The Empire Trilogy - J. G. Farrell [676]
‘Darling! I was afraid you wouldn’t get here in time,’ cried a voice almost in Ehrendorf’s ear. A pink-faced young man in a white linen suit and a trilby was addressing Joan. ‘I have someone keeping me a place near the front. I say, who’s this johnnie?’ he added, noticing at length that there was something unusual about Joan’s rickshaw-wallah. For a moment Ehrendorf stared into the slightly popping blue eyes of his successful rival. Then a lock of blonde hair dropped like a curtain from Nigel’s forehead and only one blue eye was visible. Nigel reached a hand to his brow and removed the offending lock, allowing the silky hair to sift through his fingers to the knuckle while he contemplated the half-naked Ehrendorf with distaste. Ehrendorf dropped the shafts of the rickshaw and reached for his shirt, murmuring: ‘I’ll leave the rest to you, if you don’t mind.’ He hesitated a moment, examining Nigel without hostility. ‘What on earth can she see in a chap like this?’ he asked himself in wonder … but then, women had appalling taste in men, he had always thought so. Without a further glance at Joan he slipped away, forcing his way back against the stream of people.
‘I say aren’t you going to stay and help with the luggage?’ came a faint, indignant voice following him through the darkness.
When at last Matthew and Vera had passed through the gates and saw the state of the quay, they looked at each other in dismay. Between where they stood and the narrow corridor through which the passengers were channelled there swayed a densely packed mass of people. Beyond, sat or stood half a dozen harassed officials examining tickets, remonstrating, copying names into a ledger, shouting, shrugging shoulders, looking impatient. Every now and then someone tore himself away from this dense mass and pursued his lonely way through the corridor then up the canvas-sided gang-plank to disappear at last into the looming vessel watched all the way by the boiling throng below. As Matthew and Vera thrust their way into the crowd they saw a woman make her way up to the ship’s side sobbing with nervous exhaustion and dragging by the hand a little girl with a pretty, open face and with a ribbon in her hair, herself carrying a doll in a long infant’s dress; behind walked a boy with a Meccano-set looking self-conscious and wearing a sun-helmet. After them there was nobody for a while, then Nigel and Joan, heavily laden with suitcases, made their way aboard and disappeared from view. Once, a powerful searchlight from the ship’s superstructure was switched on, swept over the packed crowds on the quay for a moment, then died.
As the hour drew nearer one a.m. and signs of activity began to appear at the ship’s side the crowd pressed forward more anxiously than ever. People shouted and waved tickets above their heads, hoping to attract the attention of the officials and let them know that ticket-holding passengers still remained on shore. The rate at which they were passing up the gang-plank hardly seemed to quicken, however, even though the officials must have realized that there was a danger of people being left on the quayside. Meanwhile, still later arrivals continued to flood in from behind, straining and pushing forward with all their might.
Abruptly, after an age of being jostled back and forth in the densest part of the crowd, as if by a miracle Vera and Matthew found themselves within reach of the nearest desk and, lunging forward, Matthew managed to slap down Vera’s ticket. The official picked it up, looked at it and handed it back with a shake of his head. ‘Alphabetical order, sir. Sorry. We aren’t ready for this lot yet.’
‘But the ship is leaving in five minutes!’
‘I can’t help that. Next please.’
Matthew had released his hold on Vera in order to deal with the man at the desk. Looking round,