. But how about Jake?"

"Well? How about Jake, Gigi? You tell me."

"Uh, Jake is relaxed with us. But he's a little uptight when you're around, seems like. Joan Eunice, you caught on. Didn't you? Or you wouldn't have braced me for a Quartet."

"I caught on, dear. It's all right. No huhu."

"I told Jake I thought you had. He said, Oh, no, impossible, you slept like a log."

"I do except that I've reached the point in pregnancy where I sometimes get up to pee. But that wasn't it—Jake could be most anywhere if he's not in bed and I never check on him. What I spotted wasn't proof. Just that a man has a way of looking at a woman he's sure of. And vice versa. Nothing anybody could object to. Just ‘not uptight' describes it as well as any. I'm not even mildly jealous of Jake, it simply pleased me. Knowing how sweet you can be for a man—remember, I used to be a man—"

"I know. But I don't really believe it."

"I have to believe it and can't ever forget it. Knowing you, I felt smugly pleased for my husband. Tell me, have you made a Three Circle with Jake? Money Hum?"

"Oh, yes, always!"

"Next time—at your studio—it will be a Four Circle. Then our Quartet will harmonize perfectly and no one will ever be uptight again."

"Yes. Yes!"

"In the meantime you're not going to have to put up with this great big scary ocean even one more night. We won't anchor, I'll have Tom call for a copter—say for right after lunch. It'll put you down at La Jolla International and you'll jet straight home—copter pilot will see to things for you and Tom will have your reservations—and you'll be home and flashing a pack in your own studio before you can say ‘Time Zone.' Feel better?"

"Uh, I feel like a heel but—yes, I do. Oh, golly, Joan, I'm so homesick!"

"You'll be home today. I'm going to find Tom and have him get things rolling. Then I'll go tell Jake—and tell him why, he'll understand—and relieve him at the wheel, and tell him he can find you in your stateroom. If you have the nerve of a mouse, little alley cat from the big city, you'll bolt the door and tell him good-bye properly. Uh—Troy? Or twosome?"

"Oh. Troy. Of course."

"Then find Joe and tell him. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen. But Gigi—that painting of Eve. I must buy it."

"No, we'll give it to you."

"We settled that long ago. Joe can give me anything else, but not paintings. I must pay for it because I want it to be a present from me to my husband. Now kiss me and run, dear."

The Pussy Cat with her sails dowsed rocked gently on a light sea. Fifty feet above her tallest stick a copter hovered while again lowering a passenger-freight basket. Tom Finchley stood far aft and coached the copter pilot with hand signals. Mr. and Mrs. Branca had already disappeared into the copter cabin, having gone up on the first trip, but their baggage was on the weather deck, waiting to be loaded.

There was quite a pile. Joan had urged them to fetch along "everything you could possibly need for a month or longer—for painting especially, as there will be lots of bodies around—and any of them will model... or I'll have them lashed to a grating and flogged, then make them walk the plank. Joe darling, you can do big romantic pix if you wish—pirate scenes with lush victims and leering scoundrels. Fun?"

She had sent the invitation by MercServ with tickets and an air-freight order and instructions to MercServ to supply a reader for the message. Joe had taken her literally; he seemed to have cleared out his studio——flood lamps, spots, easels, a heavy roll of canvas, stretchers, cameras, photo equipment and supplies, assorted impedimenta—and one bag each for clothes and personal articles. Seeing what Joe had fetched, Joan was glad that she had ordered a Brink's to get them to the jetport and was careful today to have one meet them at the far end.

The basket took up a load of baggage, came back for the last. Fred and Della's sixteen-year-old, Hank, an eager but untrained deck-hand, were loading taking turns keeping the basket from spinning while the other placed items in it.

Soon they had it alt in but one large case, when a gust of wind disturbed the uneasy balance between copter and surface craft. The basket swung wildly; Fred let go and danced aside while Hank went fiat to the deck to keep from being hit by it.

