THE WAR WITH THE NEWTS

Karel Čapek

BOOK ONE

ANDRIAS SHEUCHZERI

1 - THE STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF CAPTAIN VAN TOCH

If you looked up the little island of Tana Masa on the map you would find it just on the Equator, not far south of Sumatra; but if you were on the deck of the Kandong Bandoeng and asked its captain, J. van Toch, what he thought of this Tana Masa where you've just dropped anchor he would first curse for a short while and then he would tell you that it's the dirtiest hole all the Sunda Islands, even more loathsome than Tana Bala and easily as damnable as Pini or Banyak; that the only apology for a human being that lives there - not counting these louse-ridden Bataks, of course - is a drunken commercial agent, a cross between a Cuban and a Portuguese, and an even bigger thief, pagan and pig than the whole of Cuba and the whole of the white race put together; if there's anything in this world that's damnable then it's the damned life on this damned Tana Masa. And then, you might cautiously ask him why it is that he's just dropped his damned anchor as if he wanted to spend three damned days here; at which he would snort in irritation and grumble something about not being so damned stupid as to sail all the way to Kandon Bandoeng just to get this damned copra or palm oil, and there's nothing else here, but I've got my damned orders, and you will please be so kind as to mind your own damned business. And he would carry on cursing as widely and as fully as you might expect from a sea captain who was no longer young but still lively for his age.

But if, instead of asking all sorts of impertinent questions, you left Captain J. van Toch to grumble and curse by himself you might find out something more. Surely it's obvious the man needs a rest. Just leave him alone, he can sort out his foul mood by himself. "Listen!" the captain said suddenly. "Those damned Jew-boys back in Amsterdam, all they seem to think about is pearls. Have a look around you; can you see any pearls? They say the people are crazy round here for pearls and that sort of thing." At this point the captain spat in anger. "We know all about that, load up with pearls! That's because you people always want to start a war or something. All you're worried about is money. And then you call it a crisis." For a short while, Captain J. van Toch considered whether he ought to start discussing political economics, considering that that's all they ever do talk about nowadays. But it's too hot and languid to talk about that sort of thing here, anchored off Tana Masa; so the captain merely waved his hand and grumbled: "That's what they say, pearls! In Ceylon they've got enough pearls piled up to last them for five years, on Formosa they've put a ban on gathering them - and so they say to me, Captain van Toch, go and see if you can find somewhere new to gather pearls. Go on down to those damned little islands, you might find whole bays full of oysters down there ... " The captain pulled out his light-blue handkerchief and blew his nose in contempt. "Those rats in Europe, they think there's still something to find down here, something they don't already know about. God, what a bunch of fools they are! Next they'll be wanting me to look up the Bataks snouts to see if they don't have them full of pearls. New pearl fisheries! I know there's a new brothel in Padang, but new pearl fisheries? I know these islands like my trousers, all the way from Ceylon down to that damned Clipperton Island, and if anyone thinks there's anything new still left to find there that they can make any money out of, well good luck to them. Thirty years I've been sailing these waters, and now these fools think I'm going to discover something new!" This was a task so insulting it made Captain van Toch gasp. "Why can't they send some green kid to find something for them if they want to gape in astonishment; but instead they expect someone to do that who knows the area as well as Captain J. van Toch .. . Please try and understand this. In Europe there might still be something left to discover; but here - people only come here to sniff out something they could eat, or rather not even to eat, to find something to buy and sell. If in all these damned tropics there was still something they could double the price of there'd be three commercial agents standing there waving their snotty handkerchiefs at the ships of seven countries to stop for it. That's how it is. I know about these things better than the colonial office of Her Majesty the Queen, if you'll forgive me." Captain van Toch made a great effort to overcome his righteous indignation, and after a prolonged period of exertion he was successful. "D'you see those two contemptible layabouts down there? They're pearl fishers from Ceylon, Sinhalese, God help us, just as the Lord made them; but what He made them for, I don't know. I have them on board with me, and when we find any stretch of coast that doesn't have a sign up saying Agency or Bata or Customs Office down they go in the water to look for oysters. That small bugger, he can dive down eighty meters deep; in the Princes Islands he went down to ninety meters to get the handle from a film projector. But pearls? Nothing! Not a sniff of them! Worthless rabble, these Sinhalese. And that's the sort of worthless work I do. Pretend to be buying palm oil and all the time looking for new pearl fisheries. Next they'll be wanting me to find a new virgin continent for them. This isn't a job for an honest captain in the merchant navy. Captain J. van Toch isn't some cursed adventurer, no. And on he would go; the sea is wide and the ocean of time has no limits; spit in the sea, my friend, and it will not return, berate your destiny and you will never change it; and so on through many preparations and circumstances until we finally arrive at the point when J. van Toch, captain of the Dutch vessel, Kandong Bandoeng, will sigh and climb down into the boat for the trip to Tana Masa where he will negotiate with the drunken half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese extraction about certain business matters.

"Sorry, Captain," the half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese extraction finally said, "but here on Tana Masa there aren't any oysters. These filthy Bataks," he would inform him with boundless disgust, "will even eat the jellyfish; there are more of them in the water than on the land, the women here smell of fish, you cannot imagine what it is like - what was I saying? Ah, yes, you were asking about women."

"And is there not even any stretch of coastline round here," the captain asked, "where these Bataks don't go in the water?" The half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese shook his head.

"There is not. Unless you count Devil Bay, but that would not interest you."

"Why not?"

"Because .. . no-one is allowed to go there. Another drink, Captain?"

"Thanks. Are there sharks there?"

"Sharks and everything else besides," the half-cast mumbled. "Is a bad place, Captain. The Bataks would not like to see anyone going down there."

"Why not?"

"There are demons there, Captain. Sea demons."

"What is that, a sea demon? A kind of fish?"

"Not a fish," the half-cast corrected him. "Simply demons, Captain. Underwater demons. The Bataks call them tapa. Tapa. They say that that's where they have their city, these demons. Another drink?"

"And what do they look like, these sea demons?" The half cast of Cubanese and Portuguese shrugged his shoulders.

"Like a demon, Captain. I once saw one of them .. . or just its head, at least. I was coming back in a boat from Cape Haarlem .. . and suddenly, in front of me, a kind of lump stuck up out of the water."

