Alexander Beliaev

by The Amphibian

  One evening the girl told him that she was not coming the next day.

  “Why?” he asked, and frowned.

  “101 be busy.”

  “What with?”

  “You mustn’t be so inquisitive,” the girl said with a smile. “And don’t see me off,” she added and went away.

  Ichthyander sank into the sea. All the night through he lay on a bed of moss-grown stones, feeling utterly miserable. At the first streak of day he headed for

  home.

  When he was near the gulf he saw some fishermen dolphin-hunting. Under his very eyes a big dolphin, hit by a bullet, jumped high out of the water and splashed heavily back.

  “Leading! ” Ichthyander whispered in horror.

  One of the fishermen was already in the sea, treading water, waiting for the wounded beast to surface. But the dolphin came up half a cable away, gasped for air and was down again.

  As the fisherman was swiftly swimming to intercept his quarry, Ichthyander rushed to his friend’s rescue. The dolphin came up again. The next moment the fisherman was on it, and dragging it by its fin towards the coming boat.

  Spurting on just under the waves, Ichthyander caught up with the fisherman and sunk his teeth into his calf. The fisherman gave a few violent jerks, no doubt sure he was attacked by a shark, and then slashed out blindly with the knife he had in his hand. The knife caught Ichthyander on part of the neck not protected by his mailcoat. He let go of the fisherman’s leg and the latter went frantically for the boat. Ichthyander and the dolphin, both wounded now, headed for the gulf. The amphibian ordered the dolphin to follow him and dived into the underwater cave. It was only half-filled with water. Air got in through the fissured rock. Here he could examine the dolphin’s wound in complete safety. It proved nothing serious. The bullet was lodged in the layer of fat. After working on it a little he was able to extract it with his bare hands. The dolphin had been remarkably patient throughout.

  “There, itil heal in no time,” Ichthyander said, patting his friend’s back lovingly.

  Now he could look after himself. Ichthyander swam along the underwater tunnel, emerged in the orchard and entered his cottage.

  Cristo was alarmed, seeing his ward wounded.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Some fishermen wounded me when I was rescuing the dolphin,” Ichthyander said. But Cristo did not believe him.

  “Been to town again, on your own, haven’t you?” he asked suspiciously, as he bandaged the wound. Ichthyander was silent.

  “Pull your scales aside a little,” Cristo said and exposed part of Ichthyander’s shoulder. There was a red spot on it.

  That added to Cristo’s alarm.

  “Did they strike you with an oar?” he asked, kneading the shoulder. But nothing seemed wrong with it. The spot looked like a birthmark

  “No,” said Ichthyander.

  Then the young man went to his room to have a rest while the old Indian sat down to do some thinking. After quite a time he got up and went out.

  Cristo left for town. By the time he had reached Baltasar’s shop he was quite out of breath. He entered and looked closely at Gutierrez sitting behind the counter.

  “Father home?” he asked.

  “In there,” the girl said, pointing with her chin at the other room.

  Cristo went into Baltasar’s laboratory and shut the door behind him.

  He found his brother at work, in a bad mood again.

  “It’s enough to drive one mad, all your carryings-on,” Baltasar was grumbling. “Zurita’s as angry as a nest of vipers at you dilly-dallying with that ‘sea-devil’ fellow, Gutierrez’s out somewhere for whole days. And she won’t hear about Zurita. Keeps saying no. And Zurita says he’s had enough of it. ‘Ill carry her off by force,’ he says. ‘Shell weep a bit and then come round,’ he says. And you can expect anything from him, damn his eyes.”

  Cristo listened to his brother’s tale of woe in silence.

  “Look,” he said at last, “I couldn’t bring Ichthyander here because he wouldn’t come to town with me. He too has been out every day lately. Got quite out of hand. Ill catch it hot from Doctor for not looking after Ichthyander properly-“

  “That means we’ve got to get hold of Ichthyander before Salvator arrives, then you can clear out and-“

  “Wait a minute, Baltasar. Don’t interrupt me. Listen. We mustn’t rush things with Ichthyander.”

