The Heirs of Babylon Read Free

another assignation with the sea. The
    sea, the sea, the beautiful, lonely, endless sea, Kurt's first love, which was leading him to forsake his second and
    true for its sad, empty, rippled bosom. . . . lager's stem
    slowly swung away from the pier.

    "Cast off number one." Stay-at-homes scurried on the drizzled pier as the last mooring line was freed. The
    forecastle bustled as the Sea Detail hauled it in and
    stretched it for eventual drying. The proud old lady was

15

    on her way to her ancient lover,. Neptune, Poseidon,
    Dagon, god of a thousand names, who dwelt where shat-
    tered towers lie. .. . "Fair Atlantis ..."

    "What?"

    Kurt blushed when he saw Otto had overheard, embar-
    rassed by having his daydreams aired like a lumber-room
    carpet. "Nothing." He turned to his chart table, leaving Kapp bewildered. Otto had grown into a hard, practical
    man who was often bewildered by Kurt's lack of change
    since childhood.

    "All back one-third. Rudder 'midships."

    Jager backed down slowly till she reached the center
    of the fairway, then stopped and used her engines to swing
    her bow to the proper heading for leaving harbor. During
    a lull in engine orders and rudder changes, Kurt glanced
    up from his log. Karen and Frieda had become tiny
    figures waving pathetically, almost indistinguishable for
    rain, crowd, and distance. His throat tightened. He sud-
    denly feared he would never see them again.

    His eyes shifted to the city, ruin forever on, angles and
    planes and steel fingers clawing at the sky whence had
    fallen the ancient death. Time had worn the sharp edges,
    except around the shipyards where the corpses of tremen-
    dous cranes and mysterious machines lay like scattered,
    corroded, vanquished trolls. The neat little shops and
    houses fronting the harbor to the southeast were out of
    place and time. Indeed, here, Man was out of place and
    time, yet he refused to acknowledge his fall.

    Still, Kurt told himself, this was the heart of his civilization. All Europe, he knew, lay wasted from Hamburg
    south. The descendants of Germans, Poles, Danes,
    Lithuanians, and Latvians lived in small, scattered settle-
    ments along the Littoral, the narrow remaining band of
    tillable coastal soil, scratching out a meager living. This new country had few cities: Kiel, Kolberg, Gdynia, Dan-zig, a new port city fifty kilometers southwest of ancient
    Riga. Kiel was the largest, the capital, with a population
    approaching ten thousand.

    Jager gathered speed as she nosed down the channel
    toward the sea, until she was making fifteen knots. Soon
    she entered the passage between Langeland and Laaland,
    occasionally sounding her foghorn as warning to the Dan-
    ish fishing boats. The sailing craft scuttled from her path.
    Wide-eyed men in foul-weather gear watched the iron
    lady pass—Kurt leaned against a bulkhead and stared
    back through diamond raindrops on porthole glass, filled
    with happy memories—and shook their heads. Another

    one off to the War. "There, Gregor," Kurt cried, pointing.
    "Dancer!" Near at hand was his own boat. He saw curious faces he knew. But, when he turned to his cousin, his
    enthusiasm died. Once again he had forgotten and let
    familiarity carry him across the line between officer and
    crewman. Eyes turned his way, anticipating. Kurt turned
    back to the sea, but the fishing boat had now fallen far
    behind.

    Much to his surprise, Kurt found the mess decks
    crowded when he went to supper. He had thought most
    everyone would be too queasy to eat. Perhaps they wanted
    to get a last fresh meal—without refrigeration, Jager could store only imperishables. Kurt sighed. He should have
    come early, to petty officers' mess. He grabbed the seat of
    .a man just finished, settled down to his rough meal.

    Five minutes later. Otto slipped into the recently va-
    cated seat opposite him, said, "Well, we're finally on the way. It doesn't seem real."

    Kurt grunted an affirmative through a mouthful of
    strudel. Otto avoided