by Kim Ekemar
He opened his eyes and smiled at Oona. “So it's understandable if you don't wish to eat his muck.”
“You don't know what you're talking about!” Everett screamed. No one was concerned about his outburst. “Your cooking tastes like mud and rotten fish!”
Porfirio rose from his easy chair.
“Everett!“ he said curtly. Everett retreated like a browbeaten animal before he sat down. Gordon began to gurgle, which made his obese body tremble. I suppose he was laughing.
“Gordon feels good when he sounds like that”, Porfirio confirmed my impression with a crooked smile. He returned to his easy chair.
“What are we going to do with them?” Wayne suddenly said. His voice was dull and menacing. “Why should they stuff themselves on our supplies?”
“They won't finish off our provisions, Wayne”, Porfirio said enigmatically, “they will add to them.”
The same instant the door to the ship's deck was hurled open. Snow whirled in the doorway and cold air gushed into the cabin. A shadow slipped inside and threw down a large sack on the floor. With some struggle the snow clad shape closed the cabin door.
“It seems Santa is early this year”, Porfirio mumbled from his easy chair, “but I doubt the gifts are intended for us.”
The shadow coming in from the storm was Gary. He shook the snow off his clothes and it rapidly melted into pools on the floor.
Gary was of average height but his stoop made him look shorter. His close-set eyes flickered at everything yet nothing in the room, as if they could see what was missing but not what could be found. His face was thin and hungry, and he stood tense and cowering like a dog afraid of being thrashed.
“What did you lay your hands on this time, Gary?” Porfirio called out and laughed. “Surely you will share your loot with us?”
Gary did not respond, only swept up the bundle he had put down. He walked fast through the cabin to leave by the same door as Oona and Everett. Wayne stopped him and tore at the sack that Gary carried on his back. The sackcloth burst and the contents poured down on the floor. My heart jumped into my mouth and I could see that also Irving and Oona were stunned. The sack had been filled with effects from our van: the tape recorder, cassettes, clothing, a tool box, an axe, jump leads, a hurricane lamp, the spare tank, a coil of rope and much more. I found it hard to understand that anyone could find them worth his while to steal, and less so to venture out into the snowstorm for.
Porfirio inclined his head backwards with closed eyes.
“If I were you I wouldn't count on finding the van intact – that is, if you ever get to see it again.” His patronizing words made Irving rush to his feet.
“What do you mean by – “, he began.
“Yes, yes, yes”, Porfirio, irritated, interrupted him. “We shall see later if I can muster the desire to resolve the matter.” He sat up and fixed the standing Irving with his eyes.
“There is one thing that should be perfectly clear to all present”, he said haughtily, “and that is that aboard this ship I make the decisions. It is my possession, a gift from Carlos V to one of my ancestors, and it was once owned by Christopher Columbus. The ship has for generations been passed on as an heirloom in our family. It has always been natural for Spanish royalty to lavish on us gifts of gratitude. Another example of those gifts is the territories to which we are sailing.”
“Hence”, Porfirio growled and locked his eyes into Irving's, “no uninvited persons trespassing on my peace of mind have got the right to express any contradictory opinions as long as they remain on board my ship. Is that one hundred percent clear?”
Irving was so profoundly taken aback by the monologue that he forgot why he had lost his temper in the first place. His face was transformed into embarrassment.
“I … I didn't … my intention …” he stuttered, confused by Porfirio's onslaught. With a thud he collapsed on his chair without finishing the sentence. Meanwhile Gary had taken the opportunity to collect our belongings and vanish from the cabin. The only thing he left behind was our axe, and only because Wayne had seized it.
The mood in the cabin was menacing to say the least, and I judged it best to keep quiet in an attempt to make myself invisible. I appraised our possibilities of leaving. Irving seemed incapable of comprehending what was happening. He appeared to have forgotten what Porfirio had just said about Gary stealing our belongings from the van.
