Herman Wouk - Don't Stop The Carnival

by Don't Stop The Carnival(Lit)

  A round of pink champagne came with the dessert. Chunky Collins stood, glass in one hand, silver spoon in the other, and began to lead the guests in serenading Tom Tilson with For He's a Jolly Good Fellow. Midway through this song, bawled gaily by two hundred people, Norman saw-far down the terrace, at the end in shadow-Cohn's head, and his brown waving arm, poking through the doorway. At once he left the table, ignoring Henny's peevish challenge, "Norman, will you stop jumping up every two minutes? Come back here! What now?"

  Cohn was streaked with black grease and plastered with sand. He seemed in an excellent humor. "I guess we've got him," he said. "He was hiding under the pier all the time. That telephone operator of yours came down to get the gondola, and he popped out at her. Almost scared her to death. She screamed, and he took off into the brush, and the fellows are after him now."

  "How about Esm‚? Is she all right?" Norman said, with a pang of worry and guilt. He had prevailed on the girl, with a promise of overtime pay, to stay at the switchboard until midnight, though she had said she was very tired.

  "Well, she's sort of hysterical. She's still on the pier. The CO. says for you to go have a look. Frenchy is boxed in now, in the brush between the Blue Cottage and Lovers' Beach, and I've got to get back there. We'll be fetching him out."

  "Watch yourself!"

  "Oh, sure."

  Esm‚ sat in the gondola moaning. Virgil was trying to comfort her. Her eyes were starting from her head, and she clutched both hands over her stomach. "He have nuttin' on," she said. "Jus' a hat, de crazy mon. He jump out wid a big cutlash, he all naked like a donkey. He crazy."

  "Esm‚, how do you feel?" Norman said.

  "Mistuh Papuh, I got bad pain," said Esm‚, rocking back and forth. "Bad pain start."

  "You stay right here with her, Virgil," Norman said. "Dr. Tracy Pullman is at the party and I'm going to bring him down here, right away."

  "Yeffuh, I ftay heah."

  "Esm‚, I'm going to bring you the doctor who's the head of the hospital. You just be calm, now."

  "Tank you, suh," the girl moaned.

  Norman rushed back to the hotel and made his way across the dining terrace, dodging among the waiters with their baked Alaskas, looking for the doctor. Henny called at him as he passed, "Norman, what the hell is the matter with you?"

  "Nothing, nothing."

  "Then why do you keep popping in and out like a lunatic? It's a perfect party. Just sit down and enjoy yourself, for Christ's sake."

  "I'll be right back."

  Atlas said, "Norm, a boss has to look relaxed. He has to look on top of the situation, Norm. You're creating the wrong image."

  "Okay, okay."

  Espying Dr. Pullman at Mrs. Turnbull's table, Paperman hurried to him, and whispered in his ear. Dr. Pullman pushed back his half-eaten portion of baked Alaska, threw down a napkin, and rose with a discontented sigh. He wore a splendidly cut tuxedo; he was taller and heavier than the senator, with the same round dark face and shrewd eyes.

  "Busman's holiday," he said. "Excuse me, folks," and he went along with Paperman to the pier. On the way Norman told him about Esm‚'s alien status, and forlornly asked the doctor whether he could "give Esm‚" something" to arrest the course of nature until he could bundle her on a plane to Nevis in the morning.

  Pullman laughed. "Man, that's a pill nobody invented yet."

  "Well, then, what shall we do? Move her to the hospital? I mean, we have no facilities here-I'll pay-"

  The doctor patted his shoulder. "Suppose I just take a look first."

  The round-headed frogman, Thompson, came jogging up to Paperman as they approached the pier. "Sir, the CO. thinks we've got him, and says for you to come along. You might be able to talk to him."

  Norman followed the young man as he trotted tranquilly down the lawn toward the Blue Cottage, the last cottage in the row. Woods and Cohn were pacing, and peering into the brush. "Hello, Frenchy's right in here," Woods said. "He was quiet for a while, but then he started to move, and we heard him. We surrounded him and he stopped again." Woods directed his flashlight at the thick brush; the leaves looked a bright artificial green in the cone of light. "That's about where he is- somewhere between there and the water. Try talking to him."

