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him; and then we ate him. What we could not eat at once we put in salt. All winter we ate Alexander.’
    ‘Was he good?’ Olsen asked with interest.
    ‘I have never tasted such fine meat. When people called, we would say they should stay for supper and they would ask, do you eat your bear? When we said yes, they would say no, shaking their heads. But when they had tried one little morsel, they were ready to eat their bellies full.’
    ‘It is what the bear eats,’ Mrs Simanyi explained. ‘Fruit and nuts and honey – carrots and things like that. That is how they have sweet flesh.’
    ‘And Katerina?’ Mouritzen asked. ‘Will you one day eat Katerina?’
    ‘Ah, no!’ Mrs Simanyi said.
    ‘She is a wonderful bear,’ Josef said. ‘She is like a daughter. One would not eat a daughter.’
    ‘I give you a riddle,’ Olsen said suddenly. ‘It is black. It has eight wheels. But it is no vehicle. What is it?’
    His penetrating, slightly protuberant eyes surveyed them as they shook their heads.
    ‘What is it?’ he repeated.
    ‘We shall not find that,’ Josef said.
    Olsen gave a short laugh. ‘A priest, on roller skates. I give you another riddle. It is greater than the universe. It is less than a grain of sand. The dead eat it. If we eat it, we too shall be dead. What is it?’
    ‘We shall not guess that, either,’ Josef said.
    ‘We give up,’ Sheila said.
    ‘Greater than the universe,’ Olsen said. ‘Smaller than a grain of sand. The dead eat it. If we eat it, we die also. What is it?’
    ‘You will have to tell us again, I’m afraid,’ Jones said.
    ‘No. Think of it. If you cannot guess I will tell you another night. But now you can think.’
    Mouritzen heard Mary draw a deep, almost gasping breath. He turned to her.
    ‘You are all right?’
    ‘It’s only that it’s a little stuffy in here.’
    ‘Let me take you to some fresh air.’ She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. ‘There is a little deck, right at the top. It is fresh up there. But cold also – you will need your coat.’
    ‘All right. I can see if Annabel’s sleeping, on the way.’
----
    They had to go through the wheelhouse to get to the deck. The helmsman nodded respectfully to Mary; when he was out of her line of vision he gave Mouritzen a quick grin.
    There was a stiff breeze blowing up here, but the night was clear. Above their heads the radar scanner half-circled to and fro against the stars. There was no moon. They stood together by the rail, their arms not quite touching.
    ‘Fresh here,’ Mouritzen said.
    ‘Yes.’
    Mary drew her coat more tightly round her.
    ‘Is it, perhaps, too cold?’
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘I like the wind.’
    ‘I, too. Annabel – is she asleep?’
    ‘Yes. She was very tired. The sea air, I suppose.’
    ‘She is a beautiful child. You must be very proud of her, Mrs Cleary.’ He paused. ‘May I say Mary?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘And you will call me Niels?’
    ‘If you like.’ She paused. ‘You lead a very – social life, as an officer on a ship like this, don’t you?’
    ‘Yes, I suppose so.’
    ‘Meeting new people all the time – getting to know them very quickly. Not very well, though, I should think.’
    ‘Whom does one know well?’ Mouritzen asked. ‘Parents, children, a wife? It is best to take people as they seem to be, I think.’
    ‘Is it?’
    ‘You do not agree?’
    ‘As long as one doesn’t have any illusions, I suppose it’s all right.’
    ‘What illusions?’
    ‘That what they are has anything to do with what they seem to be.’
    ‘You are bitter, I think,’ Mouritzen said. ‘That is a mistake, always. Most people, for the most part, are pleasant. It does not help to look all the time for the unpleasant people, or for the unpleasant parts of the pleasant ones.’
    ‘Different philosophies,’ she said, ‘suit different people. I should think yours works well for you.’
    ‘But yours,’ he said, ‘– does that work well for