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Authors: Madeleine L'engle

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BOOK: Troubling a Star
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The next morning we had a very early wake-up call and after coffee and a roll headed for the Zodiacs. Quimby had warned everybody not to drink too much coffee, because we'd have an hour's trip each way in the Zodiacs, and there weren't going to be any johns along the way. The sea was moderately calm, despite the frigid winds—katabatic winds, Quim called them, and I liked the word because it sounded as bitter as the winds.
A few people stayed on board and slept in, but most of us made it. Greta was feeling miserable, Siri said, and was staying in her bunk, and Leilia and her friends, who'd been here before, were catching up on sleep. So was Otto, Jorge told us. Jack was sitting across from me in the Zodiac, and I wished he'd take off his cowboy hat, which was blocking my view. Dick and Angelique were next to me, Dick determined not to miss anything he didn't have to.
It was beautiful in the semi-light of what would still have been deep night at home. The icebergs gleamed as if by moonlight, and there was a pearly quality to the day, as though the planet were a jewel in a great shell. We were heading for an island off the coast of the Antarctic peninsula, where an explorer called Nordenskjöld and his companions had been stranded during the 1902–3 winter. When our Zodiac approached the beach, Benjy let out a startled exclamation, and I could see several bright orange tents.
“Who the—” Benjy started, and then, as our Zodiac was pulled up onto the beach, “Vespugians. What the—”
The second Zodiac pulled up next to ours, and Quim jumped out, saying, “Hey, Benj, they shouldn't—” and then shut his mouth as several tent flaps opened and half-dressed men came staggering sleepily out to see what was going on.
A bulky man who looked like, but wasn't, Captain Nausinio came hurtling toward us, buttoning and buckling his uniform jacket and shouting ferociously, and I thought I heard the word
científico,
and then Quimby was shouting back.
Jorge splashed into shore, talking to the bulky man, then to Quim, and they both quieted down, though the bulky man was scowling and Quim looked anything but pleased.
Todd was giving Dick a hand out of the Zodiac, and I heard him mutter, “Scientific, my Aunt Fanny.”
Jorge was carrying his enormous camera cases and was slung with two other cases of equipment, which he put down at his feet. He continued talking to the Vespugian in a calm, smiling way. The still-scowling Vespugian officer picked up Jorge's cases and took them into one of the tents.
Quimby said, “Well, this was an unexpected surprise, ladies and gentlemen. We were given no indication that anybody was going to be here.”
Benjy muttered to Dick, “Spurious scientists, if I ever saw one. Everybody knows the Vespugians want to be a presence in Antarctica.” Jorge, at the same time, was reassuring everybody that the tents represented a small scientific excursion, there was nothing to be disturbed about, everything was fine.
More soldiers were coming out of the tents, and suddenly one of them waved at me, shouting out, “Vickee!”
It was Esteban. I waved back, a reflex of recognition
through my startlement. I turned to Jorge. “What on earth is Esteban doing here?”
Jorge went over to Esteban and shook his hand, saying to me over his shoulder, “It is not that surprising to see him. The Vespugian army is very small, as our country is small, and the General wants to give the young men as full and varied an experience as possible during their two years of service.”
The other soldiers were not as welcoming as Esteban. Some of them appeared confused by our presence. A couple turned to Esteban with what seemed to be both scolding and questioning, and the one who looked like Captain Nausinio and who seemed to be the leader came up to Quimby again, still exuding belligerence.
Once more Jorge intervened, talking, smiling, laughing. I heard him say something about Generalissimo Guedder as he patted the bulky soldier on the shoulder, and then apparently asked him what he had done with the camera equipment.
The Vespugian pointed toward his tent and Jorge nodded, saying to Quim, “Good, my equipment is very expensive and not replaceable in Vespugia. I'm glad to have it under cover until I'm ready to take pictures of Nordenskjöld's hut.”
Jack Nessinger came up to him, and the two of them moved past the cluster of tents.
Benjy turned to me with a grin. “The Vespugians thought—maybe they still think—we're an invading army, come to take over their post. Jorge has been trying to reassure them. I guess being a pal of the General's gives him considerable clout.”
“If they weren't expecting us,” Dick said, “a whole lot of people in identical red parkas arriving in Zodiacs would seem pretty threatening.”
