Scoop-Evelyn-Waugh [18]
� parfume formidable � prenez � et portez vite le whisky, you black bum." The Frenchman continued to feed his children. It is difficult for a man nursing two children, aged five and two and clumsy eaters at that, to look supercilious, but the Frenchman tried and Corker noticed it. "Does the little mother understand English?" he asked William. "No." "That's lucky. Not a very matey bird?" "No." "Fond of la Belle France?" "Well, I can't say I�ve ever been there � except to catch this ship." "Funny thing, neither have I. Never been out of England except once, when I went to Ostend to cover a chess congress. Ever play chess?" "No." "Nor do I. God, that was a cold story." The steward placed on the table a syphon and a bottle of whisky which carried the label Edouard VIII: Very old Genuine Scotch Whisky: Andr�loc et Cie, Saigon and the coloured picture of a Regency buck, gazing sceptically at the consumer through a quizzing glass. "Alphonse," said Corker, "I'm, surprised at you." "No like?" "Bloody well no like." "Whisky-soda," the man explained, patiently, almost tenderly, as though in the nursery. "Nice." Corker filled his glass, tasted, grimaced, and then resumed the interrupted enquiry. "Tell me honestly, had you ever heard of Ishmaelia before you were sent on this story?" "Only very vaguely." "So had I. And the place I'd heard of was something quite different, in the Suez Canal. You know, when I first started in journalism I used to think that foreign correspondents spoke every language under the sun and spent their lives studying international conditions. Brother, look at us! On Monday afternoon I was in East Sheen breaking the news to a widow of her husband's death leap with a champion girl cyclist � the wrong widow as it turned out; the husband came back from business while I was there and cut up very nasty. Next day the Chief has me in and says, 'Corker, you're off to Ishmaelia.' 'Out-of-town job?' I asked. 'East Africa,' he said, just like that, 'pack your traps.' 'What's the story?' I asked. 'Well,' he said, 'a lot of niggers are having a war. I don't see anything in it myself, but the other agencies are sending feature men, so we've got to do something. We want spot news,' he said, 'and some colour stories. Go easy on the expenses.' 'What are they having a war about?' I asked. That's for you to find out,' he said, but I haven't found out yet. Have you?" "No." "Well, I don't suppose it matters. Personally I can't see that foreign stories are ever news � not real news of the kind U.N. covers." "Forgive me," said William, "I'm afraid I know very little about journalism. What is U.N.?" "No kidding?" "No," said William, "no kidding." "Never heard of Universal News?" "I'm afraid not." "Well, I won't say we're the biggest news agency in the country �some of the stuffier papers won't take us � but we certainly are the hottest." "And what, please," asked William, "is a news agency?" Corker told him. "You mean that everything that you write goes to the Beast?" "Well that's rather a sore point, brother. We've been having a row with you lately. Something about a libel action one of our boys let you in for. But you take the other agencies, of course, and I daresay you'll patch it up with us. They're featuring me as a special service." "Then why do they want to send me?" "All the papers are sending specials." "And all the papers have reports from three or four agencies?" "Yes." "But if we all send the same thing it seems a waste." "There would soon be a row if we did." "But isn't it very confusing if we all send different news?" "It gives them a choice. They all have different policies so of course they have to give different news." They went up to the lounge and drank their coffee together. The winches were silent; the hatches covered. The agents were making their ceremonious farewells to the Captain's wife. Corker sprawled back in his plush chair and lit a large cheroot. "Given me by a native I bought some stuff off," he explained. "You buying much stuff?" "Stuff?" "Oriental stuff � you know, curios." "No," said William "I'm a collector