 Chapter five of the Riddle of the Sands. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Gazenum. The Riddle of the Sands by Erskine Childers. Chapter five. Wanted a North Wind. Nothing disturbed my rest that night, so adaptable as youth and so masterful its nature. At times I was remitly aware of the threshing of rain and a humming of wind with the nervous kicking of the little hull. And at one moment I dreamt I saw an apparition by candlelight of Davies clad in pyjamas and huge top boots, grasping a misty lantern of gigantic proportions. But the apparition mounted the ladder and disappeared and I passed to other dreams. A blast in my ear, like the voice of fifty trombones, galvanised me into full consciousness. The musician, smiling and tousled, was at my bedside, raising a fog-hone to his lips with deadly intention. It's a way we have in the dulzubella, he said, as I started up on one elbow. I didn't startle you much, did I? he added. Well, I like the matinata better than the cold douche, I answered, thinking of yesterday. Fine day and magnificent breeze, he answered. My sensations this morning were vastly livelier than those of yesterday at the same hour. My limbs were supple again and my head clear. Not even the searching wind could mar the ecstasy of that plunge down to smooth seductive sand, where I buried greedy fingers and looked through a medium blue with that translucent blue fairy faint and angel pure that you see in perfection only in the heart of ice. Up again to sun, wind and the forest whispers from the shore, down just once more to see the uncouth anchor stabbing the sun's soft bosom with one rusty fang, deaf and inert to the dulzubella's puny efforts to drag him from his prey. Back, holding by the cable as a rusty clue from heaven to earth, up to that bourgeois little maiden's boughs, back to breakfast was an appetite not to be blunted by condensed milk and somewhat passé bread. An hour later we had dressed the dulzubella for the road and were foaming into the grey void of yesterday. Now a noble expanse of wind-wipped blue, half surrounded by distant hills, the every outline vivid in the rain-washed air. I cannot pretend that I really enjoyed this first sail into the open, though I was keenly anxious to do so. I felt the thrill of those forward leaps, heard that persuasive song the foam sings under the lee bow, saw the flashing harmonies of sea and sky, but sensuous perception was deadened by nervousness. The yacht looked smaller than ever outside the quiet fjord. The song of the foam seemed very near, the wave crests aft very high. The novice in sailing clings desperately to the thoughts of sailors, effective prudent persons, with a typical jargon and a typical dress, versed in local currents and winds. I could not help missing this professional element. Davies, as he sat grasping his beloved tiller, looked strikingly efficient in his way and supremely at home in his surroundings, but he looked the amateurs through and through, as was one hand, and it seemed one eye. He wrestled with a spray-splashed chart half unrolled on the deck beside him. All his casual ways returned to me, his casual talk, and that last adventurous voyage to the Baltic, and the suspicions his reticence had aroused. Do you see him monument anywhere? He said all at once, and before I could answer, we must take another reef. He let go of the tiller and relit his pipe, while the yacht rounded sharply too, and in a twinkling was tossing head to sea with loud clasps of her canvas and passionate jerks of her boom, as the wind leapt on its quarry, now turning to hay, with redoubled force. The sting of spray in my eyes and the babel of noise dazed me, but Davies, with a pull on the foresheet, soothed the tormented little ship, and left her coolly sparring with the waves while he shortened sail and puffed his pipe. An hour later the narrow vista of Alts Sound was visible, with quiet old Sonderbrock sunning itself on the island shore, amid the dooball heights towering above, the dooball of bloody memory, seen of the last desperate stand of the Danes in 64, ere the Prussians rested the two fair provinces from them. It's early to anchor, and I hate towns, said Davies, as one section of a lumbering pontoon bridge opened to give us passage. But I was firm on the need for a walk, and got my way and conditioned that I bought stores as well, and returned in time to admit of further advance to quiet anchorage. Never did I step on the solid earth with stranger feelings, partly due to relief from confinement, partly to that sense of independence and travelling, which for those who go down to the sea in small ships, can make the foulest kill port in Northumbria seem attractive. And here I had fascinating Sonderbrock, with its broad-eathed houses of carved woodwork, each fresh with cleansing, yet reverent with age, its fair-haired Viking-like men and rosy, plain-faced women with their bullet foreheads and large mouths. Sonderbrock still Danished to the core under its teuton veneer. Crossing the bridge I climbed the dooball, dotted with memorials of that heroic defence, and thence could see the wee form and gossamer rigging of the dulzubella on the silver ribbon of the sound, and was reminded by the sight that there were stores to be bought. So I hurried down again to the old quarter, and bargained over eggs and bread with the dear old lady, pink as a deputant, made a patriotic pretense of not understanding German amid calling in her strapping son, whose few words of English being chiefly nautical slang picked up on a British trawler were peculiarly useless for the purpose. Davies had tea ready when I came aboard again, and drinking it on deck, we proceeded up the sheltered sound, which in spite of its imposing name was no bigger than an inland river, only the hosts of rainbow jellyfish reminding us that we were threading a highway of ocean. There is no rise and fall of tide in these regions to disfigure the shore with mud. Here was a shelving gravel bank, there a bed of whispering rushes, there again young birch trees growing to the very brink, each bearing a stocking of bright moss and setting its foot firmly in among golden leaves, amid scarlet fungus. Davies was preoccupied, but he lighted up when I talked of the Danish war. Germany is a thundering great nation, he said. I wonder if we shall ever fight her. A little incident that happened after we anchored deepened the impression left by this conversation. We crept at dusk into a shaded backwater where Alkeel almost touched the gravel bed. Opposite us on the Alzen shore there showed clean cut against the sky with a spire of a little monument rising from a leafy hollow. I wonder what that is, I said. It was scarcely a minute's row in the dinghy and when the anchor was down we sculled over to it. A bank of loam led to gorse and bramble. Pushing aside some branches we came to a slender Gothic memorial in Grey Stone inscribed with barry leaf of battle scenes showing Prussians forcing the landing in boats and Danes resisting with savage tenacity. In the failing light we spelt out an inscription den bei dem Meeresübergange und der Eroberung von Alzen am 29. Juni 1864 Heldenmütig gefallenen zum Ehrenden Gedächtnis to the honoured memory of those who died heroically at the invasion and storming of Alzen. I knew the German passion for commemoration. I had seen similar memorials on Alzation battlefields and several on the Dibble only that afternoon but there was something in the scene, the hour and the circumstances which made this one seem singularly touching. As for Davies I scarcely recognised him. His eyes flashed and filled with tears as he glanced from the inscription to the path we had followed and the water beyond. It was a landing in boats I suppose. He said half to himself, I wonder they managed it. What does Heldenmütig mean? Heroically Heldenmütig gefallenen he repeated under his breath lingering on each syllable. It was like a schoolboy reading of Waterloo. Our conversation at dinner turned naturally on war and in naval warfare I found I had come upon Davies' literary hobby. I had not hitherto paid attention to the medley on our bookshelf but I now saw that besides a nautical almanac and some dilapidated sailing directions there were several books on the cruises of small yachts where some big volumes crushed in anyhow or lying on the top. Squinting painfully at them I saw Mahan's Life of Nelson, Brasse's Naval Annual and others. It's a tremendously interesting subject, said Davies, pulling down in two pieces a volume of Mahan's Influence of Sea Power. Dinner flagged and froze and he illustrated a point by reference to the much-summed pages. He was very keen and not very articulate. I knew just enough to be an intelligent listener and so hungry was delighted to hear him talk. I'm not boring you, am I? he said suddenly. I should think not, I protested. But you might just have a look at the chops. They had indeed been crying aloud for notice for some minutes and drew candid attention to their neglect when they appeared. The diversion they caused put Davies out of vain. I tried to revive the subject but he was reserved and diffident. The untidy bookshelf reminded me of the logbook and when Davies had retired with a crockery to the forecastle I pulled the ledger down and turned over the leaves. It was a mass of short entries with cryptic abbreviations winds, tides, weather and courses appearing to predominate. The void from Dover to Ostend was dismissed in two lines. Underway 7 p.m. Wind West-South West Moderate West-Hinder 5 a.m. Outside all banks Ostend 11 a.m. The Shelt had a couple of pages very technical in staccato and style. Bland Holland was given a contemptuous summary with some half-hearted allusions to windmills and so on and a caustic word or two about boys, paint and canal smells. At Amsterdam technicalities began again and a brisker tone pervaded the entries which became progressively fuller as the writer cruised on the Friesian coast. He was clearly in better spirits for here and there were quaint and laboured efforts to describe nature out of material which, as far as I could judge, was repellent enough to discourage the most brilliant and observant of writers. With an occasional note of a visit on shore, generally reached by a walk of half a mile of a sand and of talks with shop people and fishermen. But such lighter relief was rare. The bulk dealt with channels and shoals with weird and depressing names with the centre plate, the sails and the wind, boys and booms, tides and berths for the night. Kedging off appeared to be a frequent diversion. Running aground was of almost daily occurrence. It was not easy reading and I turned the leaves rapidly. I was curious too to see the latter part. I came to a point where the rain of little sentences pattering out like small shot, ceased abruptly. It was at the end of 9th of September. That day, with its kedging and boom dodging, was filled in with usual detail. The log then leapt over three days and went on 13th of September, wind west-northwest, fresh, decided to go to Baltic, sailed 4am, quick passage east-south, to mouth of Vesa, anchored for night under Hornhurn Zand, 14th of September, nil, 15th of September, underway at 4am, wind east-moderate, course west-by-south, four miles, north-east-by-north, 15 miles, north of peep, 930, Ida River, 1130. This recital of naked facts was quite characteristic when passages were concerned, and any curiosity I had felt about his reticence on the previous night would have been rather allayed than stimulated, had I not noticed that a page had been torn out of the book just at this point. The frayed edge left had been pruned and picked into very small limits, but dissimulation was not Davies' strong point, and a child could have seen that a leaf was