"Well then, Mr. . . . Mr. Bear—"
"Iorek Byrnison," said the bear.
"York Burningson, the Captain needs to get at a cargo that's locked in the warehouse, and load it on his ship, and get away. And his enemy, who's my enemy too, as well as yours, wants to stop him. I reckon we got a short time to do it in, and then we're in trouble. Patience and caution are my watchwords, Mr. Burningson, but sometimes we have to take a risk. You willing to risk trouble?"
'Yes."
"Now I heard that your people make armor for themselves," Lee said. "Do you have armor?"
"A helmet. No more."
The bear reached down past the edge of the stone wharf to the top of the flight of steps and lifted up a battered, clumsy iron sheet of a curious shape and curvature. A chain hung from one corner, and Lee blinked with surprise as the bear deftly swung it over his head and hooked the chain from one corner to another under his throat. Suddenly the metal didn't look clumsy anymore: it fitted him perfectly. The bear's black eyes glittered in the depths of the two great eyeholes.
Lee was aware that they were attracting attention. People were pointing, windows opening, and a little crowd of onlookers had gathered across the road. When Iorek Byrnison put the helmet on, there was an audible intake of breath, and Lee remembered the poet saying that the bears were not allowed to wear their armor in town.
The Captain joined them, looking at Lee questioningly.
"The odds just got better, Captain," Lee said. "This is York Burningson, and he's going to ride shotgun with us."
"Byrnison," said the bear.
"Byrnison. Beg your pardon. Now the first thing we have to do is get past the Harbor Master, so you leave the talking to me. Let's go down the quay, gentlemen, and open a warehouse."
Lee led the way along the waterfront, and turned onto the quay itself. By this time the number of spectators had grown to thirty or so, and more were coming out from the side streets that led down to the harbor. They followed a short distance behind, pointing, talking excitedly, beckoning others to come and join them. Lee was aware of that, but not distracted: his eye was on the Harbor Master's office, where the door had opened briefly to let the man look out, and then closed again.
'You got that letter, Captain?" he said. "Better let me have it."
The Captain handed it over.
"Thanks. Now I'm going to be spinning a yarn, York Byrnison, so my attention will be kind of occupied, and I'd be obliged if you'd keep an eye out for any trouble."
"I will," said the bear.
They reached the building that housed the Harbor Master's office, and the door opened again. Mr. Aagaard came out, fumbling with the last button of his uniform, and stood in the center of the quay facing them.
"Good day, Mr. Aagaard," said Lee cheerfully. "I hope this fine morning finds you well. Step aside, if you would, and Captain van Breda and my associate will go about our lawful business."
'You have no business on this quay."
"Oh, I don't think you're in a position to say that, sir. As an attorney-at-law I have every kind of business on this quay. My client—"
"Attorney? You are no attorney. You came to me yesterday claiming to be an aeronaut."
"And so I am. As well. Now let me refer you to this letter, which my client has received from your office. Is this your signature?"
"Of course. What do you—?"
"Well, Mr. Aagaard," said Lee, improvising happily, "I think you should keep your law up to date. This letter is correct as far as the Merchant Shipping Act 11.303. (5) is concerned, absolutely correct, sir, and I congratulate you on the terse and manly eloquence with which you have expressed this fragment of correspondence. However, let me remind you that a subsequent piece of legislation, the Carriage of Goods and Cargoes Act of 1911, Part 3, Subsection 4, Miscellaneous Provisions, specifically and by name supersedes the Merchant Shipping Act by stating that the right of a carrier to load his cargo once the bill of lading has been signed and countersigned, and I stress that, shall in no way be impeded, obstructed, or prevented by any provision of any previous Act, notwithstanding any local interpretations that shall be put in place. Now, Captain van Breda, have you such a bill of lading?"
'Yes, Mr. Scoresby, I have."
"And is it signed and countersigned?"
"It is."
"Then, Mr. Aagaard, I invite you to stand aside, sir, and let my client go about his lawful business."
"I . . . this is not regular," said the Harbor Master, whose cat-daemon was scratching at his leg to be picked up. He bent stiffly and carried her to his breast, where she hid her face. He went on, "I know nothing of these other laws, but Captain van Breda has not paid the duty on these articles, and—"
"Mr. Harbor Master, just to save you any further trouble and embarrassment, I should remind you that the duty you refer to is a duty on importation and not on exportation, so in this case it doesn't apply. A simple and honest mistake for you to make. My client is willing to forgo any claims for compensation provided you release the goods at once from the warehouse. Furthermore, if it's a matter of duty payable and not a fee, as your own words before these fine and honest witnesses clearly indicated, then it's a Customs and Revenue matter, and the office of Customs is fully satisfied with Captain van Breda's right to move his cargo, and has no intention to levy any duty on it. Is that not so, Captain?"
"It is."
"And do you have a letter to that effect?"
"Indeed I do."
"Then there is no more to be said. Good day, Mr. Aagaard, and we shall trouble you no further."
"But . . . ," the Harbor Master began unhappily, and then thought of something else. "But that bear is wearing an illegal piece of armor, and he has no right to be on the quay."
"A proper and reasonable response to unreasonable provocation, Mr. Aagaard," said Lee.
He stepped decisively forward, and the Harbor Master moved indecisively aside. The crowd had been still, trying to follow the arguments, and several of them looked less sure than they had been a minute before; but Lee was more concerned about the little knot of men further along the quay. He knew the look of men like that.
"Nice piece of oratorical flamboyancy, Lee," said Hester.
"Captain," said Lee, "you got any weapons on your ship?"
"I got one rifle. I never used it."
"Ammunition?"
"Sure. But like I say, I never had to fire it."
"You won't have to fire it. You bring me that rifle and I'll fire it if there's any firing to be done. Now if you began to load the cargo, say, within the next hour, could you leave with the tide like this?"
"The harbor is plenty deep. It will be fine."
"That's good, because I might have to come with you. We both might. Now look out. These desperadoes are spoiling for an exchange of hot words. Say nothing and leave it to me. York Byrnison, once again I'd be obliged if you could cover the rear."
The crowd had fallen back a little now, sensing that the mood of the events had changed, as Lee and the bear and the Captain walked on towards the five men who stood between them and the schooner. Hester was checking all around for other figures lurking in the alleys between the warehouses, or at a window above, or across the water on the west quay, for a handy shot with a good rifle could pick them off easily.
Lee was very conscious of the sound of their boots on the flagstoned quay, of the ceaseless scream of seagulls, of the chugging of the steam crane across the water and the clank and crash of the great bucket as it unloaded coal from the hold of the tanker and dumped it in the wagons. Every separate sound was bright and clear, and Lee and Hester both heard the little click at the same moment. It was the sound of a revolver being cocked, and it came from up ahead, Lee thought; but Hester's ears could pinpoint an ant on a blade of grass, and she said at once, "Second man, Lee."
The men were standing abreast in a line about fifteen yards ahead. Three of them were holding cudgels or sticks, but the other two had their hands behind their backs, and before Hester had finished saying "Lee," Lee's pistol was in his hand and pointing straight at the second man from the left.