Sjon - The Whispering Muse

‘The visitors complained of their lot, moaning that they were kept constantly dashing from one end of town to the other, either flattening the straw with their verminous mistresses or lulling their infants to sleep in the palace apartments. And to crown it all, the mothers of their children were eager to start all over again.

‘A lesser man than Heracles might have made use of this discontent to foment a mutiny against Jason son of Aeson. He would have summoned the men to him by night, hoisted the canvas and sailed away, leaving the captain behind in the clutches of this strange nation of women. Instead he summoned Jason and they met by the side of the ship, at the crack of dawn, while I lay in my berth inside and overheard the whole thing.

‘It was the spring equinox.

‘I heard Heracles say:

‘“Tell me one thing, brother: who are the Argonauts? Are we hunted killers? Were we exiled from our lands for sacrilege or incest — forced to roam the seas like pirates? Why have we sat here so long, blockaded by women, going nowhere? Was it not our mission to achieve an impossible task? To triumph over monsters and witchcraft? To sail to the ends of the earth and return with a priceless treasure?

‘“Or do you intend your men to die of old age in the laundries of Lemnos, kneading the shit from the nappies of their base-born offspring?”

‘In that instant the spell seemed to lift from Captain Jason son of Aeson. He embraced Heracles, declaring that he had spoken well and justly, then ordered the crew to bid farewell to their mistresses and prepare the Argo for departure. He himself lay with Hypsipyle for the very last time, having by then begotten one son, Thoas, with her, and their lovemaking proved so potent that it resulted in another son, Euneus, who later became famous for providing the drink at the siege of Troy.

‘The Argo weighed anchor.

‘The wind was in our favour.’

In the momentary silence that followed Caeneus’s last words, I seized the chance, before people started clapping, to strike my wineglass with a teaspoon, then rising to my feet I announced:

‘My dear shipmates! I must be permitted to say a few words. I wish to express my gratitude.

‘We have been on this voyage now for seven days and nights, soon to be eight, and it must be said that I have looked forward to every day. Throughout the voyage you have gone to great lengths to make my stay as agreeable as possible; Captain Alfredson has allotted me a regular seat at his table, the radiator in my cabin breaks down and before I can say ‘Jack Robinson’ someone has repaired it; I am invited on one motor excursion after another; there is always hot coffee in the pot when I come in from my turns about the deck; the steward has ironed my shirts. And although at times discord has raised its head between us “supernumeraries”, it has always been resolved in the end. We are adults and know that it takes two to make a quarrel.

‘Here in the saloon the atmosphere has invariably been homely; we have had music and dancing, and Mate Caeneus has entertained us with his life story — fascinating stuff for the most part, if a little on the racy side. But you are young; after the war we awoke to a new world — and the words of Dr Pázmány, who predicted in 1927 that in the future sexual matters would be openly discussed at the dinner table, have been proved correct. Yes, high or low, young or old, you have shown me perfect amiability and respect.

‘And this evening you have humoured me yet again by having seafood for dinner; prawns and ocean clams with a creamy dill sauce on toast for starters, and poached salmon with potato gratin and melted butter for the main course. And although it was tinned, not fresh, I have no complaints. I feel as if my Nordic temperament has been revitalised by this excellent and intelligently concocted repast. Little did I suspect that the seeds of the ideas I sowed in your minds with my points about “fish and culture” would find here such fertile soil, would so soon bear such excellent fruit.

‘I thank you for that!’

Raising my glass I looked over the brim at each of my table companions in turn. I took a sip. I raised my glass anew. Lowering it, I did not replace it on the table but allowed it to remain in my hand. And for the rest of the speech I brandished the glass to emphasise my words:

‘As I have lain in my cabin reflecting on your kindness to me, I have indulged myself in the belief that it has not been from obedience to your master alone but that perhaps you have derived some small pleasure from this old man’s company on the voyage, just as he has unquestionably enjoyed yours.

‘But now the adventure is over, tomorrow our ways must part. For, you see, I have decided to abandon ship and head for home…’

I paused to let the news sink in. They looked at one another in surprise, shaking their heads and exchanging comments in low voices. I raised my hand for silence, then carried on in the same friendly tone:

‘One moment, please, one moment! In my letter of thanks to Mr Magnus Jung-Olsen I will give you all the highest recommendation. It is nobody’s “fault”, merely that I feel I have already seen so many things, experienced so much, that I doubt the journey to Poti in Georgia could add anything new. But if anything interesting should happen on the voyage I do hope that when we meet again you will tell me the story — I will give Captain Alfredson my address and telephone number before I go.

‘Finally, I would ask you all to be upstanding and drink a toast to the Jung-Olsen family and the Kronos shipping line.’

Everyone rose to their feet and I led the toast:

‘Long live the Jung-Olsen family and the Kronos line. Hip, hip, hurrah!’

When I returned to my quarters the fore cabin had been converted into a larder. From the way everything was arranged you would have thought it had been like that for the duration. It was a mystery to me how the purser and his lady friend had achieved this transformation without my being aware: the walls were lined with shelves and through the wire netting — designed to keep everything in its place in heavy seas — I saw piles of tins, jars of pickled vegetables and packets of flour, sugar and spice. There were sacks of potatoes in one corner and a stack of boxes of wine and fruit juice by the door, all lashed down with leather straps. In the middle of the cabin stood a huge refrigerator.

My luggage, however, was nowhere to be seen.

My first reaction was to assume that this was a practical joke in honour of my departure, something typical of life at sea and traditionally performed the night before men left the ship. But I soon realised that this couldn’t be right as I hadn’t told anyone I was leaving until just now. It must be some kind of misunderstanding. I was about to return to the saloon to ask Alfredson what was going on when the memory of the send-off I had just received prevented me; it had been so heart-warming:

The men had hugged me. The purser’s lady friend wished me bon voyage on the long journey that lay before me as I returned home to Copenhagen overland. Mate Caeneus had laid his great fist on my shoulder and said: ‘Goodbye for now, brother Valdimar.’ And I invited him to drop the ‘Mr’.

No, there was no need to spoil this happy memory by carping about something that must have a perfectly rational explanation.

I decided to investigate the matter a little further and opened the door to the bathroom. It was dark and the light switch wouldn’t work, but once my eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom I saw that here too someone had been busy. Bath and shower, mirror and basin, bench and cupboard had all gone and instead of white tiles the floor was now covered with black earth. The blood froze in my veins. For a split second I thought I saw the huge figure of a man standing where the shower used to be. Then the moon crept out from behind a cloud and shone in through the porthole — and its rays revealed a suit of armour hanging on a purpose-built stand; on top was a burnished bronze helmet with a high, billowing feather-crest; beneath it gleamed the breastplate, moulded for a muscular giant, while down on the floor stood a pair of greaves, showing what strong legs the owner must have.