CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

the saddest, because in it the Rage is lost beyond recall

  So I gave the port a wide berth. We sailed on for another day, but towards evening such a thick fog blanketed the sea that I could not see my own hand. All around sounded horns, blew whistles and clanged bells. It was rather scary, but merry too. However, the merriment did not last long. I heard the noise of a high-speed boat approaching. When a torpedo boat loomed ahead, I swung to starboard-but so did she. I put the helm hard left-and she followed suit.
   There was a terrific crash, water gushed on the deck, and the poor Rage, cleaved into two, began to sink slowly.
   Now we've had it, I thought.
   "Fooks," I said, "take a life-belt and swim west. It's not far."
   "What about you, Captain?" Fooks asked.
   "I have no time, I have to make the last entry in the log, take leave of my ship, and the main thing, I don't feel like visiting Japan. "
   "Neither do I, Captain. I'd rather go elsewhere."
   "Why, Fooks," I reasoned. "It's dry land after all, picturesque country, Mount Fujiyama."
   ''What do I want with your Mount Fujiyama," Fooks retorted. "I'll never find a job there, and as for my old trade, no one can beat them at sleight of hand. They'll strip you clean in no time. I'd rather stay with you."
   I was touched by his loyalty and felt a surge of strength. "What the hell," I thought, "when there's a will there's a way."
   "All hands aboard!" I commanded. "Strip the rigging, fell the mast!"
Fooks proved very handy at dismantling things. Of course, destruction comes easier than creation. In no time the palm-tree was overboard and floating. Fooks jumped down onto it, I passed down some of the valuables, dropped a ring-buoy, the compass together with the binnacle, a couple of oars, a cask of water, some clothes...
   All this time I remained on the Rage. Then I felt its stern rising, the bow going steeply down-another moment and it would founder.
   Tears sprang to my eyes. At this last moment I grabbed the axe and with my own hands chopped out the board carrying the ship's name.
   Then I jumped into the water and was soon astride the palm-tree, watching the ocean swallow the remains of my long-suffering yacht.
   Tears stood in Fooks's eyes too.
   "Don't worry," I said to him and patted him on the shoulder. "Never say die."
   Well, so we sat awhile, contemplating the spot where the waves had closed over the Rage, and then started setting house on our palm-tree. And we did not do so badly either, believe it or not. Of course, we did not have all the modern conveniences, but we had everything essential for sailing. We mounted the compass, put up a kind of sail made of an old sailor's vest, hung a ring-buoy on a branch, while the board with the lettering served as my desk.

   It was not too bad, but rather wet underfoot. Before long we saw a whisp of smoke on the horizon. I thought it was mat torpedo-boat again, but it proved to be a mere trader flying the British flag. I was not going to ask it for help thinking we'd make it somehow. But the captain, on sighting our sorry-looking craft and inspecting us through a spy-glass, decided that we needed assistance for all that we showed no signs of panic and sent no distress signals.
   So half an hour later we were taken aboard his ship and the captain was treating me to a glass of rum.
   I made him a present of my palm-tree, and he put it up in the mess-room. I also gave away the oars and the compass, but kept the ring-buoy and the letter-board as mementos of my Rage.
  The captain told me he was on his way to Canada to take on a load of timber, we discussed news and then he went off leaving me with fresh newspapers.
   Well, I leafed through the newspapers. It was the usual thing - advertisements and all kinds of one-day sensations. And suddenly, I saw a huge headline: "PROPAGANDA AIR-RAID. AGITATOR ESCAPED THE POLICE!"
   I began to read and soon realised the whole hullaballoo was about Lom. He seemed to have landed on his kite in the Fuji foothills. Naturally this visitation attracted a huge crowd, and the kite was torn into shreds and taken away for souvenirs.
   But don't forget that the kite was largely made of newspapers. So the police stepped in and accused Lom of importing illegal literature. Things looked dim for Lom, but at that moment, fortunately for him, the sky became overcast and the earth began to rumble under their feet. The crowd fled the mountain slope in a panic, and Lom remained there alone in the company of Japanese policemen.
   They stood thus, facing each other, with the earth heaving underneath them. This condition of the earth surface usually strikes fear into people's hearts, but Lom was a seasoned sailor and thought nothing of a bit of rolling.
   Blissfully unaware of the peril presented by elemental forces thus at play he turned and strolled up the slope. Suddenly the earth gaped, as they say, and a wide cleft separated him from his pursuers. Then soot and ashes started raining down, and all was obscured.
   The police lost Lom's tracks, and he was now a wanted criminal.