"And what did it look like?"

"It had a head .. . like a Batak, Captain, but entirely without hair."

"Sure it wasn't a real Batak?"

"Not a real Batak, Captain. In this place no Batak would ever go into the water. And then .. . the thing blinked at me with an eyelid from beneath its eye." The half-cast shuddered with the horror of it. "An eyelid from beneath its eye, which reached up to cover the whole eye. That was a tapa." Captain J. van Toch turned his glass of palm wine around between his chubby fingers.

"And you hadn't been drinking, had you? You weren't drunk?"

"I was drunk, Captain. How else would I ever had rowed into that place. The Bataks don't like it when anyone .. . anyone disturbs these demons." Captain van Toch shook his head.

"Listen, demons don't exist And if they did exist they would look like Europeans. That must have been some kind of fish you saw or something."

"A fish!" the half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese spluttered. "A fish does not have hands, Captain. I am not some Batak Captain, I went to school in Badyoeng .. . I might even still know my ten commandments and other scientifically proven facts; and an educated man will know the difference between a demon and an animal. Ask the Bataks, Captain."

"Negro superstitions," the captain declared with the jovial confidence of an educated man. "This is scientific nonsense. A demon can't live in water anyway. What would he be doing in the water? You shouldn't listen to all the nonsense talked by the natives, lad. Somebody gave the place the name Devil Bay and ever since then the Bataks have been afraid of it. That's all there is to it," the captain declared, and threw his chubby hand down on the table. "There's nothing there, lad, that is scientifically obvious."

"There is, Captain," affirmed the half-cast who had been to school in Badyoeng. "But no sensible person has any business going to Devil Bay." Captain J. van Toch turned red.

"What's that?" he shouted. "You dirty Cuban, you think I'm afraid of these demons? We'll see about that," he said as he stood up with all the mass of his honest two hundred pounds. "I'm not going to waste my time with you here, not when I've got business to attend to. But just remember this; the Dutch colonies don't have any demons in them; even if there are in the French. There, there might well be. And now call the mayor of this damned Kampong over to speak to me."

It did not take long to find the aforementioned dignitary; he was squatting down beside the half-casts shop chewing sugar cane. He was an elderly man, naked, but a lot thinner than mayors usually are in Europe. Some way behind him, keeping the appropriate distance, the entire village was also squatting, complete with women and children. They were clearly expecting to be filmed. "Now listen to this, son," Captain van Toch said to him in Malay (he could just as well have spoken to him in Dutch or English as the honourable old Batak knew not a word of Malay, and everything said by the captain had to be interpreted into Batak by the half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese, but for some reason the captain thought Malay would be more appropriate). "Now listen to this, son, I need a few big, strong, powerful lads to go out on a fishing trip with me. Understand what I mean? Out on a fishing trip." The half-cast translated this and the mayor nodded his head to show he understood; then he turned round to face the wider audience and said something to them, clearly meeting with great success.

"Their chief says," translated the half-cast, "that the whole village will go out with the captain wherever the captain might wish."

"Very well. So tell him were going to fish for clams in Devil Bay."

There followed about fifteen minutes of animated discussion with the whole village taking part, especially the old women. Finally the half-cast turned to the captain. "They say it's not possible to go to Devil Bay, Captain." The captain began to turn red. "And why not?" The half-cast shrugged his shoulders.

"Because there are the tapa-tapa there. Demons, Captain." The captain's colour began to rise to purple.

"Tell them, then, that if they don't go ... . I'll knock all their teeth out .. . I'll tear their ears off .. . I'll hang the lot of them .. . and that I'll burn down their entire flea-ridden village. Understand?"

The half-cast dutifully translated what the captain had said, at which there was more lively discussion. The half-cast finally turned to the captain. "They say they intend to make a complaint to the police in Padang, Captain, because you've threatened them. There seem to be laws about that. The mayor says he can't allow that sort of thing." Captain J. van Toch began to turn blue.

"Tell him, then," he snarled, "that he is a .. . " and he spoke without pausing for breath for a good eleven minutes.

The half-cast translated what he had said, as far as his vocabulary was able; and then he once again translated the Bataks long, but objective, verdict back to the captain. "They say they might be willing to relinquish taking you to court, Captain, if you pay a fine into the hands of the local authorities. They suggest," here he hesitated, "two hundred rupees, Captain; but that seems rather a lot. Offer them five." Captain van Toch's complexion began to break out in purple blotches. First he offered to murder all the Bataks in the world, then the offer went down to giving them all three hundred good kickings, and finally he agreed to content himself with stuffing the mayor and putting him on display in the colonial museum in Amsterdam; for their part, the Bataks went down from two hundred rupees to an iron pump with a wheel, and finally insisted on no more than that the captain give the mayor his petrol cigarette lighter as a token. ("Give it to him, Captain," urged the half-cast of Cubanese and Portuguese, "I've got three cigarette lighters in my store, even if they don't have wicks.") Thus, peace was restored on Tana Masa; but Captain J. van Toch now knew that the dignity of the white race was at stake.

That afternoon a boat set out from the Dutch ship, Kandon Bandoeng, with the following crew: Captain J. van Toch, Jensen the Swede, Gudmundson the Icelander, Gillemainen the Finn, and two Sinhalese pearl fishers. The boat headed straight for Devil Bay.

At three o'clock, when the tide was at its highest, the captain stood on the shore, the boat was out watching for sharks about a hundred meters offshore, and both the Sinhalese divers were waiting, knife in hand, for the signal to jump into the water.

"Now you go in," the captain told the farther of the two naked savages. The Sinhalese jumped into the water, waded out a few paces and then dived. The captain looked at his watch.

After four minutes and twenty seconds a brown head emerged to his left, about sixty meters away; with a strange, desperate shudder which seemed at the same time as if paralysed, the Sinhalese clawed at the rocks, in one hand he had the knife, in the other some pearl bearing oysters. The captain scowled. "So, what's wrong?" he asked, sharply. The Sinhalese was still slithering up the rock, unable to speak with the horror of it. "What has happened?" the captain shouted.

"Saheb, Saheb," said the Sinhalese as he sank down on the beach, gasping for breath. "Saheb ... Saheb .."

"Sharks?"

