Appleby on Ararat Read Free Page B

he said. “Fellows blown on the roofs of churches and left to cling there unharmed. That sort of thing. But nothing quite so deuced odd as this.” He poked at the structure beneath him. “The frame is chrome steel and the glass inch-thick and bedded in rubber, so it’s strong enough. Rides nicely, too. Trim her a bit, though, with advantage. Hoppo, just shift that case of Vichy-Celestins a bit to starboard – beside Mr–”
    “Appleby,” said the quiet young man.
    “Appleby. Glover’s my name. Lancers.”
    “CID.”
    Colonel Glover blinked in the seeping sunshine. “Beg pardon?”
    “A policeman.”
    “Bless my soul. Most unexpected. Precious little traffic to direct hereabouts, I’m afraid.” Colonel Glover chuckled doubtfully and his eye searched the horizon – perhaps for social bearings. “Happen to know my nephew, Rupert Ounce?”
    “He was my assistant last year.”
    “Ah.” Glover was relieved. “Well, now we all know each other. Except–” He glanced upwards at the black man.
    “Unumunu,” said the black man gravely.
    “Mr Unumunu.”
    On a large square of plate-glass Mrs Kittery was lying on her stomach, watching small fishes darting an inch beneath her nose. Now she turned round on her back. “But perhaps you are a prince?” she asked.
    The black man smiled brilliantly. “Once upon a time, as it happens, I was a king. And after that I was knighted. I am Sir Ponto Unumunu.”
    “Sir Ponto!” said Colonel Glover, startled. “I once had–” He checked himself.
    “In my language Ponto means ‘circumspect in battle.’ It is not perhaps a very good name for a knight who is now commonly one who has been circumspect in trade. Miss Curricle, here I think is a comfortable chair.”
    “Thank you, Sir Ponto.”
    On curves of steel, on strips of vivid red leather, Miss Curricle swayed upon the Pacific Ocean. It was calm with only the deep sea swell; the waters were like a vast big dipper, flattened out and slowed down for a wealthy cardiac patient; the sky held a blue as hard as bronze; the sun stood absolute in its heaven. The inverted dome of the café thrust down into the unknown element – a dream aquarium against which the wandering sharks and devil-fish might press curious noses, wondering at the spidery-limbed creatures within.
    “Six syphons and a case of mineral-water,” said Mr Hoppo, who was counting the unbroken stores. “Whisky, brandy, port, madeira, sherry – fino , I am glad to say – and a large number of liqueurs. An ice-box but no ice – that was what the steward, poor fellow, had gone to get a supply of. Caviare – an uncommonly big pot. A tin of biscuit-things to serve it on. Stuffed olives. Potato crisps, salted almonds, anchovies, pretzel-sticks: everything, in fact, to encourage a brisk traffic at the bar. A tin of salt, no doubt to give everything a sprinkle of from time to time. Glover, there is irony in this.”
    “A thing for doing the fizzing to shakes,” said Mrs Kittery, who had crossed to the debris of the soda fountain. “It’s electric, so it won’t be much good.” She sighed her disappointment. “A packet of straws. A flagon of vanilla flavouring, not even cracked, and a label on the back saying it’s enough for forty gallons. A tub of cream, swizzle sticks, cherries, quite a lot of tinned fruit for making melbas and sundaes.” Innocent satisfaction was creeping into her voice. “Ice cream, raspberry balm, glacé pineapple–”
    “Cigars,” said Miss Curricle, tapping a box with her toe. She spoke gloomily, as if this further useless discovery were a luckless materialisation of her own will. “And two fire-extinguishers.”
    “Possibly a sail.” Appleby had found an inverted cupboard near a fragment of what had been the floor, and he was hauling out an enveloping sheet. “They swathed the soda fountain with it at night. But what about a mast?”
    “Up here,” said Unumunu, “the teak is mostly three by three-quarters. But