missing, and that the entries, starting from the evening of 9th September, where a page ended, had been written together at once hitting. I was on the point of calling to Davies and chaffing him with having committed a grave offence against maritime law, in having cooked his log, but I checked myself. I scarcely know why, unless the joke would touch a sensitive place and fail. Delicacy shrank from seeing him compelled either to amplify a deception or blunder out a confession. He was too easy a prey, and after all, the matter was a small moment. I returned the book to the shelf, the only definite result of its perusal being to recall my promise to keep a diary myself, and I then and there dedicated a notebook to the purpose. We were just lighting our cigars when we heard voices and the splash of oars, followed by a bump against the hull which made Davies wince, as violations of his paint always did. Goodnamn wo fanze hin, greeted us as we climbed on deck. It turned out to be some jovial fishermen returning to their smack from a visit to Sonderburg. A short dialogue proved to them that we were mad Englishmen in bitter need of charity. Come to Zartrop, they said. All the smacks are there round the point. There is good punch in the inn. Nothing lost, we followed in the dinghy, skirted a bend of the sound and opened up the lights of a village with some smacks at anchor in front of it. We were escorted to the inn and introduced to a formidable beverage called coffee punch in the greased circle of smacksmen who talked German out of courtesy but were Danish in all else. Davies was at once at home with them to a degree indeed that I envied. His German was of the crudest kind, bizarre and vocabulary and comical in accent, but the freemasonry of the sea or some charm of his own gave intuition to both him and his hearers. I cut a poor figure in this nautical gathering, Davies, who persistently referred to me as minor friend, tried hard to represent me as a kindred spirit and to include me in the general talk. I was detected at once as an uninteresting hybrid. Davies, who sometimes appealed to me for a word, was deep in talk over anchorages and ducks, especially as I well remember now about the chance of sport in a certain Schleifjord. I fell into utter neglect till rescued by a taciturn person in spectacles and a very high cap who appeared to be the only landsman present. After silently puffing smoke in my direction for some time he asked me if I was married and if not when I proposed to be. After this inquisition he abandoned me. It was eleven before we left this hospitable inn, escorted by the whole party to the dinghy. Our friends of the smack insisted on our sharing their boat out of pure good fellowship for there was not nearly room for us and would not let us go till a bucket of fresh caught fish had been emptied into her bottom. After much shaking of scaly hands we sculled back to the dulcabella where she slept in a bed of tremulous stars. Davies sniffed the wind and scanned the treetops and were toying with the leaves. So west still he said and more rain coming but it's bound to shift into the north. Will that be a good wind for us? It depends on where we go he said slowly. I was asking those fellows about duck shooting they seemed to think the best place would be Schleifjord that's about fifteen miles north of Sonderberg on the way to Kiew they said there was a pilot chap living at the mouse who would tell us all about it they weren't very encouraging though we should want a north wind for that I don't care where we go I said to my own surprise don't you really? he rejoined with sudden warmth then with a slight change of voice you mean it's all very jolly about here? of course I meant that before we went below we both looked for a moment at the little grey memorial its slender fretted arch outlined in tender lights and darks above the hollow on the Alzin shore the night was that of 27th September the third I had spent on the Dalsabella end of chapter 5 read by Gesine chapter 6 of the riddle of the sands this is the LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Gesine the riddle of the sands by Erskine Childers chapter 6 Schleifjord I make no apology for having described these early days in some detail it is no wonder that their trivialities are as vividly before me as the colours of earth and sea in this enchanting corner of the world for every trifle sordid or picturesque was relevant every scrap of talk a link every passing mood critical for good or ill so slight indeed determining causes that changed my autumn holiday into an undertaking the most momentous I have ever approached two days more preceded the change on the first the south westerly wind still holding we salied forth into Augustenburg fjord to practice smartness in a heavy thresh as Davies put it it was the day of dedication for those disgusting oilskins and the wood in whose stiff and odorous angles I felt distressfully cumbersome a day of proof indeed for me for heavy squads swept incessantly over the loch and Davies at my own request gave me no rest backwards and forwards we tacked blustering into coves and out again reefing and unreafing now stung with rain now warmed with sun but never with time to breathe or sink I wrestled with intractable ropes slaves if they could be subdued tyrants if they got the upper hand creeping, craning, straining I made the painful round of the deck while Davies, hatless and tranquil directed my blundering movements now take the helm and try steering in a hard breeze to windward it's the finest sport on earth so I grappled with the niceties of that delicate craft smarting eyes chafed hands and dazed brain all pressed into the service whilst Davies taming the ropes the while shouted into my ear the subtle mysteries of the art that fidgeting ripple in the love of the mainsail and the distant rattle from the hungry jib signs that they are starved of wind must be given more the heavy list and wallow of the hull the feel of the wind on your cheek instead of your nose the broader angle of the bird g at the masthead signs that they have too much and that she is sagging recurrently to leeward instead of fighting to windward he taught me the tactics for meeting squalls and the way to press your advantage when they are defeated the iron hand and the velvet glove that the willful tiller needs if you are to gain your ends with it the exact set of the sheets to get the easiest and swiftest play of the hull all these things and many more are struggled to apprehend careless for the moment as to whether they were worse knowing but doggedly set on knowing them needless to say I had no eyes for beauty the wooded inlets we dived into gave a brief respite from wind and spin drift but called into use the lead and the centreboard tackle two new and cumbrous complexities davis' passion for intricate navigation had to be sated even in these secure and tideless waters let's get in as near as we can you stand by the lead was his formula so I made false casts tripped up in the slack sent rivers of water up my sleeves and committed all the other groceries that beginners in the art commit while the sand showed white beneath the keel till davis regretfully drew off and shouted ready about centre plate down and I dashed down to the trappings of that diabolical contrivance the only part of the dulce Bella's equipment that I hated fiercely to the last it had an odious habit when lowered of spouting jets of water through its chain lead onto the cabin floor one of my duties was to gag it with cotton waste choking gargle was the most uncomfortable sound in your dining room in a minute the creek would be behind us and we would be something our stem into the short hollow waves of the fjord and lurching through spray and rain for some point on the opposite shore of our destination and objects if we had any I knew nothing at the northern end of the fjord just before we turned davis had turned dreamy in the most exasperating way for I was steering at the time and in mortal need of sympathetic guidance if I was to avoid a sudden drive as though continuing allowed some internal debate he held a one-sided argument to the effect that it was no use going further north duck's weather and charts figured in it but I did not follow the pros and cons I only know that we suddenly turned and began to battle south again at sunset we were back once more in the same quiet pool among the trees and fields of alz sound a wondrous peace succeeding the turmoil bruised and sodden I was extricating myself from my oily prison and later was tasting though not nearly yet in its perfection the unique exaltation that follows such a day when glowing all over deliciously tired and pleasantly sore you eat what seems ambrosia be it only tin beef and drink nectar be it only distilled from terrestrial hops or coffee berries and inhale a sculminating luxury barmy fumes which even the happy Homeric gods knew not of on the following morning the 30th a joyous shout of nor west wind sent me shivering on deck for small hours to handle rain stiff canvas and cutting chain it was a cloudy unsettled day but still enough after yesterday's boisterous ordeal we retraced our way past Zonderburg and then sailed for a faint line of pale green on the far southwestern horizon it was during this passage that an incident occurred which slight as it was opened my eyes too much a flight of wild duck crossed our boughs at some little distance a wedge shaped phalanx of craning necks and flapping wings I happened to be steering while Davies verified our course below but I called him up at once and a discussion began about our chances of sport Davies was gloomy over them those fellows at Sartrup were rather doubtful he said there are plenty of ducks but it's not easy for strangers to get shooting the whole country's so very civilized it's not wild enough is it he looked at me I had no very clear opinion it was anything but wild in one sense but there seemed to be wild enough spots for ducks the shore we were passing appeared to be bordered by lonely marshes though a spacious campaign showed behind if it were not for the beautiful places we had seen and my growing taste for our way of seeing them his disappointing vagueness would have netted me more than it did for after all he had brought me out loaded with sporting equipment under a promise of shooting bad weather is what we want for ducks he said but I'm afraid we're in the wrong place for them now if it was the North Sea among those freezing islands his tone was timid and interrogative and I felt at once that he was sounding me as to some unpalatable plan whose nature began to dawn on me he stammered on through a sentence or two about wildness and nobody to interfere with you and then I broke in you surely don't want to leave the Baltic why not said he staring into the compass hanged man and tartly here we are in October the summer over and the weather gone to pieces we were alone in a cockle-shelled boat at a time when every other yacht of our size is laying up for the winter luckily we seem to have struck an ideal cruising ground with a wide choice of safe fjords and a good prospect of ducks if we choose to take a little trouble about them you can't mean to waste time and run risks I thought of the torn leaf in the log-book in a long voyage to those forbidding haunts of yours in the North Sea it's not very long said Davies doggedly part of its canal and the rest is quite safe if you're careful there's plenty of sheltered water and it's not really necessary what's it all for I interrupted impatiently we haven't tried for shooting here yet you've no notion have you of getting the boat back to England this autumn? England? he muttered oh I don't much care again his vagueness jarred on me there seemed to be some bar between