B007P4V3G4 EBOK (58 page)

The waiting populace was disappointed that their lord was so
indecisive. It had been hoped that, following his arrival, something
would happen, but everything stayed the way it was. Perhaps it
was because he had dismounted and now was standing just as low
down as the rest, because now for him, too, the cold drr • up from
the ground through the soft leather of his boots, a cold which was
like paralysis.

Dousa was aware that he was failing, and in his insecurity and
impotence he was irritated by the bailiff who, in the light of the
gravity of the circumstances, was sitting there, incomprehensibly
calmly, on top of his overly tall horse. Woutersz - Dousa realised
with a mixture of envy and contempt - was a man who divided up
the world by responsibilities, and who only bothered himself with
his own affairs. Because of this, he seemed devoid of fear or
uncertainty concerning higher things, for the way he saw it, this
was the responsibility of the church which attended to such
matters in God's name - as if the life of a bailiff was not spent in a
state of darkness, too, and as if in the case of a bailiff each glimmer
of light, too, would not also show up that shadow cast ahead by
death.

This was probably a correct characterisation of the bailiff; in the
matter of the whale, however, the bailiff was not at all so sure of
himself. He had checked on the privileges but his researches had
brought no clarity. The coast belonged to the manor of Noordwijk,
but was this at high or at low tide? And the sea the whale had
come forth from and of which he was a part, as it were, that sea
was no one's - something the bailiff found highly unsatisfactory.
Moreover, there was the possibility that the whale was the
property of the King of Spain, though it was not likely that he
would be coming here demanding his rights. The fact that, all this
notwithstanding, the bailiff still sat relatively calmly on his horse
was because of the restful realisation that the Lord of Noordwijk
bore more responsibility than he, no matter what, and that it did
not even appear impossible to pass all responsibility on to his
shoulders altogether.

This last thing he did not dare do; perhaps it was because of his
meticulousness, perhaps because of his servility, but when his lord
asked him what needed to be done, he did not reject his own
responsibilities but gave as faithful as possible a report of his
official findings.

Dousa did not understand what the bailiff was going on about
and he frowned when the King of Spain was being dragged in
with all his majesty, a thing that - Woutersz realised this - made
rather a foolish impression here, at the edge of the world with that
stinking cadaver - or was it still alive?

Still, it did not strike Dousa as unpleasant to have to listen to
the useless minutiae coming from the bailiff. It was as though
something slipped from his shoulders, a heavy burden or, to put it
in the bailiff's terms, a responsibility. Now the ever-accurate
Woutersz did not know what it was they must do either, one was
permitted, as it were, to stand deedless on the beach beneath the
unfathomable dome of heaven in an almost grand realisation of
one's own insignificance, a realisation that offered him a way out
for the conscientiousness that rested upon him.

And thus nothing happened for some while.

Surprisingly, the Leiden friends were the ones to break that
arrested state, stepping forward out of the background. Some
clamour arose among the bystanders though this was borne off at
once by the wind so that nobody knew what had been said. This
was not of importance, either, for it had been understood what
might have been intended by those not-understood words: that people were tense and unsure about what those unknown gentlemen were going to do. The gentlemen from Leiden, as rhetoricians
having an understanding of display, bore the wishes of the public
in mind. Hands on their backs, as befitted scientists, they made for
the whale and what is more, to stretch the period of uncertainty,
they also gave it a wide berth walking round it, creating an
atmosphere of weighing-up-possibilities by making lovely tutting
sounds with finely pursed lips. Perhaps they would have been
frightened otherwise, for close-up like this the whale reached from
the comer of one eye all the way to the comer of the other and
beyond, but losing themselves in their roles they forgot that they
themselves were the ones who were standing there and, like the
public, they now believed that they were three scientists from
distant parts who wished to take a more detailed look at the
anatomy of this wondrous fish. The scientists regretted that they
had no access to a measuring rule, for it was writ in the Bible:
'Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the
number of the beast.' The understanding was there: this they had
themselves, and the beast was there, too, but without a measuring
rule no wisdom would be theirs. So as not to forget themselves,
they decided to measure the whale, in as far as this was possible,
by their own bodily measurements: the yard, the foot and the
span. Because of the solemnity with which they went about their
business, their performance gained something preposterous about
it, it became an unintentional mockery of the incomprehensible. All
three arranged themselves beside the whale and at the same time
placed their lower arms against the flaccid, wet skin of the tail. The
one in front stayed in place and the two hindmost overtook him to
join those in front. Then the one in front kept his place and the
two others went and stood in front of him in their turn. Thus they
went on, in this unequal mating dance with the whale that stank of
putrefaction. Because they were continually muttering numbers all
the while, the display acquired the darkness and malevolent character of a satanic rite.