"Djinns," groaned the Sinhalese. "Demons, Captain. Thousands and thousands of demons!" He pressed his fist into his eye. "Everywhere demons, Captain!"

"Show me those oysters," the captain ordered him, and began to open one with the knife. Inside, there was a small, perfect pearl. "Find any more of these?" The Sinhalese drew another three oysters out from the bag he had hanging round his neck.

"There are oysters down there, Captain, but they are guarded by these demons .. They were watching me as I cut them off ..." The curls on his head stuck out with shock. "Not here, Saheb, not here!"

The captain opened the oysters; two of them were empty and in the third there was a pearl the size of a pea, as round as a drop of mercury. Captain van Toch looked at the pearl and then at the Sinhalese collapsed on the ground.

"won't you," he said hesitantly, "dive in there one more time?" Without a word, the Sinhalese shook his head. Captain J. van Toch felt a strong urge to castigate and shout at the Sinhalese; but to his surprise he found that he was speaking quietly and almost gently: "Don't you worry, lad. And what did they look like, these ... demons?"

"Like little children," said the Sinhalese with a sigh. "They have a tail, Captain, and they're about this high," indicating about one meter twenty above the ground. "They stood all around me and watched what I was doing .. a sort of circle of them ..." The Sinhalese shuddered. "Saheb, not here Saheb, not here!" Captain van Toch thought for a while.

"And what about when they blink; was it with their lower eyelid or what?"

"I don't know, Captain," the Sinhalese croaked. "There are ten thousand of them there!" The captain looked round to find the other Sinhalese; he stood about fifty meters away, waiting without interest with his hands crossed over on his shoulders; perhaps because when a person is naked he has nowhere else to put his hands than on his own shoulders. The captain gave him a silent signal and the gaunt Sinhalese jumped into the water. After three minutes and fifty seconds he re-emerged, clawing at the slippery rocks.

"Come on, hurry up," the captain shouted, but then he began to look more carefully and soon he himself was jumping and clambering over the rocks to the Sinhalese; no-one would have thought that a body like that could jump so nimbly. At the last moment he caught hold of the Sinhalese hand and pulled him breathless from the water. Then he lay him on the rock and wiped the sweat off his brow. The Sinhalese lay without moving; his shin had been scraped and the bone underneath was exposed, clearly he had injured it on some rock, but he was otherwise unhurt. The captain raised the man's eyelid; all he could see was the white. There was no sign of any oysters or the knife. Just then, the boat and its crew came in close to shore.

"Captain," Jensen the Swede called, "there are sharks around here. Are you going to search for oysters any longer?"

"No," said the captain. "Come in here and pick up these two."

On the way back to the ship Jensen drew the captains attention to something; "Look how it suddenly becomes shallow just here. It goes on just like this as far as the shore." And he demonstrated his point by pushing his oar down into the water. "it's as if there were some kind of weir under the water."

The little Sinhalese did not come round until they were back on board; he sat with his knees under his chin, shaking from head to toe. The captain sent everyone away and sat down facing him with his legs wide apart. "Out with it," he said. "What did you see down there?"

"Djinns, Saheb," whispered the slender Sinhalese; now even his eyelids had begun to shake, and the whole of his skin came out in goosepimples.

"And ... what did they look like?" the captain spluttered.

"Like ... like ... " A strip of white appeared once more in the Sinhalese eyes. Captain J. van Toch, with unexpected liveliness, slapped him on both cheeks with his full hand to bring him back to consciousness. "Thanks, Saheb," the gaunt Sinhalese sighed, and the pupils re-appeared in his eyes.

"Alright now?"

"Yes, Saheb."

"Were there oysters down there?"

"Yes, Saheb."

With a great deal of patience and thoroughness, Captain J. van Toch went on with the cross questioning. Yes, there were demons down there. How many? Thousands and thousands. About the size of a ten year old child, Captain, and almost black. They swim in the water, and on the bottom they walk on two legs. Two legs, Saheb, just like you or me, but always swaying from side to side, like this, like this, like this ... Yes Captain, they have hands too, just like people; no, they don't have claws, they're more like a child's hands. No, Saheb, they don't have horns or fur. Yes, they have a tail, a little like a fish's tail but without the fins. And a big head, round like a Bataks. No, they don't say anything, Captain, only a sort of squelch. When the Sinhalese had been cutting an oyster off, about sixteen metres down, he felt something like little cold fingers touch his back. He had looked round and there were hundreds and hundreds of them all around him. Hundreds and hundreds, Captain, swimming around and standing on stones and all of them were watching what the Sinhalese was doing. So he dropped the knife and the oyster and tried to swim up to the surface. Then he struck against some of the demons who had been swimming after him, and what happened next he did not know.

Captain J. van Toch looked thoughtfully at the little diver as he sat there shivering. Hell be no good for anything from now on, the said to himself, he would send him to Padang and back on home to Ceylon. Grumbling and snorting, the captain went to his cabin, where he spilled the two pearls out onto the table from a paper bag. One of them was as small as a grain of sand and the other as a pea, with a shimmer of silver and pink. And with that, the captain of the Dutch ship, Kandong Bandoeng, snorted; and then he reached into the cupboard for his bottle of Irish whiskey.

At six o clock he had himself rowed back to the village and went straight to the half cast of Cubanese and Portuguese. "Toddy," he said, and that was the only word he uttered; he sat on the corrugated-iron veranda, clutched a thick glass tumbler in his chubby fingers and drank and spat and stared out from under his bushy eyebrows at the dirty and trampled yard where some emaciated yellow chickens pecked at something invisible between the palm trees. The half cast avoided saying anything, and merely poured the drinks. Slowly, the captain's eyes became bloodshot and his fingers began to move awkwardly. It was almost dark when he stood up and tightened his trousers.

"Are you going to bed, Captain?" the half cast of demon and devil asked politely. The captain punched his fist in the air.

"I'm going to go and see if there are any demons in this world that I've never seen before. You, which damned way is north-west?"

"This way," the half cast showed him. "Where are you going?"

"To Hell," Captain J. van Toch rasped. "Going to have a look at Devil Bay."

