Archipelago

by R. A. Lafferty

  “But you will never return in the flesh to the City of Iolcus.”

  Later they went walking in the town and they passed an alley named Oswald Lane.

  “Sometimes when you go by it, it isn't here at all,” Rosemary told the Sergeant, “and if you do down it, sometimes you come out in Darlinghurst, and sometimes in London. It gets foggy now. Quickly, mount on my shoulders or you will stick to the pavement.”

  The Sergeant did so. Had he not, he would have been stuck to the pavement by the fog, and he would have perished there and lived no more of any of his lives. By such slender things are we sometimes saved.

  “Remember that the herb Rosemary is the specific against sticking to the ground in a fog,” Rosemary Riorden said. “Use it whenever you are in danger.”

  After that (probably quite a while after that, for they were back in the islands), the Sergeant went out from coral reefs with the Malayan boy, and they dived from the canoe and swam under the water.

  “What is the name of the canoe?” the Sergeant asked.

  “It is named Aral or ‘hindrance’,” the Malay boy said, “it is named Bumi or ‘of the world’. It is named Aragh or ‘the direction’.” So the Sergeant knew that it was the ship Argo.

  They swam underwater for a long time and it was unbelievably wet. Sea water isn't very wet, even for water. There are other things wetter than water.

  Rubbing alcohol is wetter, and that's what it was. It was high noon in the ward.

  “What other kinds of noon are there?” the Sergeant asked aloud.

  “I don't know, Sarge. What other kinds of noon ARE there?” the brown ward-boy asked him. “Were you talking to me or to yourself?”

  “I'm not sure.”

  The Sergeant had had a little fever and they had given him a rub-down. He hadn't been asleep, but he had been noon-dreaming there as he watched the sun and the shadows.

  This daydream was the only time in his life that he ever met Moira Monroney and Rosemary Riorden and Minnie McGinty, and yet they had been pretty good friends and he would always remember them. He supposed that they, in their own way, would always remember him also.

  The Sergeant told everybody that he was all right now and that he ought to go home. This took a little while, for his reputation was against him.

  However, it was soon noticed that he was in fact all right. It was another two and a half weeks, but then he was on his way.

  In the ward, he left only Private Gregory of his old friends who seemed destined to live forever, and who was mighty tearful that it would be forever in that ward.

  Chapter Four

  Stranahan, Who Is Meleager

  1.

  I fled from the hall of the doer and driver

  And traded it all for the life of a Fiver.

  With Hans I was kin where the hazard was racey,

  I fiddled with Finn and companioned with Casey;

  I handled the helm in the dragon-back denry,

  And rode in the realm of the Emperor Henry.

  We owned a Sea-Kingdom, and all of us regend

  (You know naught of that who ne'er lived in a legend),

  Discovering valleys and skerries in sky-lands;

  In weird Archipelago, we were the Islands.

  We coasted in quest of auriferous cargo,

  And sailed on the ship that was anciently Argo.

  Our motto: Aquilae congrégabunt dumque

  In nostrum memoriam quotiescumque.

  Were ghosts to be grappled and coneys to cozen,

  We chose us the life that's only for the Chosen.

  I skirted the dead-falls whose covert is birchen,

  Yet beached like a bream in the net of the Urchin.

  Nor spurned I my brothers nor voided my visa,

  ’Tis but that a Farer will find a Theresa.

  Returning I empty the bolts from my quiver

  And live in the world, in the Town on the River.

   — Lines written on back of an insurance policy by Vincent Stranahan

  When Finnegan got off the train in St. Louis, he was met, not by Vincent as he had expected, but by Dorothy Yekouris his old girl from New Orleans.

  His feelings when he saw her at a distance were not what he expected, nor was he able to explain them. His heart ran faster than normal. His breathing was difficult. He was stunned by the wonderful appearance of her, and, before he had control of himself, he felt that his hands shook.

  These symptoms have been correlated with the sudden vision of a long-loved one, the fruition of nostalgia, the final climaxing of desire… But they are also the symptoms of sheer terror. But Dotty was pleasant and kind and intelligent, and she loved him. And also, she was suddenly alien to him.

  As they came towards each other, Finnegan had the feeling that he was lost in a wrong world and that he had never seen this lovely stranger before. He was honestly not sure for a moment who she was. He was seeing something not meant for himself, he was eavesdropping on himself inside his own body, seeing with his eyes and feeling with his senses, all with the impression that he was a stranger inside. Often Finn felt that he was inhabiting a stranger without real familiarity with the body and brain he looked out from. When Finnegan was not himself, it had a special meaning.

  For he was Finnegan of the Two Lives, a story and character out of the Taine. Whoever he was himself, he felt a little amused and quite a little sorry for this confused Finnegan person he inhabited. And he was not ready to admit that the person was himself.

  They kissed warmly and they gazed at each other: for this was the new meeting of Dotty and Finnegan.

  “I was worried that you wouldn't come home, Finn,” Dotty told him. “You needn't be afraid. I won't trap you unless you want it.”

