B007P4V3G4 EBOK (45 page)

'It isn't even a strong current,' he said. 'I've put resistors in it.
It's perfectly alright to touch the rods; it won't give you a shock.'
He invited me pressingly to touch them but this I did not dare. To
divert his attention, I asked whether the device would ever go out
of its own accord; he gave no answer to this. I sniffed the scent of
the sparks and stared into the dark. Maarten's face could only
barely be made out in the blue dusk.

A moment later his parents came home. He rapidly put the
device away but didn't light the candle. He listened and asked me
to stay put, not moving a muscle. We breathed cautiously. His
mother took a step inside, tried the light switch and muttered
something; she halted a moment. I had my hands in my crotch and
listened to the silence that began to rustle. My heart was pounding
for I believed that, once we were discovered, something terrible
would follow.

When she had left again, Maarten still did not restore some
light. We continued to sit in the dark. We have to talk carefully,'
he said. I opened my mouth but was silent. Staring with wide open
eyes into the darkness, I squeezed my genitals to find out how
much force I need apply before it hurt. I believed I had to flee. 'I
have to go home,' I said hastily: 'or else I'll get what-for.'

Maarten showed me out through the window. I ran home
quickly and crept up to the loft. Though the electric light was fine,
I lit a candle I kept in the cabin trunk. Then I opened a window,
brought out the cardboard box from beneath the roof tile and took
the sheet of paper from it. I left the window open to listen to the
wind making a gate rattle somewhere, for it had begun to blow.

'I am in the Enchanted Castle', I wrote in pencil on the reverse
of the sheet, 'but it is the houseboat of Death. I know that: it is
going to sink into the deep'.

Draught blew in which set the candle flame a-swaying so that
the shadow of my head was swung to and fro across the white
surface of the wall. It looked like a big black bird that had no
wings, yet because of a mysterious power it could fly and it
awaited me to do me harm.

Folding the paper I fell prey to doubt as to the question where I
might best put it away. Adding it to the rolled-up label in the wall
I thought risky because perchance my brother might discover it.
Neither did I think the spot underneath the roof tile could be trusted because the boys in the neighbourhood could see me hide
the box from their gardens and betray where it could be found to
my brother. I decided to keep it, folded up tiny, in my trouser
pocket. The thirteen cents I left in the box which I put back in its
place. Until I had to go to bed, I remained sitting by the candle.

Late next morning, Maarten came to fetch me to go and find
the duck said to have been struck. We set out at once. In case we
saw fish in the water, I brought along a little net and a jam jar. The
weather was just as dreary as the day before; it seemed as though
dusk was already falling in the morning.

We carefully searched the area we had been the evening before
but found nothing. I wasn't expecting to and only looked around
mechanically. The grey sky gave the water of the watercourse a
matt, cloudy colour; I believed it possible that weed-encrusted
watermonsters lived on the I had thought
earlier - that could come up to drag us down into the deep by our
manly parts. I looked regularly at the surface of the water therefore.

When we were forced to abandon the search, Maarten declared
that we were too late and that the bird had already been taken by
others. I did not contradict this. We walked on and passed a
narrow, shallow side-ditch where we went fishing with the net.
There wasn't much to see. I did bring up an oblong, beetle-like
creature with little pincers. It was about half an index finger long. I
dared not touch it, but lifted it with two sticks; then I threw it
away as far as possible from the water into the grass. I wasn't easy
about this, however, so I found the animal again and ground it into
the soil with my heel. 'It's a rotten mean creature, I read so,' I said
to Maarten. 'It has to be killed.' In fact I wanted to make the
beetle's return to the water impossible, for he would doubtless
inform the watermonsters about me otherwise.