  Norman thought for a moment, and raised his voice. "Hippolyte? Hippolyte, you come out and go home."

  No response.

  "Nobody's going to bother you. I haven't called the police, Hippolyte, you can just go home and forget about all this. Come back tomorrow and I'll give you the clock." He paused. The only sounds were the loud party noise from Lovers' Beach, and the faint orchestra at the main house. He glanced at Woods and shouted, "I'll give you the clock, and the money I owe you, Hippolyte. You know you have about seventy-five dollars coming."

  From the brush, not a sound.

  Woods said to Cohn, "I guess maybe we'll have to go in."

  "Are you sure he's there? Maybe he's down on the rocks," Norman said, "working back to the main house behind the cottages. Hippolyte knows his way around this place."

  "Davis is down at the water," Cohn said. "He won't get past Davis."

  "No," Woods said. "How about passing the word, Bob? Tell the fellows we'll go in now. I'll give them a yell to start them."

  "Wait a minute! I'm going to call the police," Norman said. "There's absolutely no reason for your men to take these chances any more."

  "It's kind of late at night to telephone the police, isn't it? You'll only wake the man on duty," the lieutenant said. "This is not a bad night exercise. Go ahead, Bob."

  Cohn went into the brush, making little noise; Norman could barely hear him moving. The moon glittered almost overhead in a clear black sky, paling out all but the brightest stars. By contrast with the muffled jollity at Lovers' Beach, the lawn seemed quiet as a graveyard. After a minute or so, Woods, softly tapping die flashlight on his palm, said, "Okay, here goes. You just stay here, will you, sir? We'll bring him out this way, and you can-ye gods, what's that now?"

  Far up the lawn, in the Pink Cottage, the dog was bursting forth in crazed, furious, hate-filled barking and snarling.

  "That's where he is, Lieutenant," Norman shouted. "He did slip past your men. I told you he could. He's at the Pink Cottage. He's there right now!"

  Norman ran up the lawn. Woods called quick orders at his men in the brush, then sprinted after Norman, overtook him, and plunged out of sight on the far side of the Pink Cottage, heading down through the shrubbery toward the water. Cohn came up behind Norman. The dog yapped, howled, barked, and as they neared the cottage they could hear the beast hurling himself against a door.

  "I guess this is it," Cohn said. "The CO. says for you and me to stay out here on the lawn."

  They heard confused shouts from down below the cottage. "There he is! I see him. Hey, Fred, he's heading your way! No, no, he turned- this way, this way, Tommy-up the bank-"

  There was a loud crash on the seaward side of the cottage-a splintering, tearing sound, a breaking of wood, and a skittering of wood and metal on stone. Hippolyte at the same moment came out of the shrubbery into the moonlight, moving clumsily but fast. He stopped when he saw Norman and the swimmer, showed his teeth, and made a disgusted, wordless noise-"Aaagh!" As he did this, Meadows came snarling and bounding from behind the cottage, straight for Hippolyte's back. The Frenchman heard the animal, turned, and raised the machete. Meadows leaped for him, Hippolyte swung hard, and the dog fell to the ground with a piercing yelp. In this moment when Hippolyte was distracted, Cohn ran at the Frenchman, shouting for the others; and Norman Paperman, entirely without forethought, charged Hippolyte, too.

  Cohn caught the man's arm as it swung up again, Norman clasped him around the middle, and the three went thrashing down on the dewy, sweet-smelling grass. Hippolyte's knee caught Norman painfully in the stomach, and he tore at one of Norman's ears. The Frenchman smelled rank as a zoo animal. This frightening tangle on the wet grass lasted a very short time. The other frogmen came tram
pling up, there was a grunting scrimmage, and Norman was pulled free and helped to his feet. Woods captured the blood-streaked machete, and three of the men raised Hippolyte, keeping a tight hold on him. But the Frenchman, his head bowed, didn't resist. For the first time, Norman noticed that Hippolyte had a large bald spot.

