he had never been so deep down before. And for the first time this silent murky world gripped Ichthyander’s heart with terror. He went up as quickly as he could, broke water at last and swam shorewards. The sun was setting, its slanting, stark red shafts driving into the sea. Once in the water they blended with the blue of it into tender tones - from pinkish lilac to greenish blue.
As Ichthyander was not wearing his goggles the surface of the water from below looked to him as it looks to fish—not flat but cone-shaped, much as if he were at the apex of a huge funnel. The rims of the funnel seemed to be encircled by rings, red, yellow, green, blue and violet. Beyond these spread the bright surface of the water which reflected, mirror-like, the things below-rocks, weeds, fish.
Ichthyander turned face down, coasted along the bottom quite close inshore and squatted down among a group of underwater rocks near a shallow. The fishermen from a boat nearby jumped overboard to pull her clear. One of them stood in the water knee-deep. Ichthyander saw a legless fisherman above, and separately his legs below the water, duplicated in the mirror of the water’s surface. Another fisherman got in shoulder-deep. And below the water a weird creature with no head but four legs suddenly reared up, looking like identical twins placed one on top of the other, shoulders to shoulders, their heads chopped off for a better fit. Whenever there were men wading out Ichthyander could always enjoy a good, fish’s-eye view of them, full-length, but seen as in a glass ball, and swim away before they spotted him.
But today the strange bodies with four legs and no head, and the heads with no bodies to them looked definitely repulsive to Ichthyander. Men… They were so noisy and smelly, they smoked such foul cigars. Yes, dolphins were better—the clean gay dolphins. Ichthyander grinned as he remembered how he had once tasted the dolphin’s milk.
Way down to the south there was a small secluded cove. A belt of razor-sharp reefs and a great sandbank made access to it from the sea well-nigh impossible, while steep craggy cliffs cut it off from land. Neither fishermen nor pearl-divers visited the cove. Colourful marine growths thickly carpeted its shallow bottom. Small fish weaved to and fro in the warm water. For many years a she-dolphin had come here to bring forth her young, two, four or sometimes even six of them. Ichthyander found it great fun to watch the baby dolphins. For hours he would hide among the rocks and watch them romp in the waves or rush back to their mother to nudge their way to her nipples. Then Ichthyander started to tame them little by little, treating them to small fish. By and by the baby dolphins and their mother got used to him. The little fellows didn’t mind him chasing them, catching them, tossing them in the air. Indeed they seemed to like it-they wouldn’t leave his side and flocked to him from afar as soon as he appeared in the cove, his hands full of titbits-fish or, still better, small octopuses.
One day when the dolphin he already knew had just had her young and they ate no fish yet but only drank their mother’s milk, Ichthyander thought why he himself shouldn’t taste it.
The next moment he was under the dolphin, clutching at her and pressing his mouth to a nipple. The creature, only a moment ago absolutely carefree, now rushed off horror-stricken. Ichthyander let go of her at once. The milk had tasted strongly offish.
Rid of her unwelcome suckling, the terrified dolphin went right out of the cove while her young stayed behind, dashing here and there, also terrified and bewildered. It took Ichthyander some time and effort to round up the silly little dolphins. By the time he had them all together the mother was back for her young and took them to a cove nearby. It wasn ‘t until days later that he won back the family’s trust.
Cristo was nearly off his head with worry. Ichthyander had been gone for three days and nights when at last he appeared, his face thin and tired, but relaxed.
“Now, where’ve you been hiding yourself?” the Indian inquired in a stem voice, overjoyed though he was to see Ichthyander back.
“On the sea-bottom,” Ichthyander replied.
“Why are you so pale?”
“I-I nearly lost my life,” Ichthyander told his first lie and started on the story of an adventure that had happened to him quite some time before.
There was a rocky plateau out in the ocean with a big oval hollow in the middle of it, looking exactly like a submarine mountain lake.
