There was no help for it I was going to have to throw Murphig overboard. I couldnt hide him anywhere safely, and there was no sense in leaving him on board with the mark of murder on his side. It was far easier to dump him, so that he could join Calothrick as another mystery of the deep. The double disappearance was not a happy solution to my problem, but it was the safest and simplest.
Once I bad made up my mindl saw no point in stalling. I took the quilt off, making sure it hadn’t touched the small puddle of blood. Then I heaved the body over one shoulder and climbed ponderously up the stairs. I opened the hatch and looked out I saw nothing suspicious, so I reeled slowly toward the port rail. I was about to dump him when I thought that the splash might possibly be loud enough to attract attention. It wasn’t likely, but I lowered him quietly to the deck and got ready to slide him out head first under the railing.
I heard heavy footsteps. A lantern flared up by the captain’s hatch. I froze, but it was too late; he had been watching me.
“What have we here?” the captain said.
Chapter 14
Desperandum Conducts an Experiment
I didn’t say anything. Desperandum stooped to peel back Murphig’s eyelid with one thick thumb. He brought his lantern close to the dead man’s face and studied the eye for a moment. Then he straightened up.
“Syncophine overdose,” he said, with a sort of morbid satisfaction. “Written all over his face. Did you murder him, Newhouse?”
I pried my mask slightly away from my face, just enough to make my voice audible. “No,” I said, too stunned to dissemble. “He drank too much of it He was upset because he just killed Calothrick.”
“For death’s sake,” Desperandum said, sounding more annoyed than shocked. “What a stupid, reckless act Well, Newhouse? Don’t just sit there like a lump of suet Explain yourself.”
“Well,” I said.
“Don’t bother to lie. I know you much better than you think I do. I know all about Flare—do they still call it that? I know about the still in the kitchen, too. And Calothrick’s addiction was obvious, at least to an initiate.”
I was red-handed and we both knew it, so I said quite frankly, “They got into a fight over Flare. Calothrick stabbed him, but Murphig threw him overboard and the sharks got him. I saw it and offered to help him hide the murder so the Flare thing could stay under cover. But Murphig drank too much Flare and died, and now I have to throw him overboard or be found out It’s not honest but it’s easiest Captain.”
Desperandum mulled it over. “It’s a dirty shame about Murphig. He could have been very useful to me. Now I’ll have to find a replacement for him.’’
There was a weighty silence. The implication of his statement was obvious.
“What do you want me to do?” I said.
“No conditions,” Desperandum said flintfly, quite secure in his power. “Are you willing to take his place?”
“Is it honorable?”
Desperandum chuckled in quiet contempt. “By your standards, you mean? Yes. As honorable as anything you’ve ever done. Now, yes or no?”
“This is absurd! I want to know what—" The captain’s expression changed, and just as quickly I said, “IH do it Yes.”
His cry of alarm was cut off before it was ever uttered, and a bemused expression crossed his face for a few rapid heartbeats. Then Desperandum said, “Very well then, over he goes,” and we shoved Murphig under the railing.
The gnashing of the sharks was half-muffled in the roiling dust. Desperandum spoke with loathing. “Death, I hate those monsters. Damn their teeth! But we can’t let hate stop progress, can we? I’m going back to bed—as soon as I finish looking over the craft, that is.”
“Captain, now that I’ve agreed—"
“No more, Newhouse. Pull your mask cm tight; do you want to ruin your lungs?”
“But I only—"
“Go to sleep. And try to remember you’re an innocent man.” Desperandum turned off his lantern and thumped off into the darkness. .
I went below. My lungs burned, and sleep was slow in coming.
I was up at dawn for breakfast. The two men were missed at mess. There was a perfunctory search of the vessel, and hypocritical displays of deep concern from the captain and myself. Desperandum amazed me; his performance was so authentic that it seemed to hint at a split personality—no uncommon occurrence In a man of his age.
The situation could have been much worse; the two missing men had not been popular. No one cared for Murphig much; his mannerisms were peculiar, and he had come from the wrong social class for a sailor. Calothrick was even less liked; he was a cipher, a sinner, and an off-worlder to boot. In fact, many of the crew seemed to regret that Dalusa had not vanished as well; they had always despised her as a parody of womanhood. No doubt the sailors were profoundly disturbed by the “accident,” as it came to be called, but they didn’t talk about it much. They didn’t talk about anything much.
Desperandum’s official theory was that they had fought and fallen overboard, and everyone paid lip service to this idea.
The anxiety caused by the mishap may have accounted for the crew’s feverish energy that day. Desperandum soon had them working on the whale. They seemed inspired by the captain’s unflagging vitality and they worked like maniacs on this incomprehensible task.
The methodical nature of the process showed the long thought behind it. First the whale was completely hollowed out and its insides cleansed and salted to prevent decay. Its gullet was cleaned out and plugged. Its eyes were dug out with harpoons and replaced with foot-thick lenses of transparent plastic coated with a clear, slippery substance that would retard dust abrasion . . . for a while, at least.
While this was being done Desperandum went into the hold and unlocked his hidden bulkhead. The engine, the tank of oxygen, the tub of glue, and the batteries were all dragged onto the deck.
Desperandum hauled the engine into the body cavity of the whale. Three men bored a long hole inside the whale lengthwise through the tail of the monster. The blacksmiths forged a long propeller shaft for Desperandum, and they thrust it through the hole. While the blacksmiths welded on the propeller Desperandum attached the batteries and started it up. The propeller whirred like a buzz saw.
Satisfied, Desperandum began work on the fins. They were attached to long iron levers inside the animal. The crew members were hardly able to budge them, but Desperandum’s double-gravity strength allowed him to wiggle them almost as well as the whale.
Desperandum painted all the outside seals with glue, making them absolutely airtight. He had some problems with the propeller shaft, and the friction would soon wear away even the stout plastic washers and gaskets. But he seemed satisfied.
As we worked together on the day’s last meal, Dalusa and I were both remote and uneasy. She had to step aside from the tiny droplets of grease as I fried some meat, and she spoke in her momentary idleness.
“What is he doing, John? What is the captain doing?”
“Dalusa,” I said, “I couldn’t believe it at first, but its obvious by now that the damned thing’s a submarine,” and I explained to her the nature of submarines.
“To go beneath the surface? Will he use it?”
“He’s been thinking about it a long time,” I said, “and I think he’s going to ask me to go with him. In fact, I’m almost sure of it.”
“You? Both of you?”
“I think so.” I said with false cheerfulness. °
“But John, why?” she said, alarmed.
I answered offhandedly, “Someone has to take care of the old fellow, don’t you agree? He’s too careless. Why not me? I understand him, and I’m not afraid.”