Fred recovered and again braced the basket, now ten feet farther forward. Joan Eunice grabbed the handle of the last case, then used both hands. "Whew! I think Joe packed the anchor in this one."

Jake yelled, "Eunice! Don't lift that! You want to miscarry?" He grabbed it from her, started for the basket.

Hank was on his feet again. "Here, Captain, I'll get that!"

"Out of my way, son." Jake trudged to the basket, found it too high, got the case into his arms, then up onto one shoulder, placed it carefully inside—and collapsed. Joan rushed to him.

Back aft, Tom Finchley noted when the last item went in, looked up at the copter's pilot and signaled "Hoist away!" and added the hand signal for "That's all—on your way!"

Then he looked down—and started to run.

Joan sat down on the deck, took Jake's head and shoulders to her.

"Jake, Jake darling!" (Eunice! Help me!)

Fred said, "I'll get the Doc!" and rushed for a companionway. The boy stood helplessly by. Salomon gave a long bubbling sigh and all his sphincters relaxed. (Eunice! Where is he?) (Boss, 1 can't find him!) (You've got to find him! He can't be far.) (What in hell?) (Here he is, here he is! Jake!) (Eunice, what happened? Somebody slammed me in the side of the head with a brick.) (Does it hurt, darling?) (Of course it doesn't hurt, Boss, not now. It can't. Welcome aboard, Melancholy Jacques you lovin' old bastard! Oh, boy, am I glad to see you!) (Yes, welcome home, darling. My darling. Our darling.) (Eunice?) (No, I'm Eunice, Jock. Old cocky Jock. That's Joan. Or Johann. Or Boss. No, Joan is ‘Boss' only to me; you'd better call her ‘Joan.' Look,

shipmates, let's get this Troy straight before we get tangled up in our feet. Joan, you call our husband ‘Jake' same as always—while I'll call him ‘Jock' as I used to. Jock, you call Boss either ‘Joan' or ‘Johann' as suits you- and she's I either ‘Joan' or ‘Boss' to me. And I'm always—'Eunice' to either of you. Got it straight?)

(I'm confused.) (No huhu, Jock beloved, never any huhu again. You'll get used to it, I did. Joan has to drive while we'll sit back and neck and give advice. Tell him, Joan.) (Yes, Jake. You have us both now. Forever.) (Om Mani Padme Hum'.) (Om Mani Padme Hum. Join us, Jake. A Thanksgiving.) (Om Mani Padme Hum!) "Om Mani Padme Hum."

"Joan. Let me have him, dear." Dr. Garcia was bending over her.

She shook her head. "I'll hold him, Roberto." (Boss! Knock off the female kark and let dear Doctor work.) (Yes, Eunice. Hang on tight to Jake.) (Never fear, dear; I shall. Jock, can you see now? Out of Joan's eyes. We're going to move.) (Of course I can see. Who's that ugly old wreck? Me.!) (Of course not; that's just something we don't need any longer. Look away, Joan; you're upsetting Jock.)

"Fred, take her below. Hank, help him. Tom, I need Winnie. Get her."

Dr. Garcia found Joan in the saloon. She was lying down, a wet cloth over her forehead, with Olga Dabrowski seated I by her. Tom Finchley followed the doctor in, his face solemn. The Doctor said nothing, took Joan's wrist, glanced at his watch.

Then he said, "It's bad news, Joan."

"I know, Roberto. He was gone before I came down here. (He's not gone, Boss. Don't put it that way. Jock is dead, as dead as I am. But not gone. Right, Jock?) (I think you're splitting hairs Lively Legs—) (‘Lively Legs!' You haven't called me that in a long tune.) (How about last night?) (You called Joan that; you didn't call me that, not last night.) (Will you two keep quiet? Or at least whisper? I've got to cope.)

