The Birth of People's Republic of Antartica, стр. 50

“I’ll have none of that on my ship!” said Grandfather.

“Are you in need of absolution, my son?” Father Hospital said to Grandfather. Grandfather scowled at him, waved him back as he gave orders to lower away Black Crane. I explained to the fathers that we were mostly unchurched, but that my grandfather was a pastor in the Swedish Lutheran Church. They smiled pleasantly. I could see what Lazarus meant by peculiar. I asked Father Hospital, “What happened to Ascension?”

“We are doing Christ’s work,” he said, going below abruptly. I pursued, found him greeting Charity and Peregrine. He seemed guileless, simpleminded. Peregrine smiled at him, looked at me and said, “Be careful.” Father Hospital and I went up again, came upon Lazarus explaining to Cleopatra what he thought of The Free Gift of God. She called over Father Hospital and Father Novo Pedro, then tried to interrogate them: how long had they been here, where had they come from, what they hoped to accomplish. They replied with fragments of mystical evasiveness until Father Hospital took Cleopatra’s hand, asked her how long it had been since she had made confession. Cleopatra answered flatly, “Five years,” and then she lowered her head and added, “and one month.” It had not occurred to me that she had been raised Roman Catholic. I did realize then that she had made her last confession before her father’s murder.

Before we got down into Black Crane, Lazarus took me aside. I was pleased he seemed to trust me; he had not wanted to tell Cleopatra everything, yet needed someone to tell. “It’s a stink over there,” he said. “These people, refugees maybe, are down below. We kept clear of the hatches. There is something wrong.” I recognized a deep agitation in Lazarus, fear mixed with disgust, and I touched him in sympathy. He pushed me away. I noticed that Grandfather was also agitated. He made the two missionaries sit before him in Black Crane, told them through Gizur not to talk to his crew. As we shoved off, I mentioned to Lazarus my puzzlement at what could have moved Israel to send for Grandfather.

The answer was that The Free Gift of God was an open grave. It reeked of human waste and putrefaction. We staggered aboard using a cargo net flung over from a plank at the waist. Other missionaries greeted us, more pleasantries and polite invitations, particularly to a chapel on the foredeck. Grandfather rebuffed them with a blast. We found Israel and Guy on the quarterdeck; they looked stunned, ashen, terrified. Israel said that he and Guy had just returned from the captain’s quarters, where they had interviewed the missionaries’ leader, Father Saint Stephen.

“They’re all insane,” said Israel.

“They pray over them,” said Guy. “You should see it below, hundreds of people! And foodstuffs! In crates, anything you want, medicine, tools, grain. It sits there, rotting, for the rats! They pray over them. Some of those things down there have torn at the crates. Nothing is being done! You ask them why they don’t feed them, and nothing!”

“They say they’re doing Christ’s work,” I said.

At this, Grandfather turned to Otter Ransom, said, “Secure Black Crane. Clear the deck of those priests. None of them near your men. You and Tall Troll get below and mark the goods still worthwhile. Check that hoist.” There was a pause, Otter Ransom looking to see if Israel agreed. Guy said, in a pale protest to Grandfather’s presumption, that Father Saint Stephen had offered us whatever we wanted. Grandfather ignored Israel and Guy, pointed to the mast behind us, told Orlando the Black, “Find an ax and get that down. I’ll want the top forty feet.”

You can t do that!” said Israel to Grandfather directly, in Swedish.

“How long have they been here?” said Grandfather.

“They didn’t say,” said Israel, in English to me.

“This ship will never leave this anchorage,” said Grandfather.

‘Reason with him,” Israel told me. I struggled with a translation of Israel’s concerns.

“Where is this priest who has frightened you children?” said Grandfather. Israel balked, straining to understand Grandfather’s withering Swedish. Grandfather continued, “You think him as mad as me, is that so, Jew? Now you need me. Not because you deserted your country and lived where you were not wanted, not because you forced me to save a fiend who deserved the blade. None of that! You need me because you see the darkness that you have cowered in for decades, and you begin to see what it has come to. To this! I do not intend to hold you up. And I would not help you or your Sodomites if not that you have filled my Grim with a child’s need of you, and you use him against me. Look hard, Jew. This ship is no Babylon. At most, it is a hole for Balaam. You are a small, weak, cowardly, unrepentant, faithless man. Show me this priest you fear. I shall show you what he is, and that he is as sane as me, and more sane than you!”

Israel was stiff with rage. Guy tried to soothe him. Grandfather bellowed at Orlando the Black about how to cut the mast for use on Angel of Death. This was a naked display of his lack of limits, his cruelty. He dizzied us. We stumbled about him: Guy begging me to shut him up; Lazarus and Orlando the Black conferring secretly in opposition to everyone. Father Novo Pedro appeared and saved us further misery, saying that his brother, Father Saint Stephen, begged a meeting with “the Lutheran.” When I told him, Grandfather clapped his hands, told me to follow, was gone with Father Novo Pedro. I looked to Guy, who said I could go, he would take charge on deck. I said that even I could not handle Grandfather when he was like this. Lazarus surprised me by saying he would accompany me, touching his belt oddly, threateningly. Israel pushed Guy