  “I was worried too, Dotty. I didn't know where home was; I may not know now. They had me in a joker-camp for a while, and they evicted me even from there. The show split up and I couldn't find myself in the pieces. But I used to think about you. Then I'd think, What if I go back to her and when I get there I won't know her? What if there isn't any Dotty? I knew many people well who weren't. What if I forget what she looks like?”

  “In a way, dear, you couldn't forget,” Dotty said, “you never knew. You always looked at me as though I were someone else. We needn't make hard work of this, Finn. Many others don't hit it off perfectly. Maybe we expect too much, but I'd give a lot to make it work. I will still be Dotty: I can't be anyone else. Will you come back to New Orleans with me next week?”

  “Yes, of course I will come. I don't know anywhere else to go, Dotty, or anyone else to go with. If I can't find it with you, where can I find it?”

  Dotty hugged him. This is more momentous than it sounds. Dotty was strong as a bear. She wasn't beautiful; but she was better looking than a lot of beautiful girls. Unless you know Dotty, you won't understand this. And if you don't understand it, it is difficult to grasp the rest. But when Dotty hugged it was electric.

  “It's very peculiar,” Finnegan said, and he was shaken, “but I miss you more when you're here than when you're gone.” Now that was only a little thing to say, and there was no reason for Dotty to go white when she heard it or to gasp as though she had been struck.

  “I wish you hadn't said that, Finn. I know what you mean and you don't. I'm sorry that I'm not different. Most wouldn't want me different.”

  And now Finn saw Vincent and Hans and Casey and went toward them. Dotty cocked her head to one side and watched as he joined his friends.

  “You banana-nosed brat,” she said, “you just don't know what you're missing. Oh my God, how will I ever show you! I wonder if I'll ever be able to bring you to it. If I can't, then nobody else can.”

  It still had every chance of going. Why, it had really only begun.

  And yet in a way it had ended there.

  2.

  But after all this one is about Vincent; the rest were only in town to see him get married. Vincent J. Stranahan was born in St. Louis on April 5, 1921, the
son of Patrick J. Stranahan and Monica (Murry) Stranahan. His brothers were Philip, Hugh, and Timothy Navisius; his sisters were Norma and Maurine.

  Patrick J. was an attorney and a successful one. He was an extremely brilliant man, but for purposes of business he hid the fact and settled for being a very proficient and understanding man. His sons all resembled him, and it was expected that they would also be brilliant and that they would have the good sense to hide it.

  Vincent narrowly escaped being tagged as a ‘good’ boy. He was a little of a clown and he escaped it by that. Unlike the others, he was never brilliant though he had often given promise that he might become so. This was later given up on. Besides, it wasn't really needed; there was enough brilliance in the family in the three elder sons. They were a close-knit bunch and there would always be enough of everything.

  Vincent might have done better if he'd had it harder, but he did well as it was.

  Teresa Antoinette Piccone (Show Boat) was born on October 15, 1923, also in St. Louis. Her father, Gaetano, the proprietor of the Star and Garter, acted by reason of this a role broader than life until this role was part of him. As a show-off, he was nearly on par with his daughter.

  The mother of Teresa was a Panebianco and her name was Marie Caterina.

  Gaetano was probably not rich, but he did own a valuable piece of property in the theater. He could have sold the building and the corner and lived his life out on what it would bring, but he would rather keep the show. He was flamboyant and a gambler, and he loved to flash sheaves of hundred dollar bills.

  Teresa (Show Boat) cannot be described directly. She must be caught a little bit at a time. Well anyway, she was dark and lithe and probably little. She wasn't very pretty but nobody cared about that. She sure could make the pretty girls turn green.

  Vincent and Show Boat were to be married on the last Saturday of May of 1946. That was the reason for the gathering of the Dirty Five and their friends in St. Louis. It was to be a big event.

  It would be bigger if Show Boat could have her way: an epic, a pentagamion. She thought that everybody might as well get married. She was hurt at the way these people kept talking their way out of it. Marie and Hans had the only legitimate excuse: they were already married.

  There was a rift, well not a rift, a hesitation between John Solli (Finnegan) and his girl Dotty. This was like other rifts. There had been no sharp words between them. Never as long as they lived would even one sharp word pass between them.

  Dotty (Dorothy Mary Yekouris) had come to town from New Orleans and was living with Show Boat. The daughter of a printer, she was raised in the trade: then took up bartending also when the trade did not provide. A secret intellectual who narrowly missed being a rogue, she had much faith in her ability to run the world. She had no faith at all in those who were running it.

  But now she was doubtful and worried. “I have a job cut out for me, Teresa,” she said. “That little banana-nose might just go over the hill. He will try to drink up everything in the world; and worse, he will have to see everything in the world, though he has no idea at all what he is looking for. We had a calf like that once when I was little. We bought him at an auction. He had been taken from his mother and was a long ways from home. He would break out of every fence we had and go wherever he saw cattle. It wouldn't take him long to find that there was nothing there he wanted. He'd go through more fences and visit all the other bunches. He had surely forgotten what he was looking for, but he never did stop breaking out and wandering. We had to butcher him.”

  “That might be the best thing to do with your boy, Finnegan.”