us invisible and insurmountable and after all what was I doing here roughing it in a shabby little yacht utterly out of my element with a man who a week ago was nothing to me and who now was a tiresome enigma like swift poison the old morbid mood in which I had left London spread through me all I had learnt and seen slipped away what I had suffered remained I was on the point of saying something which might have put a precipitated end on our cruise but he anticipated me I'm awfully sorry he broke out for being such a selfish brute I don't know what I was thinking about you're a brick to join me in this sort of life and I'm afraid I'm an infernally bad host of course this is just a place to cruise I forgot about the scenery and all that let's ask about the ducks here as you say we're sure to get sport if we worry and push a bit we must be nearly there now yes there's the entrance take the helm will you he sprang up the mast like a monkey and gazed over the land from the cross trees I looked up at my enigma and sank to Providence I had not spoken for no one could have resisted his frank outburst of good nature yet it occurred to me that considering the conditions of our life our intimacy was strangely slow in growth I had no clue yet as to where his idiosyncrasies began and his self ended and he, I surmised was in the same stage towards me otherwise I should have pressed him further now for I felt convinced that there was some mystery in his behaviour which I had not yet accounted for however light was soon to break I could see no sign of the entrance he had spoken of and no wonder for it is only 80 yards wide though it leads to a fjord 30 miles long all at once we were jolting in a tumble of sea and the channel grudgingly disclosed itself stealing between marshes and meadows and then broadening to a mere as at Ecken we anchored close to the mouth and not far from a group of vessels of a type that afterwards grew very familiar to me they were sailing barges something like those that ply in the Thames bluff-bowed high-starred craft of about 50 tons, catch-rigged and fitted with leeboards light spars and a long tip-tilted bow-spread for the future I shall call them Galiettes otherwise the only sign of life was a solitary white house the pilot's house the charge told us close to the northern point of entrance after tea we called on the pilot patriarchically installed before a roaring stove in the company of a buxom bustling daughter-in-law and some rosy grandchildren we found a rotund and rubiscun person who greeted us with a horse-raw of welcome and German which instantly changed when he saw us to the funniest broken English spoken with intense relish and pride we explained ourselves and our mission as well as we could through the hospitable interruptions caused by beer and the strains of a huge musical box which had been set in honour of our arrival needless to say I was read like a book at once and fell into the part of listener yes yes he said all right, there is plenty ducks but first we will drink a glass beer then we will shift your ship captain she lies not good there Davies started up in a panic but was waved back to his beer then we will drink together another glass beer then we will talk of ducks no then we will kill ducks that is better then we will have plenty glasses beer this was an unexpected climax and promised well for our prospects and the programme was fully carried out after the beer a host was packed briskly by his daughter into an armour of wooden gaiters coats and mufflers topped with a worsted helmet which left nothing of his face visible but a pair of twinkling eyes thus equipped he led the way out of doors and roared for hunts and his gun to the great gawky youth with high cheekbones and a downy beard came out from the yard and sheepishly shook our hands together we repaired to the key where the pilot stood looking like a genial ball of worsted and balled horse directions while we shifted the dalsabella to a berth on the farther shore close to the other vessels we returned with our guns and the interval for refreshments followed it was just dusk when we sallied out again crossed a stretch of bogland and took up strategic posts round a stagnant pond hunts had been sent to drive and the result was a fine mallard and three ducks it was true that all fell to the pilot's gun perhaps owing to hunts filial instinct and his parents' canny egotism in choosing his own lair or perhaps it was trance but the shooting party was nonetheless a triumphal success it was celebrated with beer and music as before while the pilot, an infant on each podgy knee discoursed exuberantly on the glories of his country and the Elysian content of his life there is plenty beer plenty meat plenty money plenty ducks summed up his survey it may have been fancy but Davies though he had fits and starts of vivacity seemed very inattentive considering that we were sitting at the feet of so expansive an oracle it was I who elicited most of the practical information details of time, weather and likely places for shooting to conciliate whether he thought of me or warmed with sympathy towards the pilot for he assumed that we had done with cruising for the year and thought as mad enough as it was to have been afloat so long and mad as still to intend living on so little a ship when we could live on land with beer and music handy I was tempted to raise the North Sea question just to watch Davies under the thunder of rebukes would follow but I refrained from a wish to be tender with him now that all was going so well the Friesian Islands were an extravagant absurdity now I did not even refer to them as we pulled back to the Delta Bella after swearing eternal friendship with the good pilot and his family Davies and I turned in good friends that night or rather I should say that I turned in for I left him sucking an empty pipe and aimlessly fingering the volumes of Mahan and once when I work in the night I felt somehow that his bunk was empty and that he was there in the dark cabin dreaming end of Chapter 6 recorded by Gazina in May 2007 Chapter 7 of The Riddle of the Sands this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Gazina The Riddle of the Sands by Erskine Childers Chapter 7 The Missing Page I woke on 1st October with that dispiriting sensation that a hitch has occurred in a settled plan it was explained when I went on deck and I found the Delta Bella wrapped in a fog silent, clammy nothing visible from her decks but the ghostly hull of Galliott at anchor near us she must have brought up there in the night for there had been nothing so close the evening before and I remembered that my sleep had been broken once by sounds of rumbling chain and gruff voices this looks pretty hopeless for today I said with a shiver to Davies who was laying the breakfast well we can't do anything till this fog lifts he answered with a good deal of resignation breakfast was a cheerless meal the damp penetrated to the very cabin whose roof and walls wept to find you I had dreaded a bath and yet I missed it and the ghastly light made the tablecloth look dirtier than it naturally was and all the accessories more sorted something had gone wrong with the bacon big cups was not in the least humorous Davies was just beginning in his summary way to tumble the things together for washing tip when there was a sound of a step on deck two sea boots appeared on the ladder and before we could wonder who the visitor was a little man in oil skins and a sour-wester was stooping towards us in the cabin door smiling affectionately at Davies out of a round grizzled beard well met captain he said quietly in German where are you bound to this time Bartels exclaimed Davies jumping up the two stooping figures young and old beamed at each other like father and son where have you come from have some coffee how is the Johannes was that you that came in last night I'm delighted to see you I spare the reader his uncouth lingo the little man was dragged in and seated on the opposite sofa to me I took my apples to cuplin he said, sedately and now I sail to Kiel and so to Hamburg where my wife and children are it is my last voyage of the year you are no longer alone captain I see he had taken off his dripping sour-wester and was browing ceremoniously towards me oh, I quite forgot said Davies who had been kneeling on one knee in the low doorway absorbed in his visitor this is my no-friend her Carothers Carothers, this is my friend Schiffer Bartels of the Galleot Johannes was I never to be at an end of the puzzles which Davies presented to me all the impulsive heartiness died out of his voice and manner as he uttered the last few words and there he was nervously glancing from the visitor to me like one who against his will or from tactlessness has introduced two persons who he knows will disagree there was a pause while he fumbled with the cups poured some cold coffee out and pondered over it as though it were a chemical experiment then he muttered something about boiling some more water and took refuge in the forecastle I was ill at ease at this period with seafaring man but this mild little person was easy ground for a beginner besides when he took off his old skin coat he reminded me less of a sailor than of a homely draper of some country town with his clean turned down collar and neatly fitting freeze jacket we exchanged some platitudes about the fog and his journey and his voyage last night from Kaplan which appeared to be a town some 15 miles up the fjord Davies joined in from the forecastle with an excess of warmth which almost took the words out of my mouth we exhausted the subject very soon and then my vis-à-vis smiled paternally at me as he had done at Davies and said confidentially it is good that the captain is no more alone he is a fine young man heaven what a fine young man I love him as my son but he is too brave too reckless it is good for him to have a friend I nodded and laughed though in reality I was very far from being amused where was it you met? I asked in an ugly place and in ugly weather he answered gravely but with a twinkle of fun in his eye but has he not told you? he added with ponderous slinus I came just in time no what am I saying he is brave as a lion and quick as a cat I think he cannot drown but still it was an ugly place and ugly what are you talking about Bartels? interrupted Davies emerging noisily with a boiling kettle I answered the question I was just asking your friend how it was you made his acquaintance oh he helped me out of a bit of a mess in the North Sea didn't you Bartels? he said it was nothing said Bartels but the North Sea is no place for your little boat captain so I have told you many times how did you like Flensborg? a fine town is it not did you find Hakrunk, the carpenter? I see you have placed a little Misenmast the rudder was nothing much but it was well that it held to the Ida but she is strong and good your little ship and heaven she had need be so he chuckled and shook his head at Davies as at a wayward child this is all the conversation that I need record for my part I merely waited for its end determined on my course which was to know the truth once and for all and make an end of these distracting mystifications Davies plied his friend with coffee and kept up the talk gallantly but affectionate as he was his manner plainly showed that he wanted to be alone with me the gist of the little skipper's talk was a parental warning that though we were well enough here in the Ostsee it was time for little boats to be looking for winter quarters that he himself was going to the Kiel Canal to Hamburg to spend a cosy winter as a decent citizen at his warm fireside and that we should follow his example he ended with an invitation to us to take him on the Johannes and with suave farewells