  Meadows was limping in circles, uttering cries of agony; then he sank to the grass, whimpering, licking his fur. Woods approached the dog carefully. "That's a bad gash," he said with a cautious pat on the dog's head. Blood was welling from a slanting cut on Meadows' left haunch, extending all down the leg. "It has to be sewed up right away. Red, where does that vet live? Red's got a dog," he said to Norman.

  The tall shaven-headed youngster, who was standing guard on Hippolyte with the others, said, "He lives out near the dairy farm, sir. The heck of it is, he doesn't have a telephone."

  "Isn't this Mrs. Tramm's dog?" Woods said, kneeling and patting the dog's drooping head. "I guess somebody should notify her. We can get him up to the vet in our truck, but-"

  "I'll tell her," Norman hastily put in. "Please go ahead right now, and just take him to the vet. She's somewhere at the party, and I may be a while finding her. Go ahead, and I know she'll be grateful."

  'Well, all right. And I guess we'll turn our friend here in at the fort," the lieutenant added, with his hands on his hips, regarding Hippolyte with a wry smile. "And then cease present exercises."

  "Boss, you get me my clock?" Hippolyte spoke up without rancor, even with a simple smile, his face asquint as usual. He had never given the dog a second look.

  "You really want that clock?"

  "It my clock."

  "All right."

  Norman went around the back of the Pink Cottage first, and entered through the screen door that Meadows had smashed open. He found Iris lying on the divan in the same position as before. The puffed, scratched face was wet with perspiration, and she was breathing hard. The dog's wild commotion had evidently not roused her at all. He dried her face with the towel Sanders had used, left her undisturbed, and hastened to the gardener's shack. Millard, hammered awake, handed over the clock again, displaying not the slightest annoyance.

  Hippolyte sat in the stern of the gondola between Lieutenant Woods and another frogman. The boy with the shaved head held Meadows on his lap in the bow, stroking him and murmuring to him. Meadows, his fur matted with blood, lay with hanging tongue, looking beaten and doleful. Cohn and the bullet-headed swimmer Thompson stood on the pier. Norman said to Virgil, "Where's Esm‚? What happened to her? Where's the doctor?"

  Virgil reported, in a great cascade of f's, that Pullman had ordered him to send Esm‚ immediately to the hospital in a taxicab, and had returned to the party. Esm‚ was surely at the hospital now. "Fee in bad fape," Virgil commented. "Fee feared."

  Norman handed the clock to the impassive handy man. "Hippolyte, you've been very bad tonight."

  "I got headaches," Hippolyte said, with a puzzled Squint.

  "I suppose that does it," Lieutenant Woods said. "Bob and Tommy are staying on for a free beer or two, if that's all right, sir. We'll shove off."

  "All right?" Norman said. "Lieutenant, your team has permanent total free bar privileges in this club. I mean that."

  Woods laughed. "You don't know what you're saying. I didn't hear that. We enjoyed the drinks and the steak dinner, we're more than even, and thanks."

  "Well, how in God's name can I thank you?"

  "What for? It was a good drill. The boys did all right, I thought-and say, so did you, sir. Let's go, Virgil."

  The gondola pulled away. Meadows, on the lap of the frogman, raised his head, panting, and watched Norman's face. The frogman stroked him as they went.

  "Poor pooch. Did you tell Iris?" Cohn said.

  "I couldn't find her. I will."

  "I'll get back to the brawl, I guess. Hazel must think I ducked out on her. Coming, Tommy? Thanks a lot, Norman."

  "What the devil are you thanking me for?"

  "Well, there was only one bad moment in the whole business there, really," Cohn said, "when he came out on the lawn. You were a help. If the truth be known, Norman, you're an ugly customer."

  The two swimmers went off, in the elastic lope which seemed their normal gait.

  Norman encountered Dr. Pullman in the hotel lobby, hanging up the desk telephone. "Well, right on time. Congratulations," Pullman said. "I've just been checking. It was quite close. She had the baby on the floor of the admissions room. A fine boy. Come down to the hospital tomorrow morning, Mr. Paperman, and I'll make out the birth certificate for you. Any time after nine o'clock-"

  "Dr. Pullman, what do you mean, for me? I'm not the father."

