The Map of the Sky (Trilogía Victoriana #2)(31)
“I refuse to believe you have no other desires in life,” Reynolds hissed, with as much contempt as he could muster.
“Why, of course I do. I dream of a cottage in the country, with a garden full of tulips.”
“Tulips?” the explorer asked in astonishment.
“Yes, tulips,” the captain repeated, defensively. “My mother was Dutch, and I still remember her planting them in our garden when I was a child. I hope to have saved enough by the time I retire to live a quiet life and devote myself to growing tulips. And I assure you, I won’t give up until I have grown the most beautiful tulip on our side of the Atlantic. I shall name it after my mother and enter it in all the flower shows. That’s all I want, Reynolds: a beautiful tulip garden and a sitting room with a fireplace, above which I shall hang the head of the monster you are so intent on communicating with.”
Reynolds gazed at him in silence for a while, trying to thrust aside the alarming image of the captain, a pair of pruning shears in one hand and a basket of tulips in the other. Could a brute like MacReady hold a tulip without crushing it? And if his tulip failed to win, would he take the loss with a smile, or would he shoot the judges? The explorer leaned back in his chair, trying to gather his thoughts while taking another sip from his glass. He had to admit that whereas he had failed to win over the captain with his arguments, MacReady had almost succeeded in convincing him with his. What did he hope to find inside the flying machine? Perhaps it would be best if he took the captain’s advice and saved his skin so he could return to Baltimore and carry on with his dreary, pedestrian life. Compared to what he was going through on that vast expanse of ice it did not seem half so bad, and maybe if he took up gardening it would be easier to bear. He set his glass down on the table, surprised that part of him longed to surrender to that life. But the other part, the part that had poisoned him with dreams of glory and had brought him there, sank its fangs into him once more. What the devil was he thinking? He had not come all this way for nothing!
“Tell me, Captain, has it not occurred to you that the creature may be unaware that it is behaving in a malevolent fashion?” he blurted out, in a tone of bitterness born of despair. “Perhaps the monster’s thought patterns are so different from ours that it sees what it has been doing as comparable to crushing a spider underfoot or pulling up weeds.” He paused to allow MacReady to digest his words, then added, “Can you really not see what I am driving at, Captain? Whether we intend to communicate with the creature or to kill it, clearly we must first understand it. Moreover, I am sure any one of the sailors will readily accompany me to the machine when I explain it’s our only hope of survival.”
MacReady stared at him coolly.
“Have you quite finished?” he asked, addressing the explorer with unnerving slowness. “Good! Now listen to me, Reynolds. I shall ignore your veiled threat of mutiny, for which I could have you locked up in the ship’s hold until you rot. But, although you don’t deserve it, I shall be lenient and simply inform you that the circumstances of the expedition have changed radically. We are now in a state of emergency, which gives me complete control over this vessel, whether you like it or not. You no longer have any say in the matter. From now on, I decide what action we take against the ruthless enemy that is attacking us. We shall wait for it to come after us, that is what we shall do. If you disagree and want to return to the flying machine, I shan’t try to stop you. Take as many weapons from the armory as you can carry, but don’t count on the support of any of my men. They will stay on the ship with me, waiting for that thing.”
At first, Reynolds had no idea how to respond. With obvious satisfaction, MacReady had relieved him of his authority, thereby leaving him with only one possible line of attack.
“I can assure you that when we reach New York,” he said, “I intend to hold you fully responsible for the failure of this expedition: I shall accuse you of causing the ship to become icebound through your inept navigation, of refusing to explore the area in search of the passage to the center of the Earth, and, above all, Captain, I shall hold you to account for every death that occurs from now on, including that of the first visitor from space ever to set foot on our planet.”
Reynolds fell silent, glowering at the captain. He bitterly regretted having to resort to threats, but that stubborn, arrogant devil had proved immune to every other approach. It seemed, however, that even this outburst did not have the slightest effect on MacReady, who simply sighed wearily.
“Reynolds, you are the stupidest man I have ever met,” he said. “And I have nothing more to say to you. This conversation has already gone on too long, and we have both made our positions clear. With all due respect, I shan’t deny that your wild fantasies have been a source of great amusement to certain gentlemen and myself. But this is no time for laughter, and the last thing I need on board now is a buffoon.”
Reynolds stared at the captain openmouthed.
“If that is all, Reynolds,” said MacReady, standing up and turning his back on the explorer, “kindly allow me to carry on with my duties. Go ahead with your plan if you want, but don’t even think about approaching my men.”
Speechless, Reynolds contemplated the captain’s broad back. There was no point insisting. He let out a grunt of frustration and rose to his feet.
“As you wish, Captain. But you can forget about ever naming a tulip after your mother,” he retorted.