The spectators, who were not sure whether this was allowed,
this curious and probably even blasphemous mating dance of three
gentlemen and a whale, looked in anxious expectation to the
lawful authorities who, however, seemed to think everything was
in order. Still, the bystanders did not have much truck with it and
when the scientists noted down their measurements - something
which, for want of a slate, they did on the beach, drawing numbers in the wet sand with their heels - the spectators feared something
terrible, that is, they feared the number that is the number of the
beast and though none of them could read, there were those who
believed they saw the number. Six hundred, threescore and six. Six
hundred, threescore and six, lisped the wind. Six hundred, threescore and six: everybody was whispering it, but no one understood
what it meant.

Unperturbed, the scientists continued with their measurements.
They had the dimensions of the sides and the tail and they were
now intent on a method of measuring its height. No mean thing,
that, and their hands clasped their chins in a sign of profound
thought. The whale was taller than they themselves so they would
have to climb one on top of the other in order to reach the highest
point. But what were they to measure with? Finally, they had it.
Two of them, one having climbed upon the other, allowed themselves - to the horror of the spectators - to fall against the whale,
at which the blubber trembled a moment, and then the upper one
reached with his hand to the highest point. Then they let themselves slide down the whale, went to lie down on the beach, head
to toe, that hand stretched out, so that the third, hopping alongside
on his haunches, was able to measure the combined length using
his lower arm. The result was noted down in the sand.

A number of separate body parts were still to be measured, like
the snout and the trunk-like sex, but they had the bulk and at this
they were highly satisfied. They had the feeling that, thanks to
their calculations, the whale had been explained satisfactorily, and
they considered its presence as being obvious.

Among the spectators, however, resentment arose over the
self-satisfied demeanour of the Leiden gentlemen which they
had experienced as mockery and blasphemy. The most sombre
among them, who knew the eyes of the saint to be directed at
them, feared that now something terrible had been provoked and
they averted their gaze; others, more practical folk, thought that
intervention was necessary and they directed their hopes towards
the lord and the bailiff, with impatient expectancy. These, however,
had fallen prey to paralysing doubt. Dousa in particular, though
this was in his nature, for his spirit was like a blind man who feels
his way with soft fingers; but the bailiff, this otherwise so punctual
and in his punctuality, in a way, so simple a man: he too was at his
wit's end, beset by the confusing feeling that the King of Spain
had let him down.

With dull helplessness, Dousa and Woutersz were obliged to
watch as resentment in the people flared up into anger which,
through lack of direction, caused confusion. There were those who
demanded that the whale be towed back to sea with the help of
nets and horses; others believed it would be better if the whale
were to be killed because, in their eyes, death was the only
effective solution. In all the zest of their anger they were apparently
forgetting their fear of a judgement from God, for one of them even
went so far as to declare the saint with the dogcart to be the guilty
one. In so doing, he did bring down the indignation of others
upon himself, it is true, but it had been said, nevertheless.

And so, each had his own opinion; there were those who had a
number of opinions and some even had contradictory ones.