Swimming over it one day Ichthyander was struck by the extraordinary light grey of its bottom. Going deep, he was amazed to find that the hollow was nothing else than a vast cemetery of sea-creatures-from small fish to sharks and dolphins. Some of them seemed recent additions but, strangely enough, no preying carrion-eaters were to be seen anywhere. The scene was one of death and quiet unchallenged. Only here and there tiny bubbles of gas would escape and trace their way up. Ichthyander was swimming above the rim of the hollow, when he was prompted to go still a little deeper. Suddenly sharp pain seared his gills and he fell in a helpless heap, all but unconscious, onto the rim of the hollow. He lay there, his heart racing wildly, a ceaseless pounding in his temples. It was the end. Then through the red mist in his eyes he saw a shark, its body writhing, falling into the hollow only a few feet away. It must have been stalking him until it too had come into contact with the deadly water of the submarine lake. Its belly and sides heaved and fell, its mouth gaped open, baring the sharp white plates of its teeth. The beast was dying. Ichthyander shuddered. His teeth set in a supreme effort, trying to keep water out of his gills, Ichthyander crawled away from the fatal spot on all fours, then struggled up to his feet and lurched on. He felt dizzy and fell to the ground again. Then he pushed off it, struck out with his arms and there he was at last, a dozen paces from the hollow and swimming desperately away.
To round off the story Ichthyander added for Cristo’s benefit what he had subsequently learned from Salvator.
“Some harmful gas, hydrogen sulphide or carbon anhydride, has accumulated over the years there, most likely,” Ichthyander said. “You see when it reaches the surface it’s already oxidized and no longer harmful but in the hollow it’s highly concentrated. Well, I could do with a bit of breakfast now-I’m fairly famished.”
After a hasty meal Ichthyander grabbed his goggles and gloves and made straight for the door.
“What, have you only come back to get those?” Cristo said, pointing at the goggles. “What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you tell me?”
But Ichthyander was no longer his open-hearted self.
“Don’t ask me, Cristo. I don’t know myself what’s the matter with me,” he said and hurried out.
REVENGE IS SWEET
Ichthyander had been so shaken at the sudden appearance of the girl that he had just rushed out of Baltasar’s shop and never stopped until he was in the sea swimming away. Now he was dying to see her but he did not know how to go about it. The easiest thing would be to enlist Cristo’s help. But he was afraid that might involve speaking to her in the Indian’s presence. Every morning Ichthyander would swim to where he had first seen her on the beach and stay there till evening, hiding among some boulders, in the hope of seeing her. On coming ashore, he took off his goggles and gloves and donned his white suit lest the girl should get frightened again. Sometimes, his vigil over, he would dine on fish and oysters, spend a restless night in the coastal waters and be back at his post before dawn broke.
One evening he resolved to go to Baltasar’s shop. The door was open. But he could only see the old Indian behind the counter. Ichthyander was making his way back when high on a rocky headland he saw a girl in a light white dress and a straw hat. That was her. Ichthyander halted, not daring to go nearer. The girl was apparently waiting for somebody. She was pacing the rocky platform impatiently, throwing a glance now and then at the road. She didn’t see Ichthyander standing below at the foot.
Then the girl waved to somebody. Ichthyander turned and saw a tall, broad-shouldered young man, coming briskly along the road. Never before had Ichthyander seen such light hair and eyes as the stranger’s. The young giant walked up to the girl and offe
red her his broad hand.
“Hullo, Gutierrez, dear,” he said tenderly.
“Hullo, Olsen.”
The stranger gave Gutierrez’s hand a good shake.
Ichthyander eyed him with an ill-feeling tinged with sadness.
“Brought it?” the young man said.
She merely nodded.
“Will your father not notice?” asked Olsen.
“No,” she said. “Anyway the pearls are mine. I can do with them as I please. “
Speaking in undertones Gutierrez and Olsen walked to the very edge of the cliff. Presently Gutierrez unlocked her necklace and held it up by one end.
“Look, how beautifully the pearls play in the setting sun,” she said admiringly. “Here, take it.”
But even as Olsen stretched out his hand the necklace slipped out of Gutierrez’s hand and plummeted into the sea.
“Oh, what have I done! ” cried the girl.