“We weren't expecting
them
,” Quimby growled. “I don't think they're supposed to be here. They're certainly not a registered station.”
“Thank goodness for Jorge,” Angelique said, “and his diplomatic ability. I thought the captain was ready to line us all up and shoot us.”
There were half a dozen tents, and some of the emerging soldiers had gone back in and were now fully dressed in their uniforms. It was early, not yet five in the morning, and they must have been sound asleep. Esteban had gone back into his tent, and now he came out, buttoning his uniform jacket. He waved again and smiled at me, and spoke to the Vespugian leader. Esteban was pointing at Siri and me, then at Sam, and nodding and smiling. I think he was explaining that he had already met us. The bulky captain stood with his legs apart, hands on hips, scowling as he listened. He wasn't wearing his gun, though some of the others had picked up theirs. “They've become a gun-happy people,” Sam muttered.
Jorge walked over to us. “Esteban will lead you to Nordenskjöld's hut, and I'll get everything here straightened out with the captain.”
Quim muttered, “I suppose it's politic, having one of them be our guide. Jorge knows we're perfectly capable of taking the group to the hut, but this gives their being here more plausibility, I suppose.” He did not sound pleased.
We followed Esteban, crunching along in our boots. I was walking with Sam, but he said, “Go walk with Esteban, Vicky. I think he'd like that.”
Dick, just behind us, grunted assent. “This can't be a pleasant post, no matter what the reason for the Vespugian presence here.”
Angelique smiled at me. “Esteban has been casting longing glances at you.”
I thought they were exaggerating my importance to Esteban, especially as the language barrier was as high as ever, but I moved up to walk beside him, and he gave me a brilliant smile. Then he handed me another postcard, this one of Weddell seals on a large ice floe. He nodded and smiled and nodded again as though he were trying to tell me something. I turned the postcard over, and on the back was written in pencil: TEN CUIDADO! GUÁRDATE! Even though my Spanish is nonexistent, I was pretty sure it meant BE CAREFUL!
T
he Zodiac had come so near that my heart had quickened with hope, and even after I had long given it up, my heart continued to pound. I listened for the sound of the motor as it died away. The Zodiac had gone after something—someone—else. Had left me.
It had been so close. I was sure someone had to have heard me, seen me waving my red parka.
On the
Argosy
they must know I was gone. My manifest number would be red side up, not yellow. Benjy had told about going back for someone who had not turned his number. They would not sail off and leave me. Benjy would not let that happen. An alarm would have been raised. All I had to do was wait.
How long had it taken for Shackleton to rescue his men? We'd watched a movie about that one evening. He'd tried four times to get to Elephant Island. It took him how many weeks? Months? I had no lifeboat to shelter me. I couldn't catch fish with my bare hands. I wouldn't last many more hours, much less days.
 
 
“Esteban.” I spoke slowly, enunciating clearly, as though that would help him to understand. “What are you doing here?”
Esteban frowned, obviously not understanding a word.
Benjy, who had been trotting up and down beside our group, herding us like a sheepdog, came over. “Communication problem?”
I nodded. “Esteban was our guide at the Vespugian pyramids, so I just wanted to ask him what he's doing here, and about this postcard he gave me.”
Benjy spoke to Esteban in Spanish, stumbling over the words but getting them out. He listened to Esteban's reply, then said to me, “They're here only for a few days, on what he said is a sort of camping trip. But”—he shrugged—“like I said, the Vespugians want to be a presence in Antarctica, and my bet is that's why they're here. I can't see any signs of science.”
He didn't say anything about the postcard with what I took to be a warning, and I didn't push it, though it gave me a definitely chilly feeling.
I needed Cook. If anything else happened, I'd have to get Benjy alone. I had to talk to someone.
Siri came up to us then, shook hands with Esteban, then made motions with her fingers, like playing an oboe.
Esteban smiled at us, and his eyes were the color of the blue in the icebergs, not cold, but radiant. He spoke to Benjy, rather apologetically.
Benjy translated. “He says he can't bring his oboe here because—something about heat and cold. It doesn't make much sense.”
Siri said quickly, “It makes a lot of sense. When he plays the oboe, the warmth of his breath heats it, while the cold outside air chills it, and the opposition of heat and cold would probably crack it. That's tough. He needs to practice regularly.”
We had reached the hut we had come to see, and that's all it was, a hut built of smallish stones, barely still standing. It was interesting if you knew the history behind it, but not in itself.