Lewis had moved his chair closer to Oona and was stroking her hair and her shoulders. Everett sat on her other side and imitated Lewis awkwardly. Meanwhile Gordon had won Irving’s full attention. He had his sticky hands on Irving's arm and gargled something I couldn’t make out. Irving tried to concentrate on what the man in front of him was saying. He seemed unaware that with every syllable Gordon spat out scraps of the foodstuffs he was masticating. Most of it was sticking to Irving's face and clothes.
The revolving door was cautiously opened and Gary's head became visible. When he had established that no one was bothered by his presence he slunk into the cabin, raised a chair from the floor and sat down next to Stuart. His gaze appeared to never rest. It flickered like a butterfly over the room. Now and then it landed on Oona's fur coat lying in the messy remains of the fire. His eyes returned to it until Gary no longer could contain himself. Surreptitiously he slid off the chair, drawn towards the corner where it had been thrown.
I felt desperate. We had to get off the ship immediately, but I had no idea how. Nobody paid any attention to me.
“Irving!” I called him across the table in a low voice. Gordon continued his monologue. “Irving! Irving”’ I repeated.
Finally he grasped the fact that I was trying to communicate.
“Irving, we have to leave this place at once!” I said as quietly as possible but strong enough to let him hear me. I cast a meaningful glance in Oona's direction to make him understand the emergency of our situation. Mouth agape, Irving looked at Oona and the men surrounding her. Abruptly Lewis jumped up from his chair while Everett continued to caress Oona roughly. Irving's eyes remained on Lewis.
Lewis began to undress. With half-closed eyelids he looked lewdly at Oona, who was trying to fend off Everett's advances. Slowly, lecherously, he took off one article of clothing after another. Irving watched him dumbfounded - he was trying to fit the performance into some context he could comprehend. It was a primitive rite, one like those he had specialized in, but what was the purpose of this particular rite?
Lewis's body was ample and pallid, neither muscular nor slack. It was obvious that he enjoyed having it exhibited to spectators. He stroked himself with provocative gestures after each discarded piece of clothing. His eyes did not once waver from Oona.
Everett, furious, stood up and kicked his chair backwards. The sound of the chair being pushed over the coarse boards of the floor made Oona look up. Her gaze bounced from the seething Everett to the now almost naked Lewis. When Lewis locked her eyes onto his, he became charged with excitement. With impatient movements he tore off what little clothing he still wore. Completely naked, he approached Oona until her face was six inches from his navel. He clutched her by the hair.
This was the moment when true fear sank its barbs into me, the fear that none of us would leave the ship unhurt.
February 12 – 16, 1973
Paul Crimson’s diary
Excerpts from Velvet Nights
Notes and letters exchanged between Paul Crimson and John Partridge
February 12, 1973
I rewrote the better part of Chapter IV today after a most disturbing incident. When I came down the stairs from my attic room some time before noon no one was in the room Xavier and Vicente share on the second floor. The door to it was open, and I noticed the room was very tidy. Xavier is as neat as his sister, I admit, while Vicente is unconcerned about anything but himself. Then I noticed that also the door to Inocencia and Dan’s bedroom across the hall was ajar. I found this strange because it’s always kept closed. From the kitchen below I
could hear Inocencia humming. Curious I went up to the bedroom but stopped cold just short of it. Through the opening I could see Vicente in front of a chest of opened drawers with Inocencia’s underwear pressed to his face. His eyes were closed. He inhaled deeply. I backed away before he could see me and went downstairs. Inocencia received me in a homely apron with frills and asked me with a radiant smile what I would like for breakfast. She has become accustomed to my late habits. Even her beautiful smile couldn’t dispel my gloomy notions about finding Vicente in her bedroom, though.
February 13, 1973
Is Dan blind to how everybody lusts after Inocencia? Is Inocencia really so naïve that she doesn’t see how Vicente gets visibly excited when she’s around? Does she think that Lockwood wastes twenty minutes or more delivering our daily mail just because she gives him hot chocolate?
