Read Online The White Voyage by John Christopher - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Christopher
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Mouritzen asked gently.
‘I think I’m getting used to it,’ Mary said.
‘And Annabel?’
Annabel said, in a weak voice: ‘I feel sick. I’ve been sick a lot, and I still feel sick. Will we be in Amsterdam soon?’
‘As soon as we can be.’
‘How soon is that?’
‘If you go to sleep,’ Mouritzen told her, ‘when you wake up we will be in Amsterdam.’
‘I can’t
go
to sleep,’ she said, ‘while I feel sick.’
‘Maybe you are trying too hard,’ Mouritzen said. ‘Sleep is like happiness. It is no good chasing it; it likes to creep up and catch you. I will tell you a story about a troll. Do you know what a troll is?’
She moved her head slightly on the pillow. ‘No.’
‘A troll is a little man with a hump on his back, who can work magic, and is always playing tricks on human beings. The trolls are cousins to the leprechauns, I think. Now this troll, whose name was Kikkipik, lived beside a lake, in the far north, where in summer the sun shines all day and all night long, and in winter there is no sun at all, but a night-time that goes on for months and months. Now at one time, Kikkipik had lived with his brother, but …’
Mouritzen went on telling the story to her. It was one he remembered from his childhood, but seeing that she continued to be wakeful, he embroidered and stretched it, and tagged on other stories, rambling on and on. He must have continued for half an hour, before Mary interrupted him softly.
‘She’s asleep.’
Mary bent over the bed and tucked the child’s arm inside the sheet. She straightened up, and said to him:
‘That was very kind of you, Niels. You have a lovely drowsy voice. I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t fall asleep first.’
‘I thought perhaps I would!’ Mouritzen said. ‘But I think she will sleep now.’
‘I’ll stay with her for a time.’
‘But you are coming down to dinner then?’
‘Am I? I’m not sure. I thought I would, but it seems to have got so much worse in the last five minutes. I don’t think I ought to risk it.’
‘We are changing course,’ Mouritzen said. ‘It will not take too long, and after that it will be better, because we will have our nose into the wind.’
‘Should I go on deck for a time – get some fresh air? I haven’t been out today.’
Mouritzen shook his head decisively. ‘You would be blown away. There is sleet and rain, and a wind of sixty miles an hour behind it.’
‘It really is a storm, then?’
‘It truly is.’
The cabin heaved as a wave struck the
Kreya
. Mary lost her hold on the stanchion of the bunk and fell forwards; Mouritzen moved and caught her. He held her in his arms for a moment or two, and then released her.
She said: ‘Thank you.’
Her voice was not quite steady. He regretted having released her, but was sensible enough to make no new move in her direction.
‘I’m glad it is a storm,’ Mary said. ‘I don’t feel quite so weak for staying in my cabin all day. Have the others been down to meals?’
‘Only two of them.’
‘Who?’
‘Two of the Simanyis. The old man, and Nadya.’
She hesitated, and then looked at him. ‘I think I will come down for dinner tonight.’
‘I’m glad,’ Mouritzen said.
There was a constant background of sounds – the creakings, throbbings, metallic groans of a ship at sea, accentuated by the strains of the storm through which the
Kreya
was driving – to which Mouritzen was accustomed. The noises registered, but made no impact. But the unfamiliar excited attention. He sharpened into immobility as he heard it: a jarring crack that vibrated along the ship, a
frisson
of iron. The vibration lived for an instant, and died away.
He said: ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must go up first to the bridge.’
The difference had not registered on her. She said:
‘I’ll see you at dinner. Ten minutes?’
Mouritzen nodded. ‘Ten minutes.’
----
Mouritzen found Olsen with his own hands on the wheel. He was staring out beyond the glass into
‘I think I’m getting used to it,’ Mary said.
‘And Annabel?’
Annabel said, in a weak voice: ‘I feel sick. I’ve been sick a lot, and I still feel sick. Will we be in Amsterdam soon?’
‘As soon as we can be.’
‘How soon is that?’
‘If you go to sleep,’ Mouritzen told her, ‘when you wake up we will be in Amsterdam.’
‘I can’t
go
to sleep,’ she said, ‘while I feel sick.’
‘Maybe you are trying too hard,’ Mouritzen said. ‘Sleep is like happiness. It is no good chasing it; it likes to creep up and catch you. I will tell you a story about a troll. Do you know what a troll is?’
She moved her head slightly on the pillow. ‘No.’
‘A troll is a little man with a hump on his back, who can work magic, and is always playing tricks on human beings. The trolls are cousins to the leprechauns, I think. Now this troll, whose name was Kikkipik, lived beside a lake, in the far north, where in summer the sun shines all day and all night long, and in winter there is no sun at all, but a night-time that goes on for months and months. Now at one time, Kikkipik had lived with his brother, but …’
Mouritzen went on telling the story to her. It was one he remembered from his childhood, but seeing that she continued to be wakeful, he embroidered and stretched it, and tagged on other stories, rambling on and on. He must have continued for half an hour, before Mary interrupted him softly.
‘She’s asleep.’
Mary bent over the bed and tucked the child’s arm inside the sheet. She straightened up, and said to him:
‘That was very kind of you, Niels. You have a lovely drowsy voice. I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t fall asleep first.’
‘I thought perhaps I would!’ Mouritzen said. ‘But I think she will sleep now.’
‘I’ll stay with her for a time.’
‘But you are coming down to dinner then?’
‘Am I? I’m not sure. I thought I would, but it seems to have got so much worse in the last five minutes. I don’t think I ought to risk it.’
‘We are changing course,’ Mouritzen said. ‘It will not take too long, and after that it will be better, because we will have our nose into the wind.’
‘Should I go on deck for a time – get some fresh air? I haven’t been out today.’
Mouritzen shook his head decisively. ‘You would be blown away. There is sleet and rain, and a wind of sixty miles an hour behind it.’
‘It really is a storm, then?’
‘It truly is.’
The cabin heaved as a wave struck the
Kreya
. Mary lost her hold on the stanchion of the bunk and fell forwards; Mouritzen moved and caught her. He held her in his arms for a moment or two, and then released her.
She said: ‘Thank you.’
Her voice was not quite steady. He regretted having released her, but was sensible enough to make no new move in her direction.
‘I’m glad it is a storm,’ Mary said. ‘I don’t feel quite so weak for staying in my cabin all day. Have the others been down to meals?’
‘Only two of them.’
‘Who?’
‘Two of the Simanyis. The old man, and Nadya.’
She hesitated, and then looked at him. ‘I think I will come down for dinner tonight.’
‘I’m glad,’ Mouritzen said.
There was a constant background of sounds – the creakings, throbbings, metallic groans of a ship at sea, accentuated by the strains of the storm through which the
Kreya
was driving – to which Mouritzen was accustomed. The noises registered, but made no impact. But the unfamiliar excited attention. He sharpened into immobility as he heard it: a jarring crack that vibrated along the ship, a
frisson
of iron. The vibration lived for an instant, and died away.
He said: ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must go up first to the bridge.’
The difference had not registered on her. She said:
‘I’ll see you at dinner. Ten minutes?’
Mouritzen nodded. ‘Ten minutes.’
----
Mouritzen found Olsen with his own hands on the wheel. He was staring out beyond the glass into
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