  “Why?”

  Cristo sighed as if not quite prepared to say what was on his mind.

  “You see—” he began.

  But at that very moment somebody entered the shop and they heard Zurita’s loud voice.

  “There you are,” Baltasar muttered, dumping a batch of pearls into the bath. “Him again.”

  Zurita dashed the door open and strode in.

  “Ah, here’s the precious pair. Well, now, when are you going to stop playing your damned tricks on me?” he said, looking from Baltasar to Cristo.

  “I’m doing my best,” Cristo said, rising and smiling politely. “Have a little patience, master. The ‘sea-devil’s’ no small fry. You can’t hook him up just like that. I brought him to town once, didn’t I, but you were away, so he had a look round, didn’t like what he saw and there you are-he won’t be coaxed into coming again.”

  “Well, he can damn well please himself. I’ve done enough waiting, anyway. I’m pulling off two things at one stroke this week. Salvator still away?”

  “He’s expected any day now.”

  “That means we must hurry. You’re going to have guests, Cristo,-a hand-picked bunch. You will open the doors for us, I’ll see to the rest. Ill let Baltasar know when everything’s ready,” and, turning to Baltasar, he said, “As for you, we’re going to have a talk tomorrow. Our last, mark you.”

  The two brothers bowed to him in silence. But as soon as Zurita turned his back on them to leave, gone were the polite smiles from their faces. Baltasar swore under his breath. Cristo seemed to be pondering something. Out in the shop Zurita was saying something softly to Gutierrez. “No! ” the two brothers heard her answer. Baltasar shook his head in dejection. “Hey, Cristo! ” called Zurita. “Come along, you’ll be needed today.”

  AN UNPLEASANT ENCOUNTER

  Ichthyander was in a very poor state indeed. His wound was still giving him pain, he was running a high temperature and was finding it hard to breathe with his lungs.

  But despite all this he had come to the rocks in the morning to meet Gutierrez. She came at noon, when the heat was overpowering. What with hot air and fine white dust, Ichthyander was breathing in gasps. He wanted Gutierrez to stay with him on the sea-shore, but she was in a hurry to go back.

  “Father’s going away on business, so he wants me to stay in the shop,” she said.

  “I will see you off then,” he said and they set out townward along the hot dusty road.

  Coming towards them, his head bent, was Olsen. Apparently preoccupied with something he drew level and would have gone past them, had not the girl hailed him.

  “I must have a few words with him,” Gutierrez said to Ichthyander and then joined Olsen. They spoke in rapid undertones. The girl seemed to be trying to talk him into something.

  Ichthyander stood waiting a few paces away.

  “Well then, see you round midnight,” he heard Olsen’s voice. He shook the girl’s hand and quickly went his way.

  When Gutierrez came back to Ichthyander’s side his face was flushed. He was on the point of speaking to her about Olsen but still could not find words.

  “I can’t bear it,” he began, gasping for air, “I must know… Olsen … you’re hiding something from me. You’re going to meet him tonight, aren’t you? Do you love him?”

  Gutierrez took Ichthyander by his hand and looked at him gently.

  “Do you trust me?” she said.

  “I do … you know I love you,” he had found the word at last, “but I … but I’m suffereing…”

  And he was too. He
was suffering because of uncertainty and because at that moment a cruel pain was racking his sides. He was struggling for breath. The colour had drained from his cheeks.

  “You look quite ill,” the girl said in an anxious tone. “Do try and take yourself in hand. My dear boy, I didn’t want to tell you everything but to set your heart at rest I will. Listen to me.”

  A man on horseback rushed past, then veered sharply round and rode up to the young couple. Ichthyander looked up and saw a swarthy man no longer in his youth with a pointed moustache and goatee.

  He was sure he had seen the man some time, somewhere. In town? No. Yes, that time on the shore!