disappeared into the fog Davies saw him into his boat returned without wasting a moment and sat down on the sofa opposite me what did he mean? I asked I will tell you said Davies I'll tell you the whole thing as far as you're concerned it's partly a confession last night I had made up my mind it was nothing but when bottles turned up I knew it must all come out it's been fearfully on my mind and perhaps you'll be able to help me but it's for you to decide far away I said you know what I was saying about the Frisian Islands the other day a thing happened there which I never told you when you were asking about my cruise it began near Nordenai I put in how did you guess that? he asked you're a bad hand at duplicity I replied go on well you're quite right it was there on 9th of December I told you the sort of thing I was doing at that time but I don't think I said that I made inquiries from one or two people about duck shooting and had been told by some fishermen at Borkum that there was a big sailing yacht in those waters whose owner a German of the name of Dullman shot a good deal it might give me some tips well I found this yacht one evening knowing that it must be her from the description I had she was what is called a barge yacht of 50 or 60 tons built for shallow water on the lines of a Dutch galliot with leeboards and those queer round bows and square stern she's something like those galliots anchored near us now you sometimes see the sort of yacht in English waters only there they copy the Thames barges she looked a clipper of her sort and very smart varnished all over and shining like gold I came on her about sunset after a long day of exploring around the Ems estuary she was lying in wait a bit let's have the chart I interrupted Davies found it and spread it on the table between us first putting back the cloth and the breakfast things to one end where they lay in a slovenly litter this was one of the only two occasions on which I ever saw him postpone the right of washing up and it spoke volumes for the urgency of the matter in hand here it is said Davies and I looked with a new and strange interest at the long string of slender islands the parallel line of coast and the confusion of shoals, banks and channels which lay between this is Nordenai you see by the way there's a harbour there at the west end of the island the only real harbour in the whole line of islands Dutch or German excepted Ter Schelling there's quite a big town there too a watering place where Germans go for sea bathing in the summer well the Medusa that was her name was lying in the Rivgat roadstead flying the German ensign and I anchored for the night pretty near her I meant to visit her owner later on but I very nearly changed my mind as I always feel rather a fool on smart yachts and my German isn't very good however I thought I might as well so after dinner when it was dark I sculled over in the dinghy hailed a sailor on deck said who I was and asked if I could see the owner the sailor was a surly sort of chap and there was a good long delay while I waited on deck feeling more and more uncomfortable presently a steward came up and showed me down the companion and into the saloon which after this looked, well, horribly gorgeous you know what I mean plush lounges, silk cushions and that sort of thing dinner seemed to be just over and wine and fruit were on the table her dolman was there at his coffee I introduced myself somehow stop a moment I said, what was he like oh, a tall thin chap in evening dress about fifty I suppose with greyish hair and a short beard I'm not good at describing people he had a high bulging forehead and there was something about him but I think I'd better tell you the bare facts first I can't say he seemed pleased to see me and he couldn't speak English and in fact I felt infinitely awkward still I had an object in coming and as I was there I thought I might as well gain it the notion of Davies in his Norfolk jacket and rusty flannels haranguing a frigid German in evening dress in a gorgeous saloon tickled my fancy greatly he seemed very much astonished to see me had evidently seen the dulcabella arrive and had wondered what she was I began as soon as I could about the ducks but he shot me up at once said I could do nothing here about I put it down to sportsman's jealousy you know what it is but I saw I had come to the wrong shop and was just going to go back out and end this unpleasant interview when he sawed a bit offered me some wine and began talking in quite a friendly way taking a great interest in my cruise and my plans for the future in the end we sat up quite late though I never felt really at my ease he seemed to be taking stock at me all the time as though I were some new animal how I sympathised with that German we parted civilly enough and I rode back and turned in meaning to potter on eastwards early next day but I was knocked up at dawn by a sailor with a message from Dolman I thought I could do anything I thought I could do anything I thought I could do anything a sailor with a message from Dolman asking if he could come to breakfast with me I was rather flabbergasted but didn't like to be rude so I said yes well he came and I returned the call and well the end of it was that I stated anchor there for three days this was rather abrupt how did you spend the time I asked stopping three days anywhere was an unusual event for him he came to me from his log oh I lunched or dined with him once or twice with them I ought to say he added hurriedly his daughter was with him she didn't appear the evening I first called and what was she like I asked promptly before he could hurry on oh she seemed like a very nice girl was the guarded reply delivered with particular unconcern and the end of it was that I and the Medusa sailed away in company I must tell you how it came about just in a few words for the present it was his suggestion he said he had to sail to Hamburg and propose that I should go with him in the Dalzibela as far as the Elbe and then if I liked I could take the ship canal at Brun's buttle through to Kiel and the Baltic I had never a fixed plans of my own though I had meant to go on exploring eastwards between the islands and the coast and so reached the Elbe in a much slower way he dissuaded me from this sticking to it that I should have no chance of ducks and urging other reasons anyway we settled to sail in company direct to Cuxhaven in the Elbe with a fair wind and an early start it should be only one day's sail of about sixty miles the plan only came to a head on the evening of the third day twelfth of September I told you I think that the weather had broken after a long spell of heat that very day it had been blowing pretty hard from the west and the glass was falling still I said of course that I couldn't go with him if the weather was too bad but he prophesied a good day said it was an easy sail and altogether put me on my metal you can guess how it was perhaps I had talked about single-handed cruising as though it were easier than it was though I never meant it in a boasting way for I hate that sort of thing and besides there is no danger if you're careful oh go on I said anyway we went next morning at six it was a dirty looking day wind west north west but his sails were going up and mine followed I took two reefs in and we sailed out into the open and steered east north east along the coast for the outer Elber light ship about 50 knots off here would all lose you see he showed me the course on the chart the trip was nothing for his boat of course a safe powerful old tub forging through the sea as steady as a house I kept up with her easily at first my hands were pretty full for there was a hard wind on my quarter and a troublesome sea but as long as nothing worse came I knew I should be all right though I also knew that I was a fool to have come all went well till we were off one a rogue that's the last of the islands here and then it began to blow really hard I had a half mind to chuck it and cut into the jade river down there but I hadn't the face to so I hoped to and took in my last reef simple words simply uttered but I had seen the operation in calm weather and shuddered at the present picture we had been about level till then but with my shortened canvas I fell behind not that that mattered in the least I knew my course had read up my tides and sick as the weather was I had no doubt of being able to pick up the light ship no change of plan was possible now the Vesa estuary was on my starboard hand but the whole place was a lee shore and a massive unknown banks just look at them I ran on the d'Alsabella doing her level best but we had some narrow shaves of being pooped I was about here saved six miles south west of the light ship when I suddenly saw that the Medusa had hoved to right ahead as though waiting till I came up she wore round again on the course as I drew level and we were alongside for a bit Dolman lashed the wheel leaned over her quarter and shouted very slowly and distinctly so that I could understand follow me see too bad for you outside short cut through sands save six miles it was taking me all my time to manage the tiller but I knew what he meant at once for I had been over the chart carefully the night before you see the whole bay between Wangarog is encumbered with sand a great jagged chunk of it runs from Coxhaven in a north-westerly direction for 15 miles or so ending in a pointed spit called the Shahorn to reach the Elbe from the west you have to go right outside this round the light ship which is off the Shahorn and double back of course that's what all the big vessels do but as you see these sands are intersected here and there very shallow and winding exactly like those behind the Frisian Islands now look at this one which cuts right through the big chunk of sand and comes out near Coxhaven the tellter it's called it's miles wide you see at the entrance but later on is split into two by the horn hern bank then it gets shallow and very complicated and ends in a mere tidal driplet with another name it's just a sort of channel I should like to worry into on a fine day or was an offshore wind alone in sick weather and a heavy sea it would have been followed to attempted except as a desperate resource but as I said I knew at once that Dolman was proposing to run for it and guide me in I didn't like the idea because I like doing things for myself and silly as it sounds I believe I resented being told the sea was too bad for me which it certainly was yet the shortcut did save several miles and a devil of a tumble off the shahorn where two tides meet I had complete faith in Dolman and I suppose I decided that I should be a fool not to take a good chance I hesitated I know but in the end I nodded and held up my arm as she forged ahead again soon after she shifted her course and I followed he asked me once if I ever took a pilot that was the only time he spoke with bitter gravity flung himself back and felt his dramatic pause but it certainly was one I had a glimpse of still another Davies a Davies five years older slobbing with deep emotions scorned passion and a stubborn purpose a being above my plane of sterner stuff wider scope intense as my interest had become while he mechanically rammed tobacco in me and I thought while he mechanically rammed tobacco into his pipe and struck ineffectual matches I felt that whatever the riddle to be solved it was no mean one he repressed himself with an effort half rose and made his circular glance at the clock barometer and skylight and then resumed we soon came to what I know must be the beginning of the delta channel all round you could hear the breakers on the sands though it was too thick to see them yet as the water showed the sea of course got shorter and steeper there was more wind a