Angelique said, “We're on a comfortable boat. It's summer. What do you think this hut would have been like in the Antarctic winter?”
Sam said, “As an explorer, I've sometimes wondered which is preferable, freezing to death or broiling.”
Dick leaned on his cane, smiling rather grimly. “Surgery in the jungle when your hands are so slippery with sweat you can hardly hold the instruments isn't much fun.”
Angelique put her mittened hand on her husband's arm. “Not to mention bombs and machine guns.”
Dick jerked in reflex as we heard engines above us, and three helicopters began circling. They flew over our heads, and we could see down the slope of land to the water, and the helicopters dipped low over the
Argosy
.
“Vespugian helicopters.” Sam pointed his camera skyward.
Dick relaxed. “Just checking out all these redcoats in their little black boats zooming in from their little red ship.”
Siri asked, “Why're they so nervous? Do they really think we're an invading troop?”
Leilia smiled at her. “Vespugia's been invaded quite a few times. I don't blame them for checking us out.”
“Maybe,” Angelique said, “they're nervous because they aren't supposed to be here.”
Esteban, who of course hadn't understood a word we were saying, indicated that it was time for us to go, and we followed him back toward the Vespugian tents. The helicopters circled a few times and then disappeared over the horizon.
Benjy came up to us, explaining, “Jorge thinks the captain here is probably upset by our presence because he realizes he's violated the Antarctic Treaty by being here with weapons. The treaty prohibits ‘any measure of a military nature, such as the establishment of military bases and fortifications. ' Jorge says the poor man is so worried by our unexpected arrival that he's not thinking clearly, and he's forgotten that the treaty goes on to say that it does not prevent the use of military personnel or equipment for scientific research.”
“Hm,” Dick said.
“Hm, indeed,” Benjy agreed. “But that's why he radioed his base, and why we were checked over by their helicopters. Never a dull moment.”
Most of our group had taken pictures of the hut, and still had their cameras out, and Leilia asked Quimby if it was all right to take pictures of the Vespugians and their camp. It ended up with our red parkaed gang taking pictures of the Vespugian soldiers, and the Vespugians taking pictures of us, and finally everybody relaxed.
Quim called us to come to the Zodiacs; it was time to go back to the
Argosy
. As I climbed in one of the Zodiacs, with
Sam right behind me, I noticed Jorge going into a tent and coming out with all his camera stuff.
 
At lunch, Otto sat with us on the nonsmokers' side. We had to tell Otto all about the morning's adventures, and he laughed as though the whole thing were totally funny, and I suppose it was.
“So Jorge calmed everybody down?” he asked.
“With great diplomacy,” Sam said.
Leilia lavishly buttered her roll. “If Jorge is such a bigwig, I wonder what he's doing on a funny little ship like the
Argosy
?”
“Fun,” Dick said. “People in his position need to get away and have a rest periodically. That's why I'm here—love of travel and a need for stress release from working with little bones.”
“Have you forgotten you're ship's doc?” Sam asked. “What about big bones?”
“I've set a couple on previous vacations,” Dick acknowledged, “but it's very different from the constant pressure of my everyday life.”
Angelique laughed. “So take good care of yourself, Sam. Dick would be very cross with you if you fell.”
“Never fear,” Sam said. “I'm a cautious bloke. That's how I've survived for so long. As for Jorge, I agree with Dick. And he obviously loves the Antarctic.”
Leilia leaned back in her chair. “As Benjy says, this place is contagious. A lot of my friends think I'm nuts, leaving Fairbanks
for the Antarctic. Mostly we Alaskans try to get away to someplace warm, like Hawaii. But it's so beautiful here I keep coming back, so I can understand that it's equally addictive for Jorge.”
“And, thank God,” Angelique added, “the big cruise ships haven't taken over. At least not yet.”
“Maybe,” Sam suggested, “Jorge is here to keep an eye on things for Guedder.”
“Why not?” Greta asked sharply. “Aren't you being a little suspicious, Sam?”
Sam raised his bushy brows. “Suspicious? I thought I was making a reasonable suggestion. If Jorge is working for his country, bravo for him.”