  The horseman was tapping his shiny boot with the riding crop as he gave Ichthyander a vile look and then held his hand out to Gutierrez.

  Grasping her hand, he suddenly lifted it up to kiss.

  “Caught you! ” he guffawed and releasing the hand of the frowning Gutierrez, he went on in a bantering voice edged with truculence. “Now is it at all seemly for a young bride to be walking about with a young man just on the eve of her wedding?”

  Gutierrez flushed in anger but he did not give her time to speak.

  “Father’s been waiting for you. Ill be back there in an hour’s time.”

  Ichthyander did not hear the last words. All of a sudden everything had gone dark in front of his eyes, there was a lump in his throat, his breathing had nearly stopped. He felt he could no longer stay on land.

  “So you … after all … were deceiving me,” he managed to utter with lips that had turned blue. He wanted to speak, to voice his indignation, to find out the whole truth, but the pain in his sides was so unbearably acute that he suddenly knew he was going to lose consciousness.

  Ichthyander tore away towards the sea and dropped into the water from the cliff-top.

  Gutierrez cried out and staggered. Then she rushed to Pedro Zurita.

  “Quick, save him! “

  But Zurita did not budge.

  “It’s not in my habit to interfere with someone who wants to drown himself,” he said smugly.

  Gutierrez ran seawards. It looked as if she, too, wanted to throw herself into the sea. Zurita dug his heels into his horse, caught up with the girl, seized her by the shoulders, lifted her up onto the saddle and galloped off along the road.

  “It’s not my habit to interfere with those who do not interfere with me. It’s better that way. Try and be sensible, Gutierrez.”

  Gutierrez never said a word. She had fainted. It was only at her father’s shop that she at last came to.

  “Who was that young man?” Pedro asked.

  Gutierrez looked at Zurita with a loathing she did not want to disguise.

  “Let me go,” she said.

  Zurita frowned. Well, nothing in it, probably, he thought. And then her hero has jumped into the sea. Couldn’t do better. And turning to the shop he shouted, “Hey, Baltasar! “

  Baltasar ran out.

  “Here, take your daughter. And thank me that you’re seeing her at all. I saved her—she nearly jumped into the sea after a young man with plenty of good looks. This is the second time I’ve saved your daughter’s life and she’s still shy in my company. Well, I’m going to see it stops soon.” He guffawed. “Be back in an hour. Remember our deal! “

  Baltasar was bowing servilely.

  Zurita spurred his horse on and galloped away.

  Father and daughter entered the shop. Gutierrez sank onto a chair and buried her face in her hands.

  Baltasar shut the door and, pacing the floor, began speaking in an agitated manner. But nobody was listening to him. He might just as well have been speaking to the dried-up crabs and half-moons lying on the shelves”

  He’s jumped into the sea, the poor boy, the girl thought, Ichthyander’s face floating in front of her mind’s eye. First Olsen, then that stupid encounter with Zurita. How dared he call me a bride. Everything is lost…

  Gutierrez wept. She was sorry for Ichthyander. Simple and shy, he was a cut above all those vain and arrogant young men she had seen in the city.

  What shall I do? she thought. Throw myself into the sea like Ichthyander? Put an end to it all?

  Baltasar was saying

  –“Do you understand what it means, Gutierrez? It means ruin. Everything f you see in this shop belongs to Zurita. What belongs to me won’t make up one-tenth of it. All my pearls I receive from Zurita on commission. He’s got me where he wants me. If you turn him down this time he’ll take away what’s his and stop doing business with me. And that means ruin. Complete ruin. Be a good girl, pity your old father.”

  “Go on, why don’t you say, ‘and marry him’. But I won’t! ” Gutierrez said sharply.

  “To hell with it! ” cried Baltasar, his blood up. “In that case I… Zurita himself will make you do it! ” And the old Indian went into his laboratory, slamming the door shut behind him.