  “Yes, I've thought of that too. I've thought of everything. Oh, I'd have him all right, and I'd take care of him when he's around and try to keep track of him when he's roving. But I don't know if I can settle him down.”

  “A lot of the boys will be like that for a while. Then I think they'll settle.”

  “I hope. The other four will settle down. I don't think Finn ever will.”

  “Does he drink more than the others?”

  “Probably. Or he does it differently. I can see all the way down the road for him and I try to help him. I knew him well before the war. He drank. I was a barmaid and he was my customer. But he wasn't trapped then.”

  “But from one of his letters that I had from overseas I knew that he'd changed. Or perhaps I realized that I didn't really know him very well. His drinking is only incidental to his being lost. His letter didn't mention drinking, I don't even remember what it said, but it told me in one sentence that he was getting lost.”

  “Diavolo, Dotty, nobody's lost. Come on and get married with us.”

  “Look at him, Teresa, sometime. You know he isn't ready.”

  “But Dotty, I haven't met him yet. Something is wrong. Two days he's in town and I haven't seen him. It's mighty peculiar that I haven't seen him.”

  It would be a lot more peculiar when she did.

  “It's just the way it's happened, Teresa,” Dotty said. “Today you'll see him for sure. He's very curious about you. I can feel it.”

  “I had a letter from him once, Dotty, and it made my flesh creep clear off my bones. It gave me the weirdest feeling, as though he were someone I had loved a long time ago and forgotten. How could I forget anyone I had ever loved?”

  3.

  Everyone was in town. Hans and Marie had decided to live there. They had taken an apartment, and Mary Catherine (Casey's girl) was staying with them. Mary Virginia Schaeffer, one of the sweetest persons in the world, stayed with Show Boat also, and seemed happy about anything that Henry might decide. She was Henry's old girl from Morgan City, Louisiana.

  Finnegan and Henry and Casey stayed with Vincent. And Stein was in town.

  And also, down from Chicago, came the semi-fabulous Melchisedech Duffey, beard and all. He was a patriarch without seed, a prophet without honor, a high-sounding brawler. He knew everything, of course, but that was no special achievement. A lot of them knew everything. But people did look at him and turn at the sound of his voice, which was Boston Irish with just a touch of stage Yiddish mixed in.

  There were parties for a week. To Finnegan now a party was always a tavern party. His main drinking partner, Vincent, was often occupied with lesser things. A man hasn't too many duties before his wedding, but he has some.

  Hans was much on business in the daytime, visiting banks, seeing builders and promoters and suppliers. It was so bad that it would sometimes be nine or ten o'clock in the morning before Finnegan could line up a drinking party. Then it might be the now-thoughtful Henry or the strangely soured Casey. Duffey might be along, or the ubiquitous Stein. Later in the week, Show Boat.

  “It's my bachelor week too,” she would say. But Monica Stranahan did not approve of her being always out drinking with the boys, especially in the mornings.

  Dotty liked to go along, but she felt that she might worry Finnegan. Mary Catherine (Casey's girl) loved to live it up, but she had a mysterious feud with Casey. No one was getting along with his proper mate.

  This morning, the Tuesday before the wedding, it was Mary Virginia Schaeffer, Mary Catherine Carruthers, Finnegan, Henry, and Duffey who were riding around in Mary Schaeffer's car. They were across the river and into Illinois and visiting all the little towns, stopping out of courtesy at a tavern of each.

  “What is it with Casey now, Duff?” Henry asked. “You and Mary Catherine know him better than anyone. Has he really gone off the deep end? You treat him like dirt, Mary, as though he had crucified Christ all over again.”

  “He is planning on doing just that, Henry, but the price has gone up since the first time. He gets a good subsidy from someone.”

  “How can the force him into it?” Henry asked. “A little blackmail never hurt anyone.”

  “It isn't that now, Henry,” said Duffey, “though it started that way. Casey believes the stuff now. He had it all down perfect. He already knew it: he didn't have to learn it. He had studied it while his ey
es were still open; and when he switched, it moved in on him with its complete logic. He is intelligent enough to know that there is no place in between, even though most of the world stands in the middle like a herd of foolish colts.”

  “Has he left the Church?”

  “No. It would be better if he did,” said Mary Catherine. “That's the devil in him. And his value to Them would be less if he left. He's going to identify the Crock as a Liberal Catholic magazine and use it as a setting for their handouts and quotations. I don't know how he can stand it. I can't influence him. Neither can Duffey.”

  “Are you going to give him the magazine, Duff?”

  “He has it now. He's taken it away from me. It is mostly his money in it. I will have to start another one and fight this thing a little tighter.”

  “Why does he still hate Stein, if Stein is really one of them?”

  “Curiously, Stein has shown signs of switching too. He was in as deep as you can get and it's dangerous for him to leave it; but there is a chance that he will, or that he has. You see, Stein is really decent. He was born in the Party, just as we were born in the Church. He is being torn apart too, but he isn't as transparent as Casey.”

  They circled back towards the City and stopped in one more little town. The tavern had just opened. It was really a roadhouse. They played the music box: ‘Seems Like Old Times’ and ‘It's a Great Big World’. The five sat at one of the tables.