The Commodore at Sea A. Bertram Chandler

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like to be remembered on this world as a fair weather sailor. Even so, he saw in his mind s eye that
chart the crowded isobars, the wind arrows with their clockwise circulation. Now the heavy swell
running outward from the center, like ripples from a pebble dropped into a pond, was beginning to make
itself felt. He looked at the aneroid barometer on the bulkhead. The needle had fallen ten millibars since
he had last set the pointer, two hours ago.
He said, I fear we re in for a dirty night
She said, It s what you re paid for.
He grunted, got up from his chair, went up to the bridge by the inside companionway to the
chartroom. He looked at the instruments over the chart table. According to the Chernikeeff Log, speed
through the water had already dropped by half a knot. The barograph showed a fairly steep fall in
pressure. The met. screen, set for the area through which the ship was passing, showed a chart almost
identical with the one that he had last seen.
He went out to the bridge. The sky was mainly overcast now, with the larger of the two Aquarian
moons, almost full, showing fitfully through ragged breaks in the cloud. There was high altitude wind,
although it had yet to be felt at sea level. But the swell seemed to be increasing.
Young Mr. Denham, the Third Officer, came across from the wing of the bridge. He said, rather too
cheerfully, Looks like a blow, sir.
We can t expect fine weather all the time, Grimes told him. He stood with his legs well apart,
braced against the motion of the ship. He wondered if he would be seasick, then consoled himself with
the thought that both the actual Lord Nelson and the fictional Lord Hornblower had been afflicted by this
malady.
Mr. Denham since Grimes had torn that strip off him regarding the unauthorized engine movements
he had tended to overcompensate went on chirpily, At this time of the year, sir, the revolving storms in
these waters are unpredictable. In theory the center should be traveling east, away from us, but in
practice it s liable to do anything.
Yes, sir. I remember one when I was in the old Sally Sara Winneck, that is. Captain Tregenza
tried to outmaneu-ver it; we had a pile of deck cargo that trip, teak logs from Port Mandalay. But it was
almost as though it had a brain of its own. Finally it sat right on top of us and matched speed and course,
no matter which way we steered. We lost all the cargo off the foredeck, and the wheelhouse windows
were smashed in ...
Cheerful little swine ... thought Grimes. He stared ahead into the intermittently moonlit night, at the
long swell that was coming in at an angle to the ship s course. Sonya Win-neck s bows lifted then
dipped, plunging into and through the moving dune of water. They lifted again, and a white cascade
poured aft from the break of the fo c sle, spangled with jewels of luminescence. Grimes said, Anyhow,
we have no deck cargo this trip.
No, sir.
He remained on the bridge a while longer. There was nothing that he could do, and he knew it. The
ship was far from unseaworthy, capable of riding out a hurricane. There was ample sea room; the Low
Grenadines were many miles to the north of her track. And yet he felt uneasy, could not shake off a
nagging premonition. Something, he somehow knew, was cooking. But what, when and where?
At last he grunted, You know where to find me if you want me. Good night, Mr. Denham.
Good night, sir.
Back in his quarters his uneasiness persisted. He told So-nya that he would sleep on the settee in his
day cabin, so as to be more readily available in the event of any emergency. She did not argue with him;
she, too, felt a growing tension in the air. It could have been that she was sensitive to his moods but, she
told him, she didn t think so. She quoted, By the pricking of my thumbs something wicked this way
comes.
He laughed. A tropical revolving storm is not wicked, my dear. Like any other manifestation of the
forces of nature it is neither good nor evil.
She repeated, Something wicked this way comes.
They said good night then, and she retired to the bedroom and he disposed himself comfortably on
the settee. He was rather surprised that sleep was not long in coming.
But he did not enjoy his slumber for more than a couple of hours. A particularly violent lurch
awakened him, almost pitched him off his couch. He switched on a light, looked at the aneroid
barometer. The needle was down another twenty millibars. And, in spite of the well-insulated plating of
the accommodation, he could hear the wind, both hear and feel the crash of the heavy water on deck. He
thrust his feet into his sandals and, clad only in his shorts (Master s privilege) went up to the bridge. He
found the Second Officer it was now the middle watch in the wheelhouse, looking ahead through the
big clear view screen. Grimes joined him. When his eyes became accustomed to the semi-darkness he
could see that the wind was broad on the star
board bow; he could see, too, that with each gust It was veering, working gradually around from
southeast to south. Southern Hemisphere, he thought. Clockwise circulation, and the low barometer
on my left hand ... Now that he had something to work on he might as well avoid the center with its
confused, heavy seas. Bring her round to starboard easily, he told the Second Officer. Bring wind and
sea ahead.
Wind and sea ahead, sir. The officer went to the controls of the autopilot. Grimes watched the
bows swinging slowly, then said, That should do, Mr. Andersen.
Course one three five now, sir.
Grimes went back into the chartroom, looked down at the chart, busied himself briefly with parallel [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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