It was from that evening on that Captain J. van Toch's behaviour became so strange. He did not return to the village until dawn; said not a word to anyone but merely had himself taken back to the ship, where he locked himself in his cabin until evening. Nobody thought this very odd as the Kandong Bandoeng had some of the blessings of Tana Masa to load on board (copra, pepper, camphor, guttapercha, palm oil, tobacco and labourers); but that evening, when they went to tell him that everything had been loaded, he just snorted and said, "Boat. To the village." And he did not return until dawn. Jensen the Swede, who helped him back on board, merely asked him politely whether they would be setting sail that day. The captain turned on him as if he had just been knifed in the back. "And what's it to you?" he snapped. "You mind your own damned business!" All that day the Kandong Bandoeng lay at anchor off the coast of Tana Masa and did nothing. In the evening the captain rolled out of his cabin and ordered, "Boat. To the village." Zapatis, the little Greek, stared at him with his one blind eye and the other eye squinting. "Look at this lads," he crowed, "either the old mans got some girl or he's gone totally mad." Jensen the Swede scowled. "And what's it to you?" he snapped at Zapatis. "You mind your own damned business!" Then, together with Gudmundson the Icelander, he took the little boat and rowed down to Devil Bay. They stayed in the boat behind the rocks and waited to see what would happen. The captain came across the bay and seemed to be waiting for someone; he stopped for a while and called out something like ts-ts-ts. "Look at this," said Gudmundson, pointing to the sea which now glittered red and gold in the sunset. Jensen counted two, three, four, six fins, as sharp as little scythes, which glided across Devil Bay. "Oh God," grumbled Jensen, "there are sharks here!" When, shortly afterwards, one of the little scythes submerged, a tail swished out above the water and created a violent eddy. At this, Captain J. van Toch on the shore began to jump up and down in fury, issued a gush of curses and threatened the sharks with his fist. Then the short tropical twilight was over and the light of the moon shone over the island; Jensen took the oars and rowed the boat to within a furlong of the shore. Now the captain was sitting on a rock calling ts-ts-ts. Nearby something moved, but it was not possible to see exactly what. It looks like a seal, thought Jensen, but seals don't move like that. It came out of the water between the rocks and pattered along the beach, swaying from side to side like a penguin. Jensen quietly rowed in and stopped half a furlong away from the captain. Yes, the captain was saying something, but the Devil knew what it was; he must have been speaking in Tamil or Malay. He opened his hands wide as if about to throw something to these seals (although Jensen was now sure they were not seals), and all the time babbling his Chinese or Malay. Just then the raised oar slipped out of Jensen's hand and fell in the water with a splash. The captain lifted his head, got up and walked about thirty paces into the water; there was a sudden flashing and banging; the captain was shooting with his browning in the direction of the boat. Almost simultaneously there was a rustling and a splashing in the bay as, with a whirl of activity, it seemed as if a thousand seals were jumping into the water; but Jensen and Gudmundson were already pressing on the oars and driving the boat so hard that it swished through the water until it was behind the nearest corner. When they got back to the ship they said not a word to anyone. The northern races know how to keep silent. In the morning the captain returned; he was angry and unhappy, but said nothing. Only, when Jensen helped him on board both men gave each other a cold and inquisitive look.

"Jensen," said the captain.

"Yes sir."

"Today, we set sail."

"Yes sir."

"In Surabai you get your papers."

"Yes sir."

And that was it. That day the Kandong Bandoeng sailed into Padang. In Padang Captain J. van Toch sent his firm in Amsterdam a parcel insured for a thousand two hundred pounds sterling. At the same time he sent a telegram asking for his annual leave. Urgent medical reasons, and so on. Then he wandered around Padang until he found the man he was looking for. This was a native of Borneo, a Dayak who English tourists would sometimes hire as a shark hunter just for the show; as this Dayak still worked in the old way, armed with no more than a long knife. He was clearly a cannibal but he had his fixed terms: five pounds for a shark plus his board. He was also quite startling in appearance, as both hands, his breast and his legs were heavily scarred from contact with shark skin and his nose and ears were decorated with shark teeth. He was known as Shark.

With this Dayak, Captain J. van Toch set off back to the island of Tana Masa.

2 - MISTER GOLOMBEK AND MISTER VALENTA

As far as the newspapers were concerned, it was the sort of hot day when nothing, absolutely nothing, happens, when no politics is done and there aren't even any tensions in Europe; but it is just on days like this that newspaper readers, lying in an agony of boredom on the beaches or in the sparse shade of trees, demoralised by the heat, the view, the quiet of the countryside and all that makes up their healthy and simple life on holiday, hope in vain to find to find something in the newspapers, something that will be new and refreshing, some murder, some war or some earthquake, in short, anything; and when they are disappointed they throw the paper down and declare in irritation that there is nothing there, nothing whatsoever, that it is not worth reading and they will stop buying a newspaper in future.

Meanwhile in the editorial office, there are five or six people left by themselves, as their colleagues are also all on holiday, who throw the paper down in irritation and complain that there is nothing there, nothing whatsoever. And the type-setter comes out of the composing-room and warns them: "Gentlemen, we still don't have a leader for tomorrow's issue".

"Well how about, er, that thing about the economic situation in Bulgaria?" suggests one of the gentlemen in the abandoned office. The type-setter sighs deeply:

"And who's going to want to read that? Once again, there's going to be nothing in the whole paper worth reading." The six gentlemen left all by themselves raised their eyes to the ceiling as if they might find something worth reading about there.

"If only something would happen," said one of them uncertainly.

"Or what about, er, some kind of interesting reportage," suggested another.

"What about?"

"I don't know."

"We could think up ... some new vitamin or something," grumbled a third.

"What now? In the middle of the summer?" a fourth objected. "Look, vitamins are scientific things, that's more suitable for the Autumn."

"God it's hot!" yawned the fifth. "Whatever it is it ought to come from the polar regions."

"Such as what?"

"Something like that Eskimo story. Frozen fingers, eternal ice, that sort of thing."

"That's easy enough to say," said the sixth, "but where do we get the story from?" The silence of despair spread across the editorial office.

"Last Sunday," began the typesetter hesitantly, "I was in the Moravian hills."

"So what?"

"Well, I heard something about some Captain Vantoch who was on holiday there. Seems he was born in the area."

"Vantoch? Who's he?"

"Fat sort of bloke. A sea captain or something. They said he'd been out looking for pearls." Mister Golombek looked at Mister Valenta.

"And whereabouts was he looking?"