(Sorry, Boss. Jock darling, whisper to me very quietly. Is Joan better at it than I am?) (Eunice, I can still hear you—and you have your tenses mixed.) (Boss darling, there are no tenses in the eternal Now. I asked Jock a question—and he's too chicken to answer.) (I certainly am!) (Oh, well. With my equipment and my coaching. Joan is probably adequate by now. Plus a good start—you won't believe this, Jock, but Boss has the dirtiest mind. That lady-lady act is just an act.) (Twin, quit trying to get my goat. I'm busy, Roberto is worried about us.) (Sorry, twin. I'll be good.)

"Eunice, I want to make one thing clear. It would not have made any difference if it had happened ashore with all possible life-support at hand. Even with Dr. Hedrick at hand. Oh, we could have kept him alive—as a vegetable. Nothing else."

"Jake never wanted that, Robert; I've heard him say so, emphatically. He never approved of the way I was kept alive."

"The two cases are a hundred and eighty degrees apart, Joan. Your body was worn out but your brain was in good-shape. In Jake's case—well, I gave him that physical before we put to sea; his body was in fine shape, for his age. But I know what the autopsy will show: a massive rupture of a large blood vessel in his brain; he died at once. A cerebral ‘accident' we call it, because it's unpredictable. If it's any consolation, he didn't suffer."

(‘Didn't suffer,' eh? Try it, Bob—it felt like a kick in the head by a mule. But you're right, it was just one blow. Not even a headache, afterward.) (About the same for me, Jock darling, when I got it. Boss had a much rougher time, for years.) (What if I had? It's over now. Darlings, please keep quiet—we'll talk when they let us alone.)

"Doctor, there will be no autopsy."

"Joan, there should be an autopsy for your peace of mind."

"It won't bring Jake back and he wouldn't like it. As for my ‘peace of mind,' I have just one question. Was it... too much honeymoon?"

"Oh. No, just too many years. Joan, it wasn't even from lifting that heavy load. Let me explain this sort of

‘accident.' It's like a weak spot in an old-fashioned pneumatic tire, worn almost through and ready to blow out—then anything can trigger it. Jake could simply have stood up, and keeled over—today, tomorrow, last week. Oh, it can happen during intercourse, you often hear men say they want to die ‘while tearing off one last load.' But it's a horrible experience for the woman involved—and probably isn't a last orgasm anyhow, more likely he's chopped down just before it.

"Far better the way Jake got it, still virile—I assume—" (You know darn well Jock was ‘still virile.' Ask your wife. Ask Gigi. Hell, ask anybody.) (Eunice, was my behavior that blatant?) (Not blatant at all, Jock you lovin' old goat. But news gets around.)

"—or I should say ‘I know' as I was his physician. Jake was happy and strong and virile—and then he was through, like snipping a film. Don't worry about ‘too much honeymoon.' Getting married may have saved Jake years of hopeless senility. Or it may have chopped two weeks off his life as a small price for much happiness. But more likely it extended his life; a happy man functions better. Forget it, dear. When my time comes I hope I get it the way Jake got it—quickly, and happy to the end."

"Then there is no point in an autopsy, Roberto. Will you sign a death certificate?"

"Well... when death takes place not in a hospital and not under medical care, it is customary to notify the authorities and—"

"Roberto!"

"Yes, Joan?"

"You're not going to do that to Jake. Notify whom? Somebody in Washington? We're in Federal waters, and the coroner of San Diego County has no proper interest in this death. But he'd be likely to try to milk it for publicity, once he finds out who Jake is, who I am—and I shan't let that be done with Jake's death. Jake was under medical care—yours! You're our ship's surgeon. It might be that you saw him die. Think about it." (Joan, don't ask Bob to lie. It doesn't matter if some coroner has his M.E. chop me up.) (I shan't permit it! Besides, Jake, I'm pregnant. Do you want me to have to go through that? Crowds and questions and pulling and hauling and sleepless nights?) (Mmm... tell him to make it an airtight lie, dear.) (Boss is a stubborn bitch, Jock—but she's usually right.)

