De Gier's cigarette smoke went down the wrong way. He coughed and frantically waved his arms. "You should change to a pipe," Private Sudema said. "Pipe tobacco calms the mind." He blew a smoke ring that was torn up by the wind.
A seal appeared and watched de Gier curiously from innocent round eyes, sunk in his round head. "Morning," de Gier said. The seal looked away shyly. The round head changed into a pointed snout as it sank backwards into the waves.
"That deserter," Sudema said. "He sails a nice boat. Made it himself, I believe, a copy of an antique flat-bottomed sloop. Must have nosed past the islands one dark night and darted in and out before disappearing with the loot."
A patrol boat of the Water Police came by, sinister and low in the water, with a sharp prow like a warship and painted light gray, with large white numbers.
"Well armed, I suppose?" de Gier asked.
"Not as far as I know," Sudema said. "A carbine, maybe. We own a few too, but they stay in the barracks."
A larger vessel came by, of the same gray color, again with square white numbers.
"Navy," Sudema said. A cannon without a barrel stood on the foredeck of the boat.
"Does that work?" de Gier asked.
"Used to," Sudema said. "But they lost the barrel years ago. I sometimes ask the sailors about it, but they prefer not to discuss the matter. The barrel cracked during an exercise. They're trying to replace it, but so far nothing seems to fit very well."
The warship crossed the wakes of Water Police and Military Police vessels.
"Quite a show of strength," de Gier said. 'To what purpose, do you think? Any smuggling here?"
"Only on weekends," Sudema said, "but we aren't around then. The harbormaster of Ameland reported a suspicious boat some weekends ago, when he was out here fishing. He phoned, and one of us happened to be in the barracks and he might have wanted to go out, but he couldn't raise the skipper. Wouldn't have been any good anyway. Smugglers use flat-bottomed craft so that they can operate outside the channel."
"So you did nothing?"
"We did something," Sudema said. "Our man phoned the alarm stations and an Air Force helicopter went out to take a look. Couldn't see anything. By then the fog had come in.
De Gier rubbed bis eyes. "Yes," Sudema said, "I noticed it just now. You have a nervous tremor in both eyelids. Should watch that, you know. When I had that, it was diagnosed as stress; a week's leave and it got much better."
"Stress?" de Gier asked. "You were working too hard?"
"That too," Sudema said. "Long hours, but I think it was my engagement. Aunt Gyske had her birthday, and Jymke and I were invited to the party. Uncle Sjurd kept going to his tomatoes in the greenhouse, and Aunt Gyske kept dancing with me. She had this record, slow blues, and the stereo was switched to automatic so the tune kept coming back at us. Jymke got bored and went home, but I didn't notice."
"End of the engagement?"
"I did take her some tulips," Sudema said, "from Aunt Gyske's garden, but she didn't want them, it seemed. Wouldn't come to the door."
Ameland showed as a thin yellow line, dotted with green. De Gier practiced deep breathing on the after deck. A soldier came to fetch him to have coffee in the skipper's cabin. The other soldier was in charge of the bridge. The skipper and Sudema were waiting at the table.
"An exciting life," the skipper said. "I'm due to retire next year, but they won't get me to stay at home. I'm building my own boat on weekends. I'll just keep going."
"Here?" de Gier asked.
"Where else?" The skipper pounded the table. "This is where I belong. I'll be here until doomsday."
The harbormaster welcomed the ship, telling the skipper that he came in too fast again.
"Can't go any slower," the skipper said. "If I did, I'd be in reverse."
"That bow wave of yours is mining my dock."
"Next time I'll come straight through it."
"I'll report you to your boss."
"Why don't you?" the skipper asked. "You'd do me a favor. I don't think I have a boss, but if I have, I would like to meet him."
"We brought some very nice fresh tomatoes," Private Sudema said kindly.
The soldiers carried two cases of tomatoes ashore and walked back lugging a crate filled with sole.
"Your own catch?" de Gier asked.
"No time for that," the harbormaster said. "You have no idea how busy they keep me here. The fishermen bring in the sole. Undersized, but each fishing boat can bring in two crates, by permission of the Fishing Inspection."
"Are they around here too?"
"Not in their own boat," Sudema said. "They're using a NATO vessel now, temporarily registered with our Navy."
Two State Police officers drove down the jetty and parked their Land Rover near the harbormaster's office. The harbormaster invited them in for coffee. There was time for conversation, on the subject of tennis. The State Police officers played a lot of tennis on weekdays, they said, for they were off duty over the weekends.
"Do you close down your station during weekends?" de Gier asked.
"Yes," said the officer in charge, "but we could still be reached by phone through headquarters ashore. Headquarters could then call us at our homes, and if there was some urgency, let's say, we would probably be able to go see what might be going on."
"As long as it doesn't happen too often," the subordinate officer said. "Listen, we've got some forty square miles here, and there are only seven of us. There's a lot of overtime already. All sorts of things to do."
"I hear you allow nudism on the beaches," de Gier said.
"Yes," said the officer in charge. "We used to look at them a lot when nudism was still new-some nice ladies around-but you get used to what they have on show. I prefer birdwatching now. More variety. I check them in my birdbook, and as soon as I identify them I cross them off."
The harbormaster excused himself. A boat approached the jetty.
"Shall we go?" the officer in charge asked.
The trip didn't take long, although there were two interruptions. A cyclist had strayed from the path reserved for cyclists and had to be spoken to, and a man who was cleaning his ashtray above a garbage can provided by the authorities, but who had dropped two butts on the way, was criticized politely. Both lawbreakers apologized profusely.
"Got to pay attention to everything here," the subordinate officer said, once they had reached their station. "Coffee, Sergeant?"
"No thanks," de Gier said. "I'm suffering from a little stress. Coffee makes it worse."
"Should try some fishing," the officer in charge said. "We have been told to fish in lieu of expensive therapy. Fishing for eel is most recommended. We put out our trap and pull it in after six hours. Meanwhile we wait." De Gier was shown the eel traps that were drying on lines in the yard. A motorcycle leaned against a wall. "Dirt bike," the subordinate officer said. "I enjoyed it for a while, but it's for sale now. Good rough tires. Will take you across any dune, but the movement is too hectic, gives you a pain in the kidneys."
"The sergeant used to serve with die Amsterdam motorcycle brigade," Private Sudema said.
"Be my guest," the officer said. "Take her out, once you've made your arrest. The deserter is home, I caught a glimpse of him this morning."
"Couldn't you have grabbed him?" de Gier asked.
"I?" the officer asked. "A State Police official? Bother a military subject?"
Private Sudema coughed behind his hand.
"I'm sorry," de Gier said.
"We do try to help our colleagues at times," the officer said, "but we don't mind their business, that's something else again."