Soon we reached a shallow spot where clearly attempts had
been made to make a dam; everywhere there were bundles of
brushwood and stones in the water that had become shallow. Here
I discovered a big gramophone horn in the shape of a calix, most
of it under water. We fished it out. At its broadest point it had a
diameter of three quarters of a metre, no less. It had been painted
green on the outside, pale pink within. The paint had flaked off
here and there. 'It's mine,' I said, "cause I discovered it. If you find
something, for example, and you're the first to point it out then it's
yours.' I rinsed the horn clean, knocked the water off, and hollered into it. Then I went and acted daft with it. 'Listen folks,' I cried, 'to
perform for you now the great elephant Jumbo. Ta-ta, you sods!'
We ambled on meanwhile. I put the horn across my shoulder with
its opening facing backwards so I could continue to holler into it
regularly. 'The one who has this horn is most powerful,' I thought.
'Maarten,' I said, 'listen. We've talked in passing about the club but
it's got to be for real now. We mustn't wait at all any more for
you know only too well that they're making hostile clubs everywhere.' When he let my words pass, I went on: 'If we found the
club this afternoon we've got a horn for starters. And a club with a
horn is very good indeed, in fact - you know that too. We can
blow it when the meeting starts. It is of course best if the chairman
does that. By this you can see it's a good club.'

Maarten barely seemed to be listening. With my net he fished a
few minnows from the ditch and put them in the jam jar. 'When
we have a club we can also catch fish and make a pond together,' I
said, half despondent already.

At that moment an unknown boy in blue overalls was coming
towards us. He was a head taller than me, at least, and had a pale,
bony face and very pale blond hair. He came up to me with a
leering expression, halted in front of me, studied the horn and
tapped against it with his index finger. I began to tremble.

He had small, sunken eyes. On his upper lip I saw scabby
swellings like those of a skin complaint. He grinned malevolently,
tapped, a little harder this time, against the hom and asked, taking
no notice of Maarten, how I had got hold of it. I gripped the
instrument convulsively and couldn't think of anything to say at
first.

'We fished it out of the ditch here,' I said. 'It'd been lying there
for ages 'cause it'd been thrown away: it belonged to nobody.' I
wanted to continue speaking but ran out of things to say. I looked
at Maarten but he said nothing 'Well, as long as you know it's
mine,' the boy said. 'It's not up to you, taking things away I've left
here for the time being. D'you hear, laddie? Just you hand it back
here: chop-chop.'

'We need it badly,' I did still say, softly, but I knew the horn
was lost. The boy grabbed it, took it from me and sauntered off.
We halted and watched him go. Then we walked back home. The
rain, which had been almost unnoticeably fine until now, became a
little denser.

'Ah, never mind,' I said, 'it was a bummer anyway. No use to anyone. You could see. Anyway, I have an uncle: he has loads of
those horns: I can have as many from him as I want.' Maarten
didn't reply; he held up the jam jar and peered at the fish.

We must found the club instantly, this afternoon,' I said. 'Then
we'll make an army - all good clubs have one. The chairman of the
club becomes the chief: it's always done like that.' Maarten shook
the jam jar and continued to be absorbed by the fish.

Reaching my house, I requested him to come along to the loft.
There, I opened the little window and showed him the box
beneath the roof tile. 'That's the club's secret place,' I said. 'All the
things that are written down we keep there: that's the cave 'cause
nobody can get at it.'

I looked for paper, put it on the cabin trunk and invited Maarten
to draw up the first document together. 'First we must have an
army,' I said, "cause a club without an army is noth'n.' I requested
him to wait and quickly wrote down a few things. Then I read out:
'1. There's a club army that can track down too. Should there be
someone, for instance, who keeps on nicking horns then we go
after him. Then he gets taken prisoner'. I saw that Maarten was
looking at the stuffed-up gap in the wall. It had stopped raining;
patches of light slid past in the sky.

'So now the club's been founded,' I continued loudly. 'It's called
the New Army Club, the N.A.C.' This last sentence I wrote down
behind the figure Maarten was listening now, so I thought,
but I didn't believe he was enthusiastic.

'You have understood, haven't you, that it's very important that
we make an army?' I asked. 'If the club wants to we can take that
sod who's nicked our horn prisoner.'Cause I know his name and
where he lives.'