"Hmm—" Dr. Garcia took off his stethoscope, put it aside. "Now that you mention it, there was still some heart action after I reached him. Lacking means to determine the instant of brain failure, I am forced to take cessation of heart action as the moment of death." (That boy would make a good witness, girls—come to think about it, he did make a good witness at the identity hearings.)

"In that case, Doctor, it seems to me that the circumstances are not open to question—and you may be sure that I will spend any amount of money to keep anyone from turning Jake's death into a circus at any later time. I would like you to certify death and the circumstances and mail a copy to whatever Federal authority should be notified—when next we touch shore. No copy elsewhere, we have no permanent residence other than this vessel. Oh, mail a copy to Alec Train; he has Jake's will, he'll need one for probate. And be sure to supply Captain Finchley with a duplicate original for the log."

"All right, Joan, since that's the way you want it. And I agree: Here we have a natural death and there is no point in letting bureaucrats poke around in it. But—right now I want to give you something to make you sleep. Nothing much, just a heavy dose of tranquilizer."

"Roberto, what was my pulse?"

"That's none of a patient's business, Joan."

"It was seventy-two, dead on normal—I counted my heart beats during that thirty seconds from your first glance at your watch until you let go my wrist. I need no tranquilizers."

"Joan, your heart action should be higher than normal—under the circumstances."

"Then possibly I need a stimulant, not a tranquilizer. Roberto, you sometimes forget—even though you have been through the whole thing with me—that I am not a normal patient. Not a young bride subject to hysteria. Underneath I am a very old man, almost three times your age, dear, and I've seen everything and no shock can truly be a shock to me. Death is an old friend; I know him well. I lived with him, ate with him, slept with him; to meet him again does not frighten me—death is as necessary as birth, as happy in its own way."

She smiled. "My pulse is normal because I'm happy—happy that my beloved Jake met death so easily and happily. Oh, I'll go to my cabin and lie down; I usually nap during the heat of the afternoon. But how about Eve?"

"Eh?"

"Have you done anything about her? She's young, she's probably never seen death before. She almost certainly needs a tranquilizer—not I."

"Uh... Joan, I've been busy. But— Olga. Will you find Winnie and tell her I said that Eve was to have a minimum dose of ‘Tranquille'?"

"Yes, Doctor." Mrs. Dabrowski left.

"Now, young lady, I'll take you to the cabin."

"Just a moment, Doctor. Captain, will you get way on with both sails and auxiliary, and make course for the nearest point of the seventy-five-mile limit? I want us to be in international waters before sundown."

"Aye aye, Ma'am. That would be about west by south, maybe basic course two-six-oh. I'll plot it."

"Good. Then pass the word, quietly, that burial services will be at sundown."

"Joan!"

"Roberto, do you think I would turn Jake over to an undertaker? Taxidermists! He wanted to die like his ancestors; I shall bury him like his ancestors—his dear body untouched and returned home before the sun sets."

"‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die-'

Joan paused in her reading. The Sun was an orange-red circle almost touching the horizon. On a grating at the rail, steadied by Fred and the Doctor, Jake's body waited, sewed into canvas, with ballast weights at the feet. (A primitive rite, Johann.) (Jake, if you don't like it, I'll stop.) (Jock, you should be respectful; this is a funeral.) (It's my funeral, isn't it? Do I have to pull a long face for my own funeral? Johann, I do like it. I respect symbols, primitive symbols especially. Thank you for doing this—and thank you most of all for not letting my carcass fall into the hands of licensed ghouls.) (Just wanted to be sure, Jake. I'd better go on; I've marked several more passages.)

(Go on, Johann. Just don't try to pray me into Heaven.) (I shan't, Jake beloved. We three will face whatever comes, together.) (Right, Boss. Jock knows it.)