  "I'll take your word for that, but he's an American citizen now. She's in your employ, and there are the customary formalities." Dr. Pullman gave him a knowing smile and a wink. "In a way, I suppose you should pass out cigars. It's a real addition to your family. By the bye, this is the best party I've ever been to on this island. You really have the touch."

  Numbed, bemused, Paperman returned to the party. He still could scarcely believe that the crisis was past, that the catastrophe had not occurred, and that tonight it would not occur; that for once, in this grim test of the Tilson party, he had beaten the island of Kinja at its sullen eerie game. The dining terrace was emptying, but some guests still lingered over their coffee and liqueurs. Henny sat alone at Norman's table, her face clouded and mean.

  "Well, hello there, beautiful," she said to him. "I decided I was just going to sit here until you remembered to come for me, or until the sun rose. Where in the lousy hell have you been? Making time with some floozie at the other party?"

  Norman sank into a chair. "I'm sorry, darling. There were a couple of small things I had to look after. Where's Lester?"

  "Off boozing, naturally. Small things! What small things? Everything was going smooth as oil, only you kept flapping around like a demented albatross. I've never been more aggravated."

  "Did it really go all right? Really? Nobody was disturbed by anything?"

  "What was there to disturb them? Iris's dog barking once? And how did your jacket get so rumpled and damp? What on earth have you been doing?"

  A hand fell on Norman's shoulder. Letty and Tom Tilson were standing there. Tilson offered his hand, and Norman wearily rose and shook it.

  "Thanks, Paperman," said Tilson, looking him in the eye. "Thanks for an incredible success. It's been marvelous. Not a hitch, not a slip-up. In Kinja! I'm impressed, I swear to you."

  "Everyone is. If you're interested," Letty said, "you and your Gull Reef Club are in. There's nobody worth mentioning on this island who doesn't think you're great."

  "I'm glad. Very glad. Of course the party isn't over. There's more music. The bars will go till three-and then there'll be late snacks-"

  "I know." Tilson was still holding his hand, and looking keenly at him. "Tell me something, Norman. Has it been all that hard? You seem a little tired."

  Norman did not miss this switch to his given name, the first time Tom Tilson had used it.

  Norman took a moment to reply. "Well-yes, Tom. It's been a bit hard. But that's this business, you know."

  "Listen, man," Tilson said, "the important thing is, you've licked the Caribbean once. It'll stay licked now. You're all right, Norman."

  He squeezed Paperman's hand, smiled, and walked off.

  "Come on, Henny," Paperman said. "I'm sorry I neglected you. I'll never neglect you again. Let's have some fun now. Let's dance."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Carnival Is Very Sweet

  1

  A few surly breakfasters were on the dining terrace when Norman came down, and half a dozen guests were already in the bar, starting the day with the most popular if not the wisest hangover remedy. He had been awakened by a call from Cohn. Meadows was all right, and the veterinarian had said the animal's leg would heal, though with a bad scar. The frogman had first tried to talk to Iris, but she had not answe
red her phone.

  In the lobby, the undertaker's assistants were stacking and carting away chairs. The chambermaids were sweeping the floor and rearranging the furniture, and the waitresses were taking down chains and wreaths of wilted flowers. It was a beautiful morning, even for Amerigo. The sky was pure clear blue. A fragrant breeze hardly ruffled the quiet sea, as it lapped at the beach in small crisp ripples. The sunlight was white and very hot. When Norman walked where the sun shone, the warmth on his tired body was a tonic. He had hardly slept, elated as he was with his unlooked-for triumph. A good bake in the sun, he decided, a beer or two, and a swim would fit him for the day. He returned to his room and put on trunks, tiptoeing about so as not to wake Henny. Coming back to the bar, he was surprised to see Hassim there with a blond, curly-haired, broad-shouldered sailor in whites, not more than nineteen, with an innocent tough pink face.