Jim Crace - Signals of Distress

‘Indeed it is.’

‘A bitter night, though.’

‘But a well-shaped Universe,’ Aymer said.

‘Amen to that. That’s worth a cup of anybody’s time.’

Aymer waited while Whip relieved herself against the stone and then went chasing smells. The snow had almost stopped, but what had already fallen was hard and biscuity underfoot. Aymer put his hands into his coat, whistled for the dog and set off up the lane.

The next men that he met were two sailors from the Belle : ‘Captain Keg’, the portly mate, and a taller, younger deckhand. ‘Good evening, gentlemen. Or should I say the contrary, that it is a dreadful evening and fearful cold?’

The Americans stared at Aymer with theatrical delight. ‘Well now!’ the mate said to his companion. ‘And lookee lookee here, see what the dog’s brought home!’ They stopped and grinned at him. Aymer was impatient with their ‘sauciness’. He walked on. They followed him until — to loud American guffaws — he collided with George the parlourman.

‘Ah, just the fellow. George? Let’s see if you are worth the shilling that you’ve had.’

George seemed at a loss for words for a moment, and then he said, ‘It’ll take more than a shilling to save your tail …’ and added, ‘… sir!’

Again the two Americans were laughing, inexplicably. Aymer felt excluded from some joke. It was a feeling he was accustomed to. He joined the laughter with a lifeless ‘Ah-ha’, and then took George by the elbow and spoke softly: ‘We must not fence, George. It is too cold and late to fence. Can you throw any light on this? My bed is stripped. My bag and my possessions are no longer in my room and Mrs Norris says that Mrs Yapp has taken them in lieu of payment …’

George was smiling now from ear to ear. ‘We thought you had eloped with the captain’s dog,’ he said, ‘and taken that Otto Africanus as your valet. But now you’re back, so that’s all right, so long as Otto’s nice and snug on this cold night inside the tackle room. I hope he is.’

‘Well, he is not …’ Aymer hadn’t given much thought to Otto. He’d provided food. He’d sent for a physician. He’d set the fellow free. And that was that. The man would be, well, sleeping somewhere else by now and on his way to … Aymer didn’t know the names of any towns that could be walked to in a day. He’d done his duty and hadn’t considered that there might be consequences, repercussions. ‘Well, he is not,’ he said again, with some attempt at firmness.

‘Then, Mr Smith, you’d better turn about and find some place to hide unless you want a beating. For kidnapping. And dognapping. And soapnapping. And knapsacking. And walking out without your trousers on.’ Again there was much laughter, though not from George.

Aymer put his hand up to his mouth. What did the sailors know? What had they seen? Was he observed when he pulled back the bolt, when he was masturbating in the alleyway, when he was peeping through the curtains at Katie’s naked thighs? He coughed, and sniffed, but didn’t chuckle. ‘I cannot think,’ he said, ‘that this is any of my making …’

George put his lips to Aymer’s ear, and whispered, ‘You let that blackie go. You know you did. And, more’s the point, they know you did, those sailors standing there.’

Aymer didn’t dare to look. ‘What do those fellows want? Do they mean harm?’

‘They’ll not do any harm themselves. They mean to be spectators to it, though. It’s the captain who will break your bones.’

‘Captain Comstock?’

‘He’s the one. He is the only captain you’ve robbed, I hope.’

‘Well, yes … well … no!’

‘How many captains, then?’

‘Good heavens, George, do you mistake me for a highwayman? I am not guilty of a spate of crimes. Or any crimes at all. No one could wish to break my bones. Besides, the captain is a gentleman, or ought to be, if he is worthy of command. He would not strike me. What example might that set? If he has grievances then he should settle them by law. This is not America, I hope. The law is clear. We have emancipated slaves and habeas corpus here. He will not strike me in my native land.’

‘Who can tell what he might do? I just know this: you stick your bum in fire and you must sit on blisters. You interfere in someone else’s life, and there’s a price to pay. And that’s the truth, for captains and for gentlemen, no matter what the law might say.’

George put his arm round Aymer’s shoulder and led him into the blackness of a courtyard where they could not be watched or heard by the two Americans. Aymer couldn’t see his face, so couldn’t tell if there was any mockery in the new, honest tone to George’s voice. ‘The wisest thing for you is to let me find a horse and tackle, Mr Smith. Then hide yourself under my bed, or in the loft above the stables, until it’s dawn. And then it’s flesh and leather and you’re away back home and no damage done to you excepting saddle sores.’

‘I have no choice, you think.’

‘You have a choice. It’s blisters here, or saddle sores at home. If your backside’s got any brain it’ll settle for the sores. You put a sovereign in my hand to find the horse and it’s as good as done, and done so cheaply on account of my esteem for you, sir. For no one likes to see a fellow black and blue for meaning well but doing harm. One sovereign ought to settle it. Though two would put four legs beneath the horse, instead of three legs and a limp …’

‘Two sovereigns, George? I now begin to see your strategy …’

‘Save yourself two sovereigns then, and you’ll see this in’t no strategy. It’ll cost ten sovereigns for Fearful Phipps to set and mend your bones. Save yourself eight, Mr Smith, and do it quick because that is the captain I can hear and you’ll be caught.’

They stood on tiptoe looking over the courtyard wall into the lesser, sloping darkness of the lane. Twenty or so crewmen and Wherrytowners were descending, clustered round two lanterns on a pole.

Their path was steep and slippery and dark, and women had to hold strangers’ arms to stop themselves from falling in the snow. There was a lot of laughter, clutching, tumbling, apologies.

‘He’s there,’ said George, pointing, ‘and in good hands, poor man.’

The captain followed fifteen yards behind the rest, almost out of lantern light. But there was no mistaking his square build, nor Mrs Yapp’s oval one. She had her arm wrapped round the captain’s waist. Her bonnet was inclined towards his chest. They were too engrossed and, like the Norrises, too impassioned by the warming congruences of church to pay much heed to anything but how they’d seal the Sabbath with a little commerce of the flesh. She had the captain’s dollar in her hand.

‘Stay still,’ said George.

‘I will not hide myself. This is a public place, and I am well within the law.’ He was too frightened to stay still, or quiet. So Aymer Smith, with George and Whip on either side, stepped into the lane and stood beside the Belle ’s fat mate and in the congregation’s path. He had no plan, except to keep his dignity, tell nothing but the truth, and hide behind the law. Shipmaster Comstock would benefit, in Aymer’s view, from some enlightenment. And some plain speaking.

Stand firm , he told himself. Though standing firm was difficult in his fine-weather boots. He’d put his feet too close together and too parallel. He lost his footing and he had to grasp the mate for balance. When he had regained his poise, he found himself surrounded by the crowd. The Wherrytowners amongst them raised their hats and said Goodnight ; the Americans offered guffaws, whistles and expletives, and waited for their captain to arrive.