"In Sumatra .. and the Celebese .. all round that sort of area. They said he'd spent thirty years out there."

"Now there's an idea," said Mister Valenta. "That could be a great reportage. Shall we go with it, Golombek?"

"Can give it a try, I suppose," Mister Golombek opined, and got off his chair.

"It's that gentleman, over there," said the landlord in Moravia. At a table in the garden sat a fat man in a white cap with his legs wide apart, he was drinking beer and seemed thoughtful as he drew broad lines on the table with his finger. Both men went over to him.

"I'm Valenta, editorial staff."

"I'm Golombek, editorial staff." The fat man raised his eyes:

"Eh, what?"

"Valenta, from the newspaper."

"And I'm Golombek. From the newspaper." The fat man stood up with dignity.

"Captain van Toch. Very glad. Take a seat, lads." Both men obligingly sat down and lay writing pads down in front of themselves. "What'll you have to drink, boys?"

"Raspberry juice," said Mister Valenta.

"Raspberry juice?" repeated the captain in disbelief. "What for? Landlord, bring them each a beer. - Now what was it you wanted?" he asked, putting his elbows on the table.

"Is it true that you were born here, Mister Vantoch?"

"Ja. Born here."

"And tell us, please, how come you went to sea?"

"I went via Hamburg."

"And how long have you been a captain?"

"Twenty years, lads. Got my papers here," he said, emphasising his point by tapping on his breast pocket. "Can show you if you like." Mister Golombek would have liked to see what a captains papers look like, but he restrained himself.

"I'm sure you must have seen a good part of the world in those twenty years, Captain."

"Ja, I've seen a bit, ja."

"And what places have you seen?"

"Java. Borneo. Philippines. Fiji Islands. Solomon Islands. Carolines. Samoa. Damned Clipperton Island. A lot of damned islands, lads. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just that it's all very interesting. Wed like to hear some more about it, you see."

"Ja. All just very interesting, eh?" The captain fixed his pale blue eyes on them. "You're from the police then, are you?"

"No, were not from the police, Captain, were from the newspapers."

"Ah ja, from the newspapers. Reporters, are you? We'll write this down: Captain J. van Toch, captain of the Kandong Bandoeng ..."

"What's that?"

"The Kandong Bandoeng, port of Surabai. Reason for journey: vacances ... how do you say that?"

"On holiday."

"Ja, dammit, holiday. So you can put that in your newspapers, who's sailed in. And now put your notes away, lads. Your health."

"Mister Vantoch, we've come to find you so that you might tell us something about your life."

"What for?"

"We'll write it down in the papers. People are very interested in reading about distant islands and all the things seen and experienced there by their compatriots, by another Czech ..." The captain nodded.

"That's all true, lads, I'm the only sea captain ever from this town, that's true. I've heard about one other captain from ... from .. somewhere, but I think," he added intimately, "that he's not a proper captain. It's all to do with the tonnage, you see."

"And what was the tonnage of your ship?"

"Twenty thousand tons, lads."

"You were a great captain, were you?"

"A great one," the captain said with dignity. "Have you got any money, boys?" Both gentlemen looked at each other a little uncertainly.

"We have some money, but not a lot. Are you in need of money, Captain?"

"Ja. I might need some"

"Well listen. If you tell us lots of things we'll write it up for the paper and you'll get money for it."

"How much?"

"It could be ... could be several thousand," said Mister Golombek generously.

"Pounds sterling?"

"No, only Czechoslovak koruny." Captain van Toch shook his head.

"No, that won't do. I've got that much myself, lads," and he drew a thick wad of banknotes out of his trouser pocket. "See?" Then he put his elbows back on the table and leant forward to the two men. "Gentlemen, I might have some big business for you. And that would mean you giving me fifteen ... hold on ... fifteen or sixteen million koruny. How about it?" Once again, the two gentlemen looked at each other uncertainly. Newspaper men have experience of all sorts of the strangest madmen, cheats and inventors. "Wait," said the captain, "I've got something here I can show you." His chubby fingers reached into a pocket in his waistcoat and he hunted out something which he placed on the table. It was five pink pearls, the size of cherry stones. "Do you know anything about pearls?"

"What might they be worth?" gasped Mister Valenta.

"Ja, lots of money, lads. But I carry them around just to show people, just as a sample. So how about it, are you in with me?" he asked, reaching his broad hand across the table. Mister Golombek sighed.

"Mister Vantoch, as much money as .."

"Halt," the captain interrupted him. "I realise you don't know me; but ask about Captain van Toch anywhere in Surabaya, in Batavia, in Padang or anywhere you like. Go and ask and anyone will tell you ja, Captain van Toch, he is as good as his word."

"Mister Vantoch, we don't doubt your word," Mister Golombek protested, "but ..."

"Wait," the captain ordered. "I know you want to be careful about where you give away your precious money; and quite right too. But here you'll be spending it on a ship, see? You buy a ship, that makes you a ship owner and you can come with me; ja, you can sail with me to see how I'm looking after it. And the money we make, we can share it fifty-fifty. That's honest business, isn't it?"

"But Mister Vantoch," Mister Golombek finally exclaimed anxiously, "we just don't have that much money!"

"Ja, in that case it's different," said the captain. "Sorry. But now I don't know why you've come to find me."

"So that you can tell us about yourself, Captain, you must have had so many experiences ..."

"Ja, that I have, lads. A damned lot of experiences."

"Have you ever been shipwrecked?"

"What? What shipwreck? No I haven't. Who do you think I am? If they give me a good ship then nothing can happen to it. You can even go and ask about my references in Amsterdam. Go there and ask."

"And what about the natives? Have you met many natives?" Captain van Toch snorted. "This is nothing for an educated man. I'm not going to talk about that."

"Then tell us about something else."

"Ja, tell you something else," the captain grumbled mistrustfully. "And then you can sell it to some other company which then sends its ships out there. I can tell you, my lad, people are all thieves. And the biggest thieves of all are these bankers in Colombo."

"Have you been to Colombo many times?

"Ja, many times. And Bangkok too, and Manila .. Lads," he suddenly interrupted himself, "I know of a ship. A very good ship, and cheap at the price. It's in Rotterdam. Come and have a look at it. Rotterdam is no distance," and he indicated over his shoulder with his thumb. "Ships are very cheap nowadays, lads. Like old iron. As soon as a ship is six years old they want to replace it with something with a diesel motor. Do you want to see it?"

