The Birth of People's Republic of Antartica, стр. 66

I would not control myself. I dropped Iceberg and we ran for Black Crane, out of turn, against all discipline. Just as suddenly, Orlando the Black and Lazarus emerged out of the cliff face ahead of me; they waved and pointed at me. We all were shoved back against the cliff by a wave, and when the sea drew back to expose beach to run on, I struggled again toward Black Crane. Orlando the Black boomed, “Go back. No!” I waded through the water near him. He and Lazarus wrestled me against the rock as a new wave poured upon us. They started to laugh with relief at reunion, but their joy disappeared when they realized my intention.

I said, “I have to get to her. It’s my boat!”

Orlando the Black pleaded, “Germanicus Frazer brought us back, Grim! Don’t do it! Wait your turn! We’re together! Little Dede Gone is dead with fever. But Germanicus Frazer saved me and Wild Drumrul! He’ll kill you if you try it! It’s their boat now!”’

I pushed him aside as the surf took us again. Lazarus tried to hold me, could not, cried, “Think, Grim, it’s no use! It won’t help them now. They’re gone!”

“Grandfather wouldn’t quit me!” I replied. “Never!” I got clear of them and ran before the surf pounded up again, thinking not of my peril as a mutineer, nor of my debt to Germanicus for rescuing Orlando the Black and Wild Drumrul, thinking only of Black Crane and what she represented—my family. I had no plan. I wanted her. Orlando the Black and Lazarus pursued me. And up ahead, coming down the beach to intercept me, were Germanicus and Motherwell.

I got into the water. Germanicus had his pistol out, shouted, Grim Fiddle, don t make me! I order you to get back!”

All their imploring was then drowned out by a new barrage of fireballs that walked across the water toward the beach. Iceberg nipped at my leg. I fought the waves with my being. I saw Black Crane before me, twenty yards, less; I did not see the Volunteers m her at the helm and oars. Rather, I beheld a vision: I saw Peregrine and Israel and Cleopatra; I saw Grandfather standing up and pointing at me. I saw him thunder, “Damn all men who have eyes and ears and hearts but will not see and hear and turn to understand Lord God’s judgment on the sins of the unbelievers!”

I stopped. I turned. I heard Germanicus cry, “Divil take ye!” I saw Orlando the Black throw out his arms in a dive. Iceberg took me down by the neck into a breaker. A fireball plunged directly atop Black Crane.

I remember coming up, choking, watching Black Crane yanked out of the water in two pieces and flung in fragments toward the cliffs. I remember the blast of heat. I remember bodies floating in the surf. I remember Germanicus and Motherwell hauling me out of the burning water. I remember Christmas Muir declaring that I was no mutineer, that I was trying to save the boat, that the “copper head” was badly hurt, that the “nig” was cut up, and the wolf was broken. I remember Wild Drumrul squatting over me, saying, “Fire, be cool to my brother.” I remember feeling my face hot and tight, my beard gone, same for my hair, and a tear on my throat that I could put a finger into. I remember Germanicus telling me he would have shot me. And I remember telling him, “There is no God of Love. It is a lie. No God who loves would do this, make us fight and die because we want to get home. Take everything from us. Abandon us. Kill us. There is no God of Love. Peregrine fought his whole life, just to get home. God broke him, left him to sin and die alone. Sent Charity Bentham to torment him, then took her from him, took what little he had of his own. And when we tried to help him, it made it worse. Peregrine and Israel and Guy and Earle are left to die. Killed by what? There is no God of Love. God is a monster. He’s a God of Hate. I denounce him as no better than Satan, whom he sent down from heaven for pride. What a lie! What is more arrogant than to dangle Charity before Peregrine, to dangle Black Crane before us, then to take it back? It is cruel and hateful and senseless. It is pride and stupidity. I hate Lord God. That is what he understands. Hate and murder and torture. I hate him!”

After that, Grim Fiddle does not remember. There was a black fantasy, a gruesome nightmare, and I was the face inside it, but I cannot recall it keenly enough to record it here. I write flatly that I do not remember what I did. It is a darkness for me. I have been told my conduct. I can record that. I refused evacuation as wounded. I took a weapon and returned to the Presbyterian church. I murdered beasties all night, took one of the heavy automatic weapons and held the graveyard. I led the Irregulars against a firepost and murdered Patties and beasties with my hands.

No one told me how I got from the Presbyterian church to the last barricades on the concrete wharves the next day, because none of the men I fought with in that graveyard survived to tell. I was said to have cursed any man who told me to fall back. I swung at Longfaeroe when he tried to sing psalms over my foul words at the enemy, the sea, at the “God of Hate.” When the last boat was ready and Germanicus begged me to follow him, it was said I grabbed ordnance and charged the quay road again, alone. Germanicus and Motherwell pursued me.