"‘All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. Who knoweth the spirit of man...?'

"‘Two are better than one... . For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up. Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?'" (Boss, that reminds me. Do we have to sleep alone tonight?) (Danm it, Eunice, don't you ever think of anything else?) (Come off it, Boss. What else is worth thinking about? Stocks, bonds, and other securities? I've been telling Jock about your discovery—that sex is more intense for a woman than for a man. He doesn't believe it. But he's eager to find out.)

(Jake, are you that eager? I intended to show respect for your memory.) (I appreciate the thought, Johann. But you needn't carry it to extremes. I can't see why you should mourn me when I'm still here. Uh, tell me—is it really better?) (Let him judge for himself, Boss—whether it's better to spread Eunice...r to be Eunice. A more scientific comparison than you have been able to make.) (Quit talking like a kinsey, Eunice. All right, partners; I'll think over the changes. But I'll be damned if I'll make a disgraceful spectacle out of us tonight. Not this night. It's got to be discreet—or no game.)

"And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a three-fold cord is not quickly broken.'"

(Boss, I like that. This makes up for the funeral I never had. Not even a memorial service.) (But you did have a memorial service, Lively Legs) (I did? Who was there?)

(Just me, dear. I hired a little chapel and an organist. I read a couple of poems you used to like. Some flowers. Nothing much.) (Jock, I'm dreadfully touched. Boss! He really does love me. Doesn't he?) (He does, darling—we both do.) (I wish I'd been there, Jock.) (I didn't know where you were, dearest. Maybe just as well, you're not very well behaved at funerals.) (Oh, pooh all over you, you dirty old ghost—nobody can hear me.) (Careful whom you call a ‘ghost', Lively Legs; it might slop over onto you. Let Joan get through with this and splash it.)

"‘Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might—'

‘—for thy days are few and they are numbered—'

‘—man goeth to his long home.'

‘The silver cord is loosed, the golden bowl is broken.'

From the deep we came, let the body of our brother Jacob now be returned to the deep."

Joan closed the Book; Fred and Dr. Garcia lifted the end of the grating; the body fell into the water, disappeared.

She turned away, handed the Book to Mrs. Dabrowski. "Here, Olga. Thank you."

"Joan, that was beautiful. I don't see how you did it."

"Wipe your eyes, Olga; farewells must never be sad—and Jake was ready to go. I knew my husband well, Olga; I knew what he wanted, it was not hard."

She pressed Olga's hand and turned away. "Winnie! Stop that. Stop it at once. Jake does not want you to cry." (What makes you think so, Johann? I feel flattered by having a lovely little creature like Winifred weep over me.) (Oh, pipe down, Jake. You were the star of the show, now stop taking bows. Talk to Eunice.) Joan took the smaller woman in her arms. "You mustn't, Winnie. Really you mustn't. Think of your baby."

Winnie bawled against her shoulder. "Joan, don't you miss him at all?"

"But, darling, how can I miss Jake when he has never left me? The Jewel is still in the Lotus, and always will be. Eternal Now."

"I guess so—but I just can't stand it!"

Dear Doctor, maybe? He'll be giving Winnie a sleeping pill, surest thing.) (Not Roberto, Eunice. Under his aggressive atheism he's got a touch of what he was brought up on, he'd be shocked. Some other night.) "Roberto, you had better take care of Winnie."

"I will—but are you all right?"

"You know I am. I have a prescription for you, however."

"All right. It won't hurt you to take a real knocker-outer tonight. Say phenobarb."

"Let's not say ‘phenobarb.' My prescription is for Winnie. Get her to eat something. Then sit with her and recite the Money Hum for at least a half hour. Then take her to bed and hold her in your arms and let her sleep. And you sleep, sir; you've had a rough day, too."

"All right. Do you want to join us in saying them? We could come to the cabin—then you could go straight to bed. I've learned that it's better than barbiturates."

