Scoop-Evelyn-Waugh [20]
For two days Corker's nettle-rash grew worse, then it began to subside. William used often to see him at his open door; he sat bare to the waist, in his pyjama trousers, typing long, informative letters to his wife and dabbing himself with vinegar and water as prescribed by the ship's doctor; often his disfigured face would appear over the gallery of the dining saloon calling petulantly for Vichy water. "He suffers," remarked the functionary with great complacency. Not until they were nearing Aden did the rash cool a little and allow Corker to come down to dinner. When he did so William hastened to consult him about a radiogram which had arrived that morning and was causing him grave bewilderment. It read:�
OPPOSITION SPLASHING FRONTWARD SPEEDILIEST STOP ADEN REPORTED PREPARED WARWISE FLASH FACTS BEAST
"I can't understand it," said William. "No?" "The only thing that makes any sense is Stop Aden." "Yes?" Corker's face, still brightly patterned, was, metaphorically, a blank. "What d'you think I'd better do?" "Just what they tell you, old boy." "Yes, I suppose I'd better." "Far better." But William was not happy about it. "It doesn't make any sense, read it how you will. I wonder if the operator has made a muddle somewhere," he said at last. "I should ask him," said Corker, scratching. "And now if you don't mind I must get back to the vinegar bottle." There had been something distinctly unmatey about his manner, William thought. Perhaps it was the itch.
Early next morning they arrived off Steamer Point. The stewards, in a frenzy of last-minute avarice, sought to atone for ten days' neglect with a multitude of unneeded services. The luggage was appearing on deck. The companion ladder was down, waiting the arrival of the official launch. William leant on the taffrail gazing at the bare heap of clinker half a mile distant. It did not seem an inviting place for a long visit. There seemed no frontward splashing to oppose. The sea was dead calm and the ship's refuse lay all round it � a bank holiday litter of horrible scraps �motionless, undisturbed except for an Arab rowboat peddling elephants of synthetic ivory. At William's side Corker bargained raucously for the largest of these toys. Presently the boy from the wireless room brought him a message. "Something about you," he said and passed it on to William. It said:�
COOPERATING BEAST AVOID DUPLICATION BOOT UNNATURAL
"What does that mean?" "It means our bosses have been getting together in London. You're taking over special service on the Ishmaelia story. So you and I can work together after all," "And what is unnatural?" "That's our telegraphic name." Corker completed his purchase, haggled over the exchange from francs to rupees, was handsomely cheated, and drew up his elephant on a string. Then he said casually, "By the by, have you still got that cable you had last night?" William showed it to him. "Shall I tell you what this says? 'Opposition splashing' means that the rival papers are giving a lot of space to this story. 'Frontward speediliest' � go to the front as fast as you can � full stop. Aden is reported here to be prepared on a wartime footing; 'Flash facts' � send them the details of this preparation at once." "Good heavens," said William. "Thank you. What an extraordinary thing... It wouldn't have done at all if I'd stayed on at Aden, would it." "No, old boy, not at all." "But why didn't you tell me this last night?" "Old boy, have some sense. Last night we were competing. It was a great chance, leaving you behind. Then the Beast would have had to take U.N.! Laugh? I should have bust my pants. However, they've fixed things up without that. Glad to have you with me on the trip, old boy. And while you're working with me, don't go showing service messages to anybody else, see?" Happily nursing his bakelite elephant Corker sauntered back to his cabin.
Passport officers came on board and sat in judgment in the first-class smoking-room. The passengers who were to disembark assembled to wait their turn. William and Corker passed without difficulty. They elbowed their way to the door, through the little knot of many-coloured, many-tongued people who had emerged from the depths of the ship. Among them was a plump, dapper figure, redolent of hair-wash and shaving soap and expensive scent; there was a glint of jewellery in the shadows, a sparkle of reflected sunlight on the hairless, conical scalp; it was William's dining companion from the Blue Train. They greeted one another warmly. "I never saw you on board," said William. "Nor I you. I wish I had known you were with us. I would have asked you to dine with me in my little suite. I always maintain a certain privacy on the sea. One so easily forms acquaintances which become tedious later." "This is a long way from Antibes. What's brought you here?" "Warmth," said the little man simply. "The call of the sun." There was a pause and, apparently, some uncertainty at the official table behind them. "How d'you suppose this bloke pronounces his name?" asked the first passport officer. "Search me," said the second. "Where's the man with the Costa-Rican passport?" said the first passport officer, addressing the room loudly. A Hindoo who had no passport tried to claim it, was detected and held for further enquiry. "Where's the Costa-Rican?" said the officer again. "Forgive me," said William's friend, "I have a little business to transact with these gentlemen," and, accompanied by his valet, he stepped towards the table. "Who's the pansy?" asked Corker. "Believe it or not," William replied, "I haven't the faintest idea." His business seemed to take a long time. He was not at the gangway when the passengers disembarked, but as they chugged slowly to shore in the crowded tender a speedboat shot past them in a glitter of sunlit spray, bouncing on the face of the sea and swamping their bulwarks in its wash. In it sat Cuthbert the valet, and his enigmatic master.