'Who is he then?' Maarten asked. This question put me on the
spot. 'That has to remain a secret for now,' I replied, "cause the
army isn't quite ready yet.' Just what I did mean, precisely, wasn't
clear to me either. I quickly folded the sheet, laid it in the
cardboard box and put it back beneath the roof tile. 'It's completely
hidden,' I said. 'You really don't need to be afraid that someone'll
find it. Should it rain, for instance, it'll stay dry 'cause the roof tile's
over it.' That instant, I took the jam jar Maarten had put down on
the floor and emptied it out on to the roof tile. Maarten uttered a
fleeting cry but then watched quietly with me how the fish were
washed away and disappeared down the guttering. 'They go in the
ground because they're very dirty creatures,' I said inwardly. The jam jar I tossed into the garden where it flopped down to earth
without breaking. I closed the window and went and stood behind
the cabin trunk as though it were a shop counter. From here I
looked at Maarten who continued to look out of the window.
'He's the cat and has got to go into the trunk,' I thought.

'You don't have to become a member at once, today,' I said
persuadingly. 'If you're not quite sure, you'd better wait until
tomorrow.'Cause coming into the club right away is easy enough
but then you'll become a dormant member, perhaps.'

Maarten began to feel along the gap in the wall and pull out the
paper stuffing in tatters. I made him stop this. 'That's something
else that'll be included in the club's regulations,' I said: 'you're not
allowed break anything in each other's houses. The one who does
that has to leave.' I wrote down at once: '3. When there's a
meeting in someone's house nobody may break anything. Anyone
who does has to leave.' I read this to Maarten, took up the axe and
began to knock plaster from the wall a good way beyond the hole.
All of a sudden Maarten said that he had to go home, and he left.
While he was going down the stairs I watched him furtively and
then slipped quietly up to the loft again. I took out the paper I
kept in my pocket, struck out what was on it on both sides and
wrote: 'PLANT TORTURES. While it's still fixed to the plant, you
can nail down a thin branch to the fence. Then it will slowly die.
You can also cut into it and put ink on so it gets inside; then it
goes a different colour completely and dies, but it takes very long.'
I left a blank space and wrote a little lower down, in a new
paragraph: 'If there's a toadstool you can light a fire of matchboxes
underneath it. Then it gets roasted underneath while it's still in the
ground 'cause it's still standing there.' In the final paragraph I put:
'If there are spiders on the plant you must make a fire underneath
it too. Then they can't get away any more.' Having folded it,
because I no longer thought my trouser pocket sufficiently safe, I
put it under my vest on my chest.

I called our cat, one with grey and white markings, upstairs and
cherished her for a while. Then I fetched a few bits of biscuit from
downstairs and put a tall, square little chest, which once had
contained tea, in unstable equilibrium on the edge of the stairs
with the opening towards me. I fed the cat some bits of biscuit and
tossed the last few into the box. The cat walked into it, disturbed
the balance with her weight and plummeted down inside it. I
followed the fall assiduously. I returned to the loft to read the document concerning plants afresh. When I was on the verge of
folding it up again I heard my brother coming upstairs, so I ate it.

It was rainy on Monday morning as well; in the afternoon it
stayed overcast. Having come from school, I wanted to go to the
loft but my mother turned out to be busy up there, hanging the
washing. Despite the chill, I now went and sat in the box room.
When I was getting too cold for comfort, I lit a tin can with
methylated spirit and looked into the rarefied, motionless light.
'This is the devotional flame,' I said solemnly. I caught a daddylong-legs and tossed it into the glow. 'Sacrifices are being made
from all sides,' I said, half singing the words. From time to time I
cast a glance into Maarten's garden.

When I saw him, I put out the methylated spirit and sauntered
up to him with indifferent tread. He was standing there in his rain
coat looking up at the sky. 'Is it going to rain?' he asked. 'I think
so,' said I, 'but not much: Hurriedly I went on: 'It doesn't matter
whether it happens to be bad weather, for I've already got a club
room where we can have meetings: we're allowed to use that
always.' Maarten continued to look at the sky. 'It's there,' I said,
pointing at the box room. 'There are members, perhaps, who don't
think it's that good, because it's cold, but we're allowed to have a
fire. That's a flame in a jar. It stands in front of the chairman and it
doesn't go out yet so you don't have to throw anything on to it.' I
asked him to come with me to see it but he announced that he had
to run an errand, to a clockmaker's, to collect a repair. I went with
him.