Limekiller!

“Well,” said Sir Joshua, “yes, I do believe that there was some sort of agreement about a division of the coastal waters as far as fishing was concerned. Some sort of treaty, you might call it. I believe my father mentioned it to me, once. He was born here, you know. As to the documents, the records, well. Documents just don’t have a way of lasting long in this country’s climate. It is just the opposite of Egypt, you know — Copies of the records? Why, they would be in London, I suppose. If they survived the War. I have cabled an enquiry, but you must remember that this is part of what was once a vast Empire and the accumulation of records was also vast. Why, even if they’d begun with microfilm and electronic computers and all of that the day they’d been invented, it would still take a hundred years — at least — to get it all, er, ah, mm, arranged. that way. I say the documents must be in London, a figure of speech, they might as likely be in an otherwise empty old coal-mine in Wales or a semi-disused guildhall in the Midlands or an unoccupied castle in the Hebrides. confound it! in an occupied castle in the Hebrides! Superintendent, you have no idea what went on over there during the Evacuations. We may never get it all back together again. ”

The very clear thought came to Jack that a more immediate problem was getting it all back together right then and there. Unless it was like Humpty-Dumpty. There was an obvious question and he addressed it to the obvious person.

“But why, District Commissioner, are the Arawak moving their fishing north. and, well, perhaps a better way of putting it would be — Why have they stopped fishing in their old waters in the south?”

Mr. Bosco looked at him with those indescribable, yet unmistakable Arawak eyes. At first he only said, “Ahhh. ” And then he said, “It is because they are afraid of the Jack O’Lantern.”

Limekiller knew at once that he must not laugh, but the effort not to laugh showed. D.C. Bosco said, without resentment, but without embarrassment, “You North Americans, Mr. Limekiller, you think that because yrou give this name to a carven pumpkin with a candle inside of it, that this is all it means. I do assure you, quite solemnly, that it is not so. Down here in these waters and on these coasts, sir,Jack O’Lantem is taken as serious asjack Ketch.”

Limekiller’s mind ran away with sudden, odd, grisly notions. Jack Ketch was the hangman’s name… or nick-name. neck- name?Jack O’Lantern, Jack O’Lantern, I know you of old / You’ve robbed my poor pockets / Of silver and gold /. No, that was Jack O’Diamonds. He did now, though, he knew that he did know. And so he did. Up from the middle-depths of his mind, bending a bit, perhaps, on the wa\r up — “That’s the lantern of the ship that isn’t there, isn’t it? I mean, you see lights and you expect the ship, but no ship comes? I mean, oh, it’s St. Elmo’s fire, or something. isn’t it. the Will o’ the Whisp?

“You mean, D.C., that the Arawak are as afraid of an optical illusion as though —”

No sooner had he said it than he was aware that even St. Elmo’s Fire was no optical illusion; he remembered Byron’s. marshes' meteor-lamp, creeping onward, through the damp. ” He was prepared for reproof. He w: as not prepared for what he heard next.

“The Arawak do not — That is, you see, Mr. Limekiller: Jack O’Lantern, this is the Bavfolks' name for it. The Arawak do not in their own speech call it that.”

Limekiller gave his head a faint shake. “They don’t. The don't? Oh. Well, uh, what do they call it, then? If not Jack O’Lantern?”

“Call it, Jacques Hollander, Mr. Limekiller.”

Mr. Limekiller stared. Something seemed to hit him, hard, on the inside of his head Jack O’Lantern. Jacques Hollander. Jack Hollander. “Oh my God!” he said. “So that’s it. The Flying Dutchman.!”

But, after all, that was not it.

Not by any means.

Emerging from Government Buildings, Limekiller told the men outside — truthfully — that the Government had cabled London about the matter. They were not naive enough to believe that this would mean an immediate end to their immediate problem. But. still. the fact that London had been cabled. Lon-don. that showed that at any rate the matter was being regarded as important. “Something must be done,” an ex-King had once said. Well. something had been done. Not very much, maybe. But something.

Not enough, however, to make anyone any the more willing to consider shipping south with Jack Limekiller.

Still, when he got back to pier and boat, he found that the entire cargo had been laden aboard.

He had not expected that, and, on reflection, he considered that it was maybe more than he had any right to expect, at that.