"Doctor, if you wish, you may come to my cabin at nine o'clock tomorrow morning—and kick me out of bed if I'm not up. But I will be. Don't go there any sooner than that. Tonight I shall recite that hypnotic prayer. With Jake. He'll be able to hear me...whether you think so or not."

"Joan, I have no wish to attack anyone's faith."

"You haven't, dear. I appreciate your solicitude. When I need it, I will draw on it—freely. But now you take care of Winnie." (Boss, how about Fred? No one to dodge. Jock, you'll be right in the middle. Lucky Adolf. But Fred won't know it.) (Eunice, you're out of your pointy little head. We almost scared Fred to death once before, just by being us. Before we got him gentled. Look at him, he's worse off than Winnie. With nobody to console him. But we can't console him, not this night.)

"Captain."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Let's bust up this wake. People should not stand around moping. Meal hours have become disorganized; can Hester throw together some cold supper quickly? Perhaps with volunteer help? I'd volunteer but I have something to do." (Oho! The Tom Cat. Jock, this is going to be fun.) (Lively Legs, is there a man in this vessel you gals haven't spread for?) (Oh, sure, Jock honey. Hank. He's got his eye on Eve and thinks we're an old hag. And now that her Uncle Jock has left her, Eve might trip him.) (Now that I'm dead, I regret having resisted that delicious little jailbait. Wouldn't have cost me more than a million to buy my way out of trouble—and I had a rich wife.) (If you two lechers will shut up a moment, I'll set you straight about something. Not Thomas Cattus. Certainly not before the midwatch and could be later with this wind against us. Captain Tom Finchley is going to be busy skippering.) "Captain, I want you to get way on and set basic course for San Clemente Island anchorage."

"Yes, Ma'am." He trailed after her, and added softly, "I better start calling you ‘Captain' now. Set an example."

She stopped. They were sufficiently alone that she could speak privately by lowering her voice. "Tom Cat."

"Yes?"

"Don't call me ‘Captain'—you are Captain until I've passed my tests. Then we'll see. And don't call me ‘Ma'am.' I'm either ‘Mrs. Salomon' or ‘Joan,' depending on the company, just as before. But in private I'm still your ‘Pussy Cat'. I hope I am."

"Well...okay."

"Let's hear you say it."

"Pussy Cat. Brave little Pussy Cat. Puss, you surprise me more, longer I know you."

"That's better. Torn Cat, Jake knew all along about your tomcatting with me." (Oh, what a lie! Eunice, she never told me—and I suspected only once and decided I was mistaken.) (I know, Jock. Boss is a deceitful one and not at; all truthful and besides she tells fibs even to me.)

"He did?"

"Yes, Thomas Cattus. But Jake Salomon was a true gentleman and saw only what he was expected to see. He never teased me about my little follies. Simply indulged me. But he didn't tell on himself, either. Do you know if he ever made it with Hester?" (Now see here, Johann—) (Pipe~ down, Jock; I've wondered, too.)

"Uh... hell, Pussy, all men are alike, all after the same thing."

"And all women are alike, we've all got it. Well?"

"Hester spread for him first chance we gave ‘em. But she didn't tell me. Ashamed. Had to catch ‘em at it, then twist her arm."

"Surely you didn't hurt her?"

"No, no, Puss, I don't rough a broad, never. Didn't catch ‘em, not to hurt, neither. Backed out fast—then asked later. Told her I knew for certain, so how about coming clean, was all. She did. She hadn't told me—because of you."

"Oh. I trust you then told her about me?"

Her sailing master looked horrified. "Pussy, you think I'm out o' my frimpin' head? Look, I like what you got, just fine. But I ain't foolish. I don't rat on broads. If I did, you'd be last on the list. Believe."