Both stood rooted to the spot in their dismay.
“Perhaps it can be recovered?” said Olsen.
“No, the water’s far too deep here,” Gutierrez said. “Oh, isn’t that terrible! “
Seeing the girl so upset, Ichthyander forgot all about her having intended to make a present of the necklace to that fair-haired stranger. He just couldn’t remain a mere witness any longer. With a determined step he went up and across to where Gutierrez was standing.
Olsen frowned while Gutierrez looked at Ichthyander with curiosity and surprise-she immediately recognized him as the young man who had left her father’s shop the other day so abruptly.
“I gather you’ve dropped a pearl necklace into the sea?” he said. “I’ll get it for you if you want me to.”
“Even my father couldn’t do it, not here, and he’s one of the best pearl-divers there are,” the girl retorted.
“I can only try,” Ichthyander said modestly and, to their surprise, he dived right from where they stood, fully clothed as he was, and disappeared in the waves.
Olsen didn’t know what to think.
“Who’s that? Where did he spring from?”
A minute passed, then another but there was no sign of the young man.
“He’s killed himself,” Gutierrez said, peering anxiously into the waves.
Ichthyander had not meant the girl, or Olsen for that matter, to know that he could live below the water. But carried away by the search he lost count of time and over-stayed an ordinary diver’s performance. Coming to the surface he smiled and said, “A little patience. The place’s cluttered up with broken rock. But I’ll find it,” and dived back.
Gutierrez knew enough of pearl-diving to be surprised at seeing a man, just back from a two-minute deep dive, breathing evenly and looking so fresh.
In another two minutes his head popped into sight again. He was beaming all over his face as he lifted up a hand to show the necklace.
“It was caught on a crag,” he shouted and his breathing was as even as if it had been the next room he had fetched the necklace from. “Wouldn’t have been half as easy had it fallen into a crevice.”
He scrambled quickly up the rocks, went to Gutierrez and handed her the necklace. Water sluiced down his clothes-unheeded.
“Here you are.”
“Thank you very much,” Gutierrez said and looked at Ichthyander with renewed curiosity.
A pause ensued. None of them knew what to do next. Gutierrez seemed hesitant to pass the necklace to Olsen in Ichthyander’s presence.
“I gather you wanted to give the pearls to him,” Ichthyander said, pointing at Olsen.
Olsen reddened.
“Oh yes,-yes,” Gutierrez said in embarrassment and held out her hand to Olsen who took the necklace and slipped it into his pocket without saying a word.
Ichthyander was pleased with his little revenge. Olsen had received the lost necklace from Gutierrez’s hand, yes, but it was he, Ichthyander, who had got it for him.
And, bowing to the girl, Ichthyander strode quickly away along the road.
But his pleasant feeling was short-lived. New puzzling questions were battering for answer in his brain. Who was that fair-haired giant of a man? Why should Gutierrez make him a present of her necklace? What was it they spoke about up there on the cliff-top?
That night again Ichthyander raced astride his dolphin through the waves, striking terror into the fishermen by his weird cries.
The whole of the next day Ichthyander spent below the water, goggled but gloveless, crawling along the sandy bottom in search of pearl-shells. In the evening he came back, to the grumbling of Cristo. Early the next morning he was at the rock where Gutierrez and Olsen had had their rendezvous. Gutierrez came in the evening, when the sun was already setting.
Ichthyander left his shelter to meet her. On seeing him Gutierrez nodded by way of greeting.
“You are following me, aren’t you?” she said with a smile.
“Yes,” Ichthyander said simply, “ever since I first saw you,” and, flushing with embarrassment, he went on, “You gave your necklace away to that … to Olsen. But you’d looked at it in an admiring way before you gave it to him. Do you like pearls?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, take this … from me,” and he held out a pearl.
Gutierrez knew a first-rate pearl when she saw one. But the pearl that was glowing in Ichthyander’s palm far excelled any pearl she had seen or heard her father speak about; enormous, exquisitely shaped, of the purest white, it must have weighed at least two hundred carats and been worth every bit of a million gold pesos. Astounded, Gutierrez shifted her glance from the superb gem to the good-looking young man who was holding it out to her. Strong and lithe but somewhat shy, wearing a crumpled white suit, he did not look like one of the wealthy young portenos. And here he was offering her, a girl he hardly knew at all, such a present.
