The Stars’ Tennis Balls by Stephen Fry Read Free Book Online Page A

he called into the darkness. ‘Who is it?’
    ‘Maddstone, you’ve got to come below.’
    ‘Rufus? Is that you?’
    ‘There’s something wrong with Paddy. He’s been making weird noises.’
    Ned leapt to the hatch and scrambled down into the galley.
    Lit by nothing more than a single tile-lamp and the glow of the radio set, Paddy Leclare’s body was slumped forward in his chair, face down over the charts.
    Ned approached him softly. ‘Skipper?’
    ‘Is he dead?’ whispered Cade.
    ‘I
can’t tell,’ said Ned, stretching out a hand to Leclare’s neck. ‘Skipper! Paddy! Are you all right?’ He felt a bumping pulse beneath his fingertips and breathed a sigh of relief.
    Leclare suddenly gave a great cough and started to struggle upright. Ned was shocked to see a long trail of bloody saliva suspended between his mouth and the chart table.
    ‘Is that you Ned? Is it you?’
    ‘Yes, skipper, it’s me. Is everything all right?’
    ‘Ah, well now, I wouldn’t say that … who’s that with you?’ Leclare stared over Ned’s shoulder, a look of fright in his eyes.
    ‘Sir, it’s only Rufus, sir.’
    ‘Rufus, that you there?’
    ‘Yes, skipper.’
    Leclare’s breath came in short shallow bursts and his skin gleamed with sweat.
    ‘Well then,’ he panted. ‘I want you to do me a favour, young Rufus. I want you to go astern to the starboard locker.’
    Rufus nodded, white-faced.
    ‘You remember when I showed you the locker where the flares are stowed? Good lad. The locker beside it is padlocked. Here’s the key…’ Leclare pushed a keyring across the table. ‘It’s the bright gold one. I want you to open it up and fetch me out a bottle of Jameson’s.
    ‘Skipper are you sure?’ said Ned. ‘If you’re not well…
    ‘I know what I need, so I do,’ said Leclare. ‘You stay with me, young Ned. Off you go, Rufus. Quick as you like.’
    Rufus turned and clambered noisily up the ladder to the main deck.
    ‘What a lump,’ said Leclare. ‘He’ll never make a sailor, that one.’
    Ned put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Paddy, please don’t be angry with me, but I really don’t think you should be drinking. Whatever it is that’s wrong with you, I’m sure it won’t be made any better by – ‘
    ‘Calm down, Ned. There’s no whisky in that locker, and I told him the wrong key too. It gives us a little time.
    Laughter at the neatness of his strategy set Leclare off into a renewed fit of coughing that sprayed blood and spittle into Ned’s face.
    ‘Oh Jesus, Skipper. Look, I’m going to radio for a helicopter.’
    ‘Pass me that bag over there,’ said Leclare, as if he hadn’t heard.
    ‘This one?’
    ‘That’s the feller, hand it to me. Now Ned, look into my eyes.
    Ned looked into eyes that he recalled as being merrily blue. They were bloodshot now and leaking tears from the effort of coughing.
    ‘I can trust you, can’t I, Ned?’
    ‘Of course, Skipper.’
    ‘Tell me the thing in your life that you hold most holy.’
    'Skipper…'
    ‘For fuck’s sake will you answer me, boy!’ Leclare grabbed Ned’s wrist and squeezed it hard. ‘What is the thing that matters to you most in all the world? Are you thinking of it, is it in your head right now?’
    Ned nodded as a vision of a laughing Portia arose before him.
    ‘Good. Now I want you to swear on that most holy thing that what I ask you to do you will do without telling a soul. Do you understand? Not a soul.’
    Ned nodded once more.
    ‘Out loud! Swear it out loud.’
    ‘I swear it, Paddy, I swear it.’
    ‘Good … good. I trust you. Now then…’ Leclare scrabbled inside his bag. ‘Take this envelope here. It is sealed. If I don’t make it back and healthy to land I want you to deliver it for me. Personally. It must go direct into the hands of…’ Leclare beckoned for Ned to come close and leaned up to whisper a name and address, his hot breath panting into Ned’s ear. ‘There! You’ve got that?’
    ‘Yes, I think so.’
    ‘Say