"Tell Hester if you wish, dear; it can't matter now. Then at some later time, she would not be surprised if she found me doing what widows so often do." (‘They don't tell, they don't yell, they rarely swell—and they're grateful as hell.') (Jock, you're a dirty old ghost.) "Well, let's set our course. What ETA, Tom Cat? If it's later than midnight, I'll relieve you for the midwatch."

"You will like hell, Ma'am—Pussy Cat. You sack in a full night, you need it. I'll put Fred on the wheel now and Hank on lookout—and I'll drag a corking mat back near the helm and catch some sack drill till we get close in. Pussy Cat, you've got to promise me you'll stay in your cabin. Not go wandering around, I'll think you're meaning to jump overboard."

"Is that an order, Captain?"

"Uh—yes, damn it, that's an order!"

"Aye aye, sir. It won't be necessary to check on me; I'll be in my cabin, door locked, and I will be asleep. I promise not to jump overboard earlier than tomorrow night."

"Pussy Cat, you wouldn't jump? Would you?"

"With Jake's baby inside me? Captain, I do have a concept of duty. Until I have this baby, my life is not my own. I not only must not suicide—I would not in any case—but I must also keep calm and happy and healthy and not risk so much as a dirty drinking glass. So don't worry about me. Good night, Tom." She headed for the cabin.

(Nothing doing at that shop tonight, partners—we're faced with nobility. I think Anton is our best bet.) (The Passionate Pole! Jock darling, I'm not sure your heart can stand it.) (Fortunately, my dears, my old pump no longer has to stand anything—and the one you turned over to Joan, Eunice, is a Swiss watch among tickers. Doesn't race even when she is racing. But you know that.) (Quit chattering, you two. Either of you have any idea how to get Olga out of the way?)

(Push her overboard?) (Eunice!) (Can't I joke, Boss? I like Olga, she's a nice girl.) (Too nice, that's the problem. Not a tart like you, or me—or Hester.) (Hrrrmph!) (Jake, you're not in court, dear. The subject is tail. Mine. Ours, I mean.) (Johann, I simply wanted to say that, if you took our problem directly to Mrs. Dabrowski, you might find her sympathetic. I always found her so.)

(Jake! Are you implying that you've had Olga? I don't believe it.) (I don't either, Jock. If you had said ‘Eve' I would have boggled—but would have believed you. But Olga? Hell, she wears a panty even in the pool.) (Which comes off very easily—in private.)

(Eunice, I think he means it. Well, I'll be damned! You and I are pikers. ‘Me' at's off ‘to the Duke.' All right, Jake—tell us how to go about it.) (About what? Getting her out of the way? Just ask her, she's very sympathetic—and felt my death more than you wenches have.) (Jock, that's not fair. We felt it...but we're overjoyed that you decided to stay anyhow.)

(Thank you, my dears. Conversely, if you would like to invite her in—) (Do you mean a Troy?) (I understand that such is the current argot, Eunice; in my youth we called it something else. But wouldn't it be more of a Pentagon? Five?)

(The word is ‘Star' today, Jock. But let me give you the first rule of happy ghosting. You must never, never, never admit that you are here, nor tease Joan to admit it. Because she might get groused and do so. Whereupon Joan would wind up in a shrink factory—with us along—and there go our happy games. Look, you've been married to Joan quite a while now and jumping her even longer—did you ever suspect that I was present, too?) (Not once.) (You see? Don't admit it and they leave us alone.)

(Eunice, Jake would never let on. But now about Olga—Jake, did you ever teach her Om Mani?) (No.) (Boss, I begin to see. We've taught it to Anton, Jock. Is Ol­ga limber enough to sit in Lotus?) (Lively Legs, Mrs. Dabrowski is limber enough for anything.) (That does it, Joan. Olga will join in, even if she thinks it's heathen—tonight she will. For you. And there is no easier way to get a party peeled down and rolling than by forming a Circle. You've done it again and again.) (As I recall, dears, Joan even used it on me. When it was hardly necessary. Okay, let's find the Dabrowskis.)