Conrad Aiken - Blue Voyage

“He’s welcome,” muttered Hay-Lawrence, not looking up; unexpectedly severe. Something unconquerable in him after all. He scowled at the chessboard. Knight to queen’s bishop three — retreat, confound him — he must be beaten; beaten thoroughly, but with inexpressive modesty, not to say apathy.

“I wouldn’t touch her with a tent pole,” Hay-Lawrence added. Hay-Lawrence with a tent pole, walked sedately, haughtily. The Welsh Rarebit darted before him, twittering. Spare me, Clarence!.. Damn silly … Pawn to queen five: Now —move your blasted knight again — move it, damn you! And hurry up.

“Damn it, why don’t they open the bar?” Hay-Lawrence was angry. “Absurd to keep us waiting like this. Steward?” A commanding finger.

Malvolio, languidly smiling, took four steps; steadying himself en route against a chair back.

“Yes, sir.”

“When does the bar open?”

“Seven o’clock. Not till seven on Sunday. Ten minutes yet, sir.”

“What’s yours, Demarest?”

“Mine? Oh — double Scotch.”

“Bring up a double Scotch and a port flip, as soon as you open.”

“Double Scotch and a port flip.”

“Utterly absurd on a ship … Absurd enough on land.” Scowling he lifted the knight, held it a moment in air, choosing a landing place, then deposited it on the queen’s knight’s square. Home again. Black was beginning to be bottled up uncomfortably. Malvolio tapped at the bar window, which was opened an inch.

“A port flip, to come at seven.”

“What’s that to me? I can’t do anything without the keys, can I?”

“The gentleman wants it as soon as you open …”

Seven again — the mystic number. S for seven and Silberstein — Silverstone. Good morning, Silverstone!.. Now to break open that queen’s side — a Caesarean operation — Caesarean tactics. Very simple. Pawn to queen’s rook four — that was it — that would do it. Afterward the knight could get through. That is, if Hay-Lawrence, as he expected, moved the knight’s pawn … Those fingers of his, so damnably refined, poised, clustered, above the pawn — like Cynthia’s. Not really like Cynthia’s; but they belonged, somehow, to the same constellation. Cynthia, pondering over the chessboard, frowning, poising her fingers thus — stately, reserved, leaning forward for a moment out of a world so remote from his own, stepping down for a moment from her heavenly treasure house, with a star on her finger, to move the king on the board and then reascend — yes, heaven’s tall daughter … Seven ripe peaches from the walls of heaven, she holds in her hands. Bright, in her hair, the Pleiades glow: the Fireflies seven, shine above her eyes and her forehead is fair … Angels follow her; gravely, slowly; with silver and vermilion and rainbow wings … One, more luminous — lost in his own light — sits on a cherry tree bough, and sings: Blest be the marriage betwixt earth and heaven ! Cynthia’s fingers moved the knight’s pawn to knight five. Ah! Cynthia — not so skillful as usual! You will be checkmated, Cynthia, — or else you’ll resign … That first game they had had on the Silurian —when he had fetched the board from the smoking room. She had received it with delighted surprise — with what a lighting up of her face! “Why, where did you get this? Is it yours?” … And the book. He had been carrying the book under his arm when Billington stopped him and introduced him to her. “I’ve found a chess player for you!” he had cried fatuously. “Miss Battiloro, may I introduce Mr. Demarest? Mr. Demarest has been looking everywhere for a chess player …” Then Billington had disappeared … The astonishment, the incredulity, on finding himself thus introduced to her, whom he had been avoiding for three days! He had been excited, frightfully excited. What was it, about her, that had so agitated him from the outset, when he had seen her climb up the gangway, slowly, then turn about on the deck — flinging the brown scarf end over her shoulder — to wait for her companion? The obscure shock had gone through him at once, as he watched her from the deck above — gone through him like a tidal wave of the blood … She, then — he had said to himself — is the one I must escape! I must keep away from her … This had not been difficult; for the simple reason that she had, from the beginning, produced a peculiar change in him: She had made him shy, she had stripped him of his defenses, she had taken ten years from his age and made him again a callow and awkward youth of seventeen. The thought of talking with her simply terrified him. And then, from the blue, the introduction!.. And regarding the title of the book, when he had put it down on the deck beside her, she had said—“That’s lovely, isn’t it! Don’t you like it?” … The effect of this commonplace remark had been overwhelming. Its nature, the nature of the magic, was dual; for first it was the slender beauty of her voice, which everywhere broke through and into him; and then it was the swift revelation, no less intoxicating, that she had a “mind.”—The two perceptions came upon him together, came like the opening of the sky for a bewilderingly beautiful confusion of music. He was done for; and he knew it instantly … Pawn to rook five … Hay-Lawrence castled, not pausing to think. Now, then — knight to bishop four! This would make him think … Six bells from the brass clock on the fluted wall— tan-tan; tan-tan; tan-tan . The bar window opened with a bang, the bartender withdrawing a white linen arm. Malvolio stepped nimbly, ingratiatingly, with the tray.

“Double Scotch and a port flip,” he smirked.

“Oporto fleep,” grimaced Hay-Lawrence.

“To fornication,” said Demarest.

“To crime,” said Hay-Lawrence.

“No, sir,” nasally boomed the glass-eyed poker player. “This is on me. Waiter! One minute. Now, gentlemen, give it a name and let it rest. You, what’ll it be? Bass? Guinness? Double Scotch?… Well, then, three Basses, two double Scotches, and a Guinness … God, I’m as thirsty as a camel … If you’d ’a’ come in, my boy, with that pair of tens, you’d have been sunk so deep they’d never have found you … that’s the time I wasn’t bluffing.”

“There’s much to be said for strong drink,” murmured Demarest, filling his glass. “Aha! The Major is giving a little party …”

“Two Martinis,” Malvolio was saying, while he regarded the Welsh Rarebit with a loitering eye. He clearly felt that he had more right to her than the Major had — he knew her level. This made the Welsh Rarebit uneasy. She was uncertain whether to be friendly or rude. Consequently she was both, alternately. Queen’s knight to queen two … Hm … not so bad. Better threaten the queen’s rook pawn? Queen to king two … For goodness’ sake don’t hold the door open like that! Someone outside was holding it open, and the night air, cold and full of sea sound, galloped round the smoky room. Silberstein stepped over the brass, cigar in hand, and lazily, leisurely, serenely, greenly, surveyed the lighted roomful of people. Oh! Silberstein. Sorry, Silberstein, didn’t know … Annoyed with me, are you, for keeping the door open? Run home and tell your mother. Tell her a boy bigger than you hit you. Bury your blubbering whelp’s face in her apron and bawl. I know you, you damned little coward and sneak and tattletale … Silberstein saw them and came toward them slowly, with unchanging expression. Something flippant must be prepared for him. Something smubtle …

“Well, Dook, is he trimming you? I’ll bet you two drinks New England will beat you.”

“Don’t call me Dook !”

“Oh, all right, all right, Clarence — keep your shirt on … Ha! This was a Ruy Lopez … And Black, as they say in the books, has a seriously compromised position.”