“Do take it-please,” Ichthyander insisted.
“No,” Gutierrez said, shaking her head. “I cannot accept from you such a valuable present.”
“Valuable! ” Ichthyander rejoined body. “Why, there are thousands of pearls like this on the sea-bottom.”
Gutierrez smiled. Ichthyander once more felt embarrassed and was silent for a moment.
“Please,” he said.
“No.”
Ichthyander frowned. Now he felt offended.
“If you don’t want to take it for yourself, then take it for Olsen. He won’t refuse.”
Gutierrez was angry.
“It wasn’t for himself he took it,” she said in a severe tone of voice. “You don’t know anything.”
“So it’s no, is it?”
“No.”
Then Ichthyander threw the pearl far out into the sea, and with a curt nod turned round on his heels and went down to the road.
What he had done left Gutierrez dumbstruck. To throw a million-worth fortune into the sea, just like a pebble picked up from the beach! She felt ashamed too, and scolded herself for being so heartless as to hurt that strange young man’s feelings.
“Wait, where’re you going?”
But Ichthyander was going away, his head bowed. Then Gutierrez caught up with him, took him by his hand and looked into his face. Tears were running down the young man’s cheeks. He had never wept before and was wondering why everything round looked blurred as if he were swimming underwater with no goggles on.
“Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” the girl said and took him by both his hands.
THE IMPATIENCE OF ZURITA
After this event Ichthyander swam every evening to the shore near the city, walked to the place where he hid his suit, put it on and went to the headland to meet Gutierrez. Together they strolled along the shore, talking animatedly. Who was Gutierrez’s new friend? She wouldn’t have been able to answer that. He was intelligent and witty and knew many things she did not know and yet, sometimes, he did not understand things a schoolboy would not need to think twice about. This she could not explain. Ichthyander did n
ot speak about himself much. He shrank from telling her the whole truth. What the girl gathered was that Ichthyander was the son of a doctor, apparently a man of great means. He had brought up his son away from cities and people and had given him a peculiar one-sided education.
Sometimes they sat for long hours on the beach, close to the soughing sea. The stars would twinkle to them from the sky. By and by their conversation would die down. Ichthyander was happy.
“It’s time I was going back,” the girl would say.
Reluctantly Ichthyander rose, saw her as far as the suburb, returned quickly, threw off his suit and swam all the way home. In the morning, after his breakfast, he would swim out into the gulf, taking along with him a large loaf of bread. Settling down comfortably on the sandy bottom he would start feeding crumbs to the fish. They would come by shoals, swarming about him, slip in and out between his hands and snap up the sodden crumbs greedily. Sometimes bigger fish would gatecrash and chase the small fry. Ichthyander rose and shooed the brutes away while the small fish took shelter behind his back.
He also did some pearl collecting, which he found he liked. He was on top of the job in no time and soon had quite a pile of first-rate pearls in a corner of the underground cave that he used as a store.
He was fast becoming—quite unaware of it-one of the richest men in Argentina, perhaps even in the whole of Latin America. Had he only wanted, he could have easily become the richest man in the world. But this was farthest from his thoughts.
So passed quiet days. The only thing that clouded his happiness was her having to live in that stuffy city, full of dust and noise. What wouldn’t he give to make it possible for her to live underwater, away from people and the noise they make. How wonderful that would have been! He would have shown her a new universe, walked with her through the flower-decked submarine fields. But she could not live underwater. Neither could he on land. As it was he was spending on land much more time than was useful for him. He was already paying for it: the pain in his sides grew with each day spent on the beach. But even when the pain became almost unbearable he never went away first. And then there was another source of worry. Do what he might he could not forget that whispered conversation Gutierrez and the fair-haired stranger had had on the cliff-top. Each time Ichthyander meant to ask her and each time he didn’t, afraid lest he should offend her.
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