whole gale I should say I kept dead in the wake of the Medusa but to my disgust I found she was gaining on me very fast of course I had taken for granted when he said he would lead me in that he would slow down and keep close to me he could easily have done so by getting his man up to check his sheets or drop his peak instead of that he was busting on for all he was worth once in a rain-squall I lost sight of him altogether got him faintly again but had enough to do with my own tiller not to want to be peering through this scud after a runaway pilot I was all right so far but we were fast approaching the worst part of the whole passage where the horn heron bank blocks the road and the channel divides I don't know what it looks like to you on the chart perhaps fairly simple because you can follow the twists of the channel as on a grand plan but a stranger coming to a place like that where there are no boys, mind you can tell you nothing certain by the eye unless perhaps at dead low water when the banks are high and dry in a very clear weather he must trust to the lead and the compass and feel his way step by step I knew perfectly well that what I should soon see would be a wall of surf stretching right across and on both sides to feel one's way in that sort of weather is impossible you must know your way or else have a pilot I had one but he was playing his own game with the second hand on board to steer while I conned I should have felt less of an ass as it was I knew I ought to be facing the music in the offing and cursed myself for having broken my rule and gone blundering into this confounded shortcut it was giving myself away doing just the very thing that you can't do in single-handed sailing by the time I realized the danger it was far too late to turn and hammer out to the open I was deep in the bottleneck bite of the sands jammed on a lee shore and a strong flood tied sweeping me on that tide by the way gave just the ghost of a chance I had the hours in my head and knew it was about two-thirds flood with two hours more of rising water that meant the banks would be all covering when I reached them and harder than ever to locate but it also meant that I might float over the worst of them if I hit off a lucky place Davies summed the table and discussed it makes me sick to think of having to trust to an accident like that like a lovely cockney out for a boozy bank holiday sale well, just as I foresaw the wall of the surf appeared clean across the horizon and curling back to shut me in booming like thunder when I last saw the Medusa she seemed to be charging at like a horse at a fence and I took a rough bearing of her position by a hurried glance at the compass at that very moment I thought she seemed to laugh and show some of her broadside but a squall blotted her out and gave me hell with the tiller after that she was lost in the white mist that hung over the line of the breakers I kept on my bearing as well as I could but I was already out of the channel I knew that by the look of the water and as we near the bank I thought it was all a wash and without the vestige of an opening I was going to chuck her onto it without an effort so more by instinct than with any particular hope I put the helm down meaning to work her along the edge on the chance of spotting her way over she was buried at once by the beam sea and the jib flew to blazes but the reef's tassel stood she recovered gamely and I held on though I knew it could only be for a few minutes as the centre plate was up and she made frightful leeway towards the bank I was half blinded by scud and suddenly I noticed what looked like a gap behind a spit which curled out right ahead I laughed still more to clear this spit but she couldn't weather it before you could say knife she was driving across it bumped heavily, bucked forward again, bumped again and ripped on in deeper water I can't describe the next few minutes I was in some sort of channel but a very narrow one and the sea broke everywhere I hadn't proper command either for the rudder had crocked up somehow at the last bump I was like a drunken man running for his life down a dark alley barking himself at every corner I couldn't last long and finally we went crash onto something and stopped there grinding and banging so ended that little trip under a pilot well it was like this there was really no danger I opened my eyes at the characteristic phrase I mean the lucky stumble into a channel was my salvation since then I had struggled through a mile of sands all of which lay behind me like a breakwater against the gale they were covered of course and seething like soapsuds but the force of the sea was deadened the dulcy was bumping but not too heavily it was nearing high tide and at half ebb she would be dry and high in the ordinary way I should have run out a cage with a dinghy and at the next high water sailed farther in and anchored where I could lie afloat the trouble was now that my hand was hurt and my dinghy stove in not to mention the rudder business it was the first bump on the outer edge that did the damage there was a heavy swell there and when we struck the dinghy which was towing a stand came home on her painter to crash on the yacht's weather-quarter I stuck out one hand to ward it off and got it nipped on the gunnel she was badly stove in and useless so I couldn't run out the cage this was Greek to me but I let him go on and for the present my hand was too painful even to stow the boom and sails which were whipping and racketing about anyhow there was the rudder too to be mended several miles from the nearest land of course if the wind fell it was all easy enough but if it held or increased I was a poor lookout there's a limit to strain of that sort and other things might have happened in fact it was precious lucky that bottles turned up his gullet was at anchor a mile away up a branch of the channel in a clear between squalls he saw us and like a brick rode his boat out he and his boy and a devil of a pole they must have had I was clear enough to see them no that's not true I was in such a fury of disgust and shame that I believe I should have been idiot enough to say I didn't want help if he hadn't just nipped on board and started work he's a terror to work that little mouse of a chap in half an hour he had stowed the sails unshuckled the big anchor ran out fifty fathoms of warp and hauled her off there and then into deep water then they towed her up the channel it was dead to leeward and an easy job and birthed her near their own vessel it was dark by that time so I gave them a drink and said good night it blew a howling gale that night but the place was safe enough was a good ground tackle the whole affair was over and after supper I thought hard about it all end of chapter seven recorded by gazina in june 2007 although he still felt the relief from some tension I did the same and felt the same relief the chart freed from the pressure of our fingers rolled up with a flip as though to say what do you think of that I have straightened out his sentences a little for in the excitement of his story they had grown more and more jerky and elliptical what about dolman I asked of course said davis what about him I didn't get out much that night it was also sudden the only thing I could have sworn to from the first was that he had purposely left me in the lurch that day I pieced out the rest in the next few days which I'll just finish with as shortly as I can Bartels came aboard next morning and though it was blowing hard we still managed to shift the dalsabella to a place where she dried safely at the midday low water and we could get at her rudder the lower screw plate on the stern post had wrenched out and we watched it up roughly as a makeshift there were other little breakages but nothing to matter and the loss of the jib was nothing as I had two spare ones the dinghy was passed repair just then and I lashed it on deck it turned out that Bartels was carrying apples from Bremen to Capone in this fjord and had run into that channel in the sands for shelter from the weather today he was bound for the Ida river whence as I told you you can get through by river and canal into the Baltic of course the Elber route by the New Kaiser Wilhelm ship canal is the shortest the Ida route is the old one but he hoped to get rid of some of his apples at Tonning the town at its mouth both routes touched the Baltic at Keele as you know I had been running for the Elber but yesterday's muck-up put me off and I changed my mind I'll tell you why presently and decided to sail to the Ida along with the Johannes and get through that way it cleared from the east next day and I raced him there winning hands down left him at Tonning and in three days was in the Baltic it was just a week after I ran ashore that I wired to you you see I had come to the conclusion that that chap was a spy in the end it came out quite quietly and suddenly and left me in profound amazement I wired to you that chap was a spy it was the close association of these two ideas that hit me hardest at the moment for a second I was back in the dreary splendor of the London clubroom spelling out that crab scrawl from Davies and fastidiously criticizing its proposal in the light of a holiday holiday what was to be its issue chilling and opaque as the fog that filtered through the skylight there flooded my imagination a mist of doubt and fear a spy I repeated blankly what do you mean why did you wire me a spy of what, of whom I'll tell you how I worked it out said Davies I don't think spy is the right word but I mean something pretty bad he purposely put me ashore I don't think I'm suspicious by nature but I know something about boats and the sea I know he could have kept close to me if he had chosen and I saw the whole place at low water when we left those sands on the second day look at the chart again here's the Hohn-Hern bank that I showed you as blocking the road it's in two pieces first the west and then the east you see the tilted channel dividing into two branches and curving round it both branches are broad and deep as channels go in those waters now in sailing in I was nowhere near either of them when I last saw Dormann he must have been steering straight for the bank itself at a point somewhere here quite a mile from the northern arm of the channel and two from the southern I followed by compass as you know and found nothing but breakers ahead how did I get through that's where the luck came in I spoke of only two channels that is round the bank one to the north, the other to the south but look closely and you'll see that right through the centre of the west Hohn-Hern runs another a very narrow and winding one so small that I hadn't even noticed it the night before when I was going over the chart that was the one I stumbled into in that tailor's fashion as I was groping along the edge of the surf with effort to gain time I bolted down it blindly came out into this strip of open water crossed that aimlessly and brought up on the edge of the east Hohn-Hern here it was more than I deserved I can see now that it was a hundred to one in favour of my striking on a bad place outside where I should have gone to pieces in three minutes and heard it Dormann go, I asked it's as clear as possible Davies answered he doubled back into the northern channel when he had misled me enough do you remember my saying that when I last saw him I thought he had laughed and showed his broadside I had another bit of luck in that he was laughing towards the north so it struck me for the blur and when I in my turn came up to the bank and had to turn one way or the other to avoid it I think I should naturally have turned north too as he had done in that case I should have been done for for I should have had a mile of the bank to skirt