"We can't, Mister Vantoch."

"You're very strange people," the captain sighed, and blew his nose noisily into a pale blue handkerchief. "And you don't know of anyone here who might want to buy a ship?"

"Here in Moravia?"

"Ja, here, or anywhere nearby. I'd like a big deal like this to come here, to my country."

"That's very nice of you, Captain ..."

"Ja. Those others are enormous thieves. And they don't have any money. People like you, from the newspapers, you must know some important people here, bankers and ship owners and the like."

"We don't know anyone, Mister Vantoch."

"Well, that's a pity," said the captain, sadly. Mister Golombek remembered something.

"You don't know Mister Bondy, do you?"

"Bondy? Bondy?" Captain van Toch tried to remember. "Wait, that name does sound familiar. Bondy. Ja, there's a Bond Street in London, where all the very rich people live. Does he have some business on Bond Street, this Mister Bondy?"

"No, he lives in Prague, but I think he was born here in Moravia."

"Jesus!" Captain van Toch burst out gaily, "you're right lads. Had a tailors shop on the square. Ja, Bondy, what was his name? Max. Max Bondy. So he's in business in Prague now, is he?"

"No I think that must have been his father. This Bondy is called G.H. President G.H. Bondy, Captain."

"G.H.," the captain puzzled. "There was never any G.H. here. Unless you mean Gustl Bondy - but he was never any president. Gustl was a sort of freckle-faced Jew. Can't be him."

"It can be him, Mister Vantoch. Don't forget it's many years since you've seen him."

"Ja, you could be right. It is many years," the captain agreed. "Forty years, lads. I suppose Gustl could have become important by now. And what is he?"

"He's the president of the MEAS organisation - you know? - that enormous factory making boilers and so on, and the president of abut twenty companies and cartels. He's a very important man, Mister Vantoch. They call him a captain of Czech industry."

"Captain?" said Captain van Toch in amazement. "So I'm not the only captain from this town! Jesus! That Gustl is a captain too. I suppose I ought to meet up with him. Has he got any money?"

"Has he? Enormous amounts of money, Mister Vantoch. He must have hundreds of millions. The richest man in Czechoslovakia." Captain van Toch became very serious.

"And a captain, too. Thank you, lads. I'll have to go and see him, this Bondy. Ja, Gustl Bondy, I know. Jewish boy, he was. And now its Captain G.H. Bondy. Ja, ja, things change," he added with a melancholy sigh.

"Captain Vantoch, we'll have to go soon so that we don't miss the evening train .."

"I'll come down to the harbour with you, then," the captain suggested and he began to weigh anchor. "Very glad to have met you, lads. I know a newspaper man in Surabaya, good lad, ja, a good friend of mine. Hell of a drinker. I could find you both a place on the paper in Surabaya if you like. No? Well, as you like."

And as the train drew out of the station Captain van Toch waved to them slowly and triumphantly with his enormous blue handkerchief. As he did so, one large, slightly mis-shapen pearl dropped down into the sand. A pearl which nobody ever found again.

3 - G. H. BONDY AND THE CAPTAIN

It is a well known fact that the more important a man is the less he has written on his door. Above his shop in Moravia, and all round the door and on the windows, old Max Bondy had to announce in big letters that here was Max Bondy, dealer in sartorial goods of every sort, wedding outfitter, sheets, towels, teatowels, tablecloths and coverings, calico and serge, silks, curtains, lambrequins, and all tailoring and sewing requisites. Founded 1885. His son, G.H. Bondy, captain of industry, president of the MEAS corporation, commercial adviser, brokering adviser, deputy president of the Confederation of Industry, Consulado de la República Ecuador, member of many advisory committees etc. etc. has nothing more on his house door than one small, black, glass panel with gold letters that spell the word:

BONDY

That is all. Just Bondy. Others might have Julius Bondy, Representative of General Motors on their doors, or Ervín Bondy, Doctor of Medicine, or S. Bondy and Company; but there is only one Bondy who is simply Bondy without any further details. (I think the Pope has simply Pius written on his door without any title or number. And God doesn't have a name plate at all, neither in Heaven nor on Earth. You have to work out for yourself who it is that lives where He lives. But none of this belongs to this story, and it is only mentioned in passing.)

One burning hot day, in front of the glass panel there stood a gentleman in a white sailors cap, wiping the massive folds of his neck with a blue handkerchief. Damned grand sort of house to live in, he thought, and somewhat uncertainly he pulled on the brass knob of the doorbell.

Mister Povondra, the doorman, appeared, took the measure of the heavy man at the door by looking him up and down from his feet to the gold braid on the cap, and with some reserve asked: "Can I help you?"

"Yes you can, lad," the gentleman replied loudly. "Does a Mister Bondy live here?"

"What is your business with Mister Bondy?" was Mister Povondra's icy reply.

"Tell him that Captain van Toch from Surabaya wants to speak to him. Ja," he remembered, "here's my card." And he handed Mister Povondra a visiting card bearing an embossed anchor and the name:

CAPTAIN J. VAN TOCH

E. I. & P. L. Co S. Kandong Bandoeng

Surabaya Naval Club

Mister Povondra lowered his eyes and considered this. Had he better tell him that Mister Bondy is not at home? Or that he was afraid that Mister Bondy is at an important conference? There are some callers who need to be announced, and there are some others that a good doorman will deal with himself. Mister Povondra felt a troubling failure of the instinct that normally guides him in these matters; this fat man at the door did not somehow fall into the usual class of unannounced visitors, he did not seem to be a commercial representative, or a functionary of a charitable organisation. Meanwhile, Captain van Toch was snorting and wiping his brow with his handkerchief; at the same time he was blinking ingenuously with his pale blue eyes. Mister Povondra suddenly decided to take the responsibility for this man onto himself. "Please come in Captain van Toch," he said, "I will announce you to Mister Bondy".

Captain J. van Toch wiped his brow with his blue handkerchief and looked round the ante-room. Hell, this Gustl has got things alright; it's like the saloon on one of those ships that sail from Rotterdam to Batavia. It must have cost a fortune. And all that by a freckly little Jew, the captain thought in admiration.