Today I had the opportunity to study Dan and Inocencia closer as they were both present in the kitchen when Lockwood rang the doorbell. Dan had sent Lorena in the van to buy some groceries and only the three of us were downstairs. Either Dan is an excellent actor and doesn’t let on that he knows Lockwood yearns for his woman and everything else in his possession, or he’s a bigger fool than I’ve taken him for. As always he started to laugh a second later than everybody else at something Inocencia said to the mailman. Lockwood’s elaborate ceremony getting our mail out is invariably a fifteen-minute show that would be amusing if it wasn’t done with such desperate gestures. Of course Inocencia’s motherly instincts are brought to the surface as if he were a lost child with nothing inappropriate lurking in his mind. Dan – well, Dan just defends anything Inocencia does or says, so how can he raise his voice at the poor lost dog that happened to arrive with the mail?
During lunch Xavier received a phone call and hurried upstairs to take it. It was amazing to see how Vicente’s attitude changed once his boss wasn’t around. He talked to Inocencia in Spanish with his eyes clawing at her generous though chastely covered breasts. His peculiar way of always drawing a deep breath before starting a new sentence strikes you as even more insolent considering he’s doing it in the faces of his hosts. Yet Dan just looked at him with interest, as if contemplating the profound thoughts of his guest. There’s no reaction from him over Vicente’s offensive behavior towards his hostess in front of her husband. Both Dan and Inocencia must have seen how he pawed her with his leery smiles and insinuating glances. Sometimes Dan is more like Captain Harding than Harding himself.
Then Xavier returned and Vicente immediately controlled his impulses like a chastened dog. Neither Inocencia nor Dan gave a sign that they noticed any difference in his behavior. But Xavier had caught him staring at Inocencia and barked something in Spanish so sharp that both Vicente and Inocencia cringed.
Yet Xavier was in a very good mood when he sat down at table after the phone call he had taken. ‘Did you know,’ he asked Dan, ‘that your wife and I were born into a noble Spanish family that emigrated to seek its fortune in Colombia?’ Inocencia seemed bewildered at the inclusion of her name and looked as if she wanted to protest. “Nothing like Vicente here, of course”, he added maliciously, “but then again Vicente is just a … poor unsophisticated assistant who can be more or less trusted.” No one objected. I think that in Dan’s case he didn’t because he couldn’t quite follow Xavier’s train of thought.
‘’Then”, said Xavier, returning to the topic that interested him, “the criminal butchers that usurped political power killed what family we had.” There was a brief cloud passing across his face. “But now, now I have received the good news that we will retrieve some of our family fortune and that once again we will be treated with due respect.”
I saw Lorena lift her eyes toward the ceiling in a gesture of boredom. Both Dan and Inocencia smiled expectantly and looked like they wanted to know more. “At this moment I can’t tell you what has occurred”, Xavier told them content with himself, “but I promise you that you will know very soon.”
God, how I detest that smug bastard.
Excerpt from Velvet Nights, Chapter IV
Johnny is a small skinny kid from the Bronx. He arrived two months ago and by now he’s known to everybody as Johnny Push-push. When I first heard of him I thought he had gotten the moniker because he’s so edgy and pushy, which he is – to the point that you want to smash his head in. He has this tough guy attitude from the streets of New York that irritates the hell out of you. He won’t back down to anyone except perhaps Bohannon, because I haven’t seen Johnny get into trouble with Bo yet. Johnny gets beat up by just about everyone he gets into a fight with. No one likes him because he’s always yapping about how great he is and how rich he would be if he hadn’t been drafted or how famously he gets on with the most good-looking broads in the Big Apple. Of course it’s all bluff and resentment over the fact that others have the success he is only royally dreaming for.