before reaching the north channel and should have driven ashore long before I got there but as a matter of fact I turned south why? couldn't help it I was running on the starboard tack boom over to port to turn north would have meant a jibe and as things were I couldn't risk one it was blowing like fits if anything had carried away I should have been on shore on a jiffy I scarcely thought about it at all but put the helm down and turned her south though I knew nothing about it that little central channel was now on my porthand distant about two cables the whole thing was luck from beginning to end held by pluck I thought to myself as I tried with my landsmen's fancy to conjure up that perilous scene as to the truth of the affair the chart and Davis's version were easy enough to follow but I felt only half convinced the spy, as Davis strangely called his pilot might have honestly mistaken the course himself outstripped his convoy inadvertently and escaped disaster as narrowly as she did I suggested this on the spur of the moment but Davis was impatient waited till you hear the whole thing he said I must go back to when I first met him I told you that on that first evening he began by being as rude as a bear and as cold as stone and then became suddenly friendly I can see now that in the talk that followed he was pumping me hard it was an easy game to play for I hadn't seen a gentleman since Morrison left me I was tremendously keen about my voyage and I thought the chap was a good sportsman even if he was a bit dark about the darks I talked quite freely at least as freely as I could was my bad German about my last fortnight sailing how I had been smelling out all the channels in and out of the islands how interested I had been in the whole business puzzling out the effects of the winds on the tides the set of the currents and so on I talked about my difficulties too the changes in the boys the prehistoric rottenness of the English charts he drew me out as much as he could and in the light of what followed I can see the point of scores of his questions the next day and the next I saw a good deal of him and the same thing went on and then there were my plans for the future my idea was, as I told you to go on exploring the German coast just as I had the Dutch his idea, heavens how plainly I see it now was to choke me off get me to clear out all together from that part of the coast that was why he said there were no ducks that was why he cracked up the Baltic as a cruising ground and shooting ground and that was why he broached and stuck to that plan of sailing and company direct to the Elbe it was to see me clear he improved on that yes, but after that it's guesswork I mean that I can't tell when he first decided to go one better and drown me he couldn't count for certain on bad weather so he held my nose to it when it came but granted that he wanted to get rid of me all together he got a magnificent chance on that trip to the Elbe light ship I expected struck him suddenly and he acted on the impulse left to myself I was all right but the shortcut was a grand idea of his everything was in his favor wind, sea, sand, tide he thinks I'm dead but the crew I said, what about the crew that's another thing when he first moved to waiting for me of course they were on deck two of them I think hauling at sheets but by the time I had drawn tip level the Medusa had worn round again on her course that no one was on deck but Dullman at the wheel no one ever heard what he said wouldn't they have seen you again very likely not the weather was very thick and the dulcy is very small the incongruity of the whole business was striking me why should anyone want to kill Davies and why should Davies, the soul of modesty and simplicity imagine that anyone wanted to kill him he must have cogent reasons for he was the last man to give way to a morbid fancy go on, I said what was his motive a German finds an Englishman exploring a bit of German coast determines to stop him even to get rid of him it looks so far as if you were thought to be the spy Davies winced but he's not a German he said hotly he's an Englishman an Englishman yes I'm sure of it not that I've much to go on he professed to know very little English and never spoke it except a word or two now and then to help me out of a sentence and as to his German he seemed to me to speak it like a native but of course I'm no judge Davies sighed that's where I wanted someone like you you would have spotted him at once if he wasn't German I go more by a what you call it a general impression I suggested yes that's what I mean it was something in his looks and manner you know how different we are from foreigners and it wasn't only himself it was the way he talked I mean about cruising and the sea especially it's true he let me do most of the talking but all the same how can I explain it I felt we understood one another in a way that two foreigners wouldn't he pretended to think me a bit crazy for coming so far on a small boat but I could swear he knew as much about the game as I did for lots of little questions he asked had the right ring in them mind you all this is an afterthought I should never have bothered about it I'm not cut out for a Sherlock Holmes if it hadn't been for what followed it's rather vague I said have you no more definite reason for thinking him English there were one or two other things rather more definite said Davies slowly you know when he hoped to and hailed me proposing the shortcut I told you roughly what he said I forget the exact words but Abschneiden came in durch Watten and Abschneiden they call the banks Wats you know they were simple words and he shouted them loud so as to carry through the wind I understood what he meant but as I told you I hesitated before consenting I suppose he thought I didn't understand for just as he was drawing ahead again he pointed to the southern and then shouted through his hands as it trumpet shortcut through sans follow me the last two sentences in downright English I can hear those words now and I'll swear they were in his native tongue of course I thought nothing of it at the time I was quite aware that he knew a few English words though he had always mispronounced them an easy trick when you hear a suspect's nothing but I needn't say that just then I was observant of trifles I don't pretend to be able to unravel a plot and steer a small boat before a heavy sea at the same moment and if he was piloting you into the next world he could afford to commit himself before you parted was there anything else by the way how did the daughter strike you did she look English too two men cannot discuss a woman freely without a deep foundation of intimacy and until this day the subject had never risen between us in any form it was the last that was likely to for I could have divined that Davies would have met it with an armour of reserve he was busy putting on his armour now yet I could not help feeling a little brutal as I saw how badly he jointed his clumsy suit of mail our ages were the same but I laugh now to think how old and blasé I felt as the flush warmed his brown skin and he slowly propounded the verdict yes I think she did she talked nothing but German I suppose oh of course did you see much of her a good deal was she how frame it did she want you to sail the elbow with them she seemed to admitted Davies reluctantly clutching at his ally the matchbox but hang on don't dream that she knew what was coming he added with sudden fire I pondered and wandered shrinking from further inquisition easy as it would have been with so truthful a victim and banishing all sort of ill timed chaff there was a cross current in this strange affair whose depth and strength I was beginning to gauge with increasing seriousness I did not know my man yet and I did not know myself a conviction that events in the near future would force us into complete mutual confidence withheld me from pressing him too far I returned to the main question who was Dormann and what was his motive Davies struggled out of his armor I'm convinced, he said that he's an Englishman in German service he must be in German service for he had evidently been in those waters a long time and knew every inch of them of course it's a very lonely part of the world but he has a house on Nordenei Island and he, and all about him must be well known to a certain number of people one of his friends I happened to meet and what do you think he was a naval officer it was on the afternoon of the third day and we were having coffee on the deck of the Medusa and talking about next day's trip when a little launch came buzzing up from sea, I thought it was a good idea I thought it was a good idea I thought it was a good idea when a little launch came buzzing up from sea, it drew alongside and this chap I'm speaking of came on board shook hands with Dormann and stared hard at me Dormann introduced us calling him Commander von Bruning in command of the torpedo gunboat Blitz he pointed towards Nordenei and I saw her a low gray rat of a vessel anchored in the roads about two miles away anchored in the roads about two miles away it turned out she was doing the work of fishery guard ship on that part of the coast I must say I took to him at once he looked a real good sort and a splendid officer too just the sort of chap I should have liked to be you know I always wanted but that's an old story and can wait I had some talk with him and we got on capitely as far as we went but that wasn't far for I left pretty soon guessing that they wanted to be alone were they alone then I asked innocently oh for a lying Dormann was there of course explained Davies feeling for his armor again did he seem to know them well I pursued inconsequently oh yes very well senting a faint clue I felt the need of feminine weapons for my sensitive antagonist but the opportunity passed that was the last we saw of him he said we sailed as I told you at daybreak next morning now have you got any idea what I'm driving at a rough idea I answered go ahead Davies sat up to the table unrolled the chart with vigorous sweep of his two hands and took up his parable with new zest I start with two certainties he said one is that I was moved on it was just too inquisitive the other is that Dormann is at some devil's work there which is worth finding out now he paused in a gasping effort to be logical and articulate now well look at the chart no better still look first at this map of Germany it's on a small scale and you can see the whole thing he snatched down a pocket map from the shelf and unfolded it a huge empire stretching half over Central Europe an empire growing like wildfire I believe in people and wealth and everything they flicked the French and the Austrians and are the greatest military power in Europe I wish I knew more about all that but what I'm concerned with is their sea power it's a new thing with them but it's going strong and that emperor of theirs is running it for all it's worth he's a splendid chap he's right they've got no colonies to speak of and must have them like us they can't get them and keep them and they can't protect their huge commerce without naval strength the command of the sea is the thing nowadays isn't it I say don't think these are my ideas he added naively it's all out of Mahan and those fellows well the Germans have got a small fleet at present it's a sundering good one and they're building hard there's the blank and the blank he broke off into a digression on the armaments and speeds in which I could not follow him he seemed to know every ship by heart I had to recall him to the point well think of Germany as a new sea power he resumed the next thing is what is her coastline it's a very queer one as you know coastline in two by Denmark most of it lying east of that and