  FIGHTING OCTOPUSES

  Once in the sea Ichthyander forced himself to forget all the misfortunes that had befallen him on land. After the hot and dusty land the cool water was all the more refreshing and soothing. The shooting pains ceased. His breathing was once again deep and even. What he wanted now was to relax and forget.

  But Ichthyander had an active disposition. Idleness could not help him to forget. He tried to think of something to do. On dark nights he was fond of diving from a high cliff, deep enough to touch the bottom. But it was just past midday and above his head black bottoms of fishing boats were tracing their courses in the water.

  “I know what I’ll do. I’ll put the cave in order,” Ichthyander told himself.

  In the sheer wall of a cliff in the gulf there was a cave with a finely arched entrance, giving a grandstand view of the submarine plain gently sloping into the ocean depths. For long Ichthyander had had an admiring eye for the spot. But to settle in it he had first to oust its lawful occupants-numerous families of octopuses.

  Armed with his long slightly curved knife Ichthyander swam up to the cave and stopped at the mouth, not daring to enter. Then he thought he would tease the enemy into the open. From his previous visits he remembered seeing a long harpoon lying near a capsized boat close by. Finding it he took up his position at the cave-mouth and began poking about in it. The octopuses came to life, indignant at the intrusion. Tentacles crept into view in the archway. Gingerly they approached the harpoon but Ichthyander snatched it away before they could get a good hold on it. The play went on for a few minutes, until dozens of tentacles were writhing and swaying like a snaky-headed Gorgon in the archway. At last an enormous old octopus whose patience had snapped decided to teach the cheeky intruder a lesson. It squeezed itself outside and moving its tentacles in a threatening way and changing its colour slowly bore down upon the enemy. Ichthyander swam to the side, dropped his harpoon and braced himself for battle. He knew full well from experience that man with his two arms stands little chance in fighting an octopus with its eight long powerful tentacles unless he goes straight for its body. So he let the octopus come quite near, then suddenly lunged forward, into the very centre of the tangle of tentacles, close to the mollusc’s parrot-like beak.

  This always catches an octopus unawares. And as always it took this octopus no less than four seconds to bring the tips of its tentacles in. But by that time Ichthyander had already, in a single swift unerring movement, slashed the beast’s body in two, severing its motor nerves. And the huge tentacles, already all round him, went limp and dropped down.

  “That’s one.”

  He picked up his harpoon again. This time two octopuses swam out, one of them coming straight to tackle Ichthyander while the other tried to outflank him and attack him from the rear. Things were taking a more dangerous turn. Undaunted, however, Ichthyander attacked the octopus in front of him but before he was through with it the other one had a tentacle round his neck. The young man swiftly cut it off at his very neck, turned round and started to hack off the other tentacles. When, at last, the mutilated octopus w
as dropping slowly to the bottom Ichthyander returned to the first and finished it off.

  “Three,” Ichthyander counted.

  But now he had to beat a temporary retreat. A whole troop of octopuses had emerged from the cave-mouth, barely visible in the blood-stained water. In that brown murky haze the odds would be heavy against him, for the enemy could easily find him by touch. He swam a little way off, to the clear water, and killed there a fourth octopus which had unwisely ventured outside the bloody cloud.

  The battle lasted on and off for several hours.

  When finally the last octopus had been killed and the water had cleared Ichthyander saw numerous dead bodies and severed tentacles still writhing all round him. He then entered the cave. A few small octopuses were still there-the size of a fist, with tentacles no thicker than his finger. Ichthyander wanted to kill them off but then felt sorry for them. Ill try and tame them, he thought. Couldn’t find better guards for the place.

  The question of guarding the place settled, Ichthyander went over to fixing up his new abode with some furniture. From his cottage he fetched a marble-topped table with four sturdy iron legs and two Chinese vases. He placed the table in the middle of the cave, put the vases on it, filled them with earth and planted some marine flowers. Some of the earth was washed away and writhed up in two columns of smoke for some time, then the water cleared. Only the flowers went on swaying slightly as if stirred by a gentle breeze.