Meanwhile, in his study, G.H. Bondy was contemplating the captain's visiting card. "And what does he want with me?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm afraid I don't know, Sir," mumbled Mister Povondra unctuously. Mister Bondy was still holding the card in his hand. And embossed ships anchor. Captain J. van Toch, Surabaya - where actually is Surabaya? Is it somewhere in Java? that seemed a very long way away to Mister Bondy. Kandong Bandoeng, that sounds like a gong being struck. Surabaya. And it feels just like the tropics here, today. Surabaya.

"Well, you'd better show him in," Mister Bondy ordered.

The heavy man in the captain's cap stood in the doorway and saluted. G.H. Bondy went over to welcome him. "Very glad to meet you, Captain. Please, come in," he said in English.

"Hello, hello Mister Bondy," proclaimed the captain cheerfully in Czech.

"Are you Czech?" asked Mister Bondy in surprise.

"Ja, Czech. And we even know each other, Mister Bondy. From Moravia. Vantoch the grain merchant, do you remember?"

"That's right, that's right," G.H. Bondy replied with enthusiasm, although he did feel a little disappointment that this was not a Hollander after all. "Vantoch the grain merchant, on the town square, wasn't it. And you haven't changed at all, Mister Vantoch! Still just the same! And how's the grain business going?"

"Thanks," the captain replied politely. "It's been a long time now since Dad ... how do you say ..."

"Since he died? Oh, of course, you must be his son ..." Mister Bondy's eyes came alive with a sudden memory. My dear Vantoch! You must be that Vantoch who used to fight with me when we were lads!"

"Yes, that will have been me, Mister Bondy," agreed the captain seriously. "In fact that's why they sent me away, to Ostrava, up in the north."

"You and I were always fighting. But you were stronger than me," Mister Bondy acknowledged sportingly.

"Ja, I was stronger than you. You were such a weak little Jew-boy, Mister Bondy. And you were given Hell for it."

"I was, that's true," mused G.H. Bondy, somewhat moved. But sit down, my friend! How nice of you to think of me! What brings you here?" Captain van Toch sat down with dignity into a leather armchair and laid his cap on the floor.

"I'm here on holiday, Mister Bondy. That's so."

"Do you remember," asked Mister Bondy as he sank into his memories, "how you used to shout at me: Jew-boy, Jew-boy, you go to Hell.

"Ja," the captain admitted, and he trumpeted with some emotion into his blue handkerchief. "Oh yes, they were good times, lad. But what does it matter now? Time passes. Now were both old men and both captains."

"That's true, you're a captain," Mister Bondy reminded himself. "Who'd have thought it? A Captain of Long Distances."

"Yessir. A highseaer. East India and Pacific Lines, Sir."

"A wonderful career," said Mister Bondy with a sigh. "I'd change places with you straight away, Captain. You must tell me about yourself."

"Alright then, " said the captain as he became more lively. "There's something I'd like to tell you about, Mister Bondy. Something very interesting, lad." Captain van Toch looked around uneasily.

"Are you looking for something, Captain?"

"Ja. Don't you drink beer, Mister Bondy The journey here from Surabaya made me so thirsty." The captain began to rummage in the copious pockets of his trousers and drew out his blue handkerchief, a canvas bag containing something, a bag of tobacco, a knife, a compass and a wad of banknotes. "I think we should send someone out for some beer. What about that steward who showed me in here to your cabin." Mister Bondy rang a bell.

"Nothing to worry about, Captain. Meanwhile you could light a cigar .. " The captain took a cigar with a red and gold band and drew in the aroma.

"Tobacco from Lombok. Bunch of thieves there, for what it's worth." And with that, to Mister Bondy's horror, he crumbled the costly cigar in his massive hands and put the it into a pipe. "Ja, Lombok. Lombok or Sumba." By this time, Mister Povondra had made his silent appearance in the doorway.

"Bring us some beer," Mister Bondy ordered. Mister Povondra raised his eyebrow.

"Beer? And how much beer?"

"A gallon," the captain grumbled as he stepped on a used match on the carpet. "In Aden, the heat was awful, lad. Now, Mister Bondy, I've got some news for you. From the Sunda Islands, see? There's a chance there to do some fantastic business. But I'll need to tell you the whole story. Wait." The captain's eyes turned to the ceiling as he remembered. "I don't really know where to begin." (Yet another business deal, thought G.H. Bondy to himself. God, this is going to be boring. He's going to talk to me about exporting sewing machines to Tasmania or boilers and safety pins to Fiji. Fantastic business, yes, I know. That's what I'm good for. But I'm not some junk dealer, damn it! I'm an adventurer. I'm a poet in my own way. Tell me about Sinbad, sailor-man! Tell me about Surabaya or the Phoenix Islands. Have you never been pulled of course by a magnetic mountain, have you never been captured by the bird, Noh, and taken up to its nest? Don't you come back to port with a cargo of pearls and cinnamon and hardwoods? No? Better start your lies, then.) "I suppose I could start with these lizards," the captain began.

"What lizards?" asked the businessman in surprise.

"Well, these astonishing lizards they have there, Mister Bondy."

"Where?"

"On one of these islands. I can't tell you the name, lad. That is a big secret, worth millions." Captain van Toch wiped his brow with his handkerchief. "Where the Hell has that beer got to?"

"It will be right here, Captain."

"Yes, that's good. And you ought to know that these are very decent and likable animals, these lizards. I know them, lad." The captain slammed his hand down on the table; "and if anyone says they're demons they're a liar, a damned liar, Sir. You and me are more like demons than they are, me, Captain van Toch, Sir. You can take my word for it." G.H. Bondy was startled. Delirium, he thought. Where is that damned Povondra? "There are several thousand of them there, these lizards, but a lot of them are eaten by sharks. That's why these lizards are so rare and only in one place, in this bay that I can't give you the name of."

"You mean these lizards live in the sea?"

"Ja. In the sea. But at night they come out onto the shore, although after a while they have to go back into the water."

"And what do they look like?" (Mister Bondy was trying to gain time before that damned Povondra came back.)

"Well, about as big as a seal, but when they walk on their hind legs they'd be about this high," the captain demonstrated. "I won't tell you they're nice to look at, they're not. And they haven't got any scales. They're quite bare, Mister Bondy, naked, like a frog or a salamander. And their front paws, they're like the hands on a child, but they've only got four fingers. Poor things," the captain added in sympathy. "But they're nice animals, Mister Bondy, very clever and very likable." The captain crouched down and, still in that position, began to waddle forward. "And this is how they walk, these lizards."