I thought of Otto and our conversation over the mint tea. This was a world I knew nothing about. I love my country, but I guess I've always taken it for granted. My roots are deep in New England and a democratic government. But I've never had to fight for it, or do anything that demanded courage or sacrifice. Our parents told us that two of our downstairs walls are double thick, with about a foot of space between, and they were made that way long after the house was built, in order to make a hiding space for escaped slaves on the Underground Railroad. I was glad our house had been part of that, but it was a long time ago, and I'd never really thought about the people who lived there then putting themselves in danger for their principles and for other human beings.
Now, having been in Vespugia, having been in the Falklands, having talked with Otto, I was opening my eyes to a new way of seeing. Esteban cared enough about Vespugia to risk his
life for it, I thought. And now I was in the strange world of the Antarctic, where Benjy and Quim were as passionate about protecting this amazing land as Otto was about making Zlatovica into a viable principality. Or wasn't it the same?
 
After lunch we dropped anchor near Seymour Island and got back into Zodiacs. When we landed, there were more penguins than could be counted, some going in and out of the ocean from the crescent of the beach, landing with whopping belly-flops and skidding on their thick padding of feathers as swiftly as though they were flying. Otto was walking with me, and we giggled at a dozen or so who were waddling laboriously uphill, chittering as they climbed the barren mountainside, which really did look like a moonscape. When we reached the top, there were hundreds of fluffy silver-grey chicks, perfect little moon creatures. They were roly-poly from being fed by their parents, but they could waddle after an adult penguin with amazing speed. Otto doubled over with laughter, pointing out a little one as it fell flat on its belly, picked itself up, and ran after a grown penguin.
“Which might not even be its parent,” Otto said, “in which case it won't get fed. Adult penguins feed only their own chicks.”
Siri, coming up beside us, asked, “How on earth do they tell them apart?”
“By their voices, Benjy says.”
Siri cocked her head, listening. “I've a pretty good ear, but it's obvious I'm not a penguin. They all sound alike to me.”
Otto and I continued climbing. When we paused to rest,
he looked down at his booted toe, making a mark on the icy shale, and asked, “You have a boyfriend?”
I shook my head. “I do not.” I sounded too vehement.
“You've quarreled?” Otto asked.
“I guess. Sort of. It doesn't matter. I'm too young, anyhow, to be really serious about anyone.”
“Truly?” Otto asked.
I started climbing again. Carefully and deliberately, I turned my mind away from Adam. Asked Otto, “How's your Spanish?”
He stopped, breathing quickly from the exercise. “I have a little. Not much.” He shrugged. “French and Italian help, but I cannot, for instance, read Cervantes.”
“But for conversation?”
“What is this, Vicky?” He turned to me, smiling. “Is this sudden interest in Spanish something to do with that young oboist Jorge has told me about?”
Good. Let him think I'd fallen for Esteban. “It would be fun to be able to talk with him.”
Otto said, “I should not have stayed in my bunk the other morning. I would like to have met this young man who I am told is very taken with you, and who would obviously like to be able to talk to you.” He looked me directly in the eyes. “I'm just as happy that he can't. I want no other young man making eyes at my beautiful Vicky.” Then he added, quickly, “I'm sorry. I know you're not ‘my' beautiful Vicky, or anybody else's. You are your own. But oh, my dear Vicky, you do delight me.”
I was glad my parka hood was up so that my blush was at least partly covered.
“So I have made my inquiries about this Esteban and I have learned that he is related to Generalissimo Guedder. Be careful, Vicky. This Esteban will try to influence your thinking.”
“Hey, Esteban doesn't speak English and I don't speak Spanish. He can't do much influencing.”
Otto pushed my hood back so that he could see me more easily. “Vicky, this Esteban may be young and attractive, but he is not for you. He is nobody.”
“So'm I.”
“Vicky, you are young and bright and lovely, but you are naïve politically.”
“I know. I can learn.”
“Yes, you will learn, but it is not pleasant to learn that there is corruption in high places. On this trip, please, let's just enjoy the penguins and the seals. Forget that there are people on the
Argosy
with conflicting views.” He took a few steps up the mountain, taking us beyond the rest of the group. “It is a heaviness on my heart.” I looked at him questioningly. He continued, “There are those who do not want Zlatovica to continue as an independent principality. We are an old and ancient land. I love my country, and I will do whatever needs to be done. Enough. I'm sorry. It is just that you are good to talk to.”
BOOK: Troubling a Star
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