looking on the Baltic which is practically an inland sea with its entrance blocked by Danish islands it was to evade that block that William built the ship canal from Kiel to the Elbe but that could be easily smashed in wartime far the most important bit of coastline is that which lies west of Denmark and looks on the North Sea it's there that Germany gets her head so to speak it's there that she fronts us and fronts the two great sea powers of western Europe and it's there that her greatest ports are and her richest commerce now it must strike you at once that it's ridiculously short compared with a huge country behind it from Borkum to the Elbe as the crow flies is only 70 miles add to that the west coast of Schleswig say 120 miles total say 200 compare that with the seaboard of France and England doesn't it stand to reason that every inch of it is important now what sort of coast is it even on this small map you can see it once by all those wavy lines, shoals and sand everywhere blocking 9 tenths of the land altogether and doing their best to block the other tenths where the great rivers run in now let's take it bit by bit you see it divides itself into three beginning from the west the first piece is from Borkum to Wangeroog 50 odd miles what's that like a string of sandy islands backed by sand the Ems river at the western end on the Dutch border leading to Emden not much of a place otherwise no coast towns at all second piece a deep sort of bay consisting of the three great estuaries the Jade, the Wether and the Elbe leading to Willemshaven their North Sea naval base Bremen and Hamburg total breaths of bay 20 odd miles only sandbanks littered about all through it third piece the Schleswig coast hopelessly fenced in behind a 6 to 8 mile fringe of sand no big towns one moderate river the Eider let's leave that third piece aside I may be wrong but in thinking this business out I've pegged away chiefly at the other two the 70 mile stretch from Borkum to the Elbe half of it estuaries and half islands it was there that I found the Medusa and it's that stretch that thanks to him I missed exploring I made an obvious conjecture I suppose there are forts and coast defenses perhaps he thought you would see too much by the way he saw your naval books of course exactly of course that was my first idea but it can't be that it doesn't explain things in the least to begin with there are no forts and can be none in that first division where the islands are there might be something on Borkum to defend the Ems but it's very unlikely and anyway I had passed Borkum and was it nor deny there's nothing else to defend of course it's different in the second division where the big rivers are there are probably hosts of forts and mines around Wilhelmshaven and Bremerhaven and at Cuxhaven just at the mass of the Elbe not that I should ever dream of bothering about them every steamer that goes in would see as much as me personally I much prefer to stay on board I don't often go on shore and good heavens Davies lent back and left joyously do I look like that kind of spy I figured to myself one of those romantic gentlemen that one reads of in six mini magazines with a Kodak in his tie pin a sketchbook in the lining of his coat and a selection of disguises in his hand luggage little disposed for merriment as I was I could not help smiling too about this coast resumed Davies in the event of war it seems to me much of it would be important sand and ore take the big estuaries first which of course might be attacked or blockaded by an enemy at first sight you would say that their main channels were the only things that mattered now in time of peace there's no secrecy about the navigation of these they're buoyed and lighted like streets open to the whole world and taking an immense traffic well chartered too as millions of pounds in commerce depend on them but now look at the sands they run through intersected as I showed you by threads of channels tidal for the most part and probably only known to smacks and shallow coasters like that gulliot of bottles it strikes me that in a war a lot might depend on these both in defence and attack for there's plenty of water in them at the right tide for patrol boats and small torpedo craft though I can see they take a lot of knowing now say we were at war with Germany both sides could use them as lines between the three estuaries and to take our own case a small torpedo boat not a destroyer mind you could on a dark night cut clean through from the jade to the Elbe and play the duke with the shipping there but the trouble is that I doubt if there's a soul in our fleet who knows those channels we haven't coasters there and as to yachts it's the most unlikely game for an English yacht to play at but it does so happen that I have a fancy for that sort of thing and would have explored those channels in the ordinary course I began to see his drift now for the islands I was rather stumped there at first I grunt because there are lashings of sand behind them and the same sort of intersecting channels seemed as nothing important to guard or attack why shouldn't a stranger ramble as he pleases through them still Dormann had his headquarters there and I was sure that had some meaning then it struck me that the same point held good for that strip of Frisian coast adjoins the estuaries and would also form a splendid base for raiding midgets which could travel unseen right through from the Ems to the Jade as by a covered way between the line of forts now here again it's an unknown land to us plenty of local Galleots travel it but strangers never I should say perhaps at most an occasional foreign yacht gropes in at one of the gaps between the islands for shelter from bad weather and it's precious lucky to get in safe once again it was my fad to like such places and Dormann cleared me out he's not a German but he's in with Germans and naval Germans too he's established on that coast and knows it by heart and he tried to drown me now what do you think he gazed at me long and anxiously end of chapter 8 recorded by Gazena in September 2008 chapter 9 of The Riddle of the Sands this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recorded by Gazena The Riddle of the Sands by Erskine Childers chapter 9 I sign articles it was not an easy question to answer for the affair was utterly outside my experience it's background the sea and it's actual scene a region of the sea of which I was blankly ignorant there were other difficulties that I could see perhaps better than Davies an enthusiast with hobbies who have been brooding in solitude over his dangerous adventure yet both narrative and theory which have lost I fear in interpretation to the reader had strongly affected me his forcible roughnesses, tricks of manner sudden bursts of ardour sudden retreats into shyness making up a charm that I cannot render I found myself continually trying to see the man through the boy to distinguish sober judgment from the hot-headed vagaries of youth not that I dreamed for a moment of dismissing the story of his wreck as a hallucination his clear blue eyes and sane simplicity through ridicule and such treatment evidently too he wanted my help a matter that might well have influenced my opinion on the facts had he been other than he was but it would have taken a finished and finite clod to resist the attraction of the man and the enterprise and I take no credit whatever for deciding to follow him right or wrong so when I stated my difficulties I knew very well that we should go there are two main points that I don't understand I said first you've never explained why an Englishman should be watching those waters and ejecting intruders and secondly your theory doesn't supply sufficient motive there may be much in what you say about the navigation of those channels but it's not enough you say you wanted to drown you a big charge requiring a big motive to support it but I don't deny that you've got a strong case Dave is lighted up I'm willing to take a good deal for granted until we find out more he jumped up and did a thing like what I've done before or since bumped his head against the cabin roof you mean that he'll come he exclaimed why I hadn't even asked you yes I want to go back and clear up the whole thing I know now that I want to telling it all to you has been such an immense relief and a lot depended on you too and that's why I've been feeling such an absolute hypocrite I say how can I apologize don't worry about me I've had a splendid time and I'll come right enough but I should like to know exactly what you no but wait till I just make a clean rest of it about you I mean you see I came to the conclusion that I could do nothing alone not that two are really necessary for managing the boat in the ordinary way but for this sort of job you do want to besides I can't speak German properly and I'm a dull chap all round if my theory as you call it you're right it's a case for sharp wits if ever there was one so I thought of you you're clever and I know you had lived in Germany and knew German and I knew he added with a little awkwardness that you had done a good deal of yachting but of course I ought to have told you what you came in for roughing it in a small boat with no crew I felt ashamed of myself when you wired back so promptly and when you came Dave is stammered and hesitated in the humane resolve not to wound my feelings of course I couldn't help noticing that it wasn't what you expected was the delicate summary he arrived at but he took it splendidly he hastened to add only somehow I couldn't bring myself to talk about the plan it was good enough for you to come out at all without bothering you with harebrained schemes I wasn't even sure of myself it's a tangled business there were reasons there are reasons still he looked nervously at me which well which make it a tangled business I had sought a confidence was coming and was disappointed I was in an idiotic state of uncertainty he hurried on but the plan grew on me more and more when I saw how you were taking to the life of yourself all that about the ducks on the Frisian coast was humbug part of a stupid idea of decoying you there and gaining time however you quite naturally objected and last night I meant to chuck the whole thing up and give you the best time here I could then bottles turned up stop I put in did you know he might turn up when you sailed here yes I knew he might and now it's all come out and he'll come what a fool I've been long before he had finished I had grasped the whole meaning of the last few days and had read their meaning into scores of little incidents which had puzzled me for goodness sake don't apologize I protested I could make confessions too if I liked and I doubt if you've been such a fool as you think I'm a patient that wants a little nursing and it has been the merest chance all through that I haven't rebelled and built it we've got a good deal to thank the weather for and other little stimulants and you don't know yet my reasons for deciding to try your cure at all my cure said Davis what in the world do you mean it was jolly decent of you to never mind there's another view of it but it doesn't matter now let's return to the point what's your plan of action it's this was the prompt reply to get back to the North Sea via Kiel and the ship canal then there will be two objects one to work back to Nordenai where I left off before exploring all those channels through the estuaries and islands the other to find Dolman discover what he's up to and settle with him the two things may overlap he and his yacht are but I'll be bound there somewhere in those same waters and probably back at Nordenai it's a delicate matter I'm used dubiously if your theory is correct spying on a spy it's not like that said Dave is indignantly