There was one person who remained quietly on the sidelines.
He was the Admiral. He had been standing here from morning,
free from the frightened curiosity that had held the others in its
grip. And now, too, now they were brandishing their axes and
crying for nets and horses, he stood apart for he knew that this
was all irrelevant. At most he was surprised that it had come about
like this. And in a curious way he had been proud as well: proud
that God had sent the feared Leviathan for him, a humble fisherman.
The Admiral waited for a sign and there had been a moment when
he had thought that it was there. This had been when the beast of
vengeance had laughed. Nobody who had seen this had understood
it, except he. It had laughed at the saint on the dunetop and it
would not have surprised the Admiral if, in a secret understanding
between them, they had also winked at one another. The Admiral
had not been afraid then either, for in his opinion he deserved to
be punished, not only for the theft of statuary and heresy, or for
what he had inflicted on his wife, but especially because he could
no longer believe in the truth.

He was tired and he wanted to sit down, but he thought: they
will be coming to fetch me soon, so he continued to stand. He was
very tired and did not understand why the others made such a
fuss. He could not care less: he regarded everything from a great
distance. Perhaps he was already dead. He had thought this that
morning, too, when he had crept out into the open from his cellar:
that he had died and that his soul no longer had a body to carry
him. He would indeed not be surprised if he had died already, and
in that case he thought he was entitled to go and sit down. He sat
there and it occurred to him that it might be more pleasant to lie down. This was why he let himself slip over backwards in the wet
sand. It was cold, but not unpleasant. He felt himself grow stiff and
without sensation, the sounds became dull and far away, and
above him was the sky, dull and far away, too - he thought of the
candles in the sea chapel, how beautifully they glowed, and then
he slipped away.

It no longer concerned him that the others had decided to fetch
nets and cart horses. Humpkin, who had been sent on ahead,
wanted to greet his father, but because he was lying there asleep,
he let him be instead.

Not long after Humpkin had left, the North-Westerly began to
roar. This did not necessarily signify much, but the people had
become jittery. Dousa and Woutersz, too, thought it advisable to
break up the gathering. Only the ones from Leiden hesitated: they
had written their calculations in the sand and they did not know
how they were to take them along. There they stood, at the high
water mark, bent over their figures, rehearsing: Six hundred,
threescore and six; six hundred, threescore and six - that is what it
sounded like. Dousa would have liked best of all to have left that
little lot behind, but he felt obliged to call them. They mounted
and went at walking pace past the throng going laboriously up the
dune path.

Nobody thought of the Admiral lying asleep on the beach, left
alone with the whale, while the saint stood on top of the dunes,
looking on.

5

As Humpkin chased along with the wind in his back, and he
thought he was going somewhere and did not realise that in fact
he was leaving something, and when the procession, too, had
moved on a good way, that is to say on the way back, the
fishermen noticed that their leader was not among them. They
would have preferred to keep this to themselves for, being in the
protection of the others and especially of the grand gentlemen
who seemed actually to protect them with the mighty flanks of
their great horses, no one felt like sacrificing himself by going the
other way through the cold and the wind. People continued on
their way and it seemed the Admiral would be left to his fate. It
was being said that he had already gone on ahead, though nobody had seen him go on ahead - nor did anyone believe it, but things
were easier that way. In the end, more from impatience over the
indecisiveness of them all than out of concern for their boss, two
reported for duty, a one-eyed one and one who still had both.
They turned round and went in search. The wind, which turned
out to be a storm when you had it against you, and the rain beat
their faces. The one clenched both his eyes shut, the other his
single one. Thus they diminished their view; it was as if they were
inside, inside themselves, peering out through a crack. They did
not see much and this was a good thing, for that which surrounded
them was too spacious for them anyway. Behind their backs, the
procession withdrew and were they to realise it, they could feel
they were being deserted. But they merely continued because they
continued, and they were going to do something because they had
to; they were cold because it was cold. They did not feel deserted
because they did not think about such things.