The Land God Made in Anger. John Davis Gordon

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СКАЧАТЬ her refrigerated catch, and give the crew a few nights’ shore-leave. He tied the Bonanza up alongside the Kuiseb wharf, where he always sold his fish, and left Potgieter in charge while he went to the bank to draw some money for the Coloured crew.

      McQuade and Tucker and the Kid and Elsie went uptown in the Kid’s new car. The Kid’s real name was Nigel Childe and he used to be a captain-gunner in the All England Whaling Company fifteen or more years ago. His father had been chairman of the board and the Kid had come into a lot of money, but he had spent most of it before McQuade persuaded him to invest in Sausmarine. The Kid could not afford this new car, but said that he could not afford to do without it either on account of he was now forty years old, a sombre anniversary for a hedonist, and he was madly in love with his wife, Beryl the Bitch, who was always threatening to leave him; while he was at sea, she prepared long memoranda of her grievances. Today the Kid was hurrying uptown to the dentist to have his new smile fitted, which he could also ill-afford, as a surprise for Beryl: last month the dentist had filed his upper teeth down to points and fitted temporary caps while his smart permanent ones were being made, and now he wished he’d kept his own old ones. Hugo Tucker was the ship’s engineer, the smallest ex-shareholder in Sausmarine, and he could play the mouth organ, music as mournful as his countenance. Tucker was always worried, often about the Bonanza’s engines, mostly about his own money, and always about his wife. He was a South African but married to Rosie, an Australian who used to earn her very own money as a dress-maker in Adelaide – and now where was she? – broke in fucking Walvis Bay! From heaven to hell in one airline ticket, and all because of McQuade, the Kid and Elsie and their hare-brained schemes. Elsie’s real name was L. C. Brooks, the ship’s cook and book-keeper, who had been with McQuade and the Kid on the whalers in the old days. Elsie did not have woman-trouble because he did not like women but now that he was over fifty he had given up the other way too. ‘There’s nothing more pathetic than an ageing queer,’ Elsie said, ‘I’ll just bite the bullet and grow old gracefully.’

      They all got into the Kid’s new car. It was a Renault and he called it Rene because it was electronically programmed to speak to him. ‘Bonjour, Rene,’ the Kid said as he switched the ignition on.

      Rene said: ‘Fasten your seat belts please.’

      ‘You heard him,’ Kid said, ‘fasten your bleedin’ seat belts before he calls the gendarmes.’

      Rene said: ‘Oil pressure is satisfactory.’

      ‘Merci, Rene,’ Kid said.

      ‘Water pressure is satisfactory.’

      ‘Merci, Rene.’

      ‘All systems are satisfactory.’

      ‘Merci, Rene.’ He put the car into reverse.

      ‘Release your handbrake,’ Rene requested.

      ‘What happens if you actually drive off with your handbrake on?’ Tucker asked with morbid professional interest.

      ‘He screams Mon Dieu, mon Dieu! and heads straight for the AA.’

      They drove out of the sandy compound, into Oceana Road. There were big oil tanks and acres of container-yards on the raw desert shore, and the sand lay across the tarmac road in thick streaks and ridges. They drove past the fishing compounds and the Kid said mournfully, ‘At least you’ll grow old gracefully with your own teeth to bite the bullet with, Elsie.’

      ‘But why did you do it?’ Elsie complained.

      ‘She wrote me this memorandum,’ the Kid said, ‘which went: “Nag-nag, nag-nag, and furthermore I wish you’d do something about your teeth.” And that got me right here.’ He tapped his heart. ‘She’d never complained about my teeth before.’

      ‘The only time she won’t complain is when you strike an oilwell in your backyard!’

      ‘Please,’ the Kid said. ‘Please, don’t talk about her like that.’

      ‘I’m very sorry,’ Elsie said firmly, ‘but why don’t you let her go if she’s always threatening to leave, instead of borrowing thousands of rand to have your perfectly good teeth filed down like a goddam Amazon headhunter. Honestly, what you boys do for women!’

      ‘We don’t want to grow old gracefully, Elsie,’ McQuade said. ‘We want to grow old shagged out.’

      ‘I’m serious,’ Elsie said seriously. ‘Look at you all! You’re all a mess! Kid should be a millionaire and all, but what is he? – an ageing playboy! And look at you, James, the Stormtrooper’s always throwing tantrums because she’s thirty-five and wants to get married so you can spend the rest of your life supporting her—’

      ‘In be-yoo-tiful condition for thirty-five,’ the Kid murmured.

      ‘And look what happened to you when you did get married: Vicky writes you a Dear John letter while you’re in prison—’

      ‘It wasn’t exactly a Dear John,’McQuade corrected mildly.

      ‘But the state you were in when you came to England, and the money you spent looking for her! You were all screwed up for years, but look at you now, forty years old and with all your brains, you should be at the top of the tree, but instead you’re a rolling stone who’s gathered no moss. Look at Tucker – every penny he earns he gives to Rosie but does he get any gratitude? Moan, moan, moan.’ He snorted. ‘And now Kid and his stupid new teeth!’

      ‘Please don’t say they’re stupid,’ the Kid whined. ‘It’s done now.’

      ‘Yes, Elsie,’ McQuade agreed.

      Elsie suddenly looked worried. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. What I mean is I worry about you boys! Look, I’m not against women – I just wish you’d marry the right girls.’

      ‘You better be careful, Elsie!’ Tucker suddenly shouted. He looked close to tears.

      Elsie groaned and sat back. ‘Oh dear.’ Then he put a hairy hand on Tucker’s shoulder. ‘Look, all I mean is, I do the accounts and I know every penny you earn. Remember … you guys are the only family I’ve got.’

      The episode was terminated by their arrival at the municipal market. Elsie got out to do the revictualling for the ship. He leant in the window and shook the Kid’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry.’ He turned and lumbered off into the market. McQuade said:

      ‘He means well, Kid. And Beryl’s going to love ‘em.’

      The Kid groaned. ‘Will you please, please, please for Christ’s sake quit talking about my stupid new teeth!’

      They parted outside the dentist’s surgery. They wished the Kid luck but he did not even answer, just stomped off belligerently. McQuade and Tucker walked to the bank and cashed a company cheque for the Coloureds. Tucker returned to the ship to pay them, and McQuade walked to his house in Fifth Street.

      He called his house Railway Yard View, which is a pretty bloody awful name for a house, but then, as McQuade said, Walvis Bay is a pretty bloody awful town. Half the houses in Fifth Street were empty, windows broken, paint peeling, abandoned. McQuade’s windows were intact and the Stormtrooper had made him some curtains (‘How you can live like this, Englisch!’), he had a coloured maid СКАЧАТЬ