Later I realized he had earned his full nickname because he runs errands for Louie Esperanza. Louie negotiates cheap grass and horse through his mysterious network in Saigon and Johnny pushes for him. The other day Bo bragged he was the one who had thought up the perfect name for Johnny.
This morning I heard shouts in front of the mess hall and together with a bunch of the guys I went outside to have a look. Johnny had jumped up on Darryl Smith’s back and was hitting him furiously over his head and shoulders. Since Darryl is some thirty-odd pounds heavier than Johnny there were no bets on Johnny winning the championship. No one likes Johnny and I believe quite a few looked forward to see him getting beat up. On the other hand we all have a reluctant admiration for his fearless guts, and respect is hard earned for the grunts. Of course Darryl knew that he was going to beat the hell out of Johnny. When Johnny gripped his hair and pulled his head back, Darryl smiled the most delicious smile of anticipation one can imagine despite the pain he must have felt.
Johnny lost a couple of teeth and couldn’t talk for a week because of his swollen mouth. He would probably have been sent to the hospital if Captain Moore hadn’t arrived when Darryl was beating his brains out.
February 14, 1973
As I descended from my room this morning I overheard Xavier and Inocencia talking in mixed Spanish and English. If I understood their conversation correctly, she asked him why Vicente wasn’t around any longer … my heart skipped wildly at the notion. With my faded grasp of high school Spanish I think Xavier explained to her that Vicente had had to leave urgently for some business in New York. Vicente had asked him to send Inocencia his apologies for leaving without personally getting the opportunity to thank her for the hospitality extended. What was that supposed to mean? Xavier said that it was certain he would be back in a day or two. Inocencia believed him. She always believes everything that she is told.
February 15, 1973
I woke up after an unnerving dream that I can only recall the last part of. I dreamt that Lockwood and Vicente had done themselves in. The fact that neither of them have turned up for several days has given tremendous veracity to what I first considered as wishful thinking.
I recall that Xavier told Inocencia that Vicente had gone away for a day or two – and now it’s been two days! And Lockwood hasn’t brought us any mail since last Friday. Inocencia says he’s probably caught the flu or something over the weekend. “Who wouldn’t?” she said cheerfully, “working outside in this weather.”
The snow didn’t let up all day, proving her point.
February 16, 1973
Lockwood didn’t show up today either. Now I know something must be wrong. I had to walk down to the post office myself to mail today’s letter with Chapter Four to JP.
I went over to the bus depot afterwards and to my pleasant surprise the package from Johnny Push-push had arrived. I’m sure he’s shorting me on the weight, but I don’t care. I have no way of checking it here, anyway.
After doing some writing including a brief note to JP, I’m prepared to get stoned out of my mind. I need it, bad.
Note from
PBC to JP dated February 16, 1973
JP, you were right about suggesting the deadly (and deadly indeed) sins to me. To my mind, incorporating this concept into my book has given its wings the lift needed to let it take off after a sluggish start. I enclose a finished first draft of chapter four for your usual wise comments. Myself, I’m busy working on the next chapter and therefore I take the liberty to make these lines briefer than usual.
Bye now, Paul
Note from JP to PBC dated February 22, 1973
Dear Paul, you certainly have the knack to surprise me with unexpected twists in your work without deviating from its promising beginning. I see you are taking my advice about the deadly sins. Now, what about the three intruders on this potential breeding ground for disaster …
Regards, JP
The Ship: Chapter IV
THE AXE
With deliberate slowness Lewis carefully raised Oona from her chair. He caressed her over the clothes she wore. Oona kept still and let her arms hang limp along the sides. Her whole being withdrew as a result of his movements. She lowered her neck, the shoulders became taut and her eyes remained tightly closed.
I pushed my chair as far backwards as possible. No one noticed; all eyes were on Oona and Lewis. The revolving door swung open and I caught a glimpse of Gary bolting out from the cabin. When I looked at the corner that earlier had been on fire, I saw that Oona's fur coat was gone.