anyone who likes can sail about there and explore those waters I say you don't really think it's like that do you I don't think you're likely to do anything dishonourable I hasten to explain I grant you the sea's public property in your sense I only mean that developments are possible which you don't reckon on there must be more to find out than the mere navigation of those channels and if that's so mightn't we come to be genuine spies ourselves and after all hang it exclaimed Davey's if it comes to that why shouldn't we look at it like this the man's an Englishman and if he's in with Germany he's a traitor to us and we as Englishmen have a right to expose him if we can't do it without spying we have a right to spy at our own risk there's a stronger argument than that he tried to take your life I don't care a rap about that I'm not such an ass as to thirst for revenge and all that like some Japanese shilling shocker but it makes me wild to think of that fellow masquerading as a German and up to who knows what mischief mischief enough to make him want to get rid of anyone I'm keen about the sea and I think they're apt to be a bit slack at home he continued and consequently those admiralty chaps want waking up anyway as far as I'm concerned it's quite natural that I should look him up again quite I agreed you parted friends and they may be delighted to see you you'll have plenty to talk about I I'm said Davies withered into silence by the they hello I say do you know it's three o'clock how the time has gone and by Jova I believe the fog's lifting I've returned with a shock to the present to the weeping walls the discoloured deal-table the ghastly breakfast litter the symbols of the life I had pledged myself to disillusionment was making rapid headway when Davies returned and said with energy what do you say to starting for Keel at once the fog's gone and there's a breeze from the southwest now I protested why it'll mean sailing all night won't it oh no said Davies not with luck why it's dark at seven yes but it's only 25 miles I know it's not exactly a fair wind but we shall like close hold most of the way the glass is falling we ought to take this chance to argue about winds with Davies was hopeless and the upshot was that we started lunchless a pale sun was flickering out of masses of racing vapor and through delicate vistas between them the fair land of Schleswig now revealed and now withdrew her pretty face as they're smiling adieu to her faithless courtiers the clank of our chain brought up Bartels to the deck of the Johannes rubbing his eyes and pulling round his throat a grey shawl which gave him a comical likeness to a lodging-house landlady receiving the milk in mourning disabille we're off Bartels said Davies without looking up from his work see you at Keel I hope you are always in a hurry captain bleated the old man shaking his head he should wait till tomorrow the sky is not good and it will be dark before you are off a confeder Davies laughed and very soon his mentor's sad little figure was lost in haze that was a curious evening dusk soon fell and the devil made a determined effort to unmann me first with a scrambled tea which was the tardy substitute for an orderly lunch then with a new and nauseous duty filling the side-lights which meant squatting in the fox-call to inhale paraffin and double in lump-black lastly with an all-round attack on my nerves as the night fell on our frail little vessel pitching on her precarious way through driving mist in a sense I think I went through the same sort of mental crisis as when I sat upon my Portmonteau at Flensburg the main issue was not seriously in question for I had signed on in the dulce Bella for good or ill but in doing so I had outrun myself and still wanted an outlook a mood suited to the enterprise proof against petty discouragements not for the first time a sense of the ludicrous came to my assistance as I saw myself fretting in London under my burden of self-imposed woes nicely weighing that insidious invitation and stepping finally into the snare with the dignity due to my importance kidnapped as neatly as ever a peaceful clerk was kidnapped by a lawless press-gang and in the end finding as the arch-conspirator a guileless and warm-hearted friend who called me clever, lodged me in a cell and blandly invited me to talk jammin' to the purpose as he was aiming at a little secret service on the high seas close in the train of humour came romance veiling her face but I knew it was the rustle of her robes that I heard in the foam beneath me I knew that it was she who handed me the cup of sparkling wine and made me drink and be merry strange to me though it was I knew the taste when it touched my lips it was not that bastard concoction I had tasted in the pseudo-bohemias of Soho it was not the showy but insipid beverage I should have drunk my fill of at Morvan Lodge it was the purest of her pure vintages instilling the ancient inspiration which, under many guises quickens thousands of better brains than mine but it was the purest of her pure vintages better brains than mine but whose essence is always the same the gay pursuit of a perilous quest then and there I try to clinch the matter and keep that mood in the main I think I succeeded though I had many lapses for the present my veins tingled with a draught the wind humming into the mainsail the ghostly wave crests riding up out of the void whispered a low thrilling chorus and praise of adventure potent indeed must the spell have been for in reality that first night sail teemed with terrors for me it is true that it began well for the haze dispersed as Davies had prophesied and bulk point lighthouse guided us safely to the mass of Kielfjord it was during this stage that crouching together aft our pipe-bolls glowing sympathetically we returned to the problem before us for we had shot out on our quest with volcanic precipitation leaving much to be discussed I gleaned a few more facts though I dispelled no doubts Davies had only seen the door-mans on their yacht where father and daughter were living for the time their villager at Nordenei and their home-life there were unknown to him though he had landed once at the harbour himself further he had heard vaguely of a stepmother absent at Hamburg they were to have joined her at their arrival at that city which, be it noted, stands a long way up the Elbe forty miles and more above Kuxhafen the town at the mass the exact arrangements made on the day before the fatal voyage was that the two yachts should have met in the evening at Kuxhafen and proceed up the river together then in the ordinary course Davies would have parted company at Brunsbüttel fifteen miles up which is the western terminus of the ship canal to the Baltic such at least had been his original intention but putting two and two together I gathered that latterly and perhaps unconfessed to himself his resolve had weakened and that he would have followed the Medusa to Hamburg or indeed the end of the world impelled by the same motive that contrary to all his tastes and principles had induced him to abandon his life in the islands and undertake the voyage at all but on that point he was immovably reticent and all I could conclude was that the strange cross-current connected with Dormann's daughter had given him cruel pain and had clouded his judgement to distraction but that he now was prepared to forget or ignore it and steer a settled course the facts I elicited raised several important questions was it not known by this time that he and his yacht had survived Davis was convinced that it was not he may have waited at Cuxhaven or inquired at the Lockard-Bruns-Buttle he said but there was no need for I tell you the thing was a certainty if I had struck and stuck on that outer bank as it was a hundred to one I should do the yacht would have broken up in three minutes Bartels would never have seen me and couldn't have got me if he had no one would have seen me and nothing whatever has happened since to show that they know I'm alive they I suggested who are they if Dormann were an accredited agent of the German Admiralty but no it was incredible that the murderer of a young Englishman should be connived at in modern days by a friendly and civilised government yet if he were not such an agent the whole theory fell to the ground I believe said Davies that Dormann did it off his own bat and beyond that I can't see and I don't know what it matters at present alive or dead we're doing nothing wrong and have nothing to be ashamed of I think it matters a good deal I objected who will be interested in our resurrection and how will we to go to work openly or secretly I suppose we shall keep out of the way as much as we can as for keeping out of the way so Davies juckily as he peered to windward under the fossil we must pass the ship canal that's a public highway where anyone can see you after that there won't be much difficulty wait till you see the place he gave a low contented laugh which would have frozen my marrow yesterday by the way that reminds me he added we must stop at Q for the inside of a day and lay in a lot of stores we want to be independent of the shore I said nothing independence of the shore in a seven tunnel in October what an end to Amat about nine o'clock we weathered the point, entered Q Fjord and began a dead beat to the windward of seven miles to the head of it where Q lies hitherto saved for the latent qualms concerning my total helplessness if anything happened to Davies interest and excitement had upheld me well my alarms only began when I sought them nearly over Davies had frequently urged me to turn in and sleep and I went so far as to go below and coil myself up on the lee sofa with my pencil and diary suddenly there was a flapping and rattling on deck and I began to slide on to the floor what's happened I cried in a panic for there was Davies stooping in at the cabin door nothing he said chafing his hands for warms and I went out hand me the glasses will you there's a steamer ahead I say if you really don't want to turn in you might make some soup just let's look at the chart he studied it with maddening deliberation while I wondered how near the steamer was and what the yacht was doing meanwhile I suppose it's not really necessary for anyone to be at the helm I remarked oh she's alright for a minute he said without looking up two one and a half one lights and lines sourced by west got a match he expended to two and tumbled upstairs again you don't want me do you I shouted after him no but come up when you've put the kettle on it's a pretty beat up the fjord lovely breeze his legs disappeared the sort of buoyant fatalism possessed me as I finished my notes and poured over the stove it upheld me too when I went on deck and watched the pretty beat whose prettiness was mainly due to the crowd of fog-bound shipping steamers, smacks and sailing vessels now once more on the move in the confined fairway of the fjord their baleful eyes of red green or yellow opening and shutting, brightening and fading while shore lights and anchor lights added to my bewilderment and a strobing of screws filled the air like the distant roar of london streets in fact every time we spun round for our dart across the fjord I felt like a rustic matron gathering her skirts for the transit of the strand on a busy night Davies however was the street Arab who zigzags under the horses feet unscathed and all the time he discoursed placidly on the simplicity and safety of night sailing if only you are careful obeying rules and burnt good lights as we were nearing the hot glow in the sky that denoted Kiel past a huge scintillating bulk moored in midstream warships he murmured ecstatically at one o'clock we anchored off the town End of Chapter 9 Recorded by Gazena in September 2008