The captain, with some effort and still squatting down, carried his body along in a wave-like movement; at the same time he held his hand out in front of himself like a dog begging for something and fixed his eyes on Mister Bondy in a way that seemed to beg him for sympathy. G.H. Bondy was deeply touched by this and almost felt ashamed. While this was going on, Mister Povondra appeared in the doorway with a jug of beer and raised his eyebrows in shock when he saw the captain's undignified behaviour. "Give us the beer and get out," Mister Bondy exclaimed. The captain stood up, wheezing.

"Well, that's what these animals are like, Mister Bondy. Your health," he added as he took a draught of the beer. "This is good beer you've got here, lad. But in a house like this ..." The captain wiped his moustache.

"And how did you come across these lizards, Captain?"

"That's just what I wanted to tell you about, Mister Bondy. It happened like this; I was looking for pearls on Tana Masa ..." the captain stopped short. "Or somewhere round those parts. Ja, it was some other island, but for the time being that's still my secret. People are enormous thieves, Mister Bondy, you have to be careful what you say. And while those two damned Sinhalese were under water cutting away the oysters - the oysters hold as fast to the rocks like a Jew holds to his faith and have to be cut away with a knife - the lizards were there watching them, and the Sinhalese thought they were sea monsters. They're very ignorant people, these Sinhalese and Bataks. Anyway, they thought they were demons. Ja." The captain trumpeted noisily into his handkerchief. "You know, lad, it's a strange thing. I don't know whether us Czechs are more inquisitive than other people but whenever I've come across another Czech he's always had to stick his nose into everything find out what's there. I think, us Czechs, we don't want to believe in anything. So I got it into my stupid, old head that I should go and get a closer look at these demons. True, I was drunk at the time, but that was only because I couldn't get these stupid demons out of my mind. Down there on the equator, lad, down there anything's possible. So that evening I went down and had a look at Devil Bay. .." Mister Bondy did his best to imagine a bay in the tropics, surrounded by cliffs and jungle.

"And then?"

"So there I was sitting by the bay and going ts-ts-ts so that the demons would come. And then, lad, after a while, a kind of lizard crawled up out of the water. It stood up on its hind legs, twisting its whole body. And it went ts-ts-ts at me. If I hadn't been drunk I probably would have shot it; but, my friend, I was sloshed as an Englishman, so I said to it, come here, hey you tapa-boy come here, I won't harm you."

"Were you speaking to it in Czech?"

"No, Malay. That's what they speak most down there, lad. He did nothing, just made a few steps here and there and looked sideways at me like a child that's too shy to talk. And all around in the water were a couple of hundred of these lizards, poking their paws up out of the water and watching me. So I, well yes I was drunk, I squatted down and began to twist about like these lizards so that they wouldn't be afraid of me. Then another lizard crawled out of the water, about the size of a ten year old boy, and he started waddling about too. And in his front paw he had an oyster." The captain took a draught of beer. "Cheers, Mister Bondy. Well it's true that I was very drunk, so I said to him, what a clever lad you are, eh, what is it you want then? Want me to open that oyster for you, do you? Come here then, I can open it with my knife. But he just stood there, still didn't dare come any closer. So once again, I started to twist about like I was a shy little girl. Then he pattered up closer to me, I slowly held out my hand to him and took the oyster from his paw. Now, you can understand we were both a bit afraid, but I was drunk. So I took my knife and opened that oyster; I felt inside to see if there was a pearl there but there wasn't, only that vile snot, like one of those slimy molluscs that live in those shells. Alright then, I said, ts-ts-ts, you can eat it if you like. And I tossed the open oyster over to him. You should have seen how he licked it up, lad. It must have been a wonderful titbit for these lizards. Only, the poor animals weren't able to get into the hard shells with their little fingers. Life is hard, ja!" The captain took another drink of beer. "So I worked it out in my head, lad. When these lizards saw how the Sinhalese cut away the oysters they must have said to themselves, aha, so they eat oysters, and they wanted to see how these Sinhalese would open them. One of these Sinhalese looks pretty much like a lizard when he's in the water, but one of these lizards was more clever than a Sinhalese or a Batak because he wanted to learn something. And a Batak will never want to learn anything unless it's how to thieve something," Captain J. van Toch added in disgust. "So when I was on that shore going ts-ts-ts and twisting about like a lizard they must have thought to themselves that I'm some kind of great-big salamander. That's why they weren't really scared of me and came closer, so that I would open the oysters for them. That's how intelligent and trusting these animals are." Captain van Toch went red. "When I'd got to know them better I took all my clothes off, so that I'd look more like them, naked; but they were still puzzled at the hairs on my chest and that sort of thing. Ja." The captain wiped his handkerchief over his blushing neck. "But I hope I'm not boring you, Mister Bondy." G.H. Bondy was enchanted.

"No, no. Not at all. Please carry on, Captain."

"Yes, yes alright then. So when this lizard had licked out the shell with all the others watching him they climbed up onto the shore. Some of them even had oysters in their paws - something odd about this, lad, is that they were able to pull them off the cliffs when they only had these little fingers without a thumb, like a child's fingers. At first they were too shy, but then they let me take the oyster out of their hands. True, they weren't proper oysters with pearls in them, all sorts of things it was they brought me, the sort of clams and the like that don't have pearls in them, but I threw them back in the water and told them, that's no good children, they're not worth opening, I'm not going to use my knife on them. But when they brought me a pearl-oyster I opened it with my knife and checked carefully to see if there wasn't a pearl there. Then I gave it back to them for them to lick it out. So by then there was a couple of hundred of these lizards sitting round me and watching to see how it was I opened the oysters. Some of them tried to do it themselves, tried to cut round the oyster with the bits of shell that were lying around. I found that very strange, lad. No animal knows how to use tools; all that an animal knows is what's been shown to it by nature. I admit, I once saw in Buitenzorg a monkey that could open a tin can with a knife; but a monkey, that s not really a proper animal. But I did find it strange." The captain took a drink of beer. "That night